Chapter 32

The days Xiyu spent recuperating after his injury were like stolen moments of peaceful idleness.

He went to the infirmary regularly for medication and checkups; the rest of his time was spent reading in Luo Xi’s dorm. The wound from the laser gun healed quickly.

One day, when Luo Xi returned from training and saw Xiyu unwrapping his bandage, he couldn’t help but comment, “Got bored out of your mind, didn’t you? Use your brain next time.”

Xiyu touched the small scar left on his waist, then calmly put on his streamer uniform and replied softly, “I already reacted as fast as I could.”

“The person trying to kill you managed to hack the security system—do you think they’d give up easily?” Luo Xi sneered. “You should’ve figured out at least three things back then. First, whoever’s after you has an informant in security, or knows the system well enough to use unconventional methods. Second, they’re doing this in secret because they can’t afford to be exposed. Third, their goal is simple: they want you dead. So when the power went out in the reading room, your first instinct should’ve been to run—not just stand there like a sitting duck.”

Xiyu was speechless at first, then admitted frankly after a pause, “It was my own carelessness. I won’t give them another chance.”

Luo Xi smiled, and after a moment said, “To be honest, I’ve been through something like that too.”

Xiyu’s eyes widened.

Luo Xi leaned against the sofa, lost in memory. “But it happened in the game. After I was reset, I was targeted from the very first match. There were always a few streamers queued with me, clearly trying to get me eliminated. I was scrawny back then, no match in combat. I only made it through by relying on my brains and outlasting them.”

Xiyu listened intently, then suspiciously eyed Luo Xi’s now muscular and well-built physique.

“That’s why I train every day. The more people want me dead, the more determined I am to live well. I hope you’ve got that same spirit.” Luo Xi raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got to stream now. I asked you before—want to duo queue with me?”

Xiyu vaguely recalled the earlier promise and hesitated. “Now?”

Luo Xi replied, “When else? Wait for a lucky date on the calendar?”

“It’s not that, but… you’re the highest-ranking streamer, and I’m the lowest. Can we even team up?” Xiyu immediately stood up and asked.

Luo Xi walked over to his bedside drawer and pulled out a token from a pile. “With this, you can pick your teammate. The company uses an automatic algorithm to assign matches based on streamers’ tiers. If I take you, we’ll probably get matched with others closer to my level, which will be dangerous for you. So it’s not really giving you any advantage.”

Xiyu nodded. “I’m not afraid. Let’s go.”

Luo Xi grinned wickedly. “Right. I remember you said you were going to carry me to an easy win.”

Xiyu said calmly, “If I’m capable, and you don’t need to put in the effort, I don’t mind.”

Luo Xi wasn’t sure whether to call that confidence or arrogance, but he stifled his laughter and nodded, ready to watch this little streamer get chewed up by the veteran players.

In the Yuntai building, the most common rooms were game rooms, with the majority allocated to free-ranked matches.No matter which nutrient pod a streamer enters from, they all connect through the central system into the global matchmaking system, ultimately getting teammates whose abilities and experience match theirs, then loading into a streaming room to start making money.

On the way to the top-floor game room, Xiyu couldn’t help but ask, “Is the elimination rate 50% in every stream?”

“Not necessarily. In ranked matches, it’s basically like that,” Luo Xi replied. “But in expert-level matches—where all the streamers are at expert rank—the elimination rate is a bit lower. Those matches are extremely difficult, usually designed for super-wealthy foreign clients to place high-stakes bets.”

Xiyu nodded in understanding.

Luo Xi said, “So, resets are the most common thing at Yuntai. There are plenty of artificial humans who think like Xu Rou.”

Xiyu didn’t respond.

While they were chatting, Luo Xi had already brought him to the game room entrance and gave a grunt. “Put aside whatever’s on your mind for now and focus on surviving this round. Only then will we have time to catch our breath. I know you’re the stubborn type, so I’m not expecting full obedience—but let me warn you: know your limits. Don’t try to help others.”

