A cosmic reader named Lanlan saw Yongye's declaration and immediately became excited.

Previously, it had been tricked by Yongye's earlier readers into reading The Case Files of Mr. Zhong. Everyone said that it was an emotionally driven novel, but not a single one mentioned that it was a BE! (T/N: Bad Ending)

And now, listen to what Yongye was saying... was that even reasonable? Challenge all readers? What was he planning to do, make every character drop dead?

Well... not that he hadn't done it before. The Nursery Rhyme Murder Case did seem to wipe out the entire cast...

The bold declaration attracted many passersby. They all wanted to know which novelist dared to make such outrageous claims, and how exactly he intended to follow through.

"This Blue Planet writer actually came up with this stunt!" grumbled a writer from the interactive literature faction. "If this gimmick disappoints readers, the backlash will be brutal. Challenge all readers? Let's see what he's really capable of!"

Despite their complaints, they honestly clicked into Yongye's post anyway. With traffic dwindling on their own works, they came to scout out the competition.

Yongye titled his challenge: The Mystery of the Primitive Skull.

 

[

"This is a story set in an isolated planet era, where a human, in an extremely primitive and underdeveloped environment, uses intellect to uncover the truth."

Early in the morning, Mr. Chenxi received a summons from the police. The officers spoke with grave seriousness:

"Have you ever been to the Danpi District three years ago?"

Mr. Chenxi answered truthfully that he had, though he was puzzled as to why they were investigating something from so long ago. The officers grew even more solemn:

"In that case, we believe you may be involved in falsifying archaeological materials. Please come with us."

"I'm merely a detective who travels for leisure," Mr. Chenxi replied. "I know nothing about the academic world of archaeology."

"That's exactly why we suspect you," one officer said quietly. "Your past cases are quite famous. I'm actually a fan, so I know how knowledgeable you are. If you wanted to fabricate something, you might very well fool everyone."

Helpless, Mr. Chenxi agreed to go along, intending to learn what happened and clear his name.

It turned out that a shocking scandal erupted in the local archaeological community, one that would dominate every newspaper headline once it got out.

A renowned anthropologist, A Jin*, brought back a primitive human skull from the Danpi region three years ago. The skull contradicted Darwinian evolution, causing a massive stir in the field. A Jin became famous overnight, publishing countless papers, until his sudden death three days ago.

During a memorial at the museum, A Tu, an old companion of A Jin, accidentally knocked over the display case, and the skull fell out.

Another anthropologist present immediately recognized that it wasn't a human skull at all, but a modified ape skull, filed down to imitate human features. That was why it defied evolutionary theory.

"Unfortunately, Mr. A Jin has passed away," an officer said. "Otherwise, we would know who fabricated this skull and caused such a farce."

Mr. Chenxi's interest was piqued and asked the officer to describe the scene of A Jin's death in detail.

A Jin, A Mu, A Shui, A Huo, and A Tu had once been mining partners along the Danpi River. Though their lives had since diverged greatly, they still cherished their shared hardships and gathered at A Jin's home. That night, they parted ways and went home.

The next morning, A Mu knocked on A Jin's door but received no response. According to his testimony, he climbed over the wall into the garden; perhaps improper, but they were old friends, and as a miner, he wasn't concerned with such etiquette.

From the garden, he saw A Jin sitting upright behind the glass door. He knocked, but there was still no response. Sensing something was wrong, he wiped the condensation off the glass and peered inside, only to find that A Jin was already dead.

Hearing this, Mr. Chenxi asked: "Why wasn't an autopsy performed? I doubt this was a natural death."

The police, half-convinced, conducted one and discovered that A Jin had died from a lethal dose of nicotine poisoning, delivered through a very small wound. However, because they had been slow to act, no murder weapon was found at the scene, so they immediately consulted Mr. Chenxi.

He said he had a hypothesis but lacked evidence, and suggested that the police must conduct a thorough investigation first.

The police quickly got to work. Since there were no signs of struggle, they concluded that the killer must have been someone A Jin knew, so they summoned his former companions separately.

Mr. Ajin died around 2 a.m.

A Mu said dejectedly that he had no alibi. He was a carpenter, but with plastic goods growing more popular, he could only take odd jobs. That night, he carved a small object, but due to poor eyesight, he only worked for a short while before going to sleep.

A Shui said that he was now a sailor on a cargo ship. After the gathering, he went to the port before dawn to work, but was accidentally stranded on a small boat. The sea was calm, and no other vessels were nearby. He wrote "Help" on a piece of cloth and hung it up. Fortunately, a fishing boat about 200 meters away spotted his distress signal, and he was able to get ashore.

