Reborn, I Became a Male God - Chapter 136-140

They exchanged another dozen moves before the opponent finally showed a clear opening. Jing Ling seized the opportunity—after blocking the opponent’s attack, he raised his leg and kicked straight at the man’s abdomen. His speed was lightning-fast; the opponent had no time to react and took the kick head-on. His entire body was sent flying, smashing hard into the wall with a loud bang.

He really flew—completely off the ground. It might not seem like much with an ordinary person, but when the target was a burly man who weighed at least ninety kilograms, the effect was nothing short of astonishing.

Jing Ling himself didn’t think it was a big deal, but the others clearly felt differently. Xu Shaohuai had been holding off another opponent and had gained a slight upper hand. For some reason, his opponent suddenly seemed distracted. Xu Shaohuai wasn’t about to miss such a golden opportunity—he grabbed the man’s arm and threw him over his shoulder. Normally, he should have followed up with an arm lock and a knee press to subdue him, but… seeing with his own eyes that massive man sent flying and crashing several meters away into a wall, Xu Shaohuai was so shocked he nearly botched the throw. Luckily, his opponent was also distracted, preventing him from making such a rookie mistake. Xu Shaohuai quickly regained his composure and, with a smooth sequence of moves, pinned his enemy to the ground, rendering him immobile. Only then did he turn his head to look at Jing Ling.

“Grab the item. The game should end now.”

Even though they currently held an absolute advantage, in this kind of game, no one would dare claim victory until the very last moment.

Jing Ling nodded. He shared the same thought as Xu Shaohuai. But before that, there was still one problem to take care of. He lowered his head and glanced at the man pinned on the ground. “Jungle law?” As he spoke, he made a slashing gesture with his hand.

If every confrontation were this open and straightforward, he wouldn’t be afraid of anyone. The problem was, this hunting ground was an isolated island rigged with countless hidden cameras. If he didn’t want to expose his abilities, the best way was to use them sparingly. In such a situation, anyone could become a threat to their team’s safety. This wasn’t civilized society—the top priority here was survival. There were no rules or morals to abide by, and taking out potential threats in advance wasn’t excessive at all.

The reason they hadn’t made a move on the teams they encountered earlier was that those people didn’t have what they needed. With the mission on a time limit, they didn’t have the luxury of picking fights with every team. But this team was different—they had already fought and proved themselves capable opponents. Plus, with the added grudge over the stolen mission item, letting them go now would be like releasing a tiger back into the mountains.

That said, this wasn’t the same as letting that wolf live earlier so it could help them by taking an enemy down in a mutual kill. This would be a direct, personal kill.

“Let me think,” Xu Shaohuai said as he glanced up at the camera overhead. It wasn’t that he was afraid of making a move—after all, he’d been to the hunting ground several times before and seen all kinds of things. He just didn’t want to give those people sitting behind the screens the satisfaction. Why did they change the game rules, increase rewards, and crank up the difficulty? Wasn’t it all to see a bloodier, more thrilling spectacle?

However, before he could make up his mind, someone on the other side started begging for mercy. It wasn’t the man Xu Shaohuai had pinned down, but the one sitting by the wall. The man propped himself up on the ground and stood with his hands raised above his head. “Don’t kill us. We surrender! I know what you’re worried about. Once the game is over, we’ll go withdraw our registration from the hunting ground.”

The hunting ground was the real main event. Any team could sign up before the game started, but they only got one chance. If they withdrew early, it meant forfeiting entirely. But this guy’s promise sounded a lot like a hollow gesture. Withdrawing registration required the captain’s personal confirmation. Never mind whether either of these two was the captain—even if they were, it couldn’t be done immediately. They’d have to wait until the game ended and they got out. Once they left this area, the ship would be a safe zone until the next game started, meaning no one could touch them. Whether they’d actually withdraw would be entirely up to them—no one could enforce it.

And Jing Ling never held out much hope when it came to a desperado’s sense of honor.

The man probably guessed what Jing Ling was thinking and added, “That’s all I can say. Whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

Ever since that brutal scene where the wolf and a member of Team Three perished together, Yang Xinyao had genuinely been rattled. Though she was born into one of the Five Great Clans and had seen far more of the world than most people—her eyes could see both past and future—this was the first time she had faced such bl00d-drenched scenes head-on. Especially knowing that on this luxury cruise ship, who knew how many people were also watching the live broadcast—what were their reactions? Fear? Worry? …No, from what little she knew, most people were probably cheering wildly, reveling in the bloody, thrilling opening game.

At that thought, she could hardly suppress the nauseating feeling.

“Urgh—” She clamped a hand over her mouth, shot up from the sofa, and rushed toward the bathroom. She didn’t even bother closing the door, dropping to her knees by the toilet and vomiting straight away.

The door hung ajar, the sound of retching spilling out from inside. Song Xiuyuan and Bai Ningxi exchanged glances, both with wry smiles on their faces. Clearly, they didn’t feel too great either—just not as dramatic as Yang Xinyao.