Xiyu replied, “…Mr. Luo, just how kind do you think I am?”

“Someone like Wu Zhi isn’t going far, and the fact that you were willing to help him already says a lot,” Luo Xi said. “I’m just afraid that if no one holds you back, you’ll go running to the center of the world shouting about love.”

Xiyu didn’t confirm or deny it, only said, “I don’t have much in common with unpopular streamers.”

With that, he removed his wristband and handed it to the security staff at the game room entrance. “Team me up with the guy behind me.”

The security officer, a plain-looking young woman, couldn’t help commenting, “Boss Luo? Didn’t you claim you’d never use a team-up token?”

Luo Xi tossed both his wristband and the team-up token to her. “Sometimes you gotta help the newbies.”

The woman chuckled, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she entered the data. Then she said, “You haven’t visited Dr. Wang in a while. He asked about you two days ago.”

“Been busy training new recruits. Next month,” Luo Xi replied.

Xiyu followed Luo Xi into the game room, puzzled, and asked in a low voice, “Why are you so close with the security department? Even Director Lin said last time he wanted to transfer you out of streaming.”

Luo Xi said, “I’m a little better than naturals when it comes to programming, and I help out in the company’s lab in my spare time—he really said that?”

Xiyu nodded.

Luo Xi gave a faint smile and casually picked two adjacent nutrient pods. “These will do.”

Xiyu quickly grabbed his arm, frowning seriously. “If you don’t stream… you wouldn’t have to be reset. You’d… you’d be free.”"A cage or a garden—it makes no difference to someone who longs for the sky." Luo Xi shook off Xiyu’s hand and mouthed silently, “Or are you just saying you want to stop being a streamer?”

Deep inside, Xiyu was haunted by a conviction even he couldn’t clearly recall. He shook his head.

At that moment, a patrolling security officer from the safety department passed by: “Hurry up and lie down, this match has been queuing for half an hour—only two spots left.”

Luo Xi didn’t argue with Xiyu any further. He lay down directly in the nutrient pod with a sigh: “Perfect timing. Let me see which lucky ones are waiting for me.”

“……” Xiyu felt ashamed of his momentary doubt and hesitation. Without a word, he climbed into the nutrient pod, silently waiting for the connection setup and sterile cleansing process. Only when the nutrient fluid began to flow slowly did he close his eyes, forcing all his focus onto the match ahead.

This time, there were no amateurs among the opponents.

Every step forward would likely be over mountains of bones and seas of blood.

[Ranked Scenario: No. 00008]

[Scenario Name: Innocence Welfare Home]

[Start Time: February 27, 2046]

[Current Online Viewers: 149,817]

After a long stretch of chaos, Xiyu’s mind finally began to clear.

It seemed the game world had loaded.

Xiyu took a deep breath and smelled the cold, dusty air before slowly opening his eyes.

He’d already been mentally prepared for the horror of a ranked scenario, and had steeled himself against anything—even a swarm of man-eating zombies wouldn’t have surprised him.

But once he saw the actual environment, he froze in place.

This scenario was set in the ruins of a building that appeared to be from the 34th century of the previous era—roughly a hundred years ago.

Under a sky full of twilight, everything was rubble, steeped in the desolation of a postwar wasteland.

Broken stones adorned with European-style sculptures and faded red Chinese slogans hinted that this was still a corner of Huaxia.

And it looked like it had once been a school or something similar. The open space enclosed by collapsed buildings was a small playground, complete with a dust-covered soccer goal and running tracks painted in white.The players participating in the scenario were scattered all over the playground, lying in disarray.

Sounds pretty ordinary, right? Nothing worth making a fuss over?

But Xiyu trembled as he raised his chubby little hands, checking again and again before frantically fumbling over his pitifully small body, finally accepting a deeply unsettling reality: the game planners had actually shrunk him into a four- or five-year-old child?!

