Chapter 1891

Bale-man wanted to ask for details, but he suddenly felt a strange discomfort. If he had to describe it, his chest and abdomen felt hot and painful as if they were on fire.

"Am I hungry?" Bale-man said in disbelief. He had eaten bread only two or three hours ago; how could he be hungry again so soon?

Batman had already walked back to the bonfire and began to process the pheasant following Schiller's work. He said while plucking the feathers with boiling water, "Our absorption ability seems to have decreased, and the blood sugar reaction caused by hunger comes faster. Once you feel hungry, you must immediately replenish physical strength, otherwise, physical fitness will be weakened even more severely."

In the few seconds it took for Bale-man to walk back to the bonfire, he even felt dizzy. At the same time, a terrifying appetite rose up. He felt that he could even eat the charcoal in front of him.

Batman had never been this hungry, or rather, this wasn't hunger; it was more like a mandatory negative buff imposed on his body, which was difficult to completely exempt through willpower.

Bale-man felt his fingertips trembling. He understood that his blood sugar index was not optimistic, so he had to grab a sandwich from the pile of instant food and stuff it into his mouth.

After eating a sandwich and a hot dog bun, Bale-man tried his best to restrain himself and stopped moving. One reason was that he knew that judging from the speed of hunger, this little bit of instant food definitely wasn't enough, and he had to leave some for others. Another reason was that he knew blood sugar shouldn't rise too fast, otherwise, he didn't know what kind of tricks were waiting for him.

Fortunately, after his blood sugar slowly rose, that terrifying dizziness disappeared. Batman had already cut the chicken with the axe brought back from the cabin and threw them all into the picnic pot.

The camping props brought by this group of college students were quite complete, but unfortunately, they were a bit flashy and lacked substance. The pot's shape was very camping-style, silver stainless steel, but the problem was that it was narrow and deep, requiring a lot of water, and the pot wall was too thick, so the thermal conductivity wasn't good, and it took half a day to boil water.

This pheasant wasn't big and wasn't enough for four people to share. So they decided that Seeing Natasha, who was injured, and Batman, who was the main combat force, would eat hot food, while Bale-man and Schiller would eat instant food.

That large bag of convenience store food now had only half left. Judging from their hunger speed, it was just enough for them to survive the night, but that was on the condition that there were no particularly intense exercises.

If there really was a chase in the woods, they would definitely be starving when they returned to the camp. If they couldn't replenish food and physical strength in time, they would also die in the next chase.

And one night was enough for the serial killer to launch ten chases.

"I'll go hunting later." Bale-man suggested, "There should be rabbit holes nearby. Digging rabbit holes doesn't require any tools, just a bit of luck."

"We need a lot of fat, and judging from the climate and terrain conditions, most of the creatures living here can't provide the meat we need." Batman thought and said, "And if the other party is physically strong, competing in strength is the worst choice."

"What about traps?" Schiller asked.

"Animal traps aren't a good choice." Seeing Natasha shook her head and said, "That could very likely block our own escape route. Sometimes a miss is as good as a mile."

"It sounds a bit ridiculous, but actually the best way is to flee separately. No matter what, the other party is only one person and can only chase one at a time. The remaining few people will have enough time to hide. As long as we survive until dawn, it will be fine."

Bale-man said the most rational solution, but quickly changed the subject and said, "But I don't think we need to do this when the team has two Batmen. Perhaps we can think of a way to make him think we will do this."

Everyone looked at him, and Bale-man thought for a while before saying, "Since Seeing Natasha has already been seen by him and was personally injured by him, then when night falls, we scatter and flee. The target he is most likely to choose is Seeing Natasha, because injured prey is easier to kill. This is the hunter's instinct."

"Once he hunts Seeing Natasha, we can predict his action route, set traps, and kill him with one blow. This should be the most effective method."

What surprised Bale-man was that the other three didn't raise any objections to his plan of letting a lady be bait.

It was understandable that Batman had no opinion. After all, every Batman knew that every plan had risks. Although they preferred to let the risks fall on themselves, they also had confidence in the thoroughness of their plans and didn't feel like they were putting teammates at risk.

It was also understandable that Seeing Natasha didn't raise any objections. She was a Russian woman, and she looked like the tough kind. She was probably more eager for a frontal battle than anyone else.

But this doctor who looked very gentle was actually silent, which made Bale-man look at him with high regard. Because in classic horror movies, once such a plan is proposed, there will inevitably be a teammate with a saintly image who stands up to object.

Schiller was clearly the teammate who fit this image best.