“I’m starting to doubt whether I’m really up for this mission,” Song Xiuyuan sighed. The live feed was still fixed on Team Three’s side. They didn’t like it, but the organizers surely knew that most of the audience was eating this up.

“No wonder everyone kept stressing before we left that this mission was special—that we had to be mentally prepared. No matter what we heard, saw, or encountered, we had to ignore it as much as possible. Only then could we calm down and do what we’re supposed to do,” Bai Ningxi added. Though she was a doctor and accustomed to the sight of bl00d, this kind of malicious slaughter seriously challenged an ordinary person’s moral compass.

It took quite a while before the sounds from the bathroom stopped. The door opened, and Yang Xinyao came out. Her complexion was slightly pale, her bangs damp and dripping with water—clearly, she’d hurriedly splashed her face to calm herself down.

“Sorry,” she said apologetically. By the time she sat back on the sofa, the live feed had switched to another team. Though everything seemed normal for now, she couldn’t help but feel on edge, afraid another gruesome scene might pop up at any moment. On the field, three beasts remained—and with one wolf already dead, the lion and tiger were still prowling, hunting their prey.

The following live streams didn’t have any explosive moments. The teams encountered each other, but for various reasons, they never ended up fighting. It was the same with the encounter with the beasts — since they didn’t appear at a perfect moment like the wolves did, and with teams on guard and cooperating well, even the beasts couldn’t necessarily gain the upper hand. Throughout the whole process, one side would always retreat.

When the camera switched back to Jing Ling’s team again, he and Xu Shaohuai were weaving through the maze, running into one team after another. And these encounters weren’t by chance. From the god’s-eye view, it was clear Jing Ling was looking for people. After meeting several teams in succession, they finally ran into Team Two, the one carrying the mission item.

“Hurry up and get the thing, let’s finish this damned game!” Yang Xinyao thought expectantly. The treasure doll that once made her laugh nonstop at the beginning didn’t seem so funny now under the weight of their heavy mood.

Until she saw Jing Ling kick a person several meters away.

“How… did he do that?” Yang Xinyao was extremely shocked, momentarily forgetting everything else.

Bai Ningxi reacted almost the same way, shaking her head. “No idea.”

The two of them were typical support staff and didn’t know much about this kind of situation. Song Xiuyuan, however, understood very well. To achieve that kind of result, speed, skill, and strength were all indispensable — and most important of all was strength. It was hard to imagine that Jing Ling, who visually gave off a lean impression, harbored such terrifying power inside his body. On top of that strength, he also had rich combat experience. Every attack and dodge seemed like a textbook demonstration.

No wonder, during the River Crossing mission, the old man at home gave him such a high evaluation. Every time he mentioned this heir of the Li family, he could hardly hide his envy and jealousy. Song Xiuyuan had been a favored child of heaven for over twenty years and was inevitably a bit unwilling to accept it when faced with this kind of situation. It wasn’t until he witnessed Jing Ling’s skills firsthand in the Changchu Ridge Mountains that he finally conceded. But at that time, what he admired was the Li family’s legendary beast-taming ability — not Jing Ling himself.

Until now.

Song Xiuyuan had drifted into his thoughts, momentarily distracted. Suddenly, Yang Xinyao’s exclamation pulled him back.

“What are they trying to do?” Although the live broadcast had no sound, some movements and gestures were obvious even to ordinary viewers, not to mention the host was explaining on the side.

“Looks like Team One is trying to eliminate these two powerful enemies in advance! I have to say, this is a very smart move!…”

The three of them watching the screen held their breaths. Their attention was entirely focused on Jing Ling and Xu Shaohuai, and they didn’t notice the change happening in the corner. Jing Ling suddenly turned and ran in another direction, and Xu Shaohuai let go two seconds later and chased after him. They didn’t immediately realize what was happening until the host explained it.

When the sandpiper and the clam fight, the fisherman profits. While Jing Ling’s team and Team Two were locked in a standoff, someone suddenly dashed out from the side, snatched the doll pinned to the wall, and ran. That person had good luck — right after running off, the maze shifted paths. Jing Ling was one second late and got blocked by a wall.

What followed was a maze chase scene that showed the audience what an abnormal memory looked like. The person who snatched the doll ran around the maze like a headless fly. If it weren’t for his perfect timing and the maze constantly changing paths, he would have been caught long ago. Jing Ling, chasing behind, wasn’t taking the same route. It was as if he knew the original path was blocked — he kept crossing through rotating doors. It was like those doors weren’t even hidden; he didn’t need to search for them at all. The moment he got near, he would lift his hand and push hard, forcing them open and quickly passing through.

It was a contest between luck and skill.

The live stream camera kept switching back and forth between the two, with no time to spare for other teams.

When the person in front ran into a dead end and hurriedly turned back, the camera finally caught his face — it was the surviving member of Team Three! His body was covered in dried bl00d, his mask stained with bl00d as well, and he was running through the maze with all his strength. Though he couldn’t see clearly from inside the maze, the audience, with a god’s-eye view, could clearly see that his route was leading straight to the exit — and he wasn’t far away.