Of course, Xiyu wasn’t the only unlucky one.

All twelve streamers on the playground had been transformed into children of various appearances, the oldest-looking among them no more than seven years old—clearly with zero combat ability.

How powerless would they be if they encountered a situation where they had to fight?

Cold sweat broke out on Xiyu’s forehead.

Just then, another small hand landed on his shoulder: “Bro, can I really carry this match lying down?”

Xiyu turned around immediately and saw a little boy in a cute three-piece suit. He was only a head taller than Xiyu, with a round, fair face and lively features that looked a bit too clever—clearly a mischievous kid.

Xiyu stepped back instantly. “Who are you?”

The boy put his hands on his hips and questioned him in a crisp child’s voice: “We just lay down together a minute ago and now you’re pretending not to know me?!”

Only then did Xiyu come to his senses and cautiously ask, “Luo Xi... you looked this normal when you were little?”

Luo Xi: “……”

Xiyu breathed a small sigh of relief. At least with this teammate by his side, he was far more reliable than someone like Wu Zhi.

Besides, even if his own combat ability was now worthless, it wasn’t like anyone else’s was much better.

“Androids don’t have a childhood. This is just the planners being jerks.” Luo Xi snorted, then looked him over. “But since you’re this cute, I’ll let it slide. Just remember your promise.”

Xiyu finally saw his reflection in Luo Xi’s eyes: a silver-haired little kid with big, droopy eyes, pretty enough to look like a little girl, wearing a bib and overalls—dignity completely gone.

Luo Xi chuckled twice more, then picked up the lion plushie near Xiyu’s feet and strolled over to the goalpost, where he sat down and let out a sleepy yawn.

Xiyu noticed he had a plushie beside him too—unlike Luo Xi’s, his was a chubby cow-patterned cat—so he quickly scooped it up into his arms and chased after him, asking, “What’s going on? Do ranked scenarios often involve transformations like this?”

Luo Xi shook his head. “Very rare. Most role-play scenarios before this only changed the streamer’s outfit. This must be one of the planners’ new gimmicks.”Xiyu slowly crouched down, looking at the other ten little kids, and said softly, “Everyone has a plushie, and each one looks completely different. Could it mean we all have different abilities?”

“Maybe, or maybe they’re just matched to personal appearance.” Luo Xi picked up his lion plushie and then suddenly smacked down Xiyu’s cat. “Rawr!”

Xiyu: “……”

Wasn’t this guy supposed to be a pro streamer? Can he even be relied on?!

Xiyu couldn’t be blamed for doubting Luo Xi’s attitude—because after that, all of Luo Xi’s attention was focused on tormenting the plush lion in his hands, without analyzing anything at all.

Looking into the distance at the competitors, Xiyu tried to draw some useful information from him: “You’ve been around longer—do you recognize any of these streamers?”

“Might recognize some in their normal forms, but who can tell now that they’re all brat versions?” Luo Xi complained. “Even you didn’t recognize your big brother!”

Xiyu gave up on trying to get help from him and fell into quiet thought on his own.

Only then did Luo Xi sit up straight. “But that one with the pink hair—don’t mess with her. She’s kind of a minor idol on the Cloud Platform. She even released a record last year. Has a ton of fans.”

Xiyu’s gaze immediately shifted to a pink-haired little girl who looked like an angel.

The girl wore killer twin ponytails, a pure white frilly dress, big twinkling eyes, and even had a tiny heart drawn on her cheek. Just by looks alone, she was certainly a standout—and the unicorn plushie she hugged only reinforced her clear “main character” aura.

Just then, the gathering streamers noticed the two of them in the corner and began forming small groups as they approached.

Xiyu stood up nervously to greet them.

The pink-haired girl took the lead, smiling brightly. “Why didn’t you come over? Since we’re matched together, it’s fate. Let’s introduce ourselves first?”

Luo Xi: “Is that even necessary? Who doesn’t know you?”

