Reborn, I Became a Male God - Chapter 126-130

A gun—if you don’t know about it, fine—but once you discover it, how could Jing Ling still leave it with Tan Yong? After all, it had already been smuggled out against regulations. Could you still expect him to have a sudden pang of conscience and not use it? Betting your life on something like that would be far too irrational. And Jing Ling had always preferred to nip every danger in the bud, so after getting out of the car, when Tan Yong and the others headed toward the mine, he casually took the man’s gun.

This might sound a bit unbelievable. How could something so important go missing without Tan Yong noticing at all? But if you compare it to how wallets and phones get swiped by pickpockets in real life, it doesn’t seem so hard to accept.

Jing Ling toyed with the gun in his hand with a nonchalant look on his face, as if what he was holding wasn’t a deadly weapon but some plastic toy a child was fiddling with.

“Director Tan, are you looking for this?”

As soon as he finished speaking, Tan Yong jerked his head up and stared at him. His eyes widened in shock, and he froze like someone had hit a pause button on him. The others also saw it. It took them a few seconds to realize what Jing Ling was holding, and they all froze too, even forgetting their pain for a moment. Because of the country’s strict gun control, most people had only ever seen guns on TV or in movies. In real life, the closest they’d ever been was seeing armed guards at a bank. Anyone with the slightest bit of timidity would instinctively steer clear of a gun, even if it had nothing to do with them—let alone in a situation where the two sides were at odds.

Jing Ling’s eyesight was excellent. He could clearly see Tan Yong, Zhou Heng, and the other man standing there, all trembling slightly—they were obviously scared out of their wits. Yet just a moment ago, when they were demanding weapons, they’d sounded plenty bold.

“Come to think of it, this is actually the first time in my life I’ve ever handled a real gun. I wonder how it compares to a toy gun? I saw on TV that you’re supposed to switch off the safety before firing. Is this it?” Jing Ling deliberately tried to scare them, wearing a curious newbie’s expression as he fiddled with the safety. The moment he flipped it off, he pointed the muzzle straight at Tan Yong.

The man recoiled in fright. The ground beneath his feet was uneven, and he nearly fell over as he stumbled back. Fortunately, there was a tree beside him, and he grabbed hold just in time to avoid falling.

“Oh right, is it loaded?” Jing Ling asked again, his finger resting on the trigger as if he might pull it at any moment.

“You… if you have something to say, s-say it nicely!” Tan Yong’s voice was stammering. “Move the gun away first! Pointing it at someone is really dangerous. If it accidentally goes off, someone could die!” After a pause, he quickly added, “It’s illegal for a civilian to possess a firearm. If you hand the gun back to me now, I’ll let this go!”

Jing Ling replied, “What’s there to be afraid of? It’s not like it’s my life—what do I have to lose?” As for returning the gun, he didn’t even bother answering. That kind of talk was just insulting his intelligence.

He spoke so casually yet with such biting sarcasm that it infuriated Tan Yong. The man momentarily forgot his fear, pointed a finger, and yelled, “What do you take human life for?!”

Zhou Heng, having recovered from his fright, jumped in to add, “Everyone’s life only comes once—don’t do anything stupid! You’ll hurt others and yourself!”

“You even count as human?”

All this time, Yunshu had been sitting quietly to the side. Now, she suddenly spoke up. She was holding the old notebook, its thickness about a centimeter, and she hadn’t even gotten a third of the way through it.

“When those workers died in the mine due to inadequate safety measures, how come you didn’t ask yourselves what you were taking human life for? How come you didn’t say that everyone only has one life?”

Back when the internet wasn’t widespread, even a black-and-white phone was a big deal. Unlike now, when everyone has a smartphone that can take pictures, record audio and video, and upload everything in real time, back then news could only spread by word of mouth, TV, or newspapers. If the local government really wanted to suppress information, it wasn’t hard at all.

Shuangshan had abundant coal resources. While it brought in enormous economic benefits, safety accidents happened frequently. Gas explosions, mine collapses—every year, the death toll in the mining area was beyond imagination. A safety accident meant production had to stop for rectification, and every day of downtime meant massive financial losses. How could the bosses, whose eyes were fixed on money, stand for that? Of course, they would use every trick in the book to suppress news of accidents, privately settle with the victims’ families, bribe town officials… The town was packed with mines big and small. Temptation kept coming wave after wave—one, two, three people—and eventually, someone would give in. And once that precedent was set, there was no turning back.

Town officials served five-year terms, and Zhou Heng was in his second, making this his ninth year in Shuangshan. The lower ranks of leadership were still the same people, occasionally swapping one out, but anyone truly clean would quickly get dragged into the filth. Zhou Heng wasn’t a particularly big tree, but his roots ran deep in Shuangshan. Above the ground, his canopy looked lush and green; below the surface, it was already rotten through.

That accountant they mentioned, Yang, had been handling finances for the mines for years. He’d been involved in too much shady business. He made plenty of money, but his wife was an honest woman. When she accidentally learned the truth, she couldn’t bear it and divorced him, leaving behind their only daughter, whom he raised like a precious jewel. As time passed, the girl grew more beautiful and did well in school, even getting into a top university. After graduation, she signed on with a major company in another city. She worked hard for half a year and finally came home for the Spring Festival. Yang had been counting the days until her return—and then, before the holiday even ended, disaster struck.

The mine owner’s son got drunk and assaulted his daughter. When she fought back fiercely, he went so far as to kill her.

Yang only had that one daughter. The mine people tried to settle privately, but not only did they fail, Yang threatened to expose them all. In the end, they silenced him too—but even after killing him, they never found the evidence he’d hidden.

Now Yunshu had found what Yang had hidden and brought it into the light. In the old notebook, everything was clearly recorded—how many people had died, how much money had been spent to cover things up…

“You!” Zhou Heng glared fiercely at Yunshu, his eyes brimming with murderous intent. Tan Yong and the others also turned to look at her.

Typical bullies—always picking the softest target.

But Yunshu met their gazes without the slightest fear.

Zhou Heng might not have held a high official rank, but in Shuangshan, he was like a local despot. After nine years in power here, he had never been humiliated like this. Although Tan Yunshu was the source of this mess, the one who had really humiliated him wasn’t her. But with Jing Ling holding a gun, he dared not make a move, so he could only vent his hatred on Yunshu.

Then came a derisive chuckle. “What’s with the death stares, gentlemen? Trying to scare me?” Jing Ling swept the muzzle over each of them in turn. The moment the gun pointed at them, their bravado evaporated.

“What are you afraid of? I’m just talking—I wouldn’t actually kill someone. What good would that do me? You lot deserve to rot in prison, living off the state in a different way.”

“Alright, enough chit-chat. Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve—I have to get home for the holiday.”

With that, Jing Ling nimbly leapt down from the rock.