When he turned the final corner, he was on the straight path to the exit. His exhausted body seemed to be filled with a mysterious energy at that moment, pushing him to accelerate further.

Victory seemed within reach!

At this moment, Jing Ling finally caught up. But the distance between them was still a bit far, and the other guy was very close to the finish line. It seemed impossible for Jing Ling to make it in time — the outcome appeared to be decided.

But was it really?

No.

While running, Jing Ling flung the dagger he had casually pulled from the wall during the chase, aiming at the runner’s foot — a perfect hit!

Just as the runner was about to reach the exit, his foot suddenly gave out. The next second, his entire body pitched forward, crashing hard to the ground. The doll in his hand flew out, sliding a bit on the ground before finally stopping less than a centimeter from the exit.

Because of the unexpected and severe fall, the man was dazed for two seconds before reacting. He struggled to crawl forward, stretching out his hand to try to push the doll over the finish line. But he ultimately failed — Jing Ling had already caught up, kicked the doll into the exit.

The doll had a special sensor device designed to match with the exit. As its body passed through the exit, an electronic voice sounded from the speaker overhead.

“Game over!”

Chapter 137

Before the game began, no one had expected that the long-standing rules would suddenly be changed just like that. They were given such a short time to react—having to discuss with the entire team whether to participate, who would take part, and so on. Since the newly opened spots were ultimately selected by drawing lots, they couldn’t even be sure if they would get a chance to compete. To prepare for any possibility, they had to try negotiating with the rookies who had previously signed up to exchange spots. However, although those rookies weren’t very strong, they were at least sharp enough, and anyone willing to risk their life for money was definitely not timid. No matter who you were, since the rules forbade physical confrontations outside of the Hunting Ground game, this was the perfect time for them to make outrageous demands and scam you—it would be a shame to waste such a black-hearted opportunity.

The pond was only so big, and every team wanted to reach in and catch a fish, which inevitably led to situations where several teams targeted the same person. So while each team was looking for opportunities, they also had to guard against others cutting in.

In short, with so many things to do, aside from the increased rewards and difficulty, who had the time or energy to study the remaining game rules that looked almost identical at a glance?

Jing Ling, however, was one of the exceptions. With his speed-reading ability and photographic memory, combined with his extraordinary comprehension skills, he fully grasped the new game rules in a very short time. In fact, compared to those who had participated in the game before, he even had an advantage. Those people were accustomed to the previous model, and with the new rules differing only slightly, they were prone to outdated thinking—unlike someone like him, who had never played before and came in with a fresh perspective.

Among the new game rules, there was a clause about determining the winner. The criteria were quite flexible: it wasn’t required for a team member to physically carry the mission item out of the exit. As long as the sensor at the exit detected the mission item passing through, the game would be declared over. The winner would be determined by who last touched the mission item. In other words, even if you threw the item in the final stretch, as long as no one else touched it afterward, you would be the winner.

The person from Team Three must have noticed this too—otherwise, he wouldn’t have tried to push the doll across the finish line at the last moment. Why didn’t he just throw it from the start? Old habits—he simply didn’t react in time. Speaking of which, he really had bad luck. If that last throw had sent the doll even ten centimeters further, he would have won.

Or if his opponent had been someone else, he might not have been overtaken at all—possibly not even caught from the start. And even if someone had caught up by sheer luck, with such a long distance left, they would’ve had no choice but to watch him clear the exit line. In any case, none of these twists would have happened.

But unfortunately, there are no “ifs.” His opponent was Jing Ling, who, with sheer strength, overturned a nearly finalized outcome—getting the doll across before the other man could react. This just goes to show that while luck is important, it’s still no match for absolute strength.

The game ended.

Behind the scenes, staff members operated the maze mechanisms to trap the beasts. The lights overhead shifted, forming markers that guided the teams within the maze to the nearest exit.

The livestream cut back to the female host, who gave a brief summary before the signal was disconnected.

The two members of Team Two exited the maze through the nearest exit. After stepping out, they turned around to look back, only to see the metal door slowly closing, gradually obscuring the interior of the maze. Not long ago, they had been standing right here, waiting for that door to open.

“This damn game is finally over!” one of them muttered under his breath.

His teammate, who he was supporting, sighed with a somewhat emotional tone. “Yeah, it’s over. Let’s go find the captain and the others—see if they figured anything out.”

This was their first time coming to this place and participating in this kind of game. To be honest, it was much easier than their usual missions and not too dangerous either. After all, they only had a single dagger each, and it wasn’t easy for anyone else to take their lives. Of course, it was just as hard for them to take others’ lives. To be fair, having a half-hour head start in the Hunting Ground was a big advantage, but it all depended on who benefited from it. Their team wasn’t new to this place—they’d already participated in the Hunting Ground game four times and had been among the final winners each time. They didn’t claim to have full knowledge of the Hunting Ground, but they certainly weren’t worse off than other teams. They also had some understanding of the other frequently winning teams.