Xiyu gave Luo Xi a sideways glance. “I don’t. And you are?”

The little girl didn’t mind at all and smiled sweetly. “I’m Fei Ling. I just got promoted to senior streamer. Nice to meet you.”

“If it weren’t for all your donations and constantly upgrading your chip, you’d be out already,” a frail-looking girl with a mushroom-cut haircut mumbled. Then she added softly, “I’m Lan Yu. Advanced streamer.”

Xiyu replied calmly, “What a coincidence. I’m Xiyu.”

Only beginner streamers who’d heard the rumors or a few expert-level ones should’ve known Xiyu’s name. He expected no one to react—so he was surprised when a boy at the back of the group chuckled and said, “You again? Are we system-bound or what?”Xiyu looked over in surprise and saw a sharp-eyed kid in a denim jacket. After a moment of hesitation, he recognized him by his eyes: “Zhao Zhusheng?”

Sure enough, the miniaturized Zhao Zhusheng strolled over with his hands in his pockets, his smile growing even brighter.

Luo Xi finally looked up, his gaze ice-cold.

Zhao Zhusheng deliberately introduced himself, then said, “Xiyu and I are probably the weakest ones here. With experts around, we’re doomed.”

Fei Ling gave a friendly wave. “Don’t worry. If no one messes with me, I won’t mess with them. Whatever the game rules are, we follow them.”

“I wasn’t talking about you, little goddess.” Zhao Zhusheng immediately pointed at Luo Xi. “That’s Luo Xi. He’s an expert streamer. Used to have a face full of scars! None of you have seen him before? He even came to the beginner zone as a mentor once!”

As soon as he said this, everyone instinctively stepped away from Luo Xi. Though no one said anything, they clearly began treating him as the top threat.

Unexpectedly, Luo Xi didn’t try to smooth things over. Instead, he suddenly leapt up, grabbed Zhao Zhusheng’s fingers and twisted them back hard, then clamped his hand around his throat. “Keep running your mouth, and I’ll bury you right here on the playground!”

Zhao Zhusheng was no match for Luo Xi and let out a bone-chilling scream of pain.

Xiyu rubbed his temples. “Enough. The game hasn’t even started yet. What if there’s a penalty for injuring someone?”

Only then did Luo Xi let go, roughly shoving Zhao Zhusheng to the ground.

If adults had done these things, it might’ve felt tense and dangerous—but as kids, it just looked like childish brawling, which made Xiyu chuckle.

That laugh instantly drew a hostile glare from another girl with long hair.

Xiyu met her exaggerated red eyes and had a bad feeling. He winced inwardly. “No way…”

The long-haired girl bared her fangs and waved her Pinocchio plushie. “Figures I’d run into you again, pretty boy! Just you wait!”

Xiyu couldn’t believe it. “Duli?”

She rolled her eyes, which was answer enough.

Fei Ling watched curiously from the side, hugged her unicorn tightly, and spoke up: “So you all know each other. Let’s stop arguing. The sun’s about to set, and the rules should show up any moment now. While we still can, let’s get some rest.”

The biggest of the streamers, a chubby little boy, quickly chimed in: “She’s right. Whatever grudges we’ve got, we can settle them during the game.”

Fei Ling gave him a grateful smile.The chubby boy immediately blushed and stammered, “H-hi, I’m Guan Sheng, I’m a fan of your songs.”

Finally freed from the center of attention, Xiyu sat down wearily and glanced helplessly at Luo Xi beside him. Luo Xi lifted his little lion again and asked, “Isn’t my doll the best looking? Don’t you think so?”

Above their heads, a flock of crows flew past in the blood-red sunset.

The sun finally began to set at a visible pace.

With the last ray of light vanishing, the playground beneath their feet suddenly began to rumble!

Only then did Luo Xi warily pull Xiyu to his feet, eyes fixed on the building in the distance where dust was rising.