In that instant, Zhou Heng’s mind spun rapidly. He instinctively tried to signal Tan Yong, hoping he’d seize the chance to attack and grab the gun back. But before he could act, in just the blink of an eye, their target had already landed steadily on the ground below. Jing Ling met his gaze with a half-smile, miming a shooting motion with the muzzle aimed right at him.

Zhou Heng’s heart nearly stopped in fright. He dared not make another rash move. He could only watch helplessly as Jing Ling stood a short distance ahead, while Yunshu crouched down, wrapped her arms around Jing Ling’s neck, and he easily scooped her up with one arm.

“The mountain road’s narrow—excuse us, thanks!”

With Yunshu in his arms, Jing Ling said those polite words but didn’t actually need any courtesy. He headed back down the mountain the way they’d come. Anyone who blocked his path would be treated as a mere obstacle—and Zhou Heng’s group happened to be standing right in the way. Logic told Zhou Heng to move aside immediately, but his body wouldn’t obey. It was like his legs were weighed down with a thousand pounds—he couldn’t take a single step.

The outcome was predictable. They were treated like obstacles and swept aside, though not gently. Zhou Heng and Tan Yong got the worst of it. The pain was indescribable.

And so, right in front of all those people, Jing Ling swaggered off with Yunshu. Their figures disappeared from view, but no one dared to follow. Not until the sound of a car engine started up did Zhou Heng finally struggle to his feet, pull out his phone, and make a call.

“Set up roadblocks at every exit in town—stop vehicle 5377. The suspects are armed. Don’t approach recklessly!”

After that, he made a second call. This time, his voice was nothing like the earlier shouting—it swung to the opposite extreme.

“Director Liang, this is Zhou Heng. We’ve got a situation at the mine. Tan Yunshu, the new deputy town mayor, found the evidence Yang Changzhi hid. Now she and her boyfriend are driving the town vehicle 5377 and have left. They also took Tan Yong’s gun. They’re extremely dangerous. I hope the higher-ups will order them shot on sight!”

After leaving the mine, Jing Ling and Yunshu first picked up Ding Xiaofeng and her little grandson, then switched cars once they hit the main road. Halfway through their drive, when they reached Shuangshan Lake, they ditched the car entirely and took a boat, opting to leave by water and cross directly into the neighboring town’s territory.

During this time, Yunshu contacted Governor Hu and explained the situation. The authorities responded immediately, orders passed down the chain of command. But someone interfered, trying to delay matters long enough to destroy evidence.

Soon, checkpoints were set up at all major exits of Pingli County and even Jiu’an City. Surveillance cameras in public areas were monitored around the clock. The manhunt dragged on from afternoon till night, involving countless people. Meanwhile, the very ones they were hunting had already changed their appearance and slipped right past under everyone’s noses, delivering the evidence straight to the provincial authorities—personally handing it to the governor.

 

Chapter 127

 

The town next to Shuangshan Town was Banhu Town. Both were major towns within Pingli County. However, compared to Shuangshan Town, which had developed its economy through coal mining and boosted GDP, Banhu Town was known for its picturesque scenery and attracted many tourists from all over the country every year.

As the New Year approached, the major shopping malls were at their liveliest—crowds coming and going in an endless stream. After Jing Ling took Yunshu and the others off the boat, they headed straight for the town’s mall. They pushed a shopping cart around and picked up all sorts of odds and ends. After packing everything up, they went directly to a small grove nearby, found a secluded and deserted corner, set their things down on the ground, and started working.

He started with the child. He used lotion and foundation to even out the complexion, added a beauty mark between the brows, a tiny mole on the tip of the nose, and another on the left cheek, then applied a thin layer of light pink lip gloss. Finally, he pulled a knitted hat with braids onto the child’s head, changed the cotton jacket and fleece-lined jeans into a festive red little dress with matching boots, and slung a furry animal-shaped satchel across the body. The transformation was complete—a vivid image of an adorable little princess, with no trace left of the little boy from before.

Next was Ding Xiaofeng. She also changed into a new outfit, and her facial features and hairstyle were adjusted. Compared to before, the change was drastic.

When it was Yunshu’s turn, Jing Ling directly pulled her into a corner, adjusted his position to block her from view, then swiftly unzipped her coat, lifted the hem of her sweater, reached into a nearby bag, and pulled out a round cushion. He removed the cover, took out the cushion core, and stuffed it inside. Then his hands reached in again to adjust the shape and position of the cushion core.

The waist and abdomen were sensitive areas, and even though Yunshu was wearing thermal underwear underneath, she still felt ticklish when touched. Especially when the person doing it was Jing Ling, and in such a situation—she was cornered in a narrow space, his broad, warm chest right in front of her, his breath warm above her head, and with them so close, she almost thought she could hear his steady, powerful heartbeat.

The boy’s slender fingers moved around her waist and abdomen, and each seemingly accidental touch sent a shiver through her. It was like a goose feather landing on a calm lake—so light yet stirring ripples.

“Jing Ling…” Yunshu bit her lip lightly and called him in a soft, trembling voice.

His hands didn’t stop moving, but he looked up distractedly. “What is it?”

“It… tickles…” Her voice was already soft, and now it became almost inaudible, like a mosquito’s hum. Even at this close distance, it was hard for an ordinary person to catch what she said. But Jing Ling heard it. His hands abruptly froze, his long fingers resting just above her lower abdomen. His palm was warm, and the heat seeped through her thermal underwear, making it inexplicably scorching. A few seconds later, he quickly withdrew his hand.

“Sorry!” he said, lowering his eyes. His long eyelashes cast a shadow below them.

“It’s fine. You can keep going.”

After that, Jing Ling seemed to make an effort to avoid touching her too much. Though occasional contact still happened, it was far less frequent. Once the disguise around her belly was done, he began applying makeup on her.

As Yunshu watched him working so seriously, she suddenly realized something—ever since that incident at the Jiang residence, every time she met Jing Ling afterward, he always seemed to be in disguise. His real appearance was something she had mostly seen only through a screen. Was this what dating a celebrity was like?…

Soon, Jing Ling was done. He turned his phone’s front camera on and held it up for her like a mirror. The same lotion and foundation that made the child look cute and fresh now gave her a sallow complexion, accentuated blemishes, and even made her skin appear slightly sagging. A beautiful woman had been prematurely turned into a dull-faced pregnant woman.

Finally, it was his own turn. He handled it with practiced ease—pulled off his wig, swapped his black-rimmed glasses for gold-rimmed ones, moved the mole on his face, applied hair wax to spike up his hair, and changed into a cheap-looking suit. The result was a vivid image of a sleazy scoundrel in human clothing.

Once they were all dressed up, they packed up their old clothes and tossed them into a nearby trash bin.

