Chapter 444: Extra Story – A Happy Life (Ten-Thousand-Word Single-Player Puzzle Dungeon)

【One】

Qi Si felt that everything today seemed strange.

The alarm clock by his bed had been replaced with “Gloomy Sunday” by who-knows-who. The opening line, “Sunday is gloomy,” had a distorted sound like an old cassette from the last century, a premonition of lurking ghosts.

During breakfast, his father and mother sat neatly on the other side of the long table, their faces adorned with identical, perfectly appropriate smiles, simultaneously picking up dumplings with their chopsticks and putting them into their mouths.

Qi Si took a bite of a dumpling and nearly spat it out. The filling inside was clearly not fresh, sour and foul-smelling, and it even contained a fingernail, whose owner was unknown.

Qi Si sincerely cursed the person who made this dumpling. The thought that he would damnedly recall this disgusting experience every time he saw dumplings in the future made him feel that the careless chef was guilty of an egregious crime.

In any case, after a terrible breakfast, Qi Si put down his chopsticks and walked into the washroom, intending to rinse his mouth.

He wasn’t very familiar with the washroom’s layout and fumbled for a long time before finding the mouthwash. Standing in front of the sink, he subconsciously looked in the mirror. The young man in the mirror wore a white shirt, its lapels stained with specks of blood.

For a moment, he couldn’t recall when he had stained his clothes. He looked down and saw he was perfectly dressed in his school uniform. When he looked up again, the person in the mirror grinned eerily at him.

A sharp sound of fingernails scratching glass suddenly rang in his ears, as if something alive was sealed within the mirror, struggling to crawl out.

Qi Si suddenly realized his courage was unusually great. An ordinary high school student standing here, seeing this scene, would surely be scared out of their wits, yet he could maintain his composure, which was truly commendable.

But then again, he always felt he looked a bit too mature, not quite like a sixteen or seventeen-year-old high school student.

“Dad, Mom, our mirror needs to be replaced,” Qi Si called out towards the door, but received no response.

He walked out of the washroom, slung his school bag over his shoulder, and ran downstairs to catch the school bus. The driver glanced at him but said nothing. The bus was full of unfamiliar classmates, all falling silent after he boarded.

Qi Si took out a political science book from his bag, quietly recited it, and simultaneously began to ponder the strange events he encountered today, multi-tasking.

Before he could figure out anything, a semi-transparent, light-gray panel slowly appeared in the upper left corner of his vision, and lines of silver-white text refreshed:

【Dungeon Name: “A Happy Life”】

【Dungeon Type: Single-Player Puzzle】

【Main Quest: Kill the creator of this world】

【Prerequisite Hint: This is a role-playing dungeon. The memory information of the identity you are playing has replaced your original memories and has been loaded.】

Qi Si narrowed his eyes.

During the ten minutes on the school bus, he had pretty much understood the situation: he was a player in an infinite-flow game called “Eerie Game,” currently experiencing a single-player puzzle dungeon, with his memories replaced.

His next task was to kill a certain entity. As for who that person specifically was, or whether they would have a red name floating above their head like in an online game, he had no idea.

He didn’t even know if the information presented on the system panel was real. Perhaps he was just having a sudden psychotic episode and experiencing hallucinations?

After all, the memories from birth to now were vivid in his mind, not seeming fake: his father was an engineer, his mother a teacher, and he was their only son. He had smoothly progressed from kindergarten to elementary and then middle school, achieving top grades in a key high school. However, due to the pressure of higher expectations, he suffered from mild anxiety and paranoia, requiring regular hospital check-ups… “Speaking of which, mentally ill people in the news often commit murder. Could it be that they also saw a murder quest on a game panel?” Qi Si mused with interest, subtly opening his school bag and taking out a sharp compass from his pencil case.

He wasn’t averse to killing, and even found it strange that he had lived sixteen years without ever trying to kill someone. A sharp object piercing flesh, warm blood soaking his fingertips, a scream muffled by a hand over the mouth, a vibrant life abruptly cut short… what a beautiful and tragic image. Wouldn’t it be a pity not to witness it firsthand?

In short, Qi Si was quite willing to just go with it and treat this world as a game dungeon. After all, mentally ill people don’t get punished for murder, do they?