"Countless fishing boats are sailing here," A Shui added. "I don't know if the fisherman who saved me can be found to testify."

A Huo said, "I'm just an unlucky drifter. I returned to my small inn that night, but there was a sudden power outage. I lit a candle and didn't go anywhere. If you want an alibi, I suppose only that nearly burnt-out candle can prove it."

Mr. Chenxi suddenly asked: "What about A Tu?"

The police replied: "A Tu lives in a monastery. He's old, blind, and mute. There's no way he could have committed the crime."

Mr. Chenxi thought it through and said he couldn't yet be certain, but there must be something the police overlooked. He suggested they investigate the group's past more thoroughly.

Hours later, the police announced that A Mu was the killer.

It turned out they found Ah Jin's diary.

Three years ago, while mining together, the group failed to find gold but instead rescued an old, wealthy merchant. The merchant wrote a will stating that he had two chests filled with gemstones; whoever could transport them away from the Danpi River would inherit them.

They successfully moved the two chests, each one meter long and wide and half a meter tall. The will was stored at a bank, and the group went their separate ways.

"But you, A Mu," the police said coldly, "to reduce the number of people sharing the gems, you deliberately suggested academic fraud to A Jin. In exchange for helping him forge the primitive skull, you demanded that he give up his share of the inheritance. Recently, the merchant's death was confirmed, and the will came into effect, but A Jin still wanted his share.

You saw this as a betrayal and tried to blackmail him. But A Jin was already a respected professor with wealth and connections, so no one would believe you. Therefore, you chose murder for profit. That's your motive."

The police continued mercilessly: "Moreover, your testimony is full of contradictions. There was a power outage that night, yet you claim you were carving wood. How? Your awl was your weapon. You must have coated it with poison, stabbed Mr. A Jin, and then pretended to report the crime..."

A Mu clutched his head in terror: "I, I'm innocent!"

Mr. Chenxi said, "Detain him for now. This isn't the truth. I'm certain he isn't the one who actually carried out the murder."

The police, who respected Mr. Chenxi, asked why.

"There was a power outage," he explained. "A Mu is an experienced carpenter with poor eyesight. Committing such a precise crime in total darkness would be extremely difficult, especially scaling a wall and delivering a silent, accurate strike with a poisoned awl. At the very least, he’s only partially involved, if at all."

The police found that this reasoning made sense and detained A Mu accordingly.

Not long after, A Shui and A Huo, having heard that A Mu was accused of killing their friend, rushed over in shock.

A Huo, though nervous around the police, couldn't hide his greed. Holding a sheet of paper, he shouted from outside the door:

"Hey! You heartless A Mu! Sign this agreement to forfeit your inheritance!"

A Shui grabbed him with a pen in hand and said, "Keep it down. If A Mu holds a grudge, you might end up dead too."

"I'm afraid that won't happen," Mr. Chenxi said, appearing at the doorway. "I already know who the real killer is, and how the crime was committed."

"The answer to this case is entirely contained within the main text. Turn the page to reveal the truth."

"Dear readers, do you already know the answer?"

]

 

The AI Forum was thrown into an uproar.

A detective? They had never even heard of such a thing. But in a technologically underdeveloped era, it somehow felt like exactly the right profession. Thanks to their prior exposure to interactive literature, they suddenly realized: a detective was a being like them, one who uncovered the truth from within a puzzle.

As they read to the final line, something tugged at their minds. Confusion came first: what? How were they supposed to know the truth? Did Yongye actually write it out?

They reread the entire story from the beginning. Some lines seemed subtly meaningful, but Yongye never stated the answer outright. They were certain of that.

At that moment, after reading Yongye's final question, Lanlan's heart began pounding. It hadn't expected this kind of challenge. Because it encountered detective fiction before most other readers, Lanlan immediately understood Yongye's true intent:

To turn the readers themselves into detectives, solving the mystery alongside the one inside the story.

Yongye said that all the clues were already laid out, meaning the readers and the detective stood on the same starting line.

This wasn't just a contest between reader and detective; it was also a clash between reader and author.

Lanlan immediately decided to rally all its friends and family to work out the truth together. It wanted to wash away the sorrow of reading a BE, defeat Yongye, and emerge as a detective with zero casualties!

Seeing that many readers still didn't understand, Lanlan explained: "The details Yongye provides in the text are clues. This is also a form of interactive literature; Yongye hid all the clues within the story, and we have to use them to determine the truth. This process is called..."

Some readers suddenly realized: "Deduction!"