This time, with the sudden rule change and such generous rewards even for the warm-up game, their captain speculated that the prizes later on would be even better. But no one wanted to reveal their true strength early—this was a guessing game even among old acquaintances. So the captain sent these two rookies out to test the waters, while the real core members stayed behind to observe the other teams.

Before the game started, the two from Team Two had been brimming with confidence, and in the first half, they did hold a significant advantage. But they hadn’t expected two unexpected players to show up halfway and defeat them so easily. If it hadn’t been for an accident later on, they might’ve lost their lives in there. As for that comment about withdrawing from the game after it ended? What a joke—they never meant it seriously. People like them, who lived on the edge, only kept their word when paid to do a job. Even then, there were exceptions—so forget about any other time.

As they walked, heads slightly lowered, a pair of feet suddenly appeared in their path. They looked up and saw a familiar clown mask.

“Are you planning to withdraw your application to participate?” The voice was calm, showing no emotion, yet it somehow exerted pressure.

The injured one instinctively stepped back a couple of paces, recalling that kick in the maze. But then he remembered—the game was over, and this was a safe zone. The guy wouldn’t dare make a move here. Cursing himself for being cowardly, he replied, “We’ll talk to the captain about it, but we can’t say for sure how it’ll turn out.” They clearly had no intention of honoring their promise, but they still tried to phrase it more tactfully—one had to save face.

To their surprise, the man didn’t get angry. He merely circled them once, scrutinizing them carefully, then came back to stand in front of them. “I know. I just came over to get a good look at you—so I’ll recognize you next time we meet.” With that, he let out a light, unreadable chuckle.

As expected, this guy had never trusted them from the start. Thanks to that sudden appearance of another person at the end, they’d managed to survive by sheer luck.

Neither of them were good at small talk, so they didn’t know how to respond. They simply walked around him and left. He didn’t follow, but they could still feel his gaze like a thorn in their backs. Not until they turned a corner and got out of his line of sight did they finally breathe a sigh of relief.

They were people who’d danced on the edge of death—and yet they’d been spooked by a single man’s stare. The guy was seriously something else.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“The game just ended. We don’t even know where the exit is ourselves. He was clearly chasing that other person out—so how did he know where we’d be?!”

When Jing Ling returned to Room 3001, Xu Shaohuai had already come back and was chatting with Yang Xinyao and the others. Seeing him push open the door, Xu Shaohuai glanced over and casually asked, “Where did you go?”

“Had a little heart-to-heart with those two just now,” Jing Ling replied as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

Xu Shaohuai gave a helpless look. “It’s useless.”

Jing Ling nodded and sat down beside him. “I know. I was just bored anyway.” Although he hadn’t taken the same exit as those two, he was familiar with the maze layout and could easily calculate the nearest exit for them—so he had simply dropped by to say hello.

Since he’d put it that way, Xu Shaohuai didn’t pursue the matter and continued the conversation from before.

“Now that everyone’s here, I’ll summarize the maze game situation.”

Chapter 138

The first game on the cruise, although the number of participating teams ended up being limited, was still a good opportunity for mutual probing. In theory, Xu Shaohuai should have been stationed in front of the screen, watching the overall level of the participating teams—whether there were any teams that required special attention, or any other situations worth noting.
Indeed, observing through a screen wasn’t as accurate as testing in person, but it was still better than being inside the maze and not even having a chance to encounter others.

Or perhaps, he actually had another option—simply not participating.

But the fact was, he had no choice but to participate. Because in this hastily assembled team, apart from Jing Ling, there wasn’t a single person he could feel at ease with. Moreover, the half-hour reward for winning wasn’t just about entering the hunting grounds earlier.
Teams participating in the hunting ground game had to stay for a full half-month, calculated from the moment they set foot on the island, and the time of early entry counted toward that total.
In other words, if a team entered five hours early, they could also leave five hours early when it ended.

Compared to half a month, a few hours might seem insignificant. If his former teammates—those he’d worked with seamlessly—were still around, Xu Shaohuai wouldn’t have cared about this half-hour advantage. Unfortunately, in the last game, his teammates were either injured or dead. He had even applied not to participate in this mission, and it had been approved. But then the intelligence collectors obtained information on the game’s reward items—both people and objects of great significance to the nation. No one felt comfortable sending anyone else, so they forced him back into action. And as if on a whim, they’d cobbled together this team for him.

Yes, in his eyes, it was purely on a whim.
Yang Xinyao, Bai Ningxi, Song Xiuyuan—each seemed to have their strengths, yet for this place, they were rather dispensable. Not just them—even Jing Ling wasn’t entirely qualified, because he couldn’t absolutely obey orders. The only good thing was that Jing Ling’s safety wasn’t something Xu Shaohuai needed to worry about.

Because of all this, he had to seize every opportunity. In a brutal game like this, a single second could mean the difference between life and death.

“I ran into four teams with Jing Ling in the maze. We fought with only one—that was the team carrying the mission item. I believe you all saw them. The two of them worked together with a level of coordination that takes years to build. But they aren’t members of any team I’ve encountered in the hunting grounds before. Maybe they’re new, or perhaps substitutes from another team.Either way, they won’t be weak. Teams like ours are far too rare.”

