Reborn, I Became a Male God - Chapter 141-145

No matter what she saw?

But in this pitch-black area where she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her, what could she possibly see? If she hadn’t come over earlier when the lights were still on, now in this total darkness, Yang Xinyao figured she probably wouldn’t even be able to find her way here. If it were a different situation, the worst case in bad luck would just be bumping her head and scaring herself with her wild imagination in the dark. But here, a single wrong step might just cost her life. Her corpse would either serve as a snack for some wild beast or be tossed into the sea to feed the fish. Except for a few who knew the truth, no one would know she was dead—where she died, why she died…

“Xinyao, go out and see the world.”

“See this cruel yet real world.”

“If you were just an ordinary person, then I’d hope you’d never have to know these things in your lifetime. But you’re not. Xinyao, you’re a child of the Yang family. One day, we will inevitably step down, and when that time comes, this family will need you to take the helm.”

“I know there are very few things in this world that can last forever, so I won’t demand much from you. I only want you to act with a clear conscience. Just do your best.”

“Xinyao, tell me your choice. Will you go, or won’t you?”

Afraid? Of course. Nodding her head would mean she had to face a completely new, unknown world. Life isn’t a game where you get all the time you need to prepare and rise from a rookie to the top of the world. Many choices often catch you off guard.

She hesitated for a long time but finally chose to nod.

“I’ll go!”

The Yang family was skilled in divination, yet rarely predicted their own fate. “The charm of fate lies in its unpredictability.” That was what her grandfather taught Yang Xinyao since childhood, and she had indeed taken it to heart and always followed it. But this time, before she left, she couldn’t help wanting to take a peek.

Yet in the mirror on her dressing table, all she saw was a fog-shrouded future. But this result was also within her expectations—after all, there was that variable called Jing Ling.

Her first mission, and she ran straight into an ultra-high difficulty one. From the day she agreed, Yang Xinyao had been doing constant mental preparation. Now that she thought about it, all that so-called preparation seemed ridiculous. No matter how realistic a movie or show was, it could never compare to experiencing it firsthand. Before boarding the ship, Xu Shaohuai said a lot, but when she saw the brutal scene in the video—of the wolf and the mercenary dying together, bl00d spraying everywhere, animal organs strewn all over—the fear she had been suppressing was finally awakened.

For a brief moment, she even wanted to run away—run from this devil’s lair. But she quickly calmed down. She had no choice. Either keep moving forward, or… die. In this game, only the dead could leave before it ended.

When you can’t escape, the only option left is to face it.

But even so, when it really came down to it, fear still seized her. Especially when all the lights went out—that instant, she hastily covered her mouth to stop a scream from bursting out of her throat.

Fear of the dark was almost an instinct for most people. Only a very small number could overcome it or even enjoy it. The reasons were many. Going back countless years, when humans hadn’t yet reached the top of the food chain, night was when predators roamed. Or perhaps the fear came from the unknown—after all, people couldn’t see anything in the dark…

Yang Xinyao desperately tried to make excuses for her cowardice until a low voice sounded above her.

“Don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen while I’m here. The only thing you need to do is stay quiet—no matter what you see.”

Yang Xinyao had never thought that one day, just a single sentence from someone else could calm her so easily. It felt like her fearful heart was gently cradled in a pair of soft hands and placed inside a box labeled “sense of security,” where the breeze was mild, the sun was warm, and no storm could disturb her.

The entire fourth-floor area was dead silent—it felt like even breathing could be heard. The corridor lights flickered on and off. The doors on either side, half-open or tightly shut—under these brief moments of light, there was no way to tell if anyone was inside.

At the start of this game, Isaac’s team had the worst luck. They were the first to draw lots—and got the ball marked with the lowest number. The one drawing was their captain. The moment this big man with his head of golden curls saw the ball, his eyes went wide in disbelief at his own bad luck. A teammate beside him asked the female host hopefully if there were any numbers behind it. Of course, the answer was no. No matter how pretty or sweet-voiced the host was, it couldn’t change that cruel fact. But as the saying goes, happiness is built on others’ misery. With Isaac’s team firmly in last place, the other participants burst into malicious laughter.

Though unwilling, there was nothing Isaac’s team could do but make room for the next group. Once the drawing ended, the teams entered the game field according to the lot order. Isaac’s team could only watch helplessly as the others went in. By the time it was finally their turn, nearly fifteen minutes had passed.

This was a game where both strength and luck were essential. They believed they were strong enough, but a fifteen-minute gap was more than enough for the first team to scout valuable information—like the layout, good hiding spots, ambush points… too many things. But that also depended on the person. In the first maze game, they hadn’t been involved but watched the entire live broadcast. The man in the fox mask and the one in the clown mask ended up as the final winners—naturally drawing everyone’s attention. And Isaac’s captain, Teresa, had played two previous hunting ground games and once faced off against the fox’s team, so she knew their strength and couldn’t help paying more attention.

Since the teams drew lots for room assignments, no one except the organizers knew where everyone else stayed. Then, when the clown-masked man drew first place again, all eyes turned to his team. Though they hadn’t fought them directly, most of the teams present had sharp eyes. The fox and the clown—their skills went without saying, everyone had seen it firsthand. But the other three members of their team were strangers. The man carrying a sword’s strength was hard to gauge, but the woman with the thorned rose mask and the man in the plain blue mask looked like total amateurs—unsteady steps, irregular breathing, full of flaws, worse than a greenhorn on the battlefield!

What was the fox thinking? Even if they couldn’t find better teammates, they wouldn’t stoop to dragging two ordinary people along just to make up the numbers, would they?

It wasn’t just Isaac’s team that thought so—most of the other teams likely did too. But so what if they couldn’t figure it out? That didn’t stop them from secretly gloating. Bringing two ordinary people into a place like this was no different from courting death. In a normal game, a team like that would already be laughed at, let alone in this brutal competition.

After Isaac’s team entered the game zone, the metal door behind them silently closed. It wouldn’t open again until the game ended. As the unluckiest team at the start, of course they weren’t going to get any special treatment. When all the lights went out, their team was still in the hallway.

With the enemy hidden in the dark while they were out in the open—not a good situation. They had to avoid that. But charging into a room without any light wasn’t a wise choice either.

