Chapter 33

Which is harder—hurting others, or hurting yourself?

Xiyu couldn’t find an answer to that question.

But if he asked himself honestly, he knew he couldn’t be as decisive as Luoxi—he wouldn’t have been able to stab his own eyes out without even a second of hesitation.

The intense pain of it was unimaginable. Luoxi finally lost his usual smile, and with trembling hands, he dropped the knife to the floor, splattering small droplets of blood.

When Xiyu opened his eyes again, he felt as if he were suffocating, drowning in a wave of oxygen deprivation.

The little boy spoke with satisfaction, “Please hurry up.”

The Rubik’s Cube instantly floated into Luoxi’s hands.

At the same moment, Xiyu, lying on his back, strained to look up and finally made out the colors on the cube.

“Oh, right,” the little boy clapped his hands. “To make sure it’s fair, the two teams can’t overhear each other. Please sit back to back!”

Duli and Luoxi, who had just shakily picked up their knives, were immediately forced to face opposite directions by an invisible strength.

Xiyu quickly said, “Hang in there. I’ll do my best—”

“Listen to me,” Luoxi interrupted crisply, giving clear and concise instructions. “This is a 9-layer cube, each face has 81 squares, 326 squares total. Use 1 for the first color, 2 for the second, and so on… Read out every face visible to you from top to bottom, left to right, using your fastest speed. Got it?”

Xiyu instantly understood. Luoxi clearly had deep knowledge of Rubik’s Cubes—he had chosen to memorize the pattern and solve it blindfolded.

Right now, Xiyu—tied up and helpless—was his eyes. Seven minutes would pass in a flash. No time to waste. No mistakes allowed.

Xiyu took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. “Got it.”

Luoxi: “Start.”

Xiyu no longer looked at Luoxi’s bloodied face, nor did he pay attention to Duli and Gaokela’s struggling. He poured all his focus into the cube and began reciting rapidly: “1, 4, 3, 5, 1, 4…”

Transformed into a child, Luoxi remained calm. Blood from his fingers stained the cube, a shocking sight.

And yet, in all that bleakness, he still exuded a quiet,Luoxi was silent for a moment, then began twisting the wretched toy in his hands without the slightest hesitation.

The small Rubik’s Cube shifted rapidly, its bloodstained surface turning into a blur.

If given enough practice, Xiyu believed he could complete this difficult challenge too.

But life doesn’t always allow room for preparation—most realizations that come too late are meaningless.

So, every second he watched Luoxi solving the cube, he felt genuine relief and admiration. He didn’t even spare a glance at the massive blade inching toward his neck. Instead, he relied on the thunderous pounding of his heart to silently count the time remaining.

Gaokela wasn’t so lucky. She frantically gave directions to Duli, her face flushed with panic.

Having lost her eyes, Duli knelt on the ground in pain, her hands clumsily fumbling with the Rubik’s Cube in a chaotic, miserable mess.

In contrast, the expressionless Luoxi looked far more composed. At the very least, his back remained perfectly straight.

Six minutes passed in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, Luoxi stopped moving.

At that moment, the Rubik’s Cube in his hands—once scrambled—was now completely aligned, each color neatly in place. It was perfect.

The little boy checked in disbelief, then beamed with joy. “You’re amazing! You won!”

The moment his voice fell, the guillotine above Gaokela's head dropped with terrifying speed.

The sound of bones snapping made everyone jolt.

In an instant, her severed head rolled off and tumbled across the filthy floor, leaving a trail of blood.

Duli collapsed weakly to the floor, gasping in agony.

The little boy smiled. “Luoxi, Xiyu, these two fragments are yours now. And here are the eyes I borrowed—returning them to you. I’m very satisfied. Goodbye!”

As he spoke, the warehouse was restored at whirlwind speed.

All players returned to their original places, and the cramped space was left with only Xiyu and Luoxi.

Finally able to move again, Xiyu scrambled up and rushed to Luoxi’s side. “Are you okay?!”Luoxi’s body and clothes were almost soaked in blood, but thankfully, his once bright black eyes had returned to normal. Furious, he kicked a nearby box, sending it flying. “Damn it, where’s that bastard NPC?!”

“He’s long gone. As long as you’re okay.” Xiyu finally let out a breath of relief and pulled him along. “Let’s get out of here first.”