The once-destroyed mansion now seemed enchanted—countless broken bricks and shattered tiles shot into the air, reassembling rapidly into a grand Western-style cathedral.

At the same time, both the cathedral and playground became enclosed by a tall, circular wall.

A bell chimed, its sound coming from an unknown source.

A flash of lightning lit up the sign above the cathedral entrance.

Five large characters glowed on it: Chunzhen Welfare Home.

Fei Ling stepped back in fear.

The chubby boy quickly stood in front of her, watching everything warily.

Xiyu and Luo Xi exchanged a glance.

Luo Xi quickly whispered in Xiyu’s ear, “If we get separated, meet at the highest point.”

Xiyu nodded.

Just then, a gentle, grandmotherly voice came over a broadcast speaker, delivering an eerie calmness.

[Children, welcome home. The game has begun.]

[Within the warm welfare home lies countless happy childhood memories.]

[Over the next five days, you must search the home for playmates and collect gem fragments. Each of you may gather up to five pieces.][Gem fragments may be hidden in any corner of the welfare home. A maximum of 5 can appear each night.]

[This game is ranked by score, with an elimination rate of no less than 50%.]

[Surviving 24 hours earns 2 points. Each gem fragment is worth 10 points. Death deducts 20 points.]

[All other rules… only the devils in hell know.]

[Now, sweet children, let’s feed your little tummies first.]

Xiyu was carefully digesting the meaning of each sentence when he suddenly felt his cow-patterned cat plush come to life, breaking free from his grip in an instant.

He turned his head dazedly, only to see the cow-cat growing larger and larger, its vast form casting a massive shadow over him.

Xiyu didn’t even get the chance to resist before his vision was completely engulfed.

When he could see clearly again, he was no longer on the cold and wind-blown broken playground, but in a narrow yet cozy children’s room.

Inside was a soft little bed, an overwhelming number of toys piled up, and a table full of delicious food.

Snapping back to his senses, Xiyu dazedly walked over to the fireplace and warmed his frozen-stiff hands, replaying the rules in his mind: five nights, at most twenty-five gem fragments, and twelve people competing… That was some intense competition. And the unexpected presence of both Zhao Zhusheng and Duli in this round made things feel even stranger—he didn’t believe for a second it was coincidence.

As if confirming his suspicion, the once-silent broadcast rang out again.

[A player has used a Snipe Card on little Xiyu. They have three chances to locate his exact position.]

[The first night has begun. Sweet dreams.]

A Snipe Card?

Xiyu recalled the furious look on Duli’s face and couldn’t help but wonder if she was the one—maybe she couldn’t sleep until she got revenge, wouldn’t rest until he was dead. It left him feeling helpless more than afraid.

“Oh no, you’ve been targeted!”

A sudden cute voice snapped Xiyu back to reality.

He turned toward the sound—and saw that same soft cow-cat.

The cow-cat seemed fully alive now, sitting obediently in the middle of the feast on the table. “Baby Xiyu, you'd better not leave the safe room. Come have something to eat.”Xiyu approached cautiously, reaching out to touch it.

The cow-cat immediately jumped a bit farther away. “I’m your only friend—don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Xiyu glanced around. “This is called a safe room? No one else can come in?”

The cow-cat nodded. “Yes. As long as you’re holding me at sunset, you’ll be transported to my safe room at night. This place is intruder-proof—it’s the safest, safest place!”

Xiyu was slightly skeptical. “So I can stay here until morning?”

The cow-cat smiled happily. “That’s right!”

Xiyu said, “But if I just keep hiding like this, once others get the gems, I’ll be eliminated.”

The cow-cat quickly responded in panic, “There are scary ghosts out there! Ghosts that capture children to sacrifice to demons! If you go out, you’ll die! As long as others die, you won’t get eliminated!”

Thinking about his promise to Luo Xi, Xiyu said, “I’m not willing to leave my fate in others’ hands.”