As they cautiously hesitated, suddenly—bang!—a door diagonally in front of them slammed shut. Maybe it was the wind, maybe a person. Whatever the reason, the noise was especially jarring in the dark.

They couldn’t stay here!

Gritting her teeth, Teresa signaled her team to turn into a side passage.

There was a cinema on the fourth floor—a good place to defend. This was common knowledge among teams who’d played before. She hadn’t originally planned to go there, but she hadn’t expected this year’s rule change—the damned blackout! Rather than staying in the hallway as sitting ducks, constantly on guard against enemies bursting out of any door, it was better to take a gamble.

She led the team forward cautiously.

Suddenly, a mournful singing voice drifted over—a woman’s eerie humming in a strange language.

As if bidding them farewell.

Chapter 142

Xu Shaohuai explained many things to watch out for in the second game, including the terrain advantages of the cinema, but he never mentioned the lights going out or the eerie, resentful singing voice. This was definitely not his oversight, nor did he think it unimportant. The real reason was probably that these two elements were newly added this year. The previous maze game was a good example—after all, there was no reason for the first game to change so drastically while the second game only had minor rule tweaks.

Before the lights went out, Jing Ling swept his gaze around the entire space, memorizing the terrain. In each corner of the cinema, there was a speaker, and the singing was coming from there—intermittent, mixed with an unsettling sound of a baby crying.

The moment the sound started, the first to hear it would naturally be Jing Ling and Yang Xinyao inside the cinema. Then it would pass through the half-open door, travel along the corridor, and spread in all directions. Jing Ling wasn’t frightened, just slightly surprised. But Yang Xinyao, already on edge from the oppressive darkness, nearly snapped when this happened.

“Clown…” she whispered to him, her voice slightly trembling.

Jing Ling gave a light laugh. “Whoever designed this game is probably a horror movie fan. But this is likely all they could manage given the limited conditions. At least in this room, there’s nothing more they can exploit. You just need to stay right there. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

He said this not out of arrogance, but because it was a fact. The flickering lights and eerie singing had no effect on him. In fact, he even preferred pure darkness. While humans couldn’t see in the dark, he wasn’t bound by that limitation. Others needed to rely on flickering lights or intuition and experience to judge whether a place was safe or if there were enemies lurking. He, on the other hand, could see everything clearly at a glance. This alone was a huge advantage—but it wasn’t his only one.

All participating teams were limited in equipment—besides the standard-issued dagger, no other weapons were allowed. Even Song Xiuyuan’s knife was temporarily kept by the organizers. Everyone used cold weapons, and the only other gear one could find in the four-level area was kitchen cutlery or regulation-issued fire axes. Under these conditions, even if he had to fight one or two people in close combat, he could still come out unscathed. As for Yang Xinyao, no one should even dream of getting past him.

After all, not everyone could throw a dagger as well as Jing Ling, hitting vital points with one hundred percent accuracy at short range.

The game started at night, and with the sudden rule changes, it felt almost tailor-made for him, granting him a near-absolute advantage right from the start.

Of course, Jing Ling guessed this darkness wouldn’t last long. The designer’s intention was likely just to make the game more interesting. Surveillance cameras were installed everywhere along the way from the entrance. Given the organizers’ financial strength, these must be high-definition night-vision cameras that could still see clearly in the dark. But no matter how clear, black-and-white images could never compare to color. The people watching behind the scenes obviously wouldn’t make such a rookie mistake of letting details affect the big picture. So the darkness could only be used as a short-term atmosphere enhancer.

But for Jing Ling, this was enough. The cinema’s layout might be advantageous, but guarding it for two full days and nights would be too boring. The people who joined this kind of game were often desperados who lived on the edge of life and death. While they instinctively feared death, they also enjoyed the thrill of this slaughter feast. And wasn’t he the same? The only difference was that others only had a few decades to adapt to switching between such extreme roles, whereas he, through countless years, had trained a strong heart and gained enough experience to perfectly master any role—law-abiding citizen in civilized society, or jungle predator in lawless lands—with no sense of discomfort.

“Mm.” Yang Xinyao softly responded and said no more.

In the empty room, the resentful singing still came intermittently from the speakers.

After a while, Jing Ling suddenly said, “Someone’s coming. Stay there, try not to move, and don’t make a sound. I’ll handle the rest.” His hearing, far beyond ordinary people, allowed him to catch sounds from a much wider range. A full team was coming—their footsteps were light, barely noticeable to normal ears. Unfortunately, Jing Ling wasn’t normal. Even with the eerie singing as interference, he still caught the faint sounds. Moreover, the team leader even spoke a few words to his teammates. What could have been silently communicated with hand signals had to be spoken aloud due to the darkness.

“Okay.” Yang Xinyao’s breathing quickened slightly, but she still responded.

“Don’t be nervous. It’ll be over soon.” Jing Ling comforted her again, then left her hiding spot, walking along the wall toward the door. With his over 1.8-meter tall frame, he didn’t look particularly muscular at first glance, but beneath his clothes were beautifully defined muscles hiding unimaginable strength. Yet this large man moved without making the slightest sound, silently approaching the door and then quietly lurking in the darkness, like a hunter waiting for his prey to take the bait. His dark-toned clothes helped him blend into the pitch-black surroundings. His breathing slowed, heartbeat calmed, and his presence dropped to the lowest possible level. Unless someone had an extremely sharp sixth sense, no one would notice him even if they were within arm’s reach.

He didn’t stand behind the door but in the darkness outside the corridor lights’ reach. Since the ones coming weren’t ordinary people, with no threat of firearms, breaking down the door wasn’t particularly dangerous—rather, it was safer. By timing it right and kicking the door open just as the lights came on, they could take the initiative and gain the upper hand. If someone was hiding at the door ready to ambush, the loud noise would disrupt their judgment. If not, the open door would allow corridor light to shine in—even if only a limited area, it was better than complete darkness.

Of course, that was just theory. Reality often differed, especially when this squad’s enemy was Jing Ling—plans never kept up with change.

The cinema’s doors were double; when Jing Ling entered, he hadn’t closed them completely, leaving them slightly ajar on purpose.

Bang… bang… Two loud crashes echoed as the double doors were kicked open, followed by the corridor lights flicking on. Due to the distance, the light only illuminated the area in front of the door and the last two rows of seats. Further in, it was still pitch black.

The singing from the speakers stopped at that exact moment, as if startled into silence.