They rented a car in town and left Banhu Town, heading straight for the highway. Both towns shared the same highway entrance, where the police had set up a checkpoint and were inspecting every vehicle leaving the area. Ding Xiaofeng and her little grandson were on edge the whole way, but Jing Ling seemed perfectly calm—even opened the window and offered a cigarette to the officer, then casually chatted with him. The conversation went on until they were waved through, and Jing Ling even said half-jokingly that they should catch up again sometime.

They safely left Banhu Town and got on the highway. After a long drive, they reached the neighboring province, then transferred to a bus straight to the state capital. However, there was a bit of a hiccup when they went to see Governor Hu. Their simple disguises might have fooled the inexperienced folks in the towns, but they didn’t get past the guards at the provincial government compound. Fortunately, Yunshu made a timely phone call, preventing them from being detained as suspicious individuals.

The handover to Governor Hu went smoothly. Ding Xiaofeng and her grandson were temporarily placed under government care, and Jing Ling and Yunshu returned directly to Junshan to spend the New Year with Jing Qiu.

What was it like having a superstar younger brother? It was pretty much like those students at major film academies who happened to share a dorm with already-famous actors—a lot of people trying to cozy up to you, mostly just to get close to the celebrity. The only difference for Jing Qiu was that she wasn’t a roommate but a family member. Plus, no one knew about her relationship with Jing Ling since it wasn’t public.

In quiet moments, she often thought back to the past—memories vivid yet hard to believe. There was a time she was so poor she had to scrimp and save just to keep her brother in school and maintain their basic living. She always thought she’d have to tough it out until he graduated college and found a job before life got any better. Yet, the truth was, her life had completely changed in less than a summer.

It was like her brother had grown up overnight. He became mature. Everything changed from the moment he showed up in front of her holding that bouquet of roses. Not only did he stop spending her money—he started earning money to support her. And more than that, he even secured her a chance to attend university, fulfilling a dream she had buried deep inside, a dream she had almost forgotten herself.

Her tuition and living expenses for the first year were all paid by him. Later on, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to keep supporting her—it was that she refused. She had been able to earn enough to support both of them before; now, supporting herself was no problem.

Classes, part-time jobs, and occasional breaks… She had never imagined life could be this fulfilling and joyful.

Then one day, her brother told her he had a girlfriend and that he’d bring her over sometime to meet her. She waited over a year. A little over half a month ago, he suddenly mentioned that his girlfriend would be joining them for the New Year.

It was so sudden that Jing Qiu couldn’t help but get nervous. She wanted to ask about the girl’s eating habits, but Jing Ling was incredibly busy during that time. When she finally got a chance to ask, his answer was—“Same as mine.”

Jing Qiu thought that was way too perfunctory!

After that, she kept worrying about what dishes to prepare for the New Year’s Eve dinner. It was as if Jing Ling knew exactly what she was fretting over, and he said, “Don’t overthink it. I’ll cook the New Year’s dinner myself. I guarantee everyone will be happy.”

Jing Qiu really wanted to ask if he even knew how to cook. But then again, just the fact that he cared enough made her happy. When the time came, she figured she’d cook, and he could just help wash vegetables and hand her the dishes.

Time flew by, and before she knew it, the New Year was upon them.

On the morning of New Year’s Eve, not long after Jing Qiu woke up, she heard a knock at the door. It was Jing Ling—back with his girlfriend. The moment she saw Yunshu, Jing Qiu didn’t know why, but a phrase popped into her mind—“matching couple look.” The resemblance was so striking that she stared at the girl for a while before snapping out of it and feeling a bit embarrassed as she invited them in.

Though she already knew her name, Jing Ling still made introductions.

“Jie, this is my girlfriend, Yunshu.”

“Yunshu, this is my sister, Jing Qiu.”

After the brief introductions, the three of them sat and chatted for a while before getting busy.

Jing Ling and Yunshu went out to buy fresh ingredients and live poultry, while Jing Qiu stayed home to prepare other dishes. When they returned, Jing Qiu had been worried Jing Ling wouldn’t know what to do and had wanted him to just have the market vendors do the slaughtering. But he brought everything back alive. Then she watched as he rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a knife, and expertly slaughtered chickens and cleaned fish—all in swift, practiced motions. The gleaming silver of the knife, bathed in bright red bl00d, paired with his slender, nimble hands, created a strangely captivating forbidden beauty.

Once all the ingredients were prepped and rested in the kitchen, they started cooking in the afternoon.

Jing Qiu was about to tie on an apron when a hand reached from the side and took it away. It was Jing Ling. He put on a pink, floral, girlish apron, stood by the stove with a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other, striking a confident chef’s pose. Unfortunately, the pink apron completely ruined the image.

Yunshu shamelessly pulled out her phone and snapped a few photos. Jing Qiu, realizing what was going on, couldn’t help laughing as she took out her phone too.

Jing Ling looked a little helpless. “Beautiful ladies, could you please do me a favor and relax in the living room, maybe watch some TV? I’ll handle this, and soon we can all enjoy a feast together. My cooking is really good—trust me, okay?”

Even though he said that, Jing Qiu still felt a bit uneasy. But in the end, Yunshu dragged her away.

By around six or seven in the evening, it was completely dark outside. Jing Ling served the last dish, and the New Year’s Eve dinner officially began. Only then did Jing Qiu realize—Jing Ling hadn’t been just saying that. Yunshu’s tastes really were exactly the same as his. She glanced at the two of them. The more she looked, the more they seemed like a perfect match.

After dinner, they cleared the table, and Jing Ling put on the apron again to do the dishes. Then the three of them watched the New Year’s gala in the living room and hung out until late at night. When Jing Qiu and Yunshu started feeling sleepy, they got ready for bed.

And then the question arose—
This house had two bedrooms and a living room.
How were they supposed to sleep?

 

Chapter 128

 

The condition of the house was something Jing Ling knew well. When he had previously brought up the idea of inviting Yunshu over to spend the New Year together, he had already thought of possible solutions. Either Yunshu would share a room with Jing Qiu while he took another room, or each of the two girls would have their own room and he would sleep on the sofa. Both options were reasonable.

However, he hadn’t expected an accident to happen midway. Although the incident in Shuangshan Town had eventually been resolved without causing any real harm, Yunshu had gone alone through a mountain path overgrown with weeds, heading toward an abandoned mine. With nothing but a flashlight in hand, she searched in the darkness for any possible evidence. After finally finding something, she was almost caught by her colleague on her way out. In the dead of winter, hiding in waist-high weeds and bushes, she must have been scared.

Yunshu had hinted a few times before that their relationship could move forward, but he had never been able to cross that psychological barrier and could only pretend not to understand and reject her. Though she hadn’t said anything, she had probably started to grow suspicious.