“We couldn’t see the other teams’ situations inside the maze, but you all should’ve seen them—especially the one that died. No matter how many times I emphasized how dangerous this operation is, words can never compare to witnessing it firsthand. Now, Starlight, River, Knife—what do you three think?”

Starlight was Yang Xinyao. Even now, her face was still pale.
Facing Xu Shaohuai’s gaze, she didn’t dare meet his eyes and mumbled, “I’ll try to adapt.”
The implication being—she hadn’t adapted yet.

River was Bai Ningxi. Unlike Yang Xinyao, at least his expression showed nothing unusual.
He nodded and said, “I’m fine.”

Knife was Song Xiuyuan. Among the three, he had the best mental state, never parting with his knife throughout the whole process. To Xu Shaohuai’s question, he only nodded and replied with a single “Mm.”

The whole team could actually be divided into three tiers. Jing Ling and Xu Shaohuai were undoubtedly the main combat force. Song Xiuyuan had decent combat ability, but almost no real combat experience. The older generation of the Song family had actually fought on battlefields, but by this generation, it was peacetime. Even Song Xiuyuan’s father had few real opportunities for battle. The last tier was Yang Xinyao and Bai Ningxi—purely logistical support.

After hearing their responses, Xu Shaohuai turned to Jing Ling. “As for you, I won’t say much.
The only request is that you follow orders when it matters most.”

Jing Ling nodded. “I’ll try.”

That answer was exactly what Xu Shaohuai expected. He didn’t dwell on it and continued,

“The maze was just the beginning. There’ll be other games coming—three rounds in total.
It’s basically a selection process before entering the hunting grounds. Like raising Gu, but a bit different—they’ll eliminate the weakest first. The remaining teams will all have a certain level of strength. Then they’ll throw them into the hunting grounds to slaughter each other.
In the end, only three teams can win.”

Eight teams total, five people each—that’s forty participants. But not everyone would make it out of the hunting grounds. If a team wanted all its members to survive, they’d have to kill others. It was a kill-or-be-killed situation, with no way out.

And that was just the official rules.
In every previous game Xu Shaohuai had joined, the death toll always exceeded five.
Because not everyone came for the money—some were simply addicted to the thrill of killing.
Those two teams that had been in the game from the start changed members frequently, and the people who died at their hands were even more numerous.

Xu Shaohuai’s teammates had fallen to them too.

It was a heavy topic. After speaking, Xu Shaohuai changed the subject.

“We won this game. Besides the half-hour reward, there’s a six-million universal currency cash prize. Since only Jing Ling and I did any real work, we’ll be splitting the money. I don’t need it—all six million will go to him. No objections, right?”

Though he asked, Xu Shaohuai already knew the answer. The three he asked weren’t short on money. As expected, all three shook their heads in agreement.

Six million universal currency—converted, that’s over thirty million domestically.
And this was earned in just one hour since the game began. Even if past prizes were half this amount—that’d still be fifteen million—and the difficulty back then was much lower.
Plenty of people had won purely on luck.

Who wouldn’t be tempted?

And this was only the beginning.

Besides this thirty million, Jing Ling had another windfall. Before the game started, he’d called a steward to place a bet on his own team’s victory—one million at seven-to-one odds. He won seven million. After deducting the stake, that was six million net gain.

So from the start of the game until now, he’d already earned over thirty million!
Pure profit—tax-free. The principal was almost negligible.

Sure, you could theoretically make this kind of money in a casino, but the thrill here far surpassed that.

The game rewards weren’t credited instantly. Jing Ling and the others waited about half an hour in their room before a steward knocked on the door, holding a crystal-clear tray with two black cards resting in the center—faintly bearing the Morton Bank logo.

“Sir, here are your game winnings and bet payouts!”

Jing Ling took the two cards, tipped the steward, and the man quietly left, gently closing the door. There was no need to check the balance. The organizers never shorted a single cent—they had more money than they knew what to do with.

“Thanks, Captain!” Jing Ling said with a smile, holding the cards.
“That’s enough for a house. Feels like a load off my shoulders.”
And he didn’t mean some house in a backwater town—he meant a prime property in the capital of the Republic. If he was going to buy, it’d have to be the best.
If those authentic courtyard homes weren’t off the market, he’d have snapped one up, price be damned—he’d find a way.

Xu Shaohuai actually smiled at that and joked along,
“There are still two more games. Win both, and you can get yourself a villa.”

It was a lighthearted topic. Yang Xinyao joined in,
“When you buy it, I’ll make sure to bring a big housewarming gift!”

Song Xiuyuan and Bai Ningxi laughed as well.

After resting and eating, Xu Shaohuai started briefing them on the next game.

Unlike the maze treasure hunt, which lasted only about an hour, the next game would span two full days and nights. It would start at midnight tonight and end at midnight the day after tomorrow—forty-eight hours in total. The entire fourth floor would serve as the game map.
Teams of five would enter together, and participation was mandatory.
They would compete for first place, with rewards including money and highly useful hunting ground items—like the right to carry one hot weapon—and thirty million universal currency.