The squad members, according to their prior arrangement, spread out and advanced into the cinema from three directions. One of them headed straight toward Jing Ling’s position. Clearly, this person’s sixth sense wasn’t sharp enough—despite being less than a meter away, he didn’t notice the hidden death god in the dark. Thinking himself cautious enough, he kept moving forward.

Four seconds passed. The corridor lights went out again, plunging everything into darkness.

At that moment, a hand silently reached from behind, instantly covering the man’s mouth and nose. At the same time, a cold, sharp blade sliced across his throat. The blade opened the flesh, and bright red bl00d gushed out, falling like crimson rain.

For people who often danced on the edge of life and death, injuries were nothing new. They knew from experience what kind of wound could kill. This squad member understood perfectly well—this strike, both in force and precision, was fatal. He wouldn’t survive. The only thing left for him was to alert his teammates.

“Mm… mm…” He struggled with all his strength, forcing out a meaningless sound.

With the singing stopped, the entire space fell silent again—so silent a pin drop could be heard. Even the tiniest sound would be amplified several times, let alone the noise made when he kicked a chair while struggling. Either sound was enough to alert the others that something had gone wrong.

The result was already set. Jing Ling wouldn’t waste another second on this man. Letting go and withdrawing his knife, he quickly moved and hid behind the door.

Only four seconds had passed when the corridor lights flickered on again.

The squad had split into three groups—Jing Ling’s side had just one person, the other two directions were pairs. The moment they heard the noise, they immediately turned toward it, even though the area was shrouded in darkness. But just for an instant, they quickly regrouped back-to-back in a defensive stance. The enemy was in the dark, they were in the light. They had no idea where the enemy lurked, waiting for a fatal strike. To avoid the same thing happening again, they had to be extra cautious.

“Grote! Are you okay?” a voice called from the aisle between the rows of seats.

In fact, staying silent would’ve been best in this situation. But it seemed to be human nature—even knowing hope was slim, they couldn’t help but hold on to a shred of it, even though they knew this could be dangerous.

Jing Ling understood this and even admired such camaraderie between teammates. But this wasn’t a place where feelings mattered. Here, it was kill or be killed. Mercy toward the enemy was cruelty toward oneself.

Another four seconds passed. The corridor lights went out again. The two in the center hadn’t gone in too far, and now, moving a bit slower, they had just stepped into the illuminated area.

Now!

Jing Ling threw his dagger, aiming straight at the opponent’s eye socket.

Chapter 143

The corridor light kept flickering on a four-second cycle. It was now the moment when everything was swallowed by darkness.

A muffled groan sounded, followed moments later by the dull thud of something heavy hitting the ground.

Derek and Martin were advancing down the middle. The sound had come from ahead—exactly where Martin was positioned. Almost at the exact moment he heard the noise, Derek instinctively reached forward. It was a subconscious reaction; his brain hadn’t even processed what was happening. But in the end, he still failed to catch his teammate’s falling body, which was why there had been that sound.

In the darkness, he couldn’t see what had actually happened. But this section near the door—whether before they came in or when they had just retreated—they had both carefully checked and confirmed by the flickering light from the corridor: there were absolutely no enemies lying in ambush! No guns, and certainly no sharp weapons like crossbows. As for Grote, fine—he had gone off alone in a different direction, so if something happened to him, it could still be explained by an enemy hiding in the dark. But how could Martin’s situation be explained? They were so close—Derek hadn’t seen a single enemy—and yet Martin had been taken out!

Fear is relative. Everyone has something they fear. The difference is only whether it shows, and what exactly they fear varies. Even under different circumstances, the things that cause fear and its intensity can change. In the span of eight seconds—the time it took for the light to flicker on and off twice—Isaac’s team had lost their first member. When the light shone again, it did not bring hope or resolution, only another loss. This time, in just four seconds, they lost their second teammate. Altogether, barely twelve seconds had passed.

“Martin!” At this moment, the string of rationality in Derek’s mind snapped. He couldn’t hold it in any longer and shouted, his voice filled with grief and fear.

Isaac’s team had always been invincible. Every mission they took, no matter how many twists and turns, they would ultimately complete it flawlessly. Even in ultra-difficult dungeons like the Sea Hunting Grounds, where gods clashed in chaotic melees, they had cleared it twice already. This was supposed to be their third time. Though drawing last place in the opening had dampened their morale slightly, it wasn’t something they truly found unacceptable.

But they had never imagined that they would capsize in the second game, before the real main event even began.

Even before the dagger was thrown, Jing Ling already knew the outcome. The enemies he faced were undeniably strong and possessed rich combat experience, but they remained within the limits of normal human capabilities. He was different. Not only did he have hearing and smell several times sharper than normal, and could see clearly in the dark, he also had reflexes and physical strength beyond human limits.

Faced with a silent ambush in the dark, his enemies stood no chance. Yet in the same situation, he could evade it completely. When the dagger shot out, the torn air produced a subtle vibration at a certain frequency. The change was minuscule—imperceptible to normal people—but he could sense it. It wasn’t about hearing. This was a skill he had specifically exchanged from the system back when he needed to survive on bullet-ridden battlefields. Though the system was now gone, this body had perfectly inherited everything he once possessed.

In fact, he could have attacked much earlier. The darkness made it easier to hide without being noticed. But he hadn’t. Because there were high-definition night vision cameras in this room. For others, this was pitch-black darkness where they couldn’t even see their own hand, with only the corridor’s flickering light illuminating a limited area. But for Jing Ling—and the spectators watching from behind the monitors—it was all perfectly clear. Likewise, in the eyes of those people, Jing Ling should have been just another blind player in the dark.

His earlier ability to move freely in the darkness could be explained by having memorized the map—after all, he had shown an impressive memory during the previous maze game. If he could memorize the complex, ever-changing maze, a simple cinema layout was hardly a challenge. But instantly killing an intruding team member with a precise, unerring throat-slitting move was not so easily explained. And the flying knife that took a life afterward was even more absurd. Sure, there were experts at blindfolded dart-throwing out there, but that only worked on stationary targets. The current situation was different. He only had this one combat knife for self-defense, his teammate was a pure support class with basically zero combat ability, and there were still four enemies remaining on the field. Unless he was absolutely certain of a one-hit kill, throwing away his only weapon so casually would have been idiotic.