Under these circumstances, it seemed unreasonable to suggest Yunshu sleep alone. So he could only hope Jing Qiu would help by suggesting that Yunshu sleep with her.

In the end, Jing Qiu was just too considerate. Before heading to bed, she gave him a meaningful glance, made a subtle cheering gesture, and went into her room, closing the door softly behind her.

Jing Ling: “……” Sis, you really don’t have to help me this much—seriously!

Things had come to this, and there was no point in saying more. He glanced at Yunshu out of the corner of his eye and noticed that although she appeared relaxed, sitting on the sofa watching TV, if one looked closely, one would see her hands clasped tightly on her lap, her knuckles faintly white. This showed that she was actually quite nervous—perhaps even a little expectant.

He had initially thought of insisting on sleeping on the sofa, but now he really couldn’t bring himself to say it. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been in such an awkward situation. Though he felt a little troubled, it didn’t seem like a bad thing either.

After all, he had been an ordinary person once—until he met the system and began traveling through countless worlds. With all the experiences he’d gained, his abilities grew, and though his heart grew stronger, it also gradually grew colder. Apart from missions, nothing seemed worth his attention anymore.

But now, back to the identity of an ordinary person, meeting the right person at the right time with the right identity—wasn’t this the greatest gift given to him by fate, or perhaps by the system itself?

When someone is stuck in a dead end, no amount of outside help will truly resolve the issue; the real key lies with the person themselves. Once they figure things out, no matter how complex or rugged the road, taking the next step is just a matter of will.

That was exactly Jing Ling’s current situation. Once he’d figured things out, the problems that had been troubling him ceased to be problems. A faint smile rose on his lips as he turned to Yunshu and said, “Go take a shower first.”

Yunshu met his gaze and nodded after a moment. “Okay.”

Listening to the faint sound of running water from the bathroom, Jing Ling sat on the sofa playing with his phone. He composed a festive message on Weibo, covering everyone he knew and didn’t know, then sent personal greetings via text to key contacts. With that, his external social duties for the day were done.

The water stopped. After a while, the sound of the door opening could be heard. Yunshu came out in a pale pink bathrobe, her long hair loose and slightly curled at the ends, still dripping wet. She held a large towel in her hand, drying her hair as she walked.

“You should go take a shower,” she said, giving Jing Ling a glance before tilting her head again to continue drying her hair.

“Mm.” Jing Ling nodded and headed to the bathroom. He came out about five minutes later in a bathrobe.

The TV in the living room was already off, with only a few dim lights casting a warm yellow glow overhead. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the sound of a hairdryer came from inside. When he pushed the door open, he saw Yunshu sitting on the bed with her back to him, drying her hair with a hairdryer in one hand.

“Let me do it,” Jing Ling said as he casually closed and locked the door. As he spoke, he walked over, took the hairdryer from Yunshu’s hand, and sat down beside her.

Yunshu’s body tensed, and then she turned her head slightly to glance at him. Though she tried her best to restrain her emotions, he could still sense her surprise. But she quickly relaxed, leaning back slightly into his arms and resting her head against his arm.

Now it was Jing Ling’s turn to tense up—not because of Yunshu’s intimate gesture, but because of the view that met his eyes.

Yunshu was wearing a belted bathrobe, and with her nestled against him like this, from his angle, he could clearly see a glimpse of snow-white skin within the pale pink robe. Soft curves rose and fell, with a visible cleavage where they pressed together.

Regardless of gender, this body seemed like it had been tailored for him—everything fit perfectly. Both physically and mentally, he had fully adapted to this form. And at this moment, from a man’s perspective, something he had long been accustomed to suddenly revealed a breathtaking beauty.

“What’s wrong?” Yunshu shifted slightly and turned her head to look at him.

The soft, warm figure in his arms carried a faint scent of body wash that lingered at his nose. Strangely, Jing Ling found his mouth going dry.

“Nothing,” he replied, shifting his gaze away and focusing on her hair. He picked up a strand, turned on the hairdryer, and concentrated on drying her hair. After finishing, he grabbed the comb from the bedside table and carefully smoothed her hair.

Just as he got up to return the hairdryer to the bathroom, he felt a tug on his bathrobe. It was Yunshu’s hand. Her expression was slightly nervous as she asked, “Where are you going?”

Though she didn’t finish her sentence, Jing Ling knew what she was worried about—probably fearing he would reject her again like before.

“I’m just putting the hairdryer back.” He gave her a reassuring smile.

Yunshu held his gaze for two seconds before finally letting go of his robe.

After Jing Ling put the hairdryer away and returned, he saw Yunshu still sitting on the edge of the bed. He casually closed the door and asked, “Why aren’t you going to sleep yet?”

Yunshu seemed hesitant, and after two seconds, she softly replied, “I forgot to bring pajamas…”

Even the most thoughtful person couldn’t remember everything. Sometimes, it was inevitable to overlook something. Only now did Jing Ling realize what he had missed.

It wasn’t just pajamas—Yunshu hadn’t brought any toiletries, care sets, or a change of clothes. She must have packed them ahead of time, but because of the unexpected incident, after they intercepted the Shuangshan government vehicle and left the mining area, they couldn’t, and didn’t have time to retrieve their belongings. They hurriedly left Shuangshan Town, took the highway to the neighboring province, then circled back to the Songzhou government compound to meet Governor Hu. After explaining everything in detail and handing over all the evidence, it was already late.

They rushed back to Junshan overnight, and after arriving in the morning, they only stayed at home briefly before Yunshu accompanied him out shopping. The clothes she wore were also picked up hastily at a mall along the way.

Had he thought of it earlier, he could have borrowed something from Jing Qiu. But she was already asleep now—it wouldn’t be right to wake her up.

Jing Ling thought for a moment, opened the closet by the bed, and pulled out a few clothes—all his. After some searching, he picked out a shirt and handed it to Yunshu. “I didn’t think this through. But it’s late, and it’s New Year’s Eve. I’ll have to trouble you to make do with this for tonight.”

Yunshu shook her head and reached out to take the shirt.

Jing Ling instinctively turned around. It was a gentlemanly gesture, but something went wrong. The black pattern on the closet door was made of reflective material. From his angle, he could see Yunshu changing clothes reflected on the surface.

Her slender neck, rounded shoulders, delicate shoulder blades, and slender waist—and beyond that…

He hastily shut his eyes, but the images lingered vividly in his mind. On top of that, with his sharp hearing and the quiet room, he could clearly hear the faint sounds of fabric brushing against skin, making his imagination run wild.

Though it was only a few breaths’ time, it felt endlessly prolonged. Finally, he heard Yunshu’s voice.

“I’m done.”

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, turning around to look.

Yunshu’s graceful figure was wrapped in his oversized shirt, though it didn’t fully cover her, subtly outlining her curves. Under the hem of the shirt, her long, slender legs were revealed, looking even fairer and more delicate against the pale gray fabric—like fine porcelain.

