Ron briefly considered the possibility of a fractured space-time cognitive paradox, but dismissed it as highly improbable. If it were a mere matter of localized temporal sanity, things would not be this convoluted.
He shifted his focus to the wooden bullet.
It was vital to note that a wooden bullet was primarily ammunition designed for training. Its lethality stemmed entirely from the mass of wood splinters spraying outward at point-blank range; its long-range damage was practically non-existent. It was also utilized to conserve precious military assets during drills—making it incredibly cheap and easy to mass-produce. That was its sole practical application.
In other words, aside from the year stamped onto it, this structural nature was the primary point of interest. The wood itself was thoroughly ordinary, bearing no anomalous trace of magic. Given that Ron had also packed standard BB pellets and live ammunition, his past self must have deliberately left this specific item behind as a critical clue.
Conservation of resources. The concept quickly clicked in his mind: do not expend civilian lives. He accepted this premise immediately.
The second aspect—close-range damage and the cloud of wooden debris—was harder to parse, but a realization gradually crystallized in his mind: Intimidate without killing.
Indeed, a wooden blank generated immense acoustic force and sensory shock rather than actual lethal trauma. In many instances, the wood disintegrated into ash upon firing; it possessed none of the devastating ballistic power people typically imagined.
Terrify, but do not execute.
To pull off such an intimidation tactic under those stakes would be incredibly difficult, likely requiring a massive crowd or overwhelming authority. Ron did not choose between the two; instead, he allowed them to run parallel.
Next was the number 2026—the year following his death in his previous life. It directly pointed to the future. It either implied that time within the train car was a finite currency meant to be rationed, threatened, and controlled, or it served as an explicit signpost for the future that the current Ron needed to heed. But if that were the case, the old Ron must have known the new Ron would lose his memories. His past self had either flawlessly deduced this outcome or realized it beforehand.
So, how exactly did the old Ron beat this demon game?
There was one viable strategy that perfectly aligned with both Ron and Quan's capabilities, while checking all the boxes of the available clues: The Ruse of the Righteous Guise.
First, he re-examined the parameters of the game:
There is only one demon. The entity that consciously perceives itself as the demon is the demon. There are twenty-nine players in total.
The demon can deploy their personal magic to execute a target for a window of ten seconds every ten minutes. Within those ten seconds of active magic, they must claim a life.
If the demon successfully claims a life, they receive a mobile ward of protection that can be anchored onto any individual.
If a standard player murders another player, they will face a terminal penalty once the game concludes.
If a standard player successfully executes the demon, that player instantly mutates into the new demon.
All participants must possess a valid train ticket. Losing a ticket designates the individual as a stowaway, resulting in an immediate penalty.
If the demon does not possess an active protection ward, they will be classified as a criminal riding the transit line with a forged identity, triggering a guilty verdict.
After exactly one hour, the train will reach the terminal station, at which point the conductor will board to inspect everyone's tickets.
Ron recalled that every two seconds, the train would violently jolt—a rhythmic, physical trait of the journey he had experienced firsthand.
According to Ron's calculations, the execution of the strategy unfolded across precise phases:
THE EXECUTION PATHWAY: THE RIGHTEOUS GUISE
Phase 1: Despite being the actual demon, Ron systematically establishes a public persona as a devout believer possessing unwavering religious faith. He masks his true nature entirely, seamlessly weaving anti-demon rhetoric and theological traps into his speech. The objective is to shift the crowd's collective psychology from raw, paralyzed terror into unified, righteous fury.
Phase 2: Throughout the initial twenty minutes, Ron applies relentless psychological pressure on the collective, profiling the room and narrowing down individuals displaying subtle signs of guilt, micro-expressions, or volatile anxiety. He continuously drills the phrase "the demon consciously perceives itself as the demon," emphasizing that the entity must be absolutely, internally certain of its unholy identity to function.
Phase 3: Ron fragments the crowd into distinct, manageable cohorts: men, women, children, and the elderly. The true mechanical objective is to simulate an ecosystem of mutual self-surveillance. Within this herd mentality, Ron naturally defaults into the role of the undisputed shepherd—a pious guide trusted implicitly due to his flawless acting.
Phase 4: Ron steps into the role of a clinical, psychological priest, organizing a "communal confession" to directly evaluate who is deceitful and map out individual temperaments. For instance, if an old woman seeks to inflate her social standing to avoid suspicion by instinctively crying out, "Killing me is destroying invaluable societal talent!" before boasting about being a professor at University ABC or the CEO of Company XYZ, Ron would needle her mind with targeted, highly technical questions the moment he detects a lie. He does not expose her immediately; he merely instructs her to continue the conversation provided they survive the hour.