Likewise, being able to hit a moving target right in the eye socket in pitch-black darkness—what explanation could there be besides being able to see perfectly in the dark?

Luck? Not even a child would buy that!

The human eye sees because of diffuse reflection of light from objects. In dim environments, the clarity of vision depends on the rod cells in the retina. In completely lightless conditions like now, human eyes can’t see anything at all!

Jing Ling had no intention of betting that the spectators in front of the screens were all idiots or that they might overlook his abnormality, letting him get through this sea voyage unscathed. With a power that defied common sense, there was no guarantee those people wouldn’t get curious and, on a whim, decide to slice him up for research. After all, like the other thirty-something teams on this cruise, their lives were in someone else’s hands. To make it out alive, they not only had to win but also know how to hide.

If he accidentally exposed himself, aside from failing the mission, even if he somehow escaped with his godlike skills, what about the other four? If they all died and only he made it back alive, he probably wouldn’t last long back home either. None of the four families behind them were easy to deal with. Even if the Hunting Grounds were a secret, that wouldn’t stop them—just asking around the participating teams would be enough to trace things back to him.

Sure, a capable person could survive anywhere, and the world was big—he could easily go abroad and live it up. But what about Yunshu and Jing Qiu? What would happen to them? Don’t forget the word “vengeance.”

It was a boldfaced disaster waiting to happen.

Whenever someone has attachments, they’re forced to consider more when they act. And it was precisely because of this that even though Jing Ling could have easily taken out the enemy, he chose to wait for the right moment—striking precisely when the light went out.

One clean hit—and he vanished back into the darkness.

“Fawn, I saw you smiling. Did you draw Team One?”

It was already late at night. Inside the cruise ship’s luxury cinema, the elders behind the game and its rules were still gathered. Compared to their energetic appearance earlier in the evening, they now showed faint signs of fatigue—but their expressions leaned toward another extreme.

The silver-haired, petite Fawn chuckled and replied, “My luck isn’t great, but it’s not too bad either. I lost the last round, and when the draw ended for this one, I thought I’d lose again and was just waiting for the third game or the final Hunting Grounds to turn things around. But it looks like Lady Luck decided to smile on me early!” As he spoke, he gestured lightly.

A stunning, curvy blonde waitress in a skintight uniform took the box from the table and brought it over to him.

Though it was just a container for holding ordinary items, its craftsmanship and materials were of the highest quality—and paired with the beauty’s delicate hands, it looked all the more exquisite.

The waitress presented the box to Fawn and opened the lid. Inside lay five finely crafted little balls. Two of them showed their numbers—12 and 19—but those weren’t his targets. He reached in and picked out the one marked with the number 1, holding it up for the others to see.

Not only did the participating teams have to draw lots, but the six people watching the game on the big screen outside had their own lottery game. With thirty-two teams and only six players, they couldn’t divide them evenly. So each person drew five teams to bet on, and the last two were left out of the final scoring.

“So it really is you,” said Joe, seated on the tiger-skin sofa. His custom-tailored suit was as pristine as ever, not a wrinkle in sight. “It seems Lady Luck truly does favor you. Though Team One’s Clown is surprisingly lucky, those two teammates of his are beyond belief. It’s hard to imagine what the Fox was thinking, bringing two ordinary people to a place like this.”

Raymond finished his drink in one gulp and added, “That’s why none of us thought Team One had a chance of winning. We’ve even started rethinking the outcome of the final Hunting Grounds. Those two regulars—even if they survive this round by sheer luck—are bound to be a burden in the end.”

The meaning between their words was clear: they all believed Fox’s team was doomed to lose.

But reality took them by surprise. Not long after the game began, Isaac’s team—the one who drew last place—ran into Fox’s team, who had drawn first. Isaac’s five members were all elite survivors from the Hunting Grounds, while Fox’s group was scattered. Counting heads, they had two—but really it was just one or even less, since one had to split attention to protect completely useless teammates. Their combat strength would inevitably be weakened.

By all logic, the last-place team should have been the victor.

Yet the result was the exact opposite. In what could only be described as a one-sided suppression by Fox’s Clown, he took out two members of Isaac’s team in less than twenty seconds—without them even knowing which team their enemy was from, how many there were, or where they were.

“This dark slaughter was undeniably brilliant. But what I’m more curious about is his limit. How about giving him a little surprise, Fawn? What do you think of that idea?”

Chapter 144

After all, this wasn’t some formal competitive game with a complete, sophisticated supervision system to ensure fairness and justice. So even the rules announced before the game started could still be freely changed at the whim of the manipulators behind the scenes.

However, it wasn’t completely at their discretion either. They could disregard the opinions of the hundred-plus people participating in the game on-screen, but not the opinions of the six people present. Especially now, with the team drawn by Fawn holding a clear advantage, if Giles wanted to erase that advantage and put the two teams back on an even footing for the struggle, he naturally had to ask for Fawn’s opinion.

At these words, Fawn frowned slightly, his gaze falling on the large screen in front of him. Under the high-definition camera, the darkness could no longer conceal anything; the situation inside the room was clearly visible.

While they were speaking, Isaac’s team lost another member — just like the previous one, killed the moment the darkness descended. The clown’s throwing knife shot out once again, plunging deep into the target’s eye socket — a fatal strike with a single blow.

The clown had already killed three people. His technique was swift and clean, without the slightest hesitation. He easily wiped out more than half the members of an elite team while remaining completely unscathed himself. The enemy didn’t even know his identity.

Without a doubt, he currently held an absolute advantage. Even if, as Giles said, they threw him a little surprise, it probably wouldn’t make much difference — after all, the other side only had two people left.

However, Fawn knew very well in his heart that things were not as simple as they appeared. Among the three people the clown had killed, aside from the first one who had his throat slit, the other two had each cost him a throwing knife. These were standard-issued weapons, each person only had one. The reason the clown had two was that one of them came from that useless woman hiding in the corner.

If the lights were turned on now, removing the cover of darkness, he would immediately be exposed to the two remaining members of Isaac’s team.

A sneak attack and a fair confrontation were two completely different matters. The clown could easily kill three people by surprise, but if he faced Isaac’s remaining two team members head-on, not to mention easily killing them, he would probably struggle even to retreat unharmed — because he no longer had any weapons in his hands.

And there was another hidden danger — the woman hiding in the corner. If she were to be accidentally exposed, she would surely drag him down.