Perhaps his gaze was too intense, as Yunshu looked a bit self-conscious. She tugged at the hem of the shirt and asked, “Is it… weird?”

Jing Ling calmly withdrew his gaze and shook his head. “No. You look great. It’s late. Let’s sleep.”

Yunshu nodded and got under the covers. Jing Ling casually turned off the overhead light, leaving only the dim bedside lamp.

When he lifted the covers and got in, he clearly felt Yunshu’s body tense up. He slipped his arm under the covers, wrapped it around her waist, and gently pulled her into his arms.

“Sleep. Good night.” He dropped a light kiss on her hair.

Yunshu’s body stiffened even more, and she barely whispered back, “Mm… good night.”

Even so, it wasn’t so easy to fall asleep. Not only was Yunshu nervous, Jing Ling was too—he just didn’t show it.

Some things turned out to be harder than he’d imagined. Even with mental preparation, it was still difficult. But compared to before, he had already made obvious progress. Besides, they had plenty of time ahead of them. There was no need to rush. He believed that soon, he would overcome the hardest hurdle in his heart.

That was his thought. As for what Yunshu was thinking at the moment—given the unusual situation, he couldn’t guess.

On the cold winter night in Junshan, New Year’s Eve fireworks lit up the entire sky. In a small, cozy room, the two of them fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 

Chapter 129

 

Because she had gone to bed very late, and with the double warmth of the quilt and her boyfriend’s embrace, Yunshu finally got a chance to sleep in the next morning. Her biological clock didn’t wake her as usual, and when she opened her eyes, it was already close to noon.

The weather today was unexpectedly good. Bright and warm sunlight filtered in through the window screen, filling the room with brightness.

Jing Ling was lying right beside her, on his side, one arm draped over her shoulder and the other resting on her waist. It didn’t feel like much while asleep, but now that she was awake, the places his hands touched seemed to transmit warmth through the thin shirt, as if something were crawling along her skin—the tingling sensation magnified infinitely.

“You’re awake.” Perhaps because he had just woken up, Jing Ling’s voice was a little low, surprisingly intoxicating to hear.

“Mm.” Yunshu answered softly. This was a scene she had imagined before, and now it had truly become reality. The joy in her heart was hard to put into words, so she acted instead. She nestled closer into Jing Ling’s arms, imitating his posture by wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest, and rubbing against him gently a few times.

Jing Ling’s body tensed for a moment but quickly relaxed. He lowered his head slightly, leaning close to her ear, and chuckled softly. “Alright, let’s get up and eat breakfast.”

“No!” Yunshu shook her head and went even further to tease him. Laughing playfully, her knee suddenly bumped into something hard. Without thinking, she instinctively nudged it again with her knee.

“Yunshu, stop messing around!” Jing Ling’s entire body stiffened, and even his voice turned a little hoarse.

Hearing that, Yunshu suddenly realized what she had just bumped into. Her face instantly flushed bright red, like a cooked shrimp. It felt as if she had stepped on a hot iron, and she jerked her leg back. Her hands let go as well, and she rolled away from Jing Ling, turning her back to him. She pulled the quilt up so high it nearly covered her head.

“I’m going back to sleep for a while!” She shut her eyes as soon as she said it, looking like she really meant to go back to sleep.

After a while, a soft chuckle came from above her head. Then the bed dipped slightly, and a warm breath brushed past her ear. “Eat breakfast first, then you can sleep. If you starve, I’ll feel bad.” As he spoke, his whole body leaned over, reaching out to pull her back into his arms. At that moment, their bodies pressed close together, fitting perfectly.

“Mm.” The corners of Yunshu’s mouth lifted slightly, her happiness written all over her face. The blush on her cheeks hadn’t faded yet, making her look even more beautiful and charming.

Jing Qiu had gotten up early. She had originally prepared breakfast for them, but after waiting a long while with no sign of them coming out, and the food going cold, she put everything away. Close to noon, she reheated a few dishes from last night and set them on the dining table, waiting for them to eat together. As the clock neared twelve and the door still hadn’t opened, she wondered if she’d have to wait until dinner to see them. Then, finally, the door—which had stayed closed all night and all morning—moved.

Yunshu went to the bathroom to wash up. Jing Ling stretched his long legs, walked to the dining table, sat down, and thanked Jing Qiu for her trouble.

Jing Qiu sneaked a glance toward the bathroom, then turned back and gave her brother a thumbs-up. But for some reason, Jing Ling responded with a somewhat helpless smile.

Yunshu hadn’t brought her skincare products, so she simply brushed her teeth and washed her face. After tying her long hair into a ponytail, she came out. Jing Ling then got up to wash up—it didn’t take him long, just washing his face and brushing his teeth, skipping even the step of combing his hair.

Afterward, the three of them sat down together and ate breakfast. Jing Ling took the initiative to wash the dishes afterward, while Jing Qiu and Yunshu sat on the sofa chatting, discussing where to go shopping later and what good food to try.

Throughout the three days of the New Year, the smile never left Yunshu’s face. With a girl her age to go shopping with and give advice, Jing Qiu actually bought quite a lot of things—something that rarely happened.

After the third day of the New Year, the film crew resumed work, and Jing Ling had to return to filming. Fortunately, there wasn’t much left to shoot. If they hurried, they could wrap up soon. He left early every morning and came back late at night. One day, he was so busy he stayed overnight at the set. The next day, when he had some free time, he hurried back home to eat with the two of them.

This continued until the seventh day of the New Year. The Spring Festival holiday was about to end, and Yunshu should have returned to work. But her situation was special—the issue in Shuangshan Town hadn’t been resolved yet, and things there ran deep. Being a woman, people naturally worried about her safety. Thankfully, Governor Hu, despite his busy schedule, hadn’t forgotten. With a single official document, Yunshu was transferred from the town office to the state government, becoming one of the governor’s secretaries.

The combination of an old leader and a young, beautiful female secretary inevitably drew gossip. If the man were narrow-minded, even a married couple might have trouble over such things. But Jing Ling wasn’t just anyone, and Yunshu’s situation was unique, so it wasn’t a big deal between them.

Jing Ling even took time to discuss the situation with Yunshu.

“The position of the governor’s secretary may not carry a formal rank, but countless people vie for it because it puts you close to power. One reason Hu Quan transferred you from the town to the state government is likely because the Shuangshan Town incident is more complicated than we imagined,” he said. “When we left, there were checkpoints from Banhu Town next door to the county seat and all the way to the city. I thought it was because I took a gun, but now it seems there must have been other reasons—interests at play, or something else. His daughter’s case and the Shuangshan incident proved you’re capable. Maybe he wanted to promote you out of appreciation. Or maybe he knows your identity and wants to keep you close for observation.”

