Chapter 305: Colosseum (XIII) “I Won’t Kill You”

On the ninth floor of the high tower, Qi Si pushed open the door and heard the surging sound of the tide; his ears were instantly filled with overwhelming noise, like a torrential downpour.

The salty, fishy smell of the sea breeze rushed toward him. He saw himself standing atop a black high tower whose peak pierced the clouds. Looking down, he could only see clusters of yellow clouds.

These yellow clouds sometimes gathered and sometimes dispersed. The varying densities formed thick or thin lines, sketching the outline of a giant eye on the canvas of the sky, tightly closed, as if trapped in an eternal, deep slumber.

Hopeless Sea. This is the Hopeless Sea. This tower is the Clock Tower of the Hopeless Sea, which chimes every two hours… Fragmented thoughts surfaced in Qi Si’s mind. He looked around, but saw nothing but clouds. There was no sign of the inn or the altar. It seemed only he and the Clock Tower existed between heaven and earth.

This stage is similar to the previous one: the player’s area of activity is restricted to a certain location, meaning there are no overly complicated tasks involving collecting clues or solving puzzles.

Qi Si looked around and saw the clock hanging in the center. The hour hand was currently pointing to 8:08.

There was no corpse of the Bell Ringer beneath the clock. The spot where lyrics were originally inscribed now clearly displayed the rules of this round of the game:

【The great Sea-God sleeps in this tranquil dream. O lost travelers who have strayed into the dream, please leave this tower as quickly as possible, and do not disturb the Sea-God’s slumber!】

【The Sea-God opens His eyes once every fifty-five minutes and closes them five minutes later to return to slumber. When the hour hand points to eight, He has just awakened from His slumber.】

【Now, open that iron door and climb down the tower steps. Please remember, absolutely do not move when the Sea-God is awake, and absolutely do not let Him see you!】

These words were fully refreshed on the system interface two seconds after he focused on them.

Qi Si glanced at the Pocket Watch of Fate. As expected, the hands were frozen, and the time reversal effect was also sealed, exactly like the situation in the Hopeless Sea instance.

The game rules explicitly told the player this was a dream. People’s perception of time in a dream is inaccurate. Although Qi Si could use his pulse to estimate the approximate time, that wasn’t enough to make him one hundred percent certain.

Here, the only thing that seemed capable of marking time was the clock hanging in the center, whether it was accurate or not.

And Qi Si clearly remembered that the Hopeless Sea instance played a time trick: the Clock Tower’s chimes differed greatly from the real time, and a nominal day was actually only eighteen hours… So… should he follow the clear strategy used to pass the Hopeless Sea instance?

It is known that the “Rock-Paper-Scissors” of the previous stage was closely related to the Dialectical Game instance, which also examined the problem of “how to defeat oneself in a game of strategy.” The final solution was to use the first-mover advantage to seize the initiative in the strategic game, leaving the other self with no choice.

Combined with the current scene and mechanism, which strongly resembled the Hopeless Sea, he could basically conclude that the various games within the Glazed High Tower were deeply connected to the Eerie Game instances, as if they were collections made by pruning the complex branches of each massive instance and cutting out the most core elements.

Alternatively, perhaps the existing instances were merely simple mini-games in the Glazed High Tower at their genesis, and only through subsequent gradual refinement—adding worldviews and settings based on the core mechanisms—were they constructed into rich and colorful instances.

Was this stage, as he suspected, a variation on the core mechanism of the Hopeless Sea instance?

The Countdown in the upper left corner of his vision was stagnant, stubbornly refusing to provide any extra hints.

Qi Si did not linger. He pushed open the rusted iron door in the corner of the tower’s peak. A few narrow steps were revealed behind the door, but the rest of the staircase was hidden in shadow, its end invisible.

He descended the steps. The light behind him gradually receded, and the space around him was filled with sticky darkness. It felt as if his memory had been brought back to that past instance—the same pitch-black, cramped stairwell where a skeleton had been dug out of the wall… That felt like a long time ago, yet upon closer calculation, only a month had passed, enough to give him a sense of having lived through an entirely different era.