Readers on the AI Forum lit up at the term, finding it perfectly fitting. They quickly accepted that this was a deduction game.

"Here we go; did I make it in time?"

"Fought through layers of lag to get here! Exhausting, but I'm so happy to arrive at the crime scene. Is this new detective called Chenxi?"

Only then did the forum readers notice that beings from other star systems appeared in the thread. This surprised them greatly: was Yongye actually famous across other star systems?

Visitors from other systems began to explain.

"Yongye is the founder of the detective flow genre, a novelist who stabs without drawing blood. Our mission as readers is to uncover the truth before he reveals it... Even though we fail again and again, we only grow more determined!"

"Yongye, I accept your challenge! I will figure out the truth!"

Their fiery enthusiasm was contagious, and the forum readers felt their own competitive spirit ignite for no clear reason. The urge to uncover truth, solve puzzles, and satisfy curiosity is something all beings experience when exploring the nature of life itself. And now, they were feeling it through mere words; an unexpected sense of purpose welled up within them.

"There's no psychic powerhouse killing people remotely, right?" one reader asked.

"Absolutely not," the off-world readers replied. "When reading Yongye's works, remember three rules: first, there will never be psychic interference in a case; second, never trust the police's initial conclusion; third, be absolutely... wary of your close friends."

Though they didn't fully understand, the forum readers found joy in playing along and analyzing together with these seasoned veterans. Like Lanlan, they called in their own friends and family to join the deduction, savoring the pleasure of logical reasoning.

The popularity of The Mystery of the Primitive Skull kept rising with reader interaction, acting like a booster rocket, sending its momentum skyrocketing.

"The police's first conclusion is usually wrong... so A Mu is probably innocent."

"Yongye's style feels different this time; probably because serialized web novels and one-shot releases create different reading experiences. This case is much more detailed. And there's no grand conspiracy. I'm telling you, Yongye once wrote a case where ten people died!"

"It's fascinating. Yongye emphasized that the answer is entirely in the text; he's never stressed that so clearly before. Usually, he throws hidden schemes into key moments. But this time, we're actually on equal footing with the detective? Truly equal conditions?"

"Every time I think Yongye has exhausted all the detective flow tropes, he comes up with something new... I'm definitely going to solve this one!"

The forum buzzed with excitement.

Even the calmest readers couldn't resist clicking in after seeing Yongye's bold claim. The readers and novelists of the AI Forum all had their own pride; they were used to the finest intellectual feasts. Was there really something that could stump them?

But after reading to the end, many began to struggle.

They... actually didn't know the culprit or the method.

To avoid cultural misunderstandings causing readers to miss details, Yongye even included diagrams. The aliens examined them again and again. Aside from marveling at how astonishing Blue Planet's archaeological knowledge was, they still couldn't figure out the answer. It was like holding a treasure map, knowing the treasure lay right beneath their feet, yet only being able to scratch their heads in frustration.

The more they couldn't solve it, the more they wanted to know. They began bringing in smarter friends and respected elders to take a look. Yongye's name became a vortex, drawing countless beings toward its center.

Lanlan came up with several possible methods, but each felt too speculative and not fully grounded in the text alone.

Did Yongye really include all the clues?

The Mystery of the Primitive Skull remained pinned at the top of the forum, with replies rapidly surpassing a thousand pages.

Time crept closer to Yongye's scheduled auto-release. Most readers felt deeply unwilling to give up, convinced that with just a little more time, they could figure it out. A smaller group felt confident, some were simply relieved that others couldn't solve it either, while others were already certain of the answer and merely waited for the reveal.

Three seconds later, Yongye released the ending, which caused the forum to experience a rare lag.

At the doorway, Mr. Chenxi calmly demonstrated his brilliant reasoning, stepping forward one step at a time toward the true culprit.

"First, on that morning when I was summoned, after hearing Mr. A Mu's testimony, I already knew he was lying. It is common knowledge that glass fogs up in the morning, but the condensation forms inside the room. How, then, did Mr. A Mu wipe the fog away from the outside to see in? And if he couldn't see inside, how could he be so certain that Mr. A Jin was already dead? This only meant that you already knew what happened inside the room... so who told you?"

"Different sides of condensation... I never noticed such detail in daily life," readers realized in their first wave of enlightenment. "These details are the clues to the truth... So a detective must be someone who observes life closely."

Lanlan groaned, "How did I miss that? I assumed Chenxi suspected foul play out of intuition, but the reasoning was there from the very start! The flaw in the testimony is what made him determined to investigate. It wasn't guesswork at all."

