Seeing that Su Er remained silent, Zhao Banjin took it as a sign of weakness and turned to the other players. “As long as we make this instance independent, we can escape the game's control.”
“The success rate is far too slim,” said a relatively calm female player. “Besides, even if we succeed, according to your plan, we’d have to live in this instance forever.”
“So what? You’ve awakened identities—you won’t have to worry about food or shelter in the future. Don’t tell me you’re still clinging to your relatives and friends...” Zhao Banjin’s eyes turned cold. “Once you're in the game, who knows if you’ll survive the next instance.”
The female player shook her head. “Everyone has their own path.”
Clearly, she didn’t agree with Zhao Banjin’s stance.
Zhao Banjin hadn’t expected to convince everyone. “If you’re willing to stand with me, take out your invitation.”
One by one, four people took out their invitations.
“Get lost!”
Just then, two puppets suddenly appeared under the dissenting female player’s feet and began dragging her toward a certain spot. The puppets were incredibly strong—though she tore the arms off one, several more quickly sprang up.
“Puppeteer,” Su Er recognized it as Lin Qian’s handiwork.
Zhao Banjin clapped dramatically. “Almost forgot—has anyone here encountered a ghost that tried to tempt you into overthrowing the game?”
A few players’ expressions flickered.
“That wasn’t my doing,” Zhao Banjin smiled thinly. “From the moment the ghost appeared, I knew it was a setup by the host—a way to test us.”
The host, in essence, was crueler than the ghosts. Faced with players whose loyalties wavered, he could easily find an excuse to eliminate them.
Just as Zhao Banjin expected, more people took out their invitations after hearing that.
“Very good…”
Bang bang.
Two gunshots cut off his words.
Just as the female player who had been resisting was about to lose her strength, the puppets around her feet were suddenly shot away.
Su Er turned in surprise. Being able to shoot accurately in the dark meant Ji Heng also had night vision.
Then again, considering his werewolf identity, the surprise quickly faded.
The female player barely had time to feel relieved. She shouted at Ji Heng, “Aim at him!”
Disappointingly, Ji Heng didn’t point the gun at Zhao Banjin. Instead, he calmly said, “Revealing your identity like this—you must be thoroughly prepared.”
“Cold weapons are a brilliant invention,” Zhao Banjin said, eyeing the gun in Ji Heng’s hand. “We’ve made our preparations too.”
He was certain that even if he failed here, the moment Ji Heng left the villa, he would be riddled with bullets by those waiting outside.
Ji Heng asked, “You really think you can win?”
“Not even a fifty-fifty chance,” Zhao Banjin opened his mouth, then showed a hint of confusion. “Maybe 20-80? Or 30-70?” The future wasn’t so easy to change.
Ji Heng sighed lightly. “If that’s the case, why go this far?”
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Zhao Banjin said coldly. “Even if there’s only the slimmest chance of success, I have to try.”
His words were laced with a deep weariness toward the world.
Su Er’s brows furrowed. He had no intention of showing mercy to someone who wanted him dead. Still, Zhao Banjin’s decision served as a warning: he needed to find a way to escape the game soon. The more instances one experienced, the more likely their emotions would spiral out of control.
“Dragging this out is useless,” Zhao Banjin looked at Ji Heng. “The host is currently being stalled by three different factions. He’s not coming.”
Success or failure didn’t matter anymore. A ridiculous thought had taken root in Zhao Banjin’s mind—as long as Su Er died, he wouldn’t consider it a loss.
“The safest thing for you is to stay out of it,” Zhao Banjin said. “All I want is Su Er’s life.”
Ji Heng shook his head. “Do you even believe that yourself?”
All around, the players instinctively held their breath—especially those who hadn’t chosen a side yet. They had heard of Ji Heng’s reputation in the game, but now they were about to witness a real showdown between two top players.
Ji Heng had no intention of holding back. A white dagger appeared in his palm, its blade wrapped in visible wisps of black mist.
Even Ji Heng couldn’t immediately break through the strange mirrored maze, but he was fast enough. Just before falling into a crocodile-infested pool, he leapt to another safe spot.
The players who had tried to stay neutral quickly realized they couldn’t remain bystanders.
In the dark, someone’s arm was slashed by sharp claws.
“Werewolf,” Su Er muttered, eyes narrowing as he narrowly avoided the attack.
“Vampires, werewolves, even the Lightbringers—all of you took Wanbaolin’s deal,” Zhao Banjin taunted, even as he began to lose ground to Ji Heng. “Whoever kills Su Er, even if you don’t side with me, I’ll let you stay out of the conflict!”
No matter how fast Su Er’s reflexes were, they couldn’t compare to a werewolf’s.
With no other choice, he used the stun gun once. While the werewolf was paralyzed, Ji Heng threw him a gun.
Just as Su Er was about to fire, the werewolf leapt away and changed targets.
Su Er kept his aim steady—but he couldn’t pull the trigger.
Because his aim was off.
Ji Heng had taught him how to shoot, but aiming accurately wasn’t something one could master overnight.
The player now being attacked by the werewolf was full of resentment, wishing he could curse Su Er for dragging him into this.
He was lucky—less fortunate players, while dodging, stumbled into the pond and were immediately swarmed by crocodiles.
Hiss—
Zhao Banjin’s arm was slashed by the dagger. He gasped sharply and was horrified to find that even healing magic couldn’t stop the wound from worsening.
Ji Heng curled his lips. “Focus.”
But Zhao Banjin couldn’t help splitting part of his attention to watch Su Er’s side. He sneered, “Can’t even fire a gun. What kind of person like that deserves achievement points?”