The Tan family’s political standing was higher than Hu Quan’s, and given the distance, it was likely Hu Quan couldn’t dig into the Tan family’s internal affairs. It was normal for him to be suspicious of a Tan daughter working so far from home in some remote town. But since this junior had helped him and completed the tasks he gave, it wasn’t impossible that Hu Quan wanted to observe her while also valuing her talent.

Regardless, the transfer at least solved Yunshu’s safety concerns, and Jing Ling could be at ease.

Yunshu went to work, Jing Qiu prepared to return to school, and Jing Ling kept busy with filming. After cleaning up the rented place, they returned it.

On the twenty-first of the first lunar month, Ode to the Rivers and Mountains wrapped filming. The official Weibo account posted a celebration message, and most of the crew members shared it. That night, the crew booked the best hall at Junshan Film City’s finest hotel to celebrate the successful wrap. The director had vowed to get Jing Ling drunk, but instead, the helpers ended up getting drunk themselves, falling all over the place and having to be carried back to their rooms.

After the show finished filming, school had already resumed, but Jing Ling took more leave. Before the New Year, thanks to Yang Xinyao’s timely reminder, he had managed to rush over and save Yunshu. Yang Xinyao had come to ask him for a favor but left it entirely up to him whether to accept. Since he owed Yang Xinyao a favor, there was no reason to refuse. Now that his work was done, it was time to consider repaying that favor.

He called Yang Xinyao and arranged a meeting. When he arrived at the agreed time and place, he saw not only Yang Xinyao but several other familiar faces—Old Master Jiang, Jiang Sijin, Xu Shaohuai, Bai Ningxi, and Song Xiuyuan. With members from the Song, Yang, Bai, Wang, and Li families present, they had gathered representatives of four families. Even the top aristocratic families of the Central and Western administrative regions were involved. Clearly, the favor Yang Xinyao asked for was no ordinary matter—possibly life-threatening. No wonder she had said it was up to him whether to help.

Old Master Jiang glanced at him, raised a hand, and pointed to an empty seat on his right. “Sit.” Once Jing Ling sat down, he said, “Everyone’s here. Let me explain the situation.”

The mission’s location wasn’t domestic, nor was it in another country—it was on international waters. More precisely, on a cruise ship headed for the high seas. The mission’s theme was a game—a series of brutal real-life games involving multiple parties in chaotic combat. The winner of each round would receive a prize—money, goods, technology, or even people. Anything banned from circulation on the market could be traded here. Their target this time was three highly symbolic national treasures and two fugitives awaiting extradition.

On the high seas, there was a nameless island called “the Hunting Ground,” which was the mission’s destination. People from various countries and fields would gather there to play a two-week-long hunting game, facing not only enemies but also terrifying beasts.

This reminded Jing Ling of the movie Island he had filmed before, where a real and brutal killing game played out. In the film, his character was a hidden hunter preying on unsuspecting victims. But in this real-life game, he, like everyone else, would be both hunter and prey.

Master Jiang briefly introduced the situation. “Any questions?”

Among those present, except for Jiang Sijin, none showed even a hint of surprise on their faces—either they were highly adaptable, or they had known the purpose of this meeting beforehand. Jing Ling was more inclined to believe it was the latter. His gaze swept across the group and finally settled on Jiang Sijin, whose face was slightly pale. “May I ask, Miss Jiang, will you be taking part in this mission as well?”

Though he didn’t state it outright, everyone understood the implication. With Jiang Sijin’s abilities, she clearly wasn’t suited for this kind of game. Put politely, it was for her own good—after all, you only have one life. Put less kindly, they worried she would drag the team down and harm both herself and others.

Master Jiang shook his head. “Sijin won’t be going. She doesn’t have the skills. She’s only here to accompany me.”

Good. Jing Ling exchanged glances with the others and said no more.

Time was tight, so it was set for three days later. They would depart from Jiangcheng Port, where a boat would take them to the cruise ship. With so few items allowed, there was no point in packing. Jing Ling decided not to return home. He called Jing Qiu and Yunshu separately. Of course, he couldn’t tell them the real situation and only said he had taken on a job and would be busy for a while. Then he called Shen Ze, giving him a different story.

“Ah Ze, I have a personal matter to attend to and will be away for a while. If any work comes up, handle it if you can; otherwise, wait until I’m back.”

On the other end, Shen Ze’s breath hitched, and his voice instantly rose. “What the hell are you up to now, huh?!”

“To tell you the truth, this time I’m serving the country.” Jing Ling spoke in a joking tone.

“I’d have to be an idiot to believe your crap. Screw you!” Shen Ze ground his teeth, snapped back, and slammed the phone down.

Jing Ling didn’t go back, and neither did Xu Shaohuai and the others. After making their arrangements, they gathered together to discuss matters—more precisely, to split up responsibilities in advance. In fact, that was probably why the higher-ups had grouped them together. Each of the Five Great Families had their own strengths. Alone, one might be limited, but together, a qualitative change could happen.

Their team composition was scientifically sound. The Song family were natural-born hunters; the Yang family could perceive the past and future; the Bai family specialized in medicine; and Jing Ling, having “inherited” the skills of the Li family, could communicate with birds and beasts. Although Xu Shaohuai wasn’t from one of the Five Families, he clearly had rich field experience and had participated in hunting games before. With this lineup, they held a clear advantage. But this mission was no joke—it was a matter of life and death, and there was no room for carelessness.

Over the next three days, Xu Shaohuai briefed them on everything they needed to watch out for, from boarding the cruise ship to the island hunting ground.

“Before entering the hunting ground, the organizers will provide everything, including clothing and gear. You’re generally not allowed to bring your own stuff, though there are exceptions—as long as it’s not a firearm or similar weapon, they’ll usually turn a blind eye. After all, if the game’s too rigid, it loses a lot of its fun.”

“Bai Ningxi, your needles, and Song Xiuyuan, your knife—you can both bring those in. As for Jing Ling and Yang Xinyao, since you don’t have any special gear, just pick a few useful items according to my advice.”

Three days passed quickly. At dawn, the group got up, washed, packed up, and left the hotel for the pier. A boat marked with a special insignia quietly waited at the designated spot. The five of them boarded in turn. After confirming their codenames, the boat set off.

One of the game’s rules was that participants only used codenames and could disguise themselves. This meant that during the game, if you disguised yourself well enough, even if you bumped into a former enemy after the game, they might not recognize you—or even know your nationality.

Jing Ling and the others were all in disguise. His was the most extreme—his whole face looked completely different, yet no flaws could be seen. Xu Shaohuai and the rest had started disguising themselves but, after seeing Jing Ling’s handiwork, threw down their tools and waited for his help.