Phase 5: Ron establishes a line of communication with the adjacent train car. Since the two cars are physically isolated, he utilizes shifting glances, whispered cues, and hand gestures to signal a contact over there, allowing them to mirror the exact psychological maneuvers happening on his side. This cross-car coordination requires an ally Ron trusts implicitly—Quan. This proxy acts on Ron's behalf while Ron remains occupied holding court with the crowd. This accomplice observes the layout from one end of the car to the other, coordinating with Ron's selected men who are stationed at the four structural corners. (Ron could simply lie to the adjacent car that they are old acquaintances; given the physical distance and blurry faces through the glass, Quan can gradually manipulate their perceived identities and fabricate a plausible narrative).
Phase 6: Because demons naturally tend to isolate themselves from the herd—driven by a psychological illusion of pseudo-omnipotence or a tactical preference for high-vantage observation points—the true entity would inevitably select its prey from the fringes. The suspicious target in the adjacent car and Ron's allied contact happen to be at the rear of their respective cars, falling directly into everyone's line of sight. Ron, standing dead center in the crowd, ensures his contact remains safe. Meanwhile, the individual in the adjacent car (who stands a high probability of being the actual demon) acts as the instigator. Even if that person isn't the demon, their highly suspicious behavior will inevitably trigger mass paranoia. (Ron's only regret is that establishing cross-car communication by chance is incredibly difficult, as the odds of running into an acquaintance in another car are abysmally low).
Phase 7 (The Unleashing Phase): Ron continuously prompts his ally to subtly point toward the adjacent car, applying immense psychological pressure and forcing them to cross the line into committing a murder. At this stage, if the target across the way truly is the demon, the battle is essentially done job.
Phase 8: Since the adjacent car lacks a precise method to track time, Ron's group deliberately feeds them false temporal updates. The suffocating tension warps their perception of reality, driving the other side to initiate a slaughter out of panic. But due to the rigid rules, any magical strike must be an area-of-effect attack. Riddled with internal suspicion, the other car descends into absolute chaos, and the target is beaten to a pulp by the frantic mob. Ron doesn't need to lift a finger; he calibrated the temporal discrepancy perfectly so that everything wraps up neatly between the 49th and 50th minute. Immediately, the self-proclaimed demon across the way transfers a protection ward to himself and Ron's side, and Ron's ally instantly routes that protection directly to Ron. Safe under the ward, both sides are granted immunity from instant-death rules (though physical trauma still applies).
Phase 9: With only the final minutes remaining, Ron instantly funnels the crushing weight of time onto a pre-selected target, unleashing the collective might of the mob and calculated psychological warfare. Under ruthless behavioral scrutiny, the chosen scapegoat is someone who lied during confession and is genuinely guilty of a lesser sin (but has sincerely repented). Ron leverages his "holy" status to anchor his words in the minds of the collective, escalating their baseline fear into volatile rage. If the cornered prey attempts to invoke magic and succeeds, they will execute a kill within 0 seconds. But what if they cannot wield magic? That is the exact trap Ron plants in their mind.
Phase 10: Ron uses a sufficiently sharp object, using the mob's chaotic movements to anonymously plant it directly into the target's hands. As the hysterical crowd sentences the scapegoat and prepares to break their limbs, Ron steps forward to play the benevolent comforter—but ensures that only the victim can see his mocking, derisive smirk.
Phase 11: Trapped in a state of absolute, suffocating psychological compression, the victim will inevitably lash out and murder someone physically. They bypass magic because they believe that by taking a life with their own hands, they will become a king—an entity capable of deciding who lives or dies, a classic power fantasy illusion.
Phase 12: To ensure this unfolds flawlessly, Ron leverages his pious authority to aggregate everyone's train tickets under the guise of safe-keeping. He slips them into his pocket, deliberately leaving a single ticket subtly torn—an accident entirely engineered by Ron.
Phase 13: Driven by absolute urgency, the "new demon" (the scapegoat who just committed murder) succumbs to the delusion of absolute authority and scans the room for a target to execute. However, that sovereign power lasts for a window of exactly 0 seconds. If he cannot execute them within that fraction of a second, what happens?
Phase 14: The secret lies entirely within the temporal rhythm. Ron—the linchpin binding the collective together—holds the absolute monopoly over tracking time. He schedules his timeline manipulation to occur near the absolute end of the game. While the mob is entirely occupied cross-examining the scapegoat, Ron seamlessly adjusts the count and intentionally counts slower than reality, inducing a massive lag behind actual time.
Phase 15: To maximize their perceived leverage, the new demon will naturally hesitate, dragging out their decision-making process. Thus, Ron merely needs to maintain this temporal distortion, stalling the room until the train screechingly arrives at the station, automatically triggering the game's end.
Phase 16: At this terminal moment, the new demon attempts to invoke the protection ward upon himself, only to realize it is impossible (as Ron was never a true player holding that authority within his line of sight). Since the train tickets are bound strictly to seat numbers rather than explicit names, Ron and his ally swiftly redistribute the tickets to the crowd and slip back into their original seats. The wretched new demon is officially left behind as the ultimate sacrificial lamb.