So, in fact, the clown’s advantage wasn’t as great as it seemed.

If Fawn wanted to be the ultimate winner, he should reject Giles’ suggestion and let the darkness continue to shield the clown.

However…

“I think they’ll enjoy the surprise you’ve prepared for them!” Fawn replied with a smile.

Victory was certainly delightful, but this was a special place. What they wanted to see was not a fight without suspense. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have specifically set the game rules to forbid ranged weapons. Only the sight of sharp blades slicing through flesh, with bl00d gushing out — that was what they truly wanted to see.

“I think so too!” Giles reached out to summon his assistant in a black suit, gave him a brief instruction, and the assistant accepted the order and withdrew. He quickly walked to the door, opened it, and gently closed it behind him. At the same time, he contacted the staff in charge of the lighting via a walkie-talkie.

Yang Xinyao was hiding in the farthest corner of the cinema, hugging her knees with her chin resting on them, curling herself into a ball.

From the moment Jing Ling said someone was coming, her heart tightened instantly.

She disliked horror movies the most — yet that eerie, resentful female voice kept echoing intermittently, the sound pouring into her ears from all directions. Along with the terrifying cries of a baby.

Even though she knew it was fake, being in such a pitch-black environment where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face still triggered a subconscious fear.

Time suddenly seemed to slow down, each second agonizingly long.

It felt like ages had passed when suddenly, two loud bangs came from the direction of the door.

Caught off guard, her body trembled uncontrollably, and she almost screamed. Luckily, she still had her wits about her and remembered Jing Ling’s repeated warnings — she mustn’t make any sound. She hurriedly reached out and covered her mouth tightly.

Soon after, from the other side of the cinema came the sound of someone groaning and faint collisions, followed by someone speaking. It was those newcomers.

Apparently, someone named Grote among them had met with an accident.

There was no need to guess — it was Jing Ling who made a move.

The person who was called didn’t reply. Were they unconscious… or dead?

Before she could think further, the second and third cases quickly followed.

It seemed that a whole team had broken in — five people in total. She heard three names, different voices calling out, none of them getting a response.

Which meant there should only be two people left on the opposing side.

How long had it been? A minute? Or even less? Jing Ling had already dealt with three people. Whether they were knocked out… or killed, his strength was beyond imagination.

No wonder they insisted on having him for this mission…

Yang Xinyao suddenly became a little absent-minded.

With a soft sound, the entire room lit up without any warning, glaringly illuminating the whole space.

Yang Xinyao snapped back to her senses at once and shut her eyes tightly. It was a human instinct — after staying in the dark for a long time, when suddenly exposed to light, the eyes couldn’t adapt right away.

Why did the lights come on? Was it over?

As she was thinking this, a shout came from that direction, mixed with anger and pain.

“Captain!”

Yang Xinyao instinctively opened her eyes and looked toward the source of the sound. Her eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the sudden brightness and felt a faint sting. She blinked rapidly, then squinted through a narrow slit. Her vision was slightly blurry, but clear enough for her to see what was happening.

In her line of sight were three figures — one was Jing Ling wearing a clown mask, and the other a bald, black man. The two of them were standing. On the right-hand side of the aisle, the bald man stood in the center. The last person was wearing a mask with a King of Diamonds pattern — that should be the “Captain” the bald man referred to. He was sitting — or rather, it was more accurate to say reclining — on the second-to-last seat by the aisle on the right side of the seating area. His expression couldn’t be seen through the mask, but one could imagine it must have been terrifying. Because he was about to die. Sitting there, his body visibly convulsing. A dagger had pierced through the side of his neck, the blade buried entirely, leaving only the handle exposed. The stab must have severed the carotid artery — bl00d spurted out instantly, splattering onto the surrounding seats.

At such close range, watching the process of a person dying with her own eyes, it felt as if even her vision had been stained red by the spraying bl00d. Yang Xinyao stared in horror, her eyes wide open, both hands clamped tightly over her mouth — so hard that for a moment, it felt as though the mask on her face had fused with her skin.

Jing Ling could see clearly even in complete darkness, so the sudden bright lights naturally had no effect on him. In fact, before the lights came on, he already had a suspicion — because the song from the speakers had stopped at just the right moment, exactly when the door was kicked open. Of course, he didn’t rule out the possibility of coincidence, but he preferred to believe someone was manipulating things from behind the scenes.

When these people entered, he recognized them right away — members of Isaac’s squad, the team that had drawn last place. Judging by the timing, they must have just arrived. The game had only just started, and most teams were still in a wait-and-see mode. It wasn’t possible for them to come in and start killing right away. In other words, things outside had been relatively calm during this period. For the people behind the cameras, it must have been extremely boring. When they saw two teams on the verge of clashing, naturally, their attention turned here.

Jing Ling could roughly guess what those people in the back wanted to see. Thinking along these lines, it wasn’t hard to conclude that they might interfere midway. And the only thing they could tamper with here was the lighting.

So, he had been prepared for this.

Professionally trained people adapted quickly when moving from darkness to light. The members of Isaac’s squad were experienced mercenaries — of course, they wouldn’t need several seconds like ordinary people to adjust. But no matter how fast they adapted, they were still no match for Jing Ling, especially since he had been ready and already knew their positions. So, within less than a second after the lights came on, the squad’s captain had his throat fatally slashed.

In theory, Jing Ling only had two daggers, which were still stuck in the first two victims — there shouldn’t have been a third to throw. But the spot where he was standing was right beside the first throat-slashed corpse. The source of the third dagger was obvious — he had taken it from the body.

The five-man squad was down to just one.

If the ones pulling strings behind the scenes hadn’t meddled, he could’ve repeated the same trick and easily ended the fight. But now, he had no choice but to face him head-on.

With his teammates dead one after another, and having watched the captain’s death with his own eyes, it was easy to imagine the bald man’s grief and fury. In such extreme emotions, a person’s strength often swings to two extremes — either becoming fragile and easily crushed or having their potential pushed to the limit. Clearly, the bald man was the latter.

Though furious, he hadn’t completely lost his reason. On the contrary, he became even more cautious. Even after spotting Jing Ling, he didn’t rush in blindly. He tested, edged closer bit by bit, and when they finally crossed blades, his gaze was like a starving wolf — fierce and terrifying.