“So, who could be the creator of this world? Considering the game wouldn’t assign impossible tasks, the creator probably isn’t an unkillable entity like a god or God, or abstract concepts like Logos or a philosopher-king. At least with my current physical fitness, which barely passes gym class, I should be able to handle it.

“Similarly, the creator wouldn’t be an unrelated person. If I can’t fully interact with them, or if there’s no connection between us at all, the idea of ‘killing’ them is absurd. Random killing doesn’t align with the game’s requirement for fairness and would seem to test luck more than intelligence and reasoning ability.

“If we add the theory that ‘criminals often return to the crime scene,’ that guy definitely wouldn’t just abandon this world after creating it. Assuming my existence is special, he would surely frequently appear by my side to observe my every move.”

Qi Si calmly deduced, then abruptly realized that his subconscious had automatically filled in the information about “game fairness” and “testing intelligence and reasoning ability,” as if he frequently dealt with this game and was well-versed in its underlying rules.

He just didn’t know if this was due to the rich imagination unique to a mentally ill person, or to those potential memories that, as the game system stated, hadn’t yet been completely cleared.

In any case, the scope was narrowed. The next thing to consider was the potential difficulties.

Most people in this situation might think that overcoming psychological barriers and attempting to kill someone would be the biggest challenge, followed by destroying the body and evidence. But for Qi Si, these were not problems at all.

Qi Si sifted through his memories and quickly realized that he was in a world with a comprehensive legal system. This meant that if someone died mysteriously, the police would definitely intervene and investigate within 48 hours. With the coverage of surveillance cameras, they would likely trace it back to him within a day at the latest—after all, he was just an ordinary high school student with no connections or influence, and his only murder weapons were a compass and a utility knife.

To put it plainly, from the moment he killed the first person, if he killed the wrong one, he would only have three days to continue the mission, and the probability of exposure would gradually increase with time. A slight misstep could land him in a police station or a mental hospital.

This also prevented players from thoughtlessly killing at random.

“It really is a puzzle game that emphasizes intellect over brute force,” Qi Si concluded in a good mood.

Only sufficiently challenging games had distinction. He didn’t want to see those muscle-brained, simple-minded brutes among the ranks of those who cleared the game. Not only because he was superstitious about the role of intelligence, but also because he knew that those brute-force players could subdue him with one hand. Rather than being suppressed in future multiplayer dungeons, it was better for them to die in puzzle dungeons.

“Brute-force players,” “multiplayer dungeons”… Qi Si again caught two proper nouns from his subconscious.

Oh, wow, it seems this Eerie Game has quite a few twists and turns, and the world-building isn’t small either.

【Two】

After getting off the school bus, on his way to the classroom, Qi Si saw Zhu Ming.

This person was a friend he had known in elementary school. At the time, a group of older kids had declared, “Whoever plays with Qi Si, we won’t talk to them.” Zhu Ming had outwardly distanced himself from Qi Si for a while, even taking back the gifts they had exchanged.

For three years in middle school, they were in different classes and hadn’t seen each other, and the bad memories had faded. Later, they got into the same high school and unexpectedly ended up in the same class. Their childhood disagreements were laughed off, and because they came from the same place, they became even closer than before.

“Qi Si, have you written your political science paper? Emergency! Lend it to me for ten minutes!” Zhu Ming familiarly patted Qi Si’s shoulder and then rummaged through his backpack.

Qi Si silently let him search, while recalling his interactions with this friend: disappearing for three years, then abruptly re-entering his life recently, and acting so carefree—it all seemed suspicious. And… it was also very suspicious that he hadn’t killed him in elementary school.

“Thanks, I’ll treat you to a chicken leg wrap during the long break!” Zhu Ming found the political science paper, his round face creased in a smile, and turned to sprint towards the small garden behind the teaching building.

This high school enforced military-style management, strictly prohibiting students from doing homework during morning self-study. Therefore, students who hadn’t finished their homework would consciously find a secluded spot, hiding from patrolling teachers to write furiously. In the small garden, there was an abandoned warehouse covered by vines, which was students’ favorite spot for catching up on homework.

Qi Si stared at the back of Zhu Ming’s neck and suddenly spoke, “I just remembered I made a mistake on one question, and I might need to revise it later. How about this, I’ll go with you.”