The cow-cat quickly blocked the door. “No, no! If you go out, I’ll chase you down and bring you back! Once I catch you, you won’t be able to leave again for the whole night!”

Xiyu nodded. “Alright, I understand. But you won’t catch me.”

As he spoke, he grabbed a piece of fried fish from the table and threw it on the floor.

The cow-cat instantly pounced on it.

Without a second thought, Xiyu flung the door open and ran, completely ignoring the angry yowling behind him.

Sure enough, outside the safe room was the welfare home's cold and dark hallway. The temperature plummeted by at least thirty degrees, making Xiyu sneeze softly.

He covered his nose and looked back—only to find that there was no door behind him. Realizing that the safe room was likely one of those so-called “mystery rooms,” he glanced around and quickly started moving.

If that cat hadn’t lied, it would soon begin searching the building for him. If it caught him, he could kiss any hope of finding gem fragments tonight goodbye.

Judging by the surroundings, the welfare home seemed to have been converted from a church. Perhaps some well-meaning, God-fearing people once took in orphans here, offering them shelter during chaotic times.

So it was normal for the building to have functional rooms like classrooms, a reading room, and a cafeteria.

But... the atmosphere was far too eerie. Rather than poor and shabby, it felt downright sinister.Xiyu dashed down the hallway on his short legs, moving fast. Just as he was looking for a way upstairs, he suddenly stumbled over something soft and squishy.

His heart skipped a beat as he looked back. He stepped closer and gave it a little kick, only to realize—it was the corpse of an adult woman.

She was covered in blood, her clothes in tatters. Her eyes had been cruelly gouged out, and her lifeless gaze seemed to fixate resentfully on the cobweb-covered ceiling.

Xiyu frowned and stepped back. He crouched down but didn’t find anything useful on her body. Just as he was about to leave, he caught the faint sound of sobbing.

He quickly slipped into an abandoned classroom nearby, hiding in the hollow beneath the wooden podium. Peeking out through a gap in the wood, he watched quietly.

The sobbing grew louder—filled with grief, malice, and a chilling anguish that seeped into the night.

Fortunately, Xiyu wasn’t particularly sensitive to supernatural stuff, and he kept observing calmly. He eventually spotted the source of the weeping—a nun, her entire body decayed, draped in a tattered veil!

She had no feet and floated eerily past the classroom door… then suddenly stopped.

Xiyu tensed up, watching as she twisted her head toward him. He silently gripped the broken triangular ruler at his feet, uncertain whether his frail child’s body could handle a confrontation.

Rotten flesh hung precariously from the nun’s skull-like frame. She seemed to sense something and was about to float into the classroom when, as if she encountered a natural enemy, she abruptly dissolved into black mist and vanished.

Xiyu exhaled in relief, though confused by what just happened.

Moments later, a two-meter-tall lion plush strode confidently past the classroom door. It was holding a rope, smeared with splatters of blood—utterly bizarre.

…Wasn’t that Luo Xi’s doll?

Xiyu blinked: So Luo Xi had left the safe room too. And apparently, the evil spirits in the welfare home were afraid of children’s dolls. That meant there was a mechanism for the streamers to use circuitous routes and avoid danger.

He waited until the lion disappeared, then quietly stepped to the door with the triangle ruler in hand.

But just as he glanced around and turned his head—a rotting nun’s face stared right into his!

Even though he prided himself on not fearing ghosts, the sudden threat made his scalp prickle. Without thinking, he jabbed the ruler into the nun’s eye and bolted after the lion doll without looking back.

The ghost nun reared up and let out a blood-curdling shriek of agony: “Come back—! You lowly sacrifice—!”

That only made Xiyu run faster.

When he finally spotted the stairwell, he didn’t bother scouting ahead. He scrambled up with hands and feet, climbing all the way to the top. Gasping for breath, he threw himself through the door, dove into a large wooden cabinet, and curled up inside, clutching his mouth as he panted in pain.