On one hand, he was a doctor. Although Bale-man couldn't say for sure that every doctor was benevolent, their risk-aversion index was much higher than ordinary professions. On the other hand, Schiller didn't look like a combatant from his appearance to his temperament, and the risk-aversion index of logistics personnel was even higher.

"I believe in Batman's plan." Schiller nodded and said, "You can always come up with useful plans and execute them perfectly, so unless I can come up with a better plan than yours, I won't raise any objections."

Bale-man began to understand why he could join Batman's professional team.

Just like that, several people began to set up traps after finishing dinner. Taking advantage of the fact that the sky was still bright, they dug a not-so-small pit in a place where the trees were relatively sparse, using a tool shovel.

Of course, the kind of deep pit disguised with fallen leaves in cartoons couldn't be realized in reality.

Anyone who has dug a grave knows that digging a pit that allows someone to lie horizontally is already very difficult. If you want to dig a pit downward that prevents someone from jumping out while standing, it's no simpler than digging a well by hand.

So this pit was only used to trip the serial killer. It presented a gentle slope and then left a side of the soil wall that suddenly rose, the purpose of which was to jam the serial killer's foot and make him fall forward.

Following closely was the tripwire taken from the cabin, but it wasn't to strangle the serial killer. It was fixed on an elastic device made of springs. Once the trap was triggered, it would press down, which could keep the serial killer crawling on the ground for a few more seconds, unable to get up.

Then, of course, it wasn't any kind of unstable weapon like a spike trap. The only weapon Batman would believe in was himself, so there would be a Batman lying in ambush in the tree to give the serial killer a fatal blow.

This plan looked very risky, but in reality, whether it was the trap or the tripwire, it was already considered multiple insurance measures for Batman. If it weren't for their physical fitness being weakened, in a prepared situation, two Batmen could hard-fight any creature, even Godzilla.

So the success rate of this plan was still relatively guaranteed. Seeing Natasha only needed to run toward this side the moment the serial killer appeared, and then successfully step over the trap—this trap wasn't dangerous for Seeing Natasha because the two people's feet were different sizes. Seeing Natasha only needed to take a big step and lift her leg high, and she wouldn't be tripped by the trap jamming her foot.

The night was deep. Several people sat around the bonfire flames that were constantly burning, waiting for the life-and-death struggle that might come.

The jungle at night was very quiet and also very noisy. There was no man-made noise, but the sounds belonging to nature were one after another. The rustling of the wind blowing through the leaves, the chorus of insects and nocturnal animals, and the rustling sounds made when crawling were nocturnes that even composers couldn't write.

Dawn came. Tonight was Christmas Eve.

No one had an expression of surprise on their face. Bale-man, who had sat and watched the bonfire all night, sighed.

Before, in order to peek inside the house, his mask had already been taken off. At this moment, his thin lips were pursed, revealing a hint of helpless smile, and he said, "I've been played, right?"

The others also stood up to move their stiff limbs that had been sitting all night, and then they didn't bring anything and walked toward the bus stop where they came from.

Seeing Natasha patted the fallen leaves stuck to her pants and said, "When did you find out? Great detective?"

"My intuition told me something was wrong, but it wasn't until I went to that hunter's cabin to investigate that I confirmed my guess. Someone is acting."

"Oh? What made you confirm this?" Schiller asked with a smile.

"The size of the furniture in the house."

Bale-man's eyes flashed with all the furniture he saw in the hunter's cabin. First was the sofa, which was a very normal, plain leather sofa.

It could be seen that the frame wasn't made by hand, but the owner of the sofa might have changed the outer skin, but the problem lay in the size.

The footprint Bale-man saw by the river showed that the serial killer's frame was shockingly large, at least 2.2 meters tall, and he wouldn't have left such a deep footprint if he weighed less than 300 pounds.

Think about it, how could a giant who is two meters tall and weighs three or four hundred pounds use a sofa that looks very ordinary to ordinary people? I'm afraid he couldn't even squeeze in.

If the sofa could barely be used, the size of the bed was even more puzzling. That bed placed in the bedroom was at most two meters. A monster with such a large frame sleeping on a two-meter bed—I'm afraid half of his lower legs would be hanging outside, right?

And that wasn't a finished bed sold in a store, but bedding placed on a wooden frame made by hand. Since he could make a bed himself, why didn't he make a bigger one for himself?

This is an obvious contradiction.

"Then which one do you think is fake?" Schiller asked again.

"The footprint, of course." Bale-man said very affirmatively.

"But you said the footprint looked like it was left a few days ago. We hadn't even come here a few days ago."

Bale-man paused slightly, turned his head to look back at Schiller, and said, "This shows that there is more than one director in this play."