Xu Shaohuai had explained before that only limited items could be brought into the hunting grounds, and firearms were strictly prohibited.
The idea was to heighten the thrill—since apart from the teams, the island was crawling with dangerous beasts, impossible to guard against.
Many who died in past games fell not to other players, but to wild beasts—and the number wasn’t small.

“But that was the old rule. Even the maze game changed, with bonus cash and hunting ground privileges. This one probably will too—who knows how much the prize will be?
But more than the privilege itself, what I’m really worried about is whether they’ll allow more firearms. A team with one gun already has a huge edge in the hunting grounds.
If they allow two guns—or more teams carrying them—the final game will only become deadlier…”

Chapter 139

Although he said he wasn’t sure if the rules would change, Xu Shaohuai still felt that the likelihood of a change was quite high. As expected, at exactly eleven o’clock that night, a waiter delivered the latest game rulebook, and a new female host took over the live broadcast, reading the rules aloud one by one.

The rules really had changed.

Originally, only one team could become the final winner, but now it had been changed to the top three teams. First place would receive fifty million universal credits and the right to carry a hot weapon, second place would be granted the right to carry a hot weapon, and third place would only receive money.

There were now thirty-two teams on the cruise ship. Since not every team had the standard configuration of five members and the organizers hadn’t announced the exact number of participants, it was estimated at around one hundred and fifty people, not far off.

Selecting the top three out of thirty-two — the odds were already low enough. And for teams aiming to participate in the final mad game, there was actually little difference between third place and any place behind that. Although the fifty million universal credits was a hefty reward, the truly meaningful prize was the right to carry a hot weapon. With a gun in hand, it would give a tremendous advantage in the hunting ground.

This second game was a points-based system — a free-for-all among all teams in the fourth level area of the cruise ship. Each team started with fifty points. Every team member had a number tag on them, worth five points each. Based on a standard five-member team, that totaled seventy-five points. During the game, teams could increase their points by snatching number tags. Additionally, there was another way to earn points — according to the game rules, severely injuring a member of another team would earn ten points, and killing a team member would double that to twenty points.

A living person was not only easier to locate than a tiny number tag but also worth four times as many points. The game organizers’ intention to encourage teams to slaughter each other couldn’t have been more obvious.

On the TV screen, the host quickly finished reading the rules. Fifteen minutes had passed, leaving only forty-five minutes before the game officially started. Twenty minutes before the start, all teams were required to gather at a designated area on the third level to receive their number tags and determine their entry order — final preparations.

“Looks like, in reality, the number tags aren’t much use. They’re small and thin — just stuff them into a pocket or tuck them inside your clothes, and they’d be hard to find. If the opponent’s a girl like Xing Guang, am I supposed to frisk her? That’s the simplest scenario. If they hide it somewhere random, it’d be even worse. With such a large area on the fourth level, the chances of finding it are slim to none.” Jing Ling sat cross-legged at the head of the bed, resting his chin on one hand while playing with a dagger in the other, his gaze falling on Xu Shaohuai.

The latter happened to be looking at him as well, seeming a bit conflicted. He hesitated for a moment before replying, “It’s not entirely meaningless. The number tags are specially made, embedded with sensors inside. Within a certain range, they can be detected by a special sensor. Although the rules didn’t mention the sensor, it does exist in the game area — it’s just unclear where it’s hidden or what it looks like. When I spoke with a waiter here before, he told me that once, a lucky guy accidentally found the sensor and used it to sweep up all the number tags hidden by other teams in the game area. His team ended up scoring the highest and took first place. Unfortunately, his teammates weren’t so lucky — they all died. He pocketed the thirty million universal credits alone, sold the hunting ground privilege at a high price, and left with enough money to squander for the rest of his life. No one’s seen him since.”

“Of course, that was a special case. It was the first and only time someone ever found the sensor.”

It was the same logic as buying a lottery ticket — spending two bucks for a shot at five million. The odds were pitifully small, but it was possible. And someone had won before. If you didn’t, well, you could only blame your bad luck.

Yang Xinyao asked curiously, “Where was the sensor found that time? What did it look like?”

“The clue was a small piece of paper hidden inside a bar of soap in the bathroom. God knows how that guy discovered it.” The “hidden” here didn’t mean placed in a box or pressed under something. It was completely wrapped inside the soap. Unless you used it up or cut it open, you couldn’t possibly see it. With the game lasting forty-eight hours and everyone hiding in the dark, never knowing where the enemy was or when they’d appear, you even had to be cautious while eating — let alone taking a shower. The conditions were harsh enough, and out of the entire game area, only one soap bar had been tampered with. The fact that this guy found it could only be explained by sheer luck.

“His ancestors’ graves must have been smoking.” Jing Ling commented.

Yang Xinyao nodded in agreement.