At the same time, a gentle broadcast voice rang out:

[We regret to inform you that little Gaokela has left us… forever.]

Xiyu and Luoxi exchanged a glance and each tightened their grip on their puzzle pieces. It seemed that while the game was an illusion, the deaths were no joke.

That unlucky girl had already become the first appetizer to be eliminated.

“If expected, each child NPC who appears at night corresponds to a mini-game. You really don’t need to dwell too much on the bloody packaging—always focus on analyzing the game’s core as fast as possible. If you let yourself get scared, it’ll severely weaken your judgment.” Luoxi had calmed down again and advised, “Also, if you can tell what kind of game a child NPC might bring, you should first consider your actual ability before deciding whether to engage.”

Xiyu thought for a moment. “For example, if there’s a game in the music room and I know nothing about music theory, I should stay away?”

Luoxi nodded. “Promising student.”

Although Luoxi made sense, Xiyu didn’t like this feeling of completely relying on someone else. He nodded, then took a step toward the door. “Let’s check out other places. And we’d better hide this gem shard—there’s nothing in the rules that says people can’t steal.”

Luoxi snorted. “I hope we can steal. That way I wouldn’t have had to go through all that.”

Xiyu gave him a helpless glance, then gently opened the warehouse door. After peeking out to confirm the hallway was safe, he waved Luoxi over.

Luoxi followed him without argument and the two of them slipped into the darkness.

From a game’s perspective, each floor of the orphanage was like a giant square map, with numerous hallways, corners, and intersections that created a maze-like confusion for all the streamers.

On top of that, the ghost nun and the giant dolls tracking them could appear at any time, keeping the tension so high it frayed the nerves.

Fortunately, Xiyu had a good sense of direction. After a few rounds through the area, he had memorized the layout of the top floor. He led Luoxi to the back row of a small auditorium and whispered, “The most useful rooms on this floor, aside from this hall, are the warehouse, the office, and the rooftop outside. We’ve already gotten two fragments this round, and since a maximum of five can appear each night, there should only be around three mini-games total—maybe they’re already used up.”

Luoxi nodded. “Makes sense. No need to be greedy. It’s not wise to stand out too early. Let’s rest a bit and wait for another chance to scope things out.”

Xiyu nodded and sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder. His nerves slowly began to unwind from the stress of the Rubik’s Cube game.

Luoxi asked, “Any thoughts on the snipe card situation?”

Xiyu rubbed his frostbitten hands, frowning. “I’m hoping it’s Duli trying to mess with me because of the inn incident. That would be the easiest for me to deal with. Next would be Zhao Zhusheng—he’s the overly friendly type who’s clearly up to something. I don’t know his goal, but I definitely don’t trust him. Worst case is someone I don’t even know targeting me. That would be impossible to guard against.”“So you shouldn't trust anyone!” Luoxi immediately punched him. “I'm afraid the snipe card doesn’t just track you—it might have other negative effects! Getting eliminated because of a cheap trick like that is really not worth it.”

As he spoke, he handed the gemstone fragment to Xiyu. “You take it. At least if you get eliminated, your score won’t be too low.”

Xiyu refused. “No need. Don’t look down on me.”

“Why are you so self-righteous? Can’t you just be a little more realistic?” Luoxi poked Xiyu’s cheek with the gem shard. “The last fake saint already got turned into protein feed!”

Xiyu was about to get angry when he suddenly heard soft footsteps and quickly motioned for Luoxi to retreat.

Luoxi swiftly slipped away in the opposite direction.

Xiyu followed behind, and after peeking out, he saw it was Luoxi’s stuffed lion doll approaching. He gave Luoxi a shove. “It’s here for you—go first. I’ll hold it off and catch up.”

The stuffed doll looked clumsy, but its movement speed was terrifying.

“Thanks. Say hi to it for me,” Luoxi said with a grin, then dashed out of the auditorium and vanished.

Every safehouse’s doll targeted its own resident, so Xiyu wasn’t afraid.

He picked up a broken cardboard box from the floor and hurled it at the lion doll chasing Luoxi.

The lion halted and turned toward the sound.

Xiyu then tossed a few more random objects, deliberately running circles around the auditorium to confuse the dumb doll until it was spinning in place, completely disoriented.

After about five minutes, figuring Luoxi must have found a safe spot by now, Xiyu carefully slipped out the door.