From the moment they took on this mission, they were in the same boat—life or death together. Helping with something like this was natural. After fixing his own disguise, Jing Ling prepared fresh tools and worked on each of their faces. When he finished, they sat together, sizing each other up.

“If we weren’t still in this room, I wouldn’t recognize any of you outside,” Bai Ningxi exclaimed.

Jing Ling joked lightly, “I suggest we sit together and get familiar—wouldn’t want to mistake a teammate for an enemy and cause an accident in the hunting ground.” Though half a joke, there was truth in it. The hunting ground would be chaotic, both sides dressed alike, and no team could stick together all the time. If they split up and regrouped later, recognition would be crucial.

The sea was calm, and the boat sped forward, slicing through the water and leaving a white wake.

After about half an hour, a massive, luxurious cruise ship appeared on the horizon. As they neared, they saw two other small boats coming from different directions—clearly other teams, likely future opponents. They too were in disguise, hiding all obvious symbols. Apart from a rough guess at their nationality based on skin color or facial features, it was hard to gather useful information. But there was no rush. The hunting game would last half a month, and before it officially began, there were five days of warm-up on the cruise—a good chance to probe each other.

After they boarded, their small boat left.

Xu Shaohuai led the way, the others following. At reception, a staff member in a black suit with a special badge on his chest greeted them with slight surprise. “You’re back again!” he said fluently in the common international language, scanning the group. “You’re good, but your teammates look a bit young and frail.”

Xu Shaohuai didn’t reply, only nodded and presented his token.

After the routine check-in, the staff member pointed to a nearby box. “Please.”

It was an ordinary wooden box, half a person tall, sealed on all sides with a fist-sized hole on top. Obviously a lottery box—used by the organizers to assign rooms. Another rule: team members wouldn’t be housed together. The cruise’s room numbers were inside; whatever you drew, that’s where you stayed—a measure to increase the game’s difficulty.

Xu Shaohuai waved it off and looked at Jing Ling.

Anyone could draw the lots, not necessarily each person. Xu Shaohuai had terrible luck—his previous draws had scattered teammates all over the ship, making communication nearly impossible. So before this trip, he’d asked who had good luck, even tested them with mock draws, and finally picked Jing Ling.

Jing Ling nodded, stepped forward, reached into the box, and casually pulled out five balls, placing them on the table.

“Confirmed?” the staff asked.

Jing Ling nodded again.

The staff opened the balls one by one and read the room numbers inside. “3001, 3002, 3003, 3004… whoa, VIP001! Kid, you’re seriously lucky!” His eyes lit up with obvious excitement.

“I wasn’t going to bet on your team this year—you all looked too weak—but now I think this must be a sign from God! I’m gonna make a fortune!”

Even Xu Shaohuai was stunned. Out of over a thousand rooms on a five-deck ship, Jing Ling had drawn four consecutive rooms on the third floor and even snagged VIP001—one of only three VIP rooms, the best of them. That kind of luck was like hitting the jackpot, but this meant more than money. The VIP rooms came with privileges: entering the hunting ground early by one, two, or three hours, depending on the room number. Compared to that, five million was nothing.

Xu Shaohuai was a realist. He’d only hoped Jing Ling’s draws would be better than his own. VIP rooms? He hadn’t even dared dream. And yet, Jing Ling got them so easily. He slapped Jing Ling on the shoulder with great force, his voice shaking with excitement. “Good, good, good!”

Coming from a military background, Xu Shaohuai’s strength was no joke. Fired up, he didn’t hold back. Jing Ling felt the impact on his shoulder and couldn’t help twitching his lips. Thank goodness it was him—if it had been Yang Xinyao, her shoulder would probably have been black and blue.

With the room numbers drawn, the check-in process was complete. A guide took them to collect their key cards.

The VIP001 room was on the fifth floor, far from the others. Xu Shaohuai gave up on staying there and had Jing Ling bunk with him in 3001. There was still time—many teams hadn’t checked in yet. The game officially started at 7 PM. After that, players had to follow the rules; breaking them could cost points or lead to disqualification. One rule was that players had to stay in their rooms before the game started. But for now, it didn’t matter. As VIP guests, they could also bend that rule a bit.

With little luggage, they went straight to Room 3001, sitting wherever they liked—sofa, chair, bed.

Jing Ling had just picked a chair when Xu Shaohuai came over, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said seriously, “Jing Ling, you did great today!”

Jing Ling was speechless. Clearly, the captain still hadn’t calmed down. But he thought of something. “About what the staffer said earlier—about betting on us—so there’s gambling involved here?”

Xu Shaohuai patted his shoulder. “They’re playing with lives—what’s gambling? Every hunting game comes with massive bets. And it’s not just small-time stuff.”

“Can I get in on it?” Jing Ling asked seriously.

Xu Shaohuai glanced at him. “There’s nothing fun about gambling. Don’t get involved.”

Jing Ling rolled his eyes. “Come on, Captain—I’m not doing it for fun. I’m broke, okay? I still need to make money to support my family! Anyway, we’re bound to win in the end. My bets are confidently placed on myself!” 

 

Chapter 130

 

None of the people present were insiders of the circle. Usually, they’d occasionally see news on TV reporting that a celebrity could make tens of millions, even over a hundred million, from a single drama, so they thought this group made money easily. So when they heard Jing Ling crying poor, they all assumed he was joking.

“Why are you crying poor to us? You could shoot any random drama and have a house, a car, and money, right?”

“I saw on the celebrity wealth rankings that plenty of them earn over a hundred million a year.”

Jing Ling didn’t argue. Soon, they switched topics and started talking about other things.

At lunchtime, the cruise ship offered a lavish meal. Since Jing Ling drew a VIP room for his team, their treatment was even better—they got a private room and could order anything they liked. They weren’t picky people and, with gentlemanly manners, handed the menu to Yang Xinyao to decide. She didn’t decline, taking it and asking about everyone’s preferences as she browsed. She quickly made the decisions.

When the dishes arrived, they chatted casually about trivial matters. They never brought up anything important, and some things were even unsafe to say aloud—they relied on handwritten notes or special codes.

Jing Ling didn’t join the discussion. He got up, and everyone thought he was going to the restroom. But instead, he called over a waiter to ask about betting.

“Contestants can place bets too, right? How does it work? Any restrictions?”

Everyone: “…” So, you really haven’t given up on getting rich through gambling.

They watched as Jing Ling clarified the details with the waiter, gave his account information, and finally chose to bet on his own team. The rest he didn’t have to worry about—the organizers would handle it for him.

When Jing Ling returned to the table, Yang Xinyao asked first, “You’re really persistent—and pretty confident too. How much did you bet?”

“Five million.”

Xu Shaohuai, sitting nearby, said, “Not that much. It’s fine if it’s just for fun.” The others had similar expressions, making Jing Ling a little helpless. “I really am poor. That’s basically all I have. I’m counting on doubling it in the end.”