This child’s body was far weaker than he’d expected—barely a tenth of his former physical strength. Clearly, brute force wasn’t going to be a viable option in this game.…Unless the opponents are other streamers.

Xiyu reached up to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

In that same moment, he heard faint footsteps again.

Frowning, Xiyu silently groped around in the cabinet for a weapon, grumbling to himself: Why are they after me again? Are all the others just hiding in their safe rooms?

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t with him this time—the cabinet was completely empty.

He had no choice but to run!

Just as the cabinet door swung open and he was about to bolt, he locked eyes with a pair of familiar dark eyes—and finally let out a breath of relief. “Oh, it’s you.”

Luoxi yanked him out. “What, are you stupid? If I were your opponent, I’d have just locked you in that cabinet all night!”

Xiyu hadn’t even caught his breath yet, but he was already jogging along beside Luoxi on his short legs. “I saw your lion.”

Luoxi replied, “Yeah, Pinocchio and a frog are on this floor. I think they’re after Duli. I don’t know whose doll the frog belongs to.”

Xiyu thought for a second. “It’s that tall girl with freckles on her face.”

Luoxi shrugged and led him into a storage room. He closed the door behind them and dragged over a crate to block it, then whispered, “Whatever—listen, I found something weird.”

Xiyu: “?”

Luoxi crooked his finger. “Come here.”

Xiyu had no idea what he was up to, but followed Luoxi through the cluttered storage room, winding between piles of stuff until they reached the far corner—where he saw a little boy crouching with his back to them.

The boy’s clothes were old and worn, and both of his arms were missing. Blood had pooled beneath him, and he didn’t look like any of the other streamers.

Xiyu couldn’t help furrowing his brow in sympathy. He lowered his voice and muttered, “What kind of psycho designed this game? Has no one filed a complaint?”

Luoxi twitched his mouth. “You seriously have a father complex or something.”

The little boy heard their voices and stood up tremblingly. He turned to reveal a tear-streaked face, and asked fearfully, “Are you… here to play with me?”

Xiyu couldn’t help recalling what the rules had said—[You must try your best to find playmates in the orphanage and collect gem fragments.]He immediately nodded. “Yes.”

To his surprise, the little boy’s sorrow instantly turned to joy, his lips curling into a strange smile. “Then I’m so happy!”

Thick black mist suddenly spread from beneath his feet, the fog gradually corroding the cluttered items in the storage room, clearing out a much larger open space around them.

Luoxi quickly grabbed Xiyu’s arm and asked sharply, “What do you want to play?”

The little boy, armless, wobbled in a small circle where he stood, leaving a trail of bloody footprints, then muttered softly, “Too few playmates… Let me find a few more… There should be other kids nearby…”

As soon as he said that, two little girls suddenly appeared out of thin air, falling one after another onto the floor in a disheveled heap.

They were none other than Duli and the owner of the frog doll.

Xiyu frowned: Was it really Duli who used the Sniper Card on me? Otherwise, how could she just happen to be nearby?

The little boy finally stomped his feet in delight. “Four people, just right!”

The freckled girl with the frog doll recoiled in fear, clearly ready to flee. “What is that thing?”

Duli rolled her eyes. “Gaokela, there’s a limit to how dumb you can pretend to be. It’s obviously an NPC.”

“I know it’s an NPC, but where are his arms?” the girl named Gaokela looked warily at Luoxi. “Did you do it?”

Luoxi: “I’m this weak right now, barely strong enough to swat a fly. Why would I cut up an NPC? Besides, he’s not your little brother—what’s it to you if he’s missing parts?”

Gaokela: “…”

The little boy ignored their arguing and began crying again. “I-I stole the teacher’s Rubik’s Cube, and to punish me… he took away my arms… I can never play with a Rubik’s Cube again…”

Xiyu asked carefully, “So… you want us to play Rubik’s Cube?”

The little boy nodded tearfully.

Luoxi asked, “What’s in it for us?”