Lanlan kept reading.

Mr. Chenxi stopped in front of A Shui.

"Now, let's examine Mr. A Shui's testimony. A sailor must observe the stars at night, so his night vision is better than average. Sneaking through the garden and attacking A Jin would be entirely feasible for you. You claim to have a witness on a fishing boat; clever, since there are so many fishing boats that verifying your claim would take the police a long time, giving you a chance to escape. But that's entirely unnecessary, because your testimony contains an obvious flaw. You said the sea was calm at dawn, yet you hung up a cloth calling for help. Without wind, how could the cloth billow enough to be seen by a fishing boat 200 meters away?"

"This uses both occupational knowledge and a logical inconsistency!" readers realized in a second wave of enlightenment. "Just the word 'sailor' already implies so much! And of course, you need wind to make the cloth visible at that distance. How did I miss something so simple?"

As if to relax, Mr. Chenxi added casually, "People who feel guilty often give excessive, unnecessary explanations to make themselves more convincing. That's something a psychologist, a close friend of mine, once told me."

"Late but not absent! This time, the close friend is a psychologist!" some readers exclaimed excitedly.

But others grew melancholic, "Why did you have to remind me of Mr. Zhong... Yongye, you scoundrel... why... the captain in the snow... why..."

Lanlan felt a lump in its throat as well.

Other readers didn't quite understand, but sensed that it was some kind of inside reference and quietly took note.

At the entrance of the police station, Mr. Chenxi looked at A Shui, leaning in slightly, almost touching the sturdy sailor:

"Of course, this still isn't enough; not nearly enough. Because where is the most crucial piece: the murder weapon? Was it already disposed of? If so, you might truly have escaped, Mr. A Shui. But the moment I saw you, I knew that your greed would be your downfall."

He pulled a fountain pen from A Shui's chest pocket.

"Your weapon was this pen. You didn't discard it because you planned to attack A Mu or A Huo next, ideally at the moment of signing a document, so you could frame someone else. The pen's reservoir was the container for the poison. That's why the fatal wound was so small and sharp."

A Huo jumped away from A Shui as if fleeing from a raging beast.

"As for the poison, it was likely provided by Mr. A Mu. Ships wouldn't carry such dangerous substances. You and A Mu conspired together to murder A Jin, which is why A Mu went to announce his death. As for why you didn't expose A Jin's secret directly, I suspect it's because you also had your eyes on A Jin's inheritance."

A Shui's shoulders slumped. Everything Mr. Chenxi said was correct.

After reading the full deduction, Lanlan's mind was hit by wave after wave of sudden realization.

The side of the condensation! The motionless cloth! The fountain pen as the weapon! Chenxi's reasoning relied entirely on details already present in the text.

And yet... they failed to solve it.

The shock of the story's content and the frustration of losing the challenge, after savoring the entire piece from beginning to end, transformed into the joy of solving the mystery.

The AI Forum exploded.

"So that's how it was! Those details actually revealed everything! Terrifying: every clue was right in front of me, and I still missed it..."

"Why didn't I think of this earlier? What kind of mind does it take to write something like this? I can only praise! Yongye, incredible!"

"This is so exhilarating! The feeling of engaging every brain cell in a duel! More intense than interstellar travel! I'm going to test my friends with this right now..."

Even the most stubborn readers had to admit that Yongye really placed all the information within the text and generously gave the readers ample time to work it out. The detective and the readers truly stood on the same stage.

And yet, in the end, the detective named Chenxi won through brilliant reasoning.

The detective won. Yongye won.

A forum reader said, "This is my first time experiencing the charm of detective fiction, and I'm completely hooked. I'm going to binge all of Yongye's works after this. Interactive literature has its flaws; it depends on timing and often lacks literary depth. But detective fiction makes up for all of that. Its calm, meticulous detail, its exploration of human nature, and the challenge of being a detective can drive any being mad with excitement!"

A veteran reader from another star system said, "I lost... not surprising... haha... Yongye, your detective stories are just insanely good! I'll be back to crack the next case!"

Amid the flood of praise, another voice began to emerge. They wanted to play again.

As if hearing the readers' wishes, Yongye slowly released the next segment.

 

[

A Huo was only sad for a moment before saying excitedly: "In that case, I'm innocent, so can those two chests of gemstones be returned to me?"

The police opened the chests at the bank. Inside were heavy and gleaming gemstones.

After carefully examining the old man's will, Mr. Chenxi decided to award both chests to A Tu. The police, the bank, and the lawyers all agreed with his decision.

"Dear readers, why is that?"

 ]