Qi Si took out his flashlight from his backpack and switched it on. Compared to when he had just become a formal player and was matching into formal pool instances, his inventory of items was much more abundant, preventing him from being stretched thin.

The cold white beam clearly illuminated the steps. Adjusting the angle slightly, he could see the clock hanging on the wall; its hands were still turning diligently.

Every floor had a clock. Time had become an inseparable part of this Clock Tower.

Qi Si quickly descended the stairs while paying attention to the time displayed on the clock. He wondered if it was his imagination, but there seemed to be far more steps here than in the Hopeless Sea instance; it felt endless.

Was this meant to test the player’s stamina, or was there another trick involved?

The time indicated on the wall clock was already 8:59. According to the game rules, he needed to stop for five minutes at the nine o’clock mark, waiting for the Sea-God to close His eyes before continuing to move.

But if calculated according to the mechanism of the Hopeless Sea, three minutes of real time actually corresponded to four minutes on the clock face. He would only need to stop when the clock hands pointed to 9:20.

Being inside the Clock Tower, obscured by walls on all sides, he could not see the status of the Sea-God’s Eye outside. He also couldn’t return to the top floor, or the Sea-God would see him.

Unable to determine whether the Sea-God’s Eye was open or closed, there was naturally no way to verify the correctness of either approach. Should he stop at nine o’clock, or at nine twenty?

Or… just to be safe, stop for a while at both times?

…On the other side, Liu Yuhan entered the high tower after a dizzying spin. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself standing in front of a giant clock.

She stood side-by-side with the clock at the highest point in the world. Around her were dusky yellow, dense clouds, whose coordinated densities outlined the Sea-God’s tightly closed eyes, which she knew might open at any moment.

“It actually starts with the Hopeless Sea instance?” Liu Yuhan crouched beside the clock, reaching out to touch the game rules carved into the wall, feeling slightly stunned.

When Chang Xu was still in the tower, he had transmitted some information to her, telling her that the games experienced in the Glazed High Tower were related to the instances she had passed in the past.

Liu Yuhan estimated that she had cleared dozens of instances, and if she included those she was designated to enter, that number could even exceed a hundred.

She hadn’t expected the high tower to coincidentally select the Hopeless Sea instance—the beginning of her nightmare, overshadowed by the name “Qi Si.”

“Move for fifty-five minutes, stop for five minutes, until reaching the bottom of the tower… What is this game trying to test? Stamina? Sense of time? Or… will various crises appear during the descent, disrupting the player’s plan?”

Liu Yuhan made wild guesses, her brain automatically searching her past experience and knowledge reserves for information that could handle the current situation. A conversation from the end of the Hopeless Sea instance was retrieved from her memory at the right time, echoing in the back of her mind.

—’So, what is the correct time?’

—’During the prescribed sleeping hours, the Clock Tower missed three chimes in total: eleven o’clock, one o’clock, and three o’clock. Converted to the twenty-four-hour system, six hours are missing every day. In other words, what you think is a full day is actually only eighteen hours.’

—’What happens if you don’t set sail at the prescribed time?’

—’Who knows? Maybe you’ll die.’

The time in the Hopeless Sea instance was problematic, so what about this mini-game designed based on the Hopeless Sea?

Was the time displayed on the clock real? Which timekeeping system did the time in the game rules refer to?

Liu Yuhan lowered her gaze, pulled open the slightly ajar iron door in the corner of the top floor, and stepped onto the descending stairs… The hour hand pointed to the Roman numeral nine. Qi Si stopped in his tracks, simultaneously retrieving the Sea-God Scepter from his inventory and grasping it in his right hand.

The phantom images of marine creatures floated in the void. The sound of the tide, which had receded due to the wall obstruction, surged in his ears once more. Damp saltiness crept across the ground, and slippery salt crystals precipitated at his feet.

Qi Si probed the Sea-God Scepter with his consciousness, attempting to capture a connection to the Sea-God and thereby investigate the Sea-God’s status.