But luck really wasn’t on his side tonight.

He had barely run a few steps down the corridor outside the auditorium when he heard the ominous weeping of the ghost nun up ahead.

Xiyu quickly turned into a narrow passage—only to find, of all things, a tuxedo cat doll holding a rope approaching from behind.

…No escape.

Cornered in the middle of the hallway, Xiyu hesitated for a moment and then chose the safehouse with the smaller loss, forcing himself to step toward the cat doll.

“Naughty boy, nya~ I finally found you!” The doll cat leapt over in an instant, tied him up in no time at all, slung him over its shoulder, and walked off with a bizarre laugh.Meanwhile, the isolated Luoxi heard the cat's meowing echoing down the corridor and immediately guessed the situation.

So far, the safehouses did seem to offer players real protection.

Which made him think it might not be a bad idea for Xiyu to head back for a rest. Luoxi then slipped alone into the darkness, searching for a high vantage point from which he could spy.

—This was Luoxi’s usual gaming style. He never liked running around in a panic. Instead, he preferred hiding in dark corners along key routes, gathering information by observing other players’ actions. That way, he could gain an edge while also giving others the impression that he was elusive and unpredictable—hard to read.

After leaving the top floor of the orphanage, the experienced Luoxi quickly set his sights on the “square loop” corridor outside the second-floor library.

There were three to five cabinets there that could be climbed on, and even if the nun or the lion came chasing, there was a chance to escape around them.

With that decided, Luoxi leapt up onto one of the storage cabinets and quietly lay down in the narrow space like a sneaky shadow.

And the results did not disappoint.

About half an hour later, Duli and a little boy named Wu Junhong suddenly appeared out of nowhere, hurrying past together.

Duli panted, “That was some good teamwork—way easier than the last game I got dragged into.”

No one knew what Wu Junhong really looked like, but in his child form, he looked exactly like the kind of class monitor everyone hates.

That annoying look—watermelon bowl cut and thick-rimmed glasses—instantly killed any goodwill Luoxi might have had for him from his spot on the cabinet.

To match his look, Wu Junhong’s voice was also sharp and grating. He said with a hint of smugness, “I’ve got a photographic memory. Most games can’t trip me up.”

“Really?” Duli gave him a fake smile. “Then let’s team up again tomorrow. This place isn’t very safe—we should split up.”

And with that, she darted off at a run.

Luoxi thought to himself: Looks like she finally got her gemstone fragment. Two games in one night—not bad luck at all.

Left alone, Wu Junhong’s expression turned sinister. Who knows what kind of curses he was muttering under his breath—he clearly wasn’t feeling very friendly.

Just then, the sound of the nun’s sobbing reached Luoxi’s ears.

He perked up, and a mischievous idea struck him. He deliberately tossed a small toy ball he had picked up earlier.

The toy ball bounced off the wall, then slammed hard into a metal cabinet ahead, letting out a sharp, grating noise in the dead of night.Wu Junhong was startled. “Who’s there?!”

But in the very next instant, the terrifying ghost of the nun charged straight at him.

Wu Junhong’s legs gave out, and in a blind panic, he turned and ran for his life.

Luoxi, having succeeded in his little trick, lightly climbed down from the cabinet and quietly followed behind, hoping to maybe scoop up a gemstone while no one was looking.

—Now that he was free of the “noble and upright” Xiyu, he truly felt much more at ease.

But what happened next caught Luoxi off guard: Wu Junhong, in utter terror, crashed head-on into another male streamer.

That streamer had had practically zero presence before and was already injured—his legs were clearly not in good shape.

Wu Junhong’s impact knocked the guy back a few steps. Realizing the danger, the other streamer also tried to flee.

But Wu Junhong showed no mercy—he shoved the injured man to the ground without hesitation!

And in the few short seconds of that scuffle, the ghost nun had already caught up to them.

Wu Junhong ignored the man’s curses entirely and stumbled forward, pale as a sheet.

The unlucky, limping guy struggled and crawled, but ultimately, the nun grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up.

She let out a chilling, ear-piercing laugh: “A sacrifice—such a tasty sacrifice—my Lord—”

And with that, she ruthlessly twisted off the little male streamer’s head, holding his body in one hand and his head in the other, vanishing into the blood-soaked corridor.

Luoxi, who had watched the whole scene, now wore a grim expression. He melted back into the shadows.