Mercenaries lived on the edge, licking bl00d off the blade, and everything they learned was for survival. Their survival often meant killing their enemies. Every strike from the bald man was extremely vicious and ruthless — each move aimed to kill, without any flourish. An ordinary person wouldn’t have survived even the first exchange with him.

But Jing Ling wasn’t an ordinary person — in fact, in some ways, he was beyond human limits. Facing the bald man’s attacks, he could even be described as handling them with ease. Yet on the surface, he made it seem like they were evenly matched.

Wasn’t this exactly what the people behind the scenes wanted to see? So, with the professionalism of an actor, he put on the show for them. Although he didn’t want to do this, it was better to avoid trouble at a time like this, lest they interfere again or draw other teams over. No matter how strong he was, there was a limit — after all, he was alone, and there was still a support-class teammate to protect in the corner.

After dodging and parrying the bald man for dozens of exchanges, Jing Ling feigned a misstep and took a cut on his arm. The force and angle had been calculated precisely — his sleeve was torn, making the wound look severe, but it was actually just a flesh wound that would heal in a few days. He used this opportunity to launch a counterattack, driving his dagger into the opponent’s abdomen — where the kidney was located. The blade sank deep into the flesh and then twisted.

Very quickly, the last member of Isaac’s squad fell by his hand.

The entire process took less than ten minutes — the squad that had barged into the theater was wiped out.

After wiping his bloodstained dagger clean, Jing Ling put it away and walked toward the corner. There, Yang Xinyao was curled up tightly — her posture showed clearly just how terrified she was inside. He stopped in front of her, stood in silence for two seconds, then spoke.

“Are you thinking I didn’t have to kill them — that I could’ve just driven them away?”

Yang Xinyao didn’t say a word.

Jing Ling continued, “But it’s just the two of us. We don’t have the right to negotiate with a five-man squad. And this is only the beginning. You have no choice but to get used to it — as soon as possible.”

Chapter 145

Yang Xinyao did indeed have that thought at first, but when she saw Jing Ling fighting that last bald man, several times he narrowly avoided the dagger aimed at his vital spots. The final stab almost grazed his carotid artery—if he hadn’t dodged in time… Her gaze involuntarily shifted to the second-to-last row of seats on the right, near the center. The man who had been lying there earlier, body convulsing, was now a true corpse.

Life and death—it really wasn’t just talk.

She withdrew her gaze and looked at Jing Ling, who was also looking at her. Beneath the clown mask, those eyes were so beautiful, as if filled with brilliant starlight, carrying a faint hint of a smile. He extended his hand toward her, his tall figure slightly leaning forward, adopting a gentlemanly posture—utterly flawless.

Her gaze lowered to his hand. It too was beautiful—long, slender fingers with distinct joints, nails trimmed neat and clean.

This man, from head to toe, seemed perfect in every way. Not only in appearance but inside as well.

“What’s wrong?” A warm, pleasant voice sounded from above her.

Yang Xinyao realized she had zoned out again—this was the second time in such a short while, and both times because of him! Her face suddenly felt a little hot. She quickly looked away, and in her haste, caught sight of something wrong with his sleeve. When she looked closely, she saw a neat cut.

It must have happened during his fight with the bald man—Jing Ling might be injured!

Realizing this, Yang Xinyao panicked. “You’re hurt?!” she exclaimed, springing up from the ground. Maybe it was because she’d been in the same position for too long, or maybe it was the lingering tension, but the moment she stood, her leg went numb, and she stumbled forward.

Fortunately, Jing Ling was right beside her and caught her in time. One hand supported her shoulder, his strong, slender arm loosely encircling her. Only now, being this close, did she realize that although he’d always looked tall and slightly slender, it was all an illusion. He was actually tall, broad-shouldered, and well-built.

“Th-thank you!” she stammered. After a brief pause, she remembered the matter at hand. She instinctively raised her head to look at his arm while reaching out her hand. “Your injury?”

Once she stood firmly, Jing Ling let go. He moved his arm slightly for her to see and said in a relaxed tone, “It’s nothing serious. The cut is shallow, and the bleeding has already stopped.”

Hearing this, Yang Xinyao finally breathed a sigh of relief. Although they hadn’t interacted much before, she knew Jing Ling’s style—if he said it was fine, it really was fine.

“Are we… still staying here?” Yang Xinyao looked around the theater. There were five corpses in total—two in obvious spots, two partially hidden by seats (one with a hand visible, one with a leg), and one she still hadn’t located.

Most people wouldn’t want to stay around corpses—she was no exception. Aside from fear, there was also a natural aversion, a sense of discomfort. Not to mention it was the middle of the night. The bright, harsh light overhead could go out at any moment, and then the suffocating darkness would return.

Jing Ling looked up at the ceiling light, his gaze briefly sweeping over the camera. “It’s been a while since the fight ended, and the lights are still on. Looks like they’re not planning to turn them off. This place has good terrain—I originally planned to stay here overnight. But like this, it’s too conspicuous. We can’t stay.”

“Let’s go find another spot,” he said, then suddenly remembered something and added, “Wait, I’m going to loot a corpse first.”

As he spoke, he turned around, taking long strides toward the corpses. “Each kill’s worth twenty points—this team alone is a hundred. Plus the number tags, five points each for a total of twenty-five. Mosquito meat is still meat. They were the last team drawn, only just came in, so they should still have their tags on them.”

This game used a points system. It had been just over half an hour since the start. Their team’s guaranteed base score plus the tags totaled seventy-five points. Now with five kills worth a hundred points and the twenty-five from tags, that brought them to a neat two hundred! Unless something unexpected happened, they should be ranked first, well ahead of the other teams.

Yang Xinyao quickly tallied the numbers in her head—easy enough even while distracted. Her real attention was on Jing Ling. She watched as he first went to the bald man who’d died last, crouched down, and searched for the number tag. The first one was quickly found in a coat pocket. Then the second, the team leader—also smooth, located in a sleeve pocket. He worked his way through them by proximity, collecting four tags in a row. That was when Yang Xinyao finally saw where the last body was—by the aisle next to the right-hand seats, further back and hidden by the seats. No wonder she hadn’t seen it earlier.

But the last tag wasn’t so easy to find. The others took less than a minute each. Now, Jing Ling had been crouching there for almost two minutes and still hadn’t stood up or said anything.