However, there was nothing inside.

The Sea-God had vanished after the Frog Hospital instance; the yellow Sea-God’s Eye outside the Clock Tower seemed to be merely a clumsy replica, a remnant of a dream.

It was like when a rare creature died, its bones were cut into layers, immersed in formalin or resin, and made into specimen crafts for later generations to observe.

A strange association quietly emerged, and Qi Si was amused, his lips curling slightly without causing dangerous consequences.

It seemed that the so-called 【Forbidden Actions】 in the game rule were not as strict as imagined, or rather… this moment was not a forbidden period according to the game rule.

But, who knew?

More and more phantoms drifted around him; floating seaweed and shellfish casually adorned every corner of the corridor. His vision had the blurred texture of folded plastic, floating freely like gauze immersed in water, reminiscent of countless intersecting and overlapping spaces.

Liu Yuhan stopped at 8:59 to avoid reacting too late and inadvertently violating the rule.

Humidity bred in the silent darkness, as if her entire being, along with the tower-like structure, was submerged in the deep sea. Once the walls broke, seawater would pour in and engulf her head.

The inexplicable imagination made her senses more acute. Liu Yuhan had the illusion of roaring tides, wave after wave striking the walls.

No, perhaps it wasn’t an illusion; the sound of the waves was indeed getting louder, as if coming from another overlapping space, about to penetrate the invisible barrier, break through the high-dimensional obstruction, and merge into one.

In a certain instant, inspiration caught the ‘crunch’ of glass shattering, and a figure in a blue dress suddenly appeared before Qi Si’s eyes. Her face was initially blurry like mist, but as the image in his vision settled, it became clear and quite familiar.

Liu Yuhan was also teleported into this stage… The game arrangements in the Glazed High Tower clearly coincided with the instances players had experienced in the past. All seemingly random experiences seemed to be pre-programmed arrangements… What kind of existence was the Colosseum?

Liu Yuhan saw Qi Si holding the Sea-God Scepter. The young man in the red suit stood loosely not far away, his scarlet eyes under half-lowered eyelids staring directly at her, a black cross glowing faintly above his head.

A scene flashed before her eyes: at the very end of the Hopeless Sea instance, the young man had choked her neck, holding her hostage to coerce Chang Xu. Chang Xu had, as promised, brought the Sea-God Scepter and handed it to the young man. The latter, upon receiving the scepter, had plunged it into Chang Xu’s heart with a backhand, blood gushing out.

Dying in a dream would not lead to actual death, but who knew the mechanics of this game?

The Hopeless Sea was Qi Si’s home ground, possessing the Sea-God Scepter. He could easily kill her, and considering her previous betrayal, he had no reason to let her go… Liu Yuhan’s body trembled slightly, then she forcibly suppressed it, feigning calm as she met Qi Si’s eyes.

Qi Si met her gaze with interest, then suddenly laughed after a moment, revealing his stark white teeth.

At 9:05, Qi Si flipped his wrist and thrust the Sea-God Scepter at Liu Yuhan.

Liu Yuhan was well-prepared; she twisted to the side, dodging the scepter and simultaneously rolling down the stairs.

The power of the Sea-God Scepter erupted from its tip, suppressing the every move of all living beings.

Liu Yuhan could not activate any items, nor could she make any further responses. She could only use gravity to roll down, her head in her arms, hoping to escape the Sea-God Scepter’s domain.

Qi Si casually held the Sea-God Scepter, not rushing to pursue, but instead leisurely descended the steps, one by one.

Along the way, sea breeze and tides accompanied him, and phantoms of shellfish and fish floated up and down, gracefully migrating, yet forming a transparent net that hindered the movement of creatures within its boundaries.

Liu Yuhan’s rolling speed slowed down, eventually stranding her at a corner, where she was then enveloped by the immense power contained within the scepter.

Suffocating atmospheric pressure enveloped her. She could no longer move an inch, only half-curled up, lying like a dead fish washed ashore, staring blankly at Qi Si.