At that moment, the broadcast crackled on.

[We regret to inform you that little Qi Shui has left us forever...]

[The demon has finally received its meal...]

Another one out. So the punishment for getting caught by the nun’s ghost was that severe—there was no room for error in the future.

Before Luoxi could decide what to do next, a deep, guttural sound echoed through the orphanage, making his eardrums throb with pain.That strange voice was hoarse and broken, like the wail of a demon crawling out of hell, muttering bizarrely and revealing some unexpected information.

[...Warm blood... warms my stomach... Fresh brain matter is the most delicious of all...]

[I'm full now... Let me share a few little secrets for fun...]

[Tear those dolls apart! Damn dolls! Children without dolls have nowhere to hide!!!]

At the same time, Xiyu, who was eating dinner in the safe house, heard the same voice.

He looked up in surprise and locked eyes with the button eyes of the cow-patterned cat.

The cat shivered and quickly warned, “Baby! During the daytime, you must protect me, or you'll be in big trouble!”

Xiyu responded calmly, “Honestly, I’d rather be free and out there.”

The cow-cat meowed furiously in protest.

Xiyu completely ignored its tantrum and thought to himself: For streamers who can’t protect themselves well, losing their doll might mean losing their life. With that kind of risk, someone is definitely going to take action.

The long night finally came to an end.

As the morning sun slowly rose, the massive welfare institute once again collapsed with a thunderous roar, and all the streamers hiding inside were thrown back onto the playground.

Having gotten a short nap, Xiyu immediately looked for Luoxi. “Are you okay?”

Luoxi yawned. “Sleepy.”

“...” Xiyu glanced around. “There’s only ten of us left.”

Luoxi was about to share some news when Duli approached, dragging Pinocchio behind her, and shouted loudly, “Those two got the gemstones! Gaokela died because of them too!”

Xiyu blinked his big eyes under the attention of the crowd. “So what?”

Duli snapped, “I think this round was clearly easy. Even if someone lost the game, that doesn’t mean they had to die! Deliberately causing someone’s death is just too cruel! So don’t expect mercy from us in the future!”

“So noisy!” Luoxi suddenly lost it, charged at her, grabbed Duli by her little neck, and slammed her to the ground. Looking down from above, he said coldly, “What makes you think you’re in a position to show me mercy? Gaokela died because she was stupid. And the next to die will be you.”

Duli crawled backward in fear. “See?! This guy is totally insane—that’s the kind of person who climbs to expert streamer status!”Outside of the farce, the other streamers began to gather around.

Felin spoke nervously, trying to calm things down: “Don’t get so worked up. Honestly, I also encountered a game, but no one died.”

Luoxi chuckled darkly. “That’s because you’ve got that shiny halo of truth, kindness, and beauty around you. Me? Not so much.”

As he spoke, he picked up a large rock and stepped on Duli, who was trying to escape. With a chilling tone, he said, “Why don’t I just finish her off now? One more dead means only nine left. Makes it easier for everyone else. Or… is someone planning to save her?”

The streamers glanced at each other, hesitating. No one stepped forward.

Duli desperately clawed at Luoxi’s leg. Just as the rock was about to come crashing down on her face, the system finally issued a warning.

[Streamer Luoxi! No harming others during daylight! This is your final warning!]

Luoxi’s malicious expression vanished instantly. He smiled and said, “So it’s allowed at night? You should’ve just said so.”

Then he pulled Xiyu—who had been watching the whole thing with great interest—away. “Come on, let’s find a place to catch up on sleep.”

...So you’re the one who sniped me? But what’s the point of that?

Xiyu turned to look at the furious Duli, suspicion rising in his heart.

Luoxi murmured, “Stop staring. I bet they haven’t told us the key rules yet. We need to find a hidden spot quickly.”

“For what?” Xiyu blinked. “To hide the gemstone shard?”

Luoxi nodded. “Smart. The welfare institute is nothing but ruins during the day. If nothing happens here, then why keep us around? It’s a waste of time.”

Xiyu hummed in agreement. “The story background still isn’t clear, but I doubt the streamers all have the same role. They’ve probably planted a traitor.”

Luoxi smirked dismissively and led Xiyu to a relatively flat area amidst the rubble. They dug a hole, buried the shard, covered it with debris, and then sat down against the wall. He started yawning again and said, “Didn’t sleep all night. I’m dead tired.”