Two shimmering fragments suddenly floated into the air behind the boy. “These can be given to the Rubik’s Cube master among you.”

…Rubik’s Cube?Xiyu didn’t remember how to solve a Rubik’s Cube, but he knew very well that it relied on formulas—anyone who understood the patterns could solve it far faster than a beginner. He glanced uneasily at Luoxi.

Luoxi’s expression remained neutral as he continued to ask, “Is it really just about solving the cube?”

“Of course not,” the little boy instantly stopped sobbing and blinked. “There are only two fragments, so split into two teams.”

Duli clearly looked down on Gaokela, but she also knew she had no other choice. She glared at the freckled girl. “Get over here. You expect these two fairies to help you?”

Gaokela nervously moved closer to Duli. “Do you know how?”

Duli scoffed. “Obviously.”

This made Xiyu feel quite regretful. If only he had studied the Rubik’s Cube a bit before entering the game. But he also understood that there were too many brain-intensive games in the world, and it was impossible to cram everything in a short time. For now, he could only place his hopes on Luoxi.

Luoxi seemed to know exactly what Xiyu was thinking and grinned as he reminded him, “Didn’t you say you’d carry me to an easy win?”

Before Xiyu could admit defeat, the little boy suddenly said loudly, “Indeed, two people will need to lie down! Each team, pick one.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a loud noise echoed through the warehouse. Two guillotines appeared out of nowhere, their gleaming blades reflecting a chilling light, opened wide and silently waiting for blood.

Luoxi immediately stepped forward. “Then I’ll really lie down.”

Xiyu, unwilling to joke at all, quickly asked, “Does the person lying under the guillotine need to solve the Rubik’s Cube?”

“Nope,” the little boy replied. Then two ropes dropped onto the floor. “Once you’ve decided, the person solving the cube can tie up the one who’s lying down.”

Xiyu finally admitted, “I’m not too confident. If you don’t mind risking your neck, then you can go lie down.”

“Ugh, men’s promises are lies. That whole ‘easy win’ thing was a scam,” Luoxi muttered as he swiftly tied up Xiyu’s hands and even took the time to tie a neat bow.

Next to them, Gaokela and Duli had finished discussing. Duli impatiently tied Gaokela up. “Go on. Trust me—you won’t regret it.”

Gaokela looked at the guillotine, her legs shaking. “I-I don’t want to play anymore. I quit.”

The little boy shook his head. “You’re not allowed to quit.”

As he said this, both Xiyu and Gaokela felt an invisible force seize control of their bodies, forcing them to lie flat in the groove of the guillotine.

The razor-sharp blades rose instantly to the ceiling.Gaokela was on the verge of breaking down. “Now that the rules are explained, just start already!”

The little boy conjured two more knives and slammed them down at Luoxi and Duli’s feet. Then, two colorless Rubik’s Cubes floated into the air beside him. “The remaining two, of course, need to solve my cubes. Seven minutes is the maximum time limit. If one team finishes, the other is considered to have failed. If neither finishes within the time, then I’ll be keeping both heads! But just twisting them is way too easy—even an idiot could do that. So, hand over your eyeballs for safekeeping!”

At those words, all four of them froze.

The Rubik’s Cubes floating beside the boy weren’t the typical kind—instead, each face had countless tiny squares, looking incredibly complex.

Cold sweat broke out on Xiyu’s back. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the guillotine hanging over his neck or because of the difficult task Luoxi was about to face.

Lili gave a dry laugh. “How are we supposed to twist them blind? We haven’t even seen the colors.”

“Don’t you have teammates? Let them tell you,” the little boy said gleefully. “Time starts now!”

At the same time, the guillotines began to slowly descend.

“Your teacher went way too easy on you. I’d love to turn you into char siu,” Luoxi muttered irritably at the boy, then, right in front of everyone, picked up a knife and stabbed it directly into his own eye socket.

Xiyu instantly shut his eyes, feeling his clothes soak through with sweat in an instant.