Qi Si stopped in front of Liu Yuhan, lowered his hand, and pressed the tip of the Sea-God Scepter against her heart, smiling very lightly: “If I also stabbed you a few times with the Sea-God Scepter, you might have more in common with Chang Xu after you get out.”

There was that incomprehensible sense of humor again… Liu Yuhan averted her gaze and asked hoarsely, “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

She had calmed down, feeling that dying here wasn’t so bad.

After her death, the game coins, points, and food resources she possessed would be transferred to Chang Xu. Chang Xu would then have two thousand five hundred points and two game coins.

He would only need to clear one more game, choose five hundred points as a reward, and then he could ask the Sphinx to grant his wish to kill Qi Si… “I won’t kill you.” Qi Si moved the Sea-God Scepter down, stabbing it into Liu Yuhan’s abdomen. It pierced through her body and then into the hard stone slab, pinning her tightly to the floor of the Clock Tower.

Blood splattered out, staining Liu Yuhan’s dress like red pigment in an ink wash painting, spreading outwards from the wound.

A few drops of blood splattered onto Qi Si’s trousers, seeping into the red fabric, the similar colors making it indiscernible.

Cold sweat beaded on Liu Yuhan’s forehead, her cry of pain suppressed in her throat. Her fists clenched and unclenched; all further movements were suppressed by the power of the Sea-God Scepter, as if an insect encased in tree sap, unable to move in the viscous restraint.

Qi Si smiled calmly and unhurriedly took out a paper cutter from his inventory, pricking Liu Yuhan’s palm with it.

【Name: Self-Mutilator’s Paper Cutter】

【Type: Item】

【Effect: No matter what kind of wound is inflicted, the injured person will not lose consciousness and will not truly die】

【Remark: Its original owner was submerged in immense despair, yet ultimately lacked the courage to achieve final liberation, and could only release pain through self-harm】

This was an item he bought after coming out of the Frog Hospital, suspected to have a causal effect, capable of maintaining the injured person’s life and consciousness.

Even if it didn’t have this effect, it didn’t matter; he had intentionally made the Sea-God Scepter avoid vital points, so Liu Yuhan wouldn’t die in a short time.

As for excessive blood loss… Qi Si took out the Human Skin Book, tore off a page, and sprinkled it on Liu Yuhan’s wound.

【Name: Netherworld Guide】

【Type: Item】

【Effect: Consumes one page to transform any existence into a Ghost. (Duration 60 seconds, number of pages refreshes once per instance)】

【Remark: Wield the Netherworld Guide, control the affairs of the underworld. Whoever is called a ghost, is a ghost.】

Ghosts are tenacious in the Eerie Game and will not die from a mere penetrating wound.

And the time in the dream realm is stagnant relative to the real world, so one page of the Netherworld Guide is enough to remain effective until this dream world collapses, allowing Liu Yuhan to survive as a Ghost for most of the time.

Qi Si knew that in the same team, if anyone died, their resources would be pooled to their teammates, making the survivor harder to deal with.

Therefore, before killing Chang Xu, Liu Yuhan must remain alive, to prevent Chang Xu from accumulating three thousand points prematurely after receiving her points and game coins.

If Liu Yuhan’s actions could be restricted, it would be even better; she would be unable to clear more instances and accumulate more resources, including points and food.

Qi Si intended to keep Chang Xu’s team’s total points below three thousand, so—it was imperative to use the Sea-God Scepter to confine Liu Yuhan to this stage.

Liu Yuhan was pinned to the ground by the Sea-God Scepter. The human skin paper covered the wound, adhering tightly to her skin after soaking in blood, emitting a faint chill.

Intense pain stimulated the brain to secrete endorphins. She only felt her consciousness become as sluggish as a zombie’s, and her body grew cold, chilling like ice.

She struggled to lift her head, only to see Qi Si leaning down, his smile radiating undisguised malice: “Rest here for a while; there are still five hours until today’s Colosseum Game ends.

“This amount of time shouldn’t be too hard for you to endure, right?”