Even Bai Ningxi, who rarely spoke, said, “That little?”

“Yeah, I’m really broke.” Everyone present came from wealthy families—exceptionally wealthy families at that. Five million wasn’t much to them. Only Jing Ling was a nobody. If not for having some cheat-like advantage, he’d probably still be doing part-time jobs to make ends meet. Forget five million—even fifty thousand would be out of reach.

Yang Xinyao gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ll do my best not to hold us back, for the sake of your hard-earned money!”

Song Xiuyuan also spoke up, “I’ll do my best too.”

Bai Ningxi shrugged, “I’m like Xinyao—support staff. My goal is to not drag us down.”

Xu Shaohuai, sitting next to them, thought for a moment and said to Jing Ling, “If you’re really short on money, after we complete this mission, I’ll apply for a special bonus for you.”

The dishes were soon all served, and everything else was set aside—eating came first.

After lunch, everyone returned to their rooms to rest. Jing Ling stayed behind because the waiter who handled his bet came back to give him something. The waiter didn’t leave immediately but said to Jing Ling, “After the game officially starts tonight, there’ll be a warm-up event with a prize of three chips. You can place bets on it or join in yourself. If you’re interested, you might want to check it out.”

One chip represented one million international currency units. Converted, that was about fifteen million domestically. Jing Ling wasn’t that obsessed with money, but when opportunity knocked, it made no sense not to take it.

“How does it work?” he asked.

“Reception ends at 6:50 PM. The game officially starts at 7 PM. At 7:30 PM, the first warm-up event opens—a treasure hunt in Area A1. Whoever leaves with the designated item wins…”

After listening to the waiter’s explanation, Jing Ling realized money wasn’t going to be that easy to make.

Area A1 of the cruise was a large maze, with the treasure placed right at the center. Participants could only bring an ordinary dagger as a weapon. They’d have to face not only other players but also starving wild beasts. Not all participants were task-related teams like theirs—a large portion came purely for money. With three million in prize money just for a warm-up, one could imagine how rich the later rewards would be.

Calling it a reckless madman’s carnival wasn’t an exaggeration—high risks, high rewards. One successful attempt could set you up for life. But if you lacked luck or skills, you could easily die here.

“Got it. Thank you.” Jing Ling thanked the waiter and returned to Room 3001 with the items. Xu Shaohuai wasn’t resting either, sitting on the sofa deep in thought. When he heard the door open, he glanced over and casually asked, “What took you so long?” It only took two minutes to fetch something—he’d been gone almost half an hour. It was natural for Xu Shaohuai to ask.

“He stayed back to explain tonight’s warm-up game to me,” Jing Ling answered truthfully.

Xu Shaohuai sat upright at once. “You’re thinking of joining?” he asked. “Three million international currency isn’t a huge sum here, but it’s not easy money either. The other players aren’t the problem—the starving beasts are. Lions, tigers, wolves, even cheetahs… whichever shows up, they’ll have been starved for a long time. The moment they catch a whiff of bl00d, they’ll go berserk. Their sense of smell is sharp, and the maze’s layout is a huge disadvantage for humans. I’ve been here three times—I saw five people die in that game myself.”

“Your special abilities must remain hidden. And even putting that aside, it’s not guaranteed that the beasts would be willing to listen to you.”

“And most importantly, we’re here for the mission. The real action is in the hunting ground. You’ve already gotten VIP privileges before the game even started—that’s a huge advantage. Personally, I don’t want anything going wrong before we enter the hunting ground.”

“I know.” Jing Ling nodded. He came here for the mission, and he understood that the mission came first.

“I’m just curious why he told me about it.”

Xu Shaohuai waved his hand. “No one working here is a good person. If they successfully rope someone into the game, they get a commission. If their recruit wins, they get a bonus. You asked about betting right away and even bet on yourself—he probably thought you were the type who couldn’t resist money and mentioned it casually. Whether you joined or not wouldn’t affect him either way.”

Jing Ling was a little speechless after hearing that. So, he was just one of the many targets they were casting a wide net for.

Since he wasn’t joining the game, there was no need to know more. After chatting with Xu Shaohuai for a while longer, Jing Ling lay down for a nap.

At 2 PM, the team members gradually woke up and went to the swimming pool together. It felt just like a vacation. They played the whole afternoon, enjoyed a luxurious dinner at mealtime, and that was the end of their carefree time.

At 7 PM, the game officially began.

The waiters delivered a beautifully printed and bound game rulebook to every room, written in international language. If anyone couldn’t read or understand it, they could just press a bell, and a waiter would come over—they could make any requests they liked.

During this time, the in-room televisions would broadcast previews of upcoming events—and not just events. Any kind of information would be released this way, at irregular times: morning, night, even in the middle of the night. To avoid missing anything important, the TV had to stay on 24/7. One person alone couldn’t monitor it constantly, so the team needed to split shifts.

In short—don’t think that not joining the game meant you could relax. You’d still get pushed to the limit.

On the TV, a gorgeous and provocatively dressed hostess began introducing the upcoming warm-up game.

“In twenty minutes, tonight’s treasure hunt game will begin. Compared to before, this time the rules have changed…”

After the hostess finished explaining the new rules and rewards, Jing Ling immediately turned to look at Xu Shaohuai—and Xu Shaohuai was looking right back at him.

Jing Ling spoke first, “Looks like we’ll have to go, whether we want to or not.”

Xu Shaohuai nodded.

Usually, teams coming for the hunting ground would conserve their energy and avoid joining warm-up games with no reward beyond money. This meant those events would mainly attract desperate rookies. At first, it might seem fun, but after a few times, it got boring. The organizers must have realized this problem, so they changed the rules and increased the rewards.

They opened up two areas—A1 and the adjacent zone—merging them as the game field. The number of wild beasts increased from one to three. Solo entry changed to pair entry. The weapon was still a dagger, but one teammate had to wear bloodstained clothes.

Besides the already registered players, they opened a ten-minute window for team sign-ups. Then the organizers would randomly select three teams from all participants to join the game.

As for the rewards, the original three million was doubled to six million. On top of that was a special reward—early access to the hunting ground by half an hour.

The chances of drawing a VIP room were slim—it was pure luck. No one really expected it. But this was different. The advantage of getting in thirty minutes early was huge. It’d be a lie to say they weren’t tempted.

Though only three teams would be drawn, that was just on paper. Entry spots could be transferred, and not just for this game—it applied to all games. The VIP privilege also worked here, allowing direct entry.

Team members could buy entry spots from the registered participants. Those guys only cared about money—it’d be easy enough to settle with cash.

So, this warm-up game that used to be filled with rookies was now bound to turn into the first clash between the serious teams.

Even though they already had the three-hour advantage from the VIP room, no one would mind stacking up even more.