Then, Bai Ningxi, who usually didn’t say much, spoke up, “Actually, I think your luck’s also ridiculously good. The VIP room and the four consecutive numbered rooms are the best proof. By that logic, your ancestors’ graves are smoking too.”

The others couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Jing Ling hadn’t expected Bai Ningxi to make a joke, but it was good to lighten the mood before the game started. He replied, “Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky this time and stumble upon a sensor too!”

Xu Shaohuai chimed in, “If only we were that lucky. Forget first place — even if we get second, as long as we get a gun, our chances in the hunting ground will be much better.”

After this little interlude, they returned to the main topic. With the time they had left, Xu Shaohuai brought up the matter of team assignments. In theory, it was better for the whole team to act together, but the fourth level of the cruise ship wasn’t suitable for group actions — it would be better to split up. Song Xiuyuan was manageable, but Yang Xinyao and Bai Ningxi, being part of the logistics team, posed a major security concern.

They finally agreed that Jing Ling would team up with Yang Xinyao, while Xu Shaohuai would take Song Xiuyuan and Bai Ningxi.

Time flew by, and soon it was time to gather. The group left their room and headed toward the fourth level. The paths were few, and with so many participants, they inevitably ran into other teams along the way. They exchanged inconspicuous, probing glances as they passed each other.

Even though they had disguised their faces, Jing Ling’s group still wore masks — a double layer of protection. After walking a short distance from the elevator, they encountered another team. Two of them were “familiar faces” — the ones who’d narrowly escaped with their lives back in the maze. Jing Ling recognized them at a glance, and they obviously recognized him and Xu Shaohuai too. Jing Ling gave a slight chuckle, preparing to greet them amicably, but someone beat him to it. Surprisingly, it wasn’t either of those two, but the captain of their team who was walking in the middle.

“Fox, I thought I wouldn’t see you this time.” The speaker was a tall, well-built man with a somewhat effeminate voice and an eerie mask. His eyes swept over Jing Ling’s group before finally settling on Yang Xinyao — or rather, on her chest — with unabashed malice. “Your teammates look… delicious. I’m looking forward to it.”

Clearly, this person knew Xu Shaohuai, and they must have had a falling-out in a previous game.

Xu Shaohuai stopped in his tracks. After locking eyes with the man for a moment, he let out a cold laugh and replied with just three words, biting them off with deliberate emphasis, full of mockery, “Dead! Trans! Freak!”

Those words clearly hit a sore spot. The man’s fists clenched instantly, veins bulging on the backs of his hands. If not for the cruise ship’s rule prohibiting any conflict outside of game time, he probably would’ve come at them with a weapon right then and there.

“Pray you don’t fall into my hands. Otherwise… hmph!” He snorted coldly. This time, not just the captain but his entire team let their eyes fall on Yang Xinyao.

Their lecherous stares made Yang Xinyao feel disgusted. Yet, under these circumstances, she couldn’t lash out — she could only endure it. Fortunately, Jing Ling stepped forward and blocked their line of sight.

“What’s the point of trash talk? See you on the field. Especially you two.” Jing Ling said, making a throat-slitting gesture toward the two “familiar faces.”

The game hadn’t even started, and the two teams had already declared war.

Chapter 140

The name of this team was Snow Wolf, because their captain came from the distant Snow Country. The two people being threatened by Jing Ling were newly recruited members. The one with short blond hair was called Jeffrey, and the one with the buzz cut was called Wells. Their names sounded like normal foreign names, but anyone with a bit of common sense would know they were undoubtedly fake.

Those who make a living as mercenaries walk a razor’s edge every day. Even if they’re lucky enough to earn enough money to spend lavishly for a lifetime and retire from the underworld, it doesn’t guarantee safety. After all, no one knows if enemies from the past might come knocking. Moreover, for someone seasoned in killing, trying to return to a normal life is no simple matter. It’s one thing if you’re alone, but if you have one or two loved ones, and enemies trace them back to you for revenge, there won’t be any “regret pills” to buy then.

In this business, fake identities were the norm. Not just with outsiders—even within a team bonded by life-and-death experiences, members often didn’t know each other’s true backgrounds.

Jeffrey and Wells were no exception. They had worked together in the same mercenary squad for over three years. At the beginning of last year, lured by a sky-high reward, they got involved in the messy conflict between a certain Western Continent country and its domestic anti-government forces. The entire squad perished in that godforsaken place, leaving only the two of them alive. The mission failed, and naturally, the payment was out of the question. They did have some money left, a fortune by ordinary standards, but meager by theirs. Because of this, they’d been hesitating about whether to retire from this line of work.

Before they could make a decision, the famous captain of the Snow Wolf team from the Western Continent came looking for them. Of course, they didn’t agree immediately; on the contrary, they hesitated even more. Though the man was formidable, joining a completely unfamiliar team came with many risks. That was until the man mentioned the “Hunting Ground.”

The term seemed ordinary and nothing special, but when spoken by certain people in certain situations, it carried a completely different meaning. The “Sea Hunting Ground” had always been a legend widely circulated in mercenary circles.

Like a devil’s treasure, it drew people in.