It was obvious he was trying to sow discord, but human nature is complicated. The thought that Su Er had earned multiple achievement points in less than half a year of gameplay—while they had risked their lives and gotten nothing—
It was enough to make several players uneasy.
Another slash cut across his cheek, but Zhao Banjin didn’t flinch. Instead, he repeated his question through gritted teeth: “Why. Does. He. Deserve. Them?”
Beads of blood rolled down his face, the sight giving him a hint of madness.
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind swept down from above. The pain from his wounds intensified, and before Zhao Banjin could react, a loud buzzing echoed in his ears. When he looked up, a red light appeared in the night sky.
Su Er gritted his teeth. “Hang in there, everyone—the helicopter I called for has arrived!”
No matter how powerful the mirror maze was, it was still rooted to the ground. With a rescue ladder dropped from the helicopter, it could be easily bypassed.
“You—!” Zhao Banjin felt his breath catch in his throat. Before he could recover, a burst of gunfire rang out from outside.
A gunfight?
Zhao Banjin’s heart sank.
Su Er growled, “Don’t panic! The hitmen I hired are here too! They should’ve surrounded the villa by now!”
As the sound of the helicopter’s rotors became louder, and with at least ten helicopters visible, Zhao Banjin could taste blood at the back of his throat. “Where did you get the money?!”
“Endorsement fees—and I borrowed the rest from a classmate next door. I promised to help save her terminally ill sister.”
There was never a shortage of rich people in this world.
“The heather’s flower language is betrayal,” Su Er muttered quietly, so only he could hear. He sighed, “I just wanted a contingency plan.”
After seeing the prophecy the night before, he’d thought it over from every angle and finally decided to spend money to ensure survival.
With the three major factions occupied in stalling the host, those left behind were limited in both number and strength. Su Er raised his voice. “They’re not mercenaries, but I brought enough of them!”
With hope for survival in sight, the players began attacking more viciously—starting with those who had shown their invitation letters earlier. Once they cleared out nearby threats, they could be lifted out by helicopter without worry.
But no one dared to stray too far from their current position. After handling nearby threats, everyone stayed to guard their own small space.
The helicopters had descended to a low altitude, and the pilots were lowering the rescue ladders.
Su Er shouted, “You go first—I’ll cover the rear!”
“Idiot!” Seeing some players actually look at Su Er with gratitude, Zhao Banjin couldn’t help but curse.
There was no way Su Er stayed behind to protect them—he clearly intended to gather information for himself and walk away as the greatest winner of the instance.
As the one who would uncover the truth, the point rewards for Su Er would be enormous.
Noticing Zhao Banjin’s thoughts, Su Er grinned at him without denial. Just because he spent his own money to save people didn’t mean he was going to give up the profits.
As players were gradually airlifted out, Zhao Banjin opened his mouth, wanting to tear down Su Er’s hypocritical mask—but the helicopters were too loud. It was impossible for everyone to hear him.
Splurt!
Frustrated to the extreme, Zhao Banjin spat out a mouthful of blood.
“You asked why just now?” Ji Heng smiled, amused, and finally answered Zhao Banjin’s earlier question. “Because he has a brain.”
Corpses of players lay scattered across the ground, the air thick with the smell of blood. It was the first time Su Er had witnessed players killing each other so openly, and a wave of nausea swept over him.
The death of another stirs grief in one's own heart.
Even the darkest person couldn’t help feeling something in such an instance.
With his body invaded by the dagger’s black energy, Zhao Banjin was no longer a threat. He was swaying, barely able to keep his balance.
Just then, Su Er knelt down and gently closed the eyes of a dead player.
Zhao Banjin scoffed, ready to sneer—but before he could speak, he saw the compassion in Su Er’s eyes vanish, replaced by a cold determination as he began looting the corpse. Moments later, he had already retrieved several useful items.
Finally, Su Er stood up and signaled to a waiting helicopter. With the pilot’s cooperation, he was transported safely to another body to continue looting.
The players who had made it through the preliminary rounds weren’t weak. Most had life-saving tools, and the harvest was impressive.
Without hesitation, Su Er presented all the loot to Ji Heng. “Take it.”
Ji Heng raised an eyebrow.
Su Er explained, “I sold off Zhou Linjun’s assets back then, and he was still able to use my stuff to trade with Gou Baopu.” He sneered. “If he hasn’t made a move yet, he’s probably waiting for me to gather enough before striking back.”
The stun gun and mysterious eye were bound items and couldn’t be taken—but ordinary items were another matter.
“Once I get enough achievement points, and he uses our flimsy underworld marriage to go back to Gou Baopu…” Su Er’s smile turned wicked, seductive even. “After all, nothing is more despairing than having hope and then watching it all collapse.”
“I heard he already has ten achievement points…”
“He’s using yin energy to forcefully stay awake, resisting sleep. Is it worth it?”
Mister Sea of Books, dressed in a long robe and jacket, habitually held a scroll in his hand as he stood in front of a coffin.
“He’s a thief,” the Skeleton Ghost King’s raspy laugh echoed through the coffin boards. “Soon, I’ll treat him the way he treated me. The treasures he’s worked so hard to accumulate will change hands in an instant. I can’t wait to see Su Er fall apart.”
Mister Sea of Books shook his head. “Endless revenge brings endless suffering.”
Unaware of what was happening in another instance world, Su Er was now urging Ji Heng to stash the loot.
“Hurry up—we’re moving assets now!”
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