“What’s wrong?” Yang Xinyao called out as she walked toward him.

Almost the moment her words left her mouth, Jing Ling’s voice answered, “It’s nothing—don’t come over.”

But sound takes time to travel, and it also takes time for a person to react. Yang Xinyao’s reflexes were average, and the distance wasn’t far. By the time she processed his words and tried to stop, she was already close enough to see the last corpse.

She froze on the spot.

It was a large white man, tall and muscular, with several grotesque scars across his body—like ugly centipedes crawling over him, parting the thick chest hair on his torso.

Logically, he should’ve been clothed, so she shouldn’t have seen that. But the body’s clothes were open—or rather, had been cut open, cleanly sliced into several pieces. Jing Ling was crouched beside him, one hand holding a knife, the other gripping the man’s sleeve.

The scene turned a little awkward.

Jing Ling looked up, met her eyes, and after a moment’s silence said, “His tag is either in his shoe or in his pants. I’m done—I don’t want it. It’s only five points.” His tone was openly disdainful.

Yang Xinyao instantly understood the hidden meaning. The tags were thin—stashing them in shoes was nothing. But if it wasn’t in a pocket, that left… underwear. That was just nasty. She was silent for two seconds, then couldn’t help bursting out laughing. “Hahahahahaha!”

Jing Ling didn’t seem angry at her laughter. With some helplessness, he said, “Let’s go. We’ll find another place. It’s getting late—you should get some rest.” As he spoke, he stood up and said to her, “Come here.”

“Alright!” Yang Xinyao responded and walked toward him, then followed him out of the cinema.

The game that lasted two days and two nights — at the very beginning, most teams naturally maintained a wait-and-see attitude. Even if they didn’t fully know their opponents, they at least wanted to get some basic information before making a move. Of course, if they happened to cross paths in a narrow encounter, there was nothing to be done. Luck had always been a mysterious thing — unpredictable.

Xu Shaohuai and his group were the unfortunate ones. After parting ways with Jing Ling and the others, he led Song Xiuyuan and Bai Ningxi toward the kitchen area. He had been to that area twice before with his teammates. Its terrain advantage was in no way inferior to the cinema, and the corridor outside was more accessible, making it convenient to retreat quickly and shake off enemies if something happened.

Thanks to Jing Ling’s lucky draw, their team got first pick and was the first to enter the venue. They could select any location on the entire fourth floor first. Although occupying a place first didn’t mean it would always belong to them — other teams could still come and fight for it — since the game had just begun, if there wasn’t enough certainty, no team would take the risk to make a move. After all, no one wanted to be the praying mantis stalking the cicada only for the oriole to pounce from behind and benefit someone else in the end.

The three of them took over the kitchen and closed the door. According to the game’s rules, all the doors on the fourth floor had been specially modified — they could be closed but couldn’t be locked during the game. Of course, every room had items that could be used to block the door. Once barricaded, no one outside could enter, but that would also trap them inside. More importantly, the organizers disliked this behavior and would intervene, making it not worth the risk.

Since Bai Ningxi was essentially a non-combatant support role, Xu Shaohuai found a cabinet and arranged a hiding spot for him. If anything unexpected happened, he was to hide inside, sparing them the distraction of ensuring his safety.

This was only a precaution — no one hoped it would really come to that. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on Xu Shaohuai’s side. After they had been in the kitchen for about half an hour, the closed door was suddenly pushed open from the outside.

The flickering light from the corridor streamed in through the open door, shining on the fine, expensive kitchen equipment, and the reflected light slightly illuminated the interior.

Xu Shaohuai and the others were inside, separated by another door. The moment he heard the sound, he quickly pushed Bai Ningxi into the cabinet and shut the door, then crouched behind the counter and slowly moved sideways in a low stance. Using the glow of the lights, he exchanged a glance with Song Xiuyuan across from him, ready to attack at any moment.

The enemy was still outside. After a while, a shadow slowly approached. Xu Shaohuai gripped the dagger tightly, preparing to strike. As the person neared, he silently counted down with the flickering light, and when it was about to go dark, he rolled forward and kicked at the opponent’s legs, knocking the person down, then stabbed at the chest with his dagger.

“Ah—” A scream of pain.

Then the light went out, and darkness returned.

At the same time Xu Shaohuai made his move, Song Xiuyuan followed up with a finishing blow — based on memory, he covered the opponent’s mouth and slit their throat. Their coordination wasn’t perfect, but their target seemed inexperienced. Otherwise, the person wouldn’t have come in alone and been so easily ambushed.

After eliminating one enemy, Xu Shaohuai and Song Xiuyuan quickly changed positions, retreating to another spot. That scream had exposed their location, and the enemies outside would surely come in to investigate. With this example before them, the enemies would only grow more cautious.

The remaining four were obviously of a much higher level than the one they had killed. They knew how to use the darkness and terrain for concealment, making it hard for Xu Shaohuai to locate them. Both sides started a game of hide-and-seek.

It was deadly silent around them, as if one could hear a pin drop. In such an environment, even breathing had to be carefully controlled.

Just after Xu Shaohuai took a quiet breath, a faint flash of light streaked by. He quickly rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a dagger slashing at him from the side. His hiding place was at a corner — the enemy must have felt their way over, unsure if someone was there, and so took a random stab to probe. The dagger came first, then the person. Fortunately, he wasn’t right at the corner, and the light happened to flash on, reflecting off the blade and giving him just enough time to dodge.

The sound of his movement, though slight, was heard by the nearby enemy, who immediately lunged at him.

The two engaged in close combat.

The enemy moved in pairs — one in front, one behind. Once the one in front spotted him, the other quickly joined in.

Naturally, Xu Shaohuai wasn’t alone either. Song Xiuyuan had been following him all along, and upon realizing the situation, also joined the fight. The commotion they made wasn’t small. Not long after, a voice came from the other side. The person wasn’t speaking the international common language, but jabbered in some unknown tongue. Xu Shaohuai couldn’t understand, but guessed it was an inquiry about the situation. The enemy he was fighting replied with a sentence — still incomprehensible.

“Cover!” Xu Shaohuai shouted.

This was a temporary code — it meant to protect Bai Ningxi. They were now some distance away from the cabinet where Bai Ningxi was hiding. The voice of the enemy speaking earlier had come from nearby that area. Although the enemy probably wouldn’t expect someone to be hiding inside the cabinet, in a life-or-death situation, it was best not to gamble. If the enemy really discovered him, they wouldn’t make it in time.