Jeffrey and Wells had heard the stories of the Hunting Ground, though they’d always dismissed them as mere tales. They never thought it actually existed. Of course, the legends spoke of unimaginable prize money and brutal, bloody games that would be hard for ordinary people to accept. But for mercenaries, it wasn’t all that different from their daily lives.

They knew curiosity killed the cat, yet many still couldn’t resist.

So, when the man threw out the bait of the “Hunting Ground,” they quickly agreed to join the Snow Wolf team. A year later, they finally arrived at this legendary place.

For the opening game, they signed up for the prize money—just as a warm-up. The captain said it would be a bunch of worthless trash that they could easily crush. And then… the game rules changed on the spot. For the privilege of entering half an hour early, all the shady characters watching from the sidelines had joined the fray, and their overwhelming advantage was gone. They did skip the process of drawing lots or buying slots to qualify, though.

Luckily, once the game started, their luck wasn’t bad. Too bad they couldn’t hold out until the end—two tough opponents showed up. If an accident had not happened midway, they might’ve died right there. When the game finally ended and they left the field, they were ambushed and threatened outside. Though they were no strangers to life and death, even they were startled by that man’s gaze.

Before they came here, the captain had explained the Hunting Ground in detail. There would be three rounds of elimination matches, with the main event at the end. The second game required mandatory participation from all teams. The two of them had been wondering if they’d run into those two again. They hadn’t expected to bump straight into them as soon as they got off the elevator.

Knowing there was deep animosity between the two teams, when they saw their captain take the initiative to provoke them, all they could do was smile bitterly. As expected, the man in the clown mask soon turned his gaze on them. Combined with that throat-slitting gesture, his killing intent was practically tangible.

After that, neither side said another word. Their hostile gazes clashed, neither giving way, as they headed to the preparation area side by side.

On the fourth floor’s preparation area, most of the teams had already arrived. Each team claimed a space of their own, clearly separated from the others. After all, this wasn’t some “friendship first, competition second” affair—the rivalry between teams involved both money and lives! There was no need for friendly chatter with enemies.

After Jing Ling’s group and the Snow Wolf team arrived, two more teams showed up soon after, completing the lineup.

In this game, strength wasn’t the only thing that mattered—luck played a big part too. Like the first game, there was a draw before the match to decide the entry order based on the number drawn.

“Who’s first?” The host was a blonde woman in a bunny girl outfit, her figure tantalizingly seductive. Her expression and gestures were alluring as she spoke. Most of the participants were men, and unsavory remarks immediately echoed in the room. But that was all talk—no one dared act on it unless they had a death wish.

Jing Ling and his group stood farther away and weren’t in a rush. They only stepped forward after the teams ahead of them finished drawing lots. Given his fierce track record, it was naturally Jing Ling’s job to draw.

He stepped up to the box, about to reach in when a hand suddenly shot over from the side, aiming straight for the opening.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it was the man who had provoked him earlier.

There was no way Jing Ling would let him succeed. But instead of racing him to see who could grab a ball first, Jing Ling turned his hand aside and struck. The other man wasn’t a pushover—he reacted instantly, pulling his hand back to block the attack. The two of them started scuffling right there beside the box. A crowd gathered, murmuring as they watched.

“Gentlemen, the game’s about to start~” The blonde bunny girl reminded them with a coquettish smile.

Jing Ling didn’t stop moving at her words, but he did unexpectedly slip his other hand into the box. With their sightlines blocked, the other man didn’t notice in time. By the time he tried to stop him, it was too late. Jing Ling easily pulled out a small ball and sneered, “Trash!”

The other man snorted coldly and drew a ball himself. It was black, with the number 18 printed on it. Out of over thirty teams, that number wasn’t good—but it wasn’t terrible either.

Jing Ling saw it too. The man didn’t leave, likely wanting to see Jing Ling’s result. Jing Ling granted his wish, opening his palm. The black ball showed the number 1—so glaring it almost hurt the eyes.

First again!

Even if no one knew about the VIP room or the string of impressive victories in the adjoining rooms, drawing first place two games in a row was enough to make people take notice.

“Don’t die too soon.” Jing Ling delivered this blatant provocation in a flat tone before turning to leave.

The draw quickly concluded, and under the organizers’ arrangements, the teams entered the arena one after another. Ten minutes after the last team went in, most of the lights suddenly went out, leaving only the corridor areas flickering dimly. The atmosphere instantly became eerie and strange, like the start of a horror movie.

Once inside, they followed their plan. Jing Ling took Yang Xinyao with him, while Song Xiuyuan, Bai Ningxi, and Xu Shaohuai formed a group. They split up, agreeing on a rendezvous point.

Jing Ling brought Yang Xinyao to the theater on the fourth floor and hid her in a safe corner. The moment she settled in, the room lights went out.

“Clown…” Yang Xinyao called out softly in the darkness.

She only called him that once and said nothing more, but Jing Ling knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Don’t be afraid. With me here, you’ll be fine. The only thing you need to do is stay quiet—no matter what you see.”