Xiyu said earnestly, “Sorry, I accidentally got pulled back into the safe house.”

“Quit the chatter,” Luoxi muttered, lying down. “Keep watch.”

Seeing that Luoxi really intended to fall asleep, Xiyu nudged his arm. “Did you learn anything useful out there?”

Luoxi, sounding exhausted, said, “Wu Junhong, Duli, and Felin all have gemstone shards. The other streamer who died was killed by Wu Junhong. If we get the chance, we take that bastard Wu out first…”Previously, Xiyu hadn’t paid much attention to that bowl-cut kid, but upon hearing the name, he couldn’t help trying to recall.

Luoxi, exhausted from staying up all night, quietly let down his guard and fell asleep without a care.

Xiyu sat nearby, hugging his knees. After a moment of thought, he took off his not-so-useful cotton jacket and draped it over Luoxi, then, unable to sit still, began digging through the surrounding rubble in hopes of uncovering more of the story’s background.

In the heavy heaps of trash, aside from stone walls and broken furniture, there were also decayed daily items, badly damaged by wind and rain.

Using his small body, Xiyu struggled to lift each heavy obstacle. After more than three hours, he finally gathered some torn and fragmented yellowed paper.

Wiping away his sweat, he crawled back to Luoxi’s side, grimy and worn, and began examining them.

Some of it was fragments of a ledger, listing not just food but also expenses for medicine.

Other pieces were mostly children’s drawings—faded, rough pencil sketches that were hard to decipher.

The most important find was a torn corner of a diary.

Xiyu frowned, trying to read the broken bits of text:

...5th, rainy

...Why is it only the adults who get this strange illness?

...Inside the children’s bodies...

...No one cares whether they live or die...

Xiyu looked up, deep in thought. What does this mean? Is the orphanage’s story connected to some kind of disease?

He couldn’t make sense of it right away and didn’t force himself to draw any conclusions. Instead, he stood up and peered through the cracks in the rubble, spying from afar on the few streamers still lingering on the playground.

Wu Junhong, the one Luoxi had pointed out, didn’t seem to be under any suspicion—in fact, several people were chattering around him busily.

Aside from that, the goddess-like Felin remained fairly popular.

Of course, that was clearly all just surface-level. When the time came to tear off the masks, no one would hold back.

Xiyu sat back down wearily. Glancing at the peacefully snoring Luoxi beside him, he couldn’t help but let out a faint, bitter smile.As the sun set in the west, the dilapidated orphanage was bathed in a deep crimson, like blood.

Half-asleep, Xiyu felt a sharp pain on his face from being tugged, and snapped his eyes open. He stood up in alarm. “I—I fell asleep?!”

Luoxi replied with grave seriousness, “Not just you.”

Xiyu rose on tiptoe to sneak a look and discovered that all the streamers who had been turned into children were also sprawled around the playground, sleeping in disarray.

A wave of unease washed over him as he looked around in confusion, then gasped, “My cat…”

Luoxi lifted up the torn, ragged remains of the cow-patterned cat from behind him. “Wasn’t me who did this. You really have a knack for making enemies everywhere.”

Xiyu blinked his big eyes innocently, then shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll just be more careful now that I don’t have a safehouse.”

Then he rushed to the place where the gem pieces were buried and hastily dug out the two fragments. “As long as these are still here, it’s fine.”

Luoxi, however, wasn’t nearly as accepting as Xiyu. He shot a furious glare toward the other streamers who had just woken up and muttered coldly, “If this keeps up, maybe no one should have a safehouse. Let’s all play for keeps.”

“They want to hide, let them hide. You can’t win without finding gems anyway, so it’s fine.” Xiyu handed him one of the fragments. “I’m just worried someone might try to force me out into the open, or that there are more schemes coming.”

“I’m worried too,” Luoxi nodded.

As they talked, the sun fully disappeared over the horizon.

The shattered orphanage began to reform once more. Xiyu quickly followed Luoxi through the rising debris, hurrying to ask, “Same meeting spot as before?”

But to his surprise, Luoxi shoved his lion plush into Xiyu’s hands. “You’re not coming out tonight. If you do, I’ll break your legs!”

Xiyu: “???”

But he had no time to struggle—he was instantly pinned to the ground by the now-giant lion.