Of course, standing guard near the cabinet was only a last resort. The best option was still to lure all the enemies outside so the inside would be safe.

The teams participating in this game came from all over the world. In theory, most people only knew two languages — their mother tongue and the international common language — and even then, the latter might only be enough for basic communication. After all, most mercenaries were rough types. If they had decent education, they’d go find a stable, safe job — who would want to live a life of constant danger? Of course, there were exceptions, but they were rare.

Usually, as long as they weren’t facing opponents from the same country, using their native language for communication wasn’t a problem. But to be safe, Xu Shaohuai had still set up a few codes, so even if the enemy understood the language, they wouldn’t easily guess the meaning.

“Got it!” Song Xiuyuan dodged an incoming dagger and responded.

Two seconds later, the lights went out again. The two had already noted their escape route, seized the opportunity to break away from the fight, and moved toward Bai Ningxi.

In total darkness, nothing could be seen. Gilva and his group would only engage in combat when the lights were on, retreating to predetermined positions when they went off — this was to avoid friendly fire in the dark. But when the lights came back on, Gilva noticed the enemies were gone.

Something was off about this.

Before they entered, they had circled the kitchen area outside but hadn’t found anyone. That was why they came in. Their team had a rookie — the one who had died first. Both sides had five members, but with one lost, it was now four against five. However, they had some advantage in controlling the area. He had found two of the enemies here and attacked immediately. When the captain asked about the situation, he replied, reporting the number — there were two here — and said they didn’t need backup for now, just to be wary of the remaining three.

As a result, after exchanging several rounds of attacks, the hidden enemies still hadn’t shown themselves. Gilva was already getting suspicious. Now that this situation had occurred, he was almost certain that something had gone wrong with the enemy’s team — they definitely weren’t at full strength!

“Captain, they might only have two people left,” he spoke up to remind them, taking advantage of the light to search for the enemy’s figures. Upon hearing his words, the two people over there responded briefly and moved directly toward them. However, they were still a step too late. The other side held a certain terrain advantage — they were closer to the door and had retreated earlier. By the time they noticed, the enemy was already at the door.

“After them!”

The four of them split into two groups and chased toward the door.

The corridor’s lights shone directly into the room outside the kitchen through the open door, making the light there slightly brighter than inside. The enemies really were down to only two. After Gilva and his group gave chase, they didn’t see any other figures. The situation had flipped in an instant — from being at a four-on-five disadvantage, it had turned into a four-on-two advantage. The enemy wasn’t wearing masks for some reason. In that earlier situation, it had been hard to distinguish their features, so Gilva couldn’t guess their origins for the time being. However, judging by the earlier exchange, those two were definitely formidable. So even though they now held the numbers advantage, he didn’t dare underestimate them in the slightest.

The two sides clashed outside. During the fight, Gilva failed to dodge and took a cut on his left arm. Among the other three teammates, Jimmy was also injured — and quite seriously. He took a slash to the back and another to the shoulder. To prevent his wounds from tearing open and worsening due to bleeding, he temporarily withdrew from the fight to bandage himself nearby.

Of course, there was no such rule here about sparing the wounded — it had always been a take-your-life-while-you’re-down style of fighting. Naturally, the enemy wouldn’t just stand by and watch Jimmy rest. They constantly tried to break through toward him.

There was no doubt about it — the enemy’s skills were indeed formidable, definitely at the level of top-tier mercenaries. Thankfully, they hadn’t underestimated the enemy earlier just because of the numbers, or else the situation would have been even worse.

The situation changed too fast. Just a moment ago, they had clearly held the upper hand. Yet before long, they had become the disadvantaged side again. In a four-on-two fight, two of their own had already been injured — one lightly, one seriously. Though the enemy wasn’t entirely unscathed either, both of them had sustained minor wounds that didn’t affect their movements. Right now, the three of them were doing everything they could to stop the enemy from advancing toward Jimmy. If they let them get close, they would soon lose another teammate.

The captain narrowly dodged an attack aimed straight for a vital spot, then gasped, “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have come here!” Their original chosen stronghold hadn’t been this kitchen area but another location. However, another team — the well-known Falcon Squad, each member an impressive fighter — had also set their sights on that spot. They had little chance of winning in a fight against them. In that situation, anyone with half a brain would know what to choose. They had decisively given up the stronghold, but the other side didn’t seem willing to let them leave. They only managed to get away after sacrificing two number tags.

With no stronghold left, they had to find a new one — which brought them here.

Hearing this, Gilva couldn’t help but give a bitter smile. If they’d really had the benefit of hindsight, it wouldn’t have been about not coming here. They wouldn’t have chosen the first stronghold at all. If they hadn’t run into the Falcon Squad, they wouldn’t have needed to move, and none of this would have happened.

“Captain, how about we ask if the other side is willing to stop fighting?” He hesitated for a moment before suggesting, “We’ve made such a big commotion here — if there are any other teams nearby, they might be watching from the shadows. Even if we manage to win by luck, it’ll be hard to hold this place. There are two doors here — each side can take one.”

Given their current situation, withdrawing would make them an easier target for teams lurking in the dark, so seeking a truce was a better option than retreating outright. Besides, Gilwa thought there was a good chance the enemy would agree to a ceasefire. Those two were indeed formidable — maybe if they fought to the bitter end, they could take them down. But the price would be high, and it wasn’t like they were the only two teams here. Who knew how many others were waiting in the dark to pick up the spoils?

Because they had been tangled up in this fight for so long and the enemy still only had two people, Gilwa instinctively believed there were only two left in the enemy’s entire team. Not just him — his teammates all thought the same. Everyone’s attention was fixed on those two.

In order to stay as far away from the two enemies as possible, Jimmy had retreated all the way to the second door. With his back against the glass door, he clenched his teeth tightly, enduring the intense pain radiating from his wounds as he gave himself a simple bandage. The injuries were on his shoulder and back — already hard enough places to reach. Trying to bandage them himself pulled at the wounds, making the task several times harder.

After a long struggle, he finally managed to finish. By now, his face was deathly pale from the pain, and cold sweat drenched his head.

He carefully prepared to lean back against the wall again — when, all of a sudden, a sharp pain shot through his neck.