Zhu Ming stopped, winking at him, “Oh, so the good student needs to catch up on homework too? If the teachers and classmates see this…”

“That’s right.” Qi Si lowered his eyes. “So we might have to find an even more secluded place, preferably without teachers or classmates.” He paused, stroking his fingers, and added, “I’m a person who cares a lot about appearances.”

With that said, Zhu Ming naturally had no reason to refuse. He slung an arm around Qi Si’s shoulder and laughed, “Then we’ll have to go to the base of the wall. I’ve scouted that spot; it’s super remote, just a lot of mosquitoes.”

A smile also appeared on Qi Si’s lips: “Alright, let’s go there.”

The compass was tightly gripped in his palm, its pointed end hidden in his sleeve. Qi Si followed behind Zhu Ming, step by step, towards the base of the wall. The sounds of human voices faded, and the silhouettes of people thinned out. In the end, there was indeed no one else in sight. Beneath the weed-choked concrete wall, only Qi Si and Zhu Ming remained.

Qi Si was extremely close to Zhu Ming, only half a step away. The moment the boy squatted down to unfold his political science paper, Qi Si raised the compass high and plunged it down forcefully.

Fresh blood splattered on his cheek. The second before it could slide down his neck and stain his collar, Qi Si quickly wiped it dry with a wet wipe. Perhaps because he found a good angle, not a single drop of blood stained his school uniform, directly saving him the trouble of changing clothes.

Qi Si looked down at Zhu Ming’s disbelieving eyes, too lazy to explain the reason like common villains in film and literature. Instead, he squatted beside him, quietly waiting for the boy to breathe his last, the final spark in his eyes fading into lifelessness.

No completion prompt appeared, and the system interface showed no changes. Undoubtedly, Qi Si’s luck was terrible; he had guessed wrong on a multiple-choice question again, and the first target he chose to kill was not the correct answer.

Of course, he wasn’t disheartened by this. Although there weren’t many chances for trial and error, they were certainly not unique. He had reason to take this opportunity to kill some people he had always disliked but hadn’t been able to kill.

Like this guy in front of him, who had once abandoned him, then shamelessly returned to pretend they were close as brothers.

There was a pond conveniently located by the wall. Qi Si dragged the heavy corpse over, leaving a winding trail of blood behind him. First, he threw the body into the water, then went to the other side to fill a bucket with clear water left by the cleaning lady. As he returned along the same path, he sprinkled the water over the bloodstains. Qi Si watched with satisfaction as the crimson turned pale red, then diluted to light pink, finally disappearing completely into the asphalt pavement.

He returned to class as if nothing had happened. Morning self-study had just begun. The student leading the reading looked up at him, then shifted their gaze, with a meaning he couldn’t comprehend. After half-heartedly reading the text for a while, the class monitor began to call roll: “Qi Si, Cai Kaiwen, Qiu Mingli… Zhu Ming…”

“Here.” A chilling voice answered from Zhu Ming’s seat.

Qi Si turned his head to look. Zhu Ming, soaking wet, sat stiffly in his seat, a glaring hole in his neck from which dark brown blood gushed out. The blood mixed with water, forming a light red liquid that quickly stained his school uniform and dripped onto the floor, spreading into a bloody pool… No one noticed his abnormality. Perhaps, in the eyes of everyone except Qi Si, he was still perfectly alive. He realized Qi Si was looking at him, and his dark, lifeless eyes turned to stare coldly at Qi Si, the vengeful gaze of a malevolent ghost who had died an unnatural death.

Qi Si saw the blood on the ground suddenly begin to writhe like maggots, reassembling into a few crooked phrases: “Tonight… I will… kill you…”

At this point, Qi Si realized that this was a world with ghosts. Those he killed would turn into vengeful spirits seeking his life, posing another obstacle to his mission completion.

“But then again, if ghosts are also an important part of this world…”

It was still early morning, at least twelve hours until nightfall. Qi Si expressionlessly withdrew his gaze. In a quick glance, he saw an open notebook placed before him at some unknown point, its crumpled pages filled with messy writing:

【Zhu Ming stopped talking to me and started spitting and throwing mud at me with them, and he tore up my book. I’m very unhappy, I don’t want him to look at me like that, I want to… kill him.

【But I can’t do that. Murder means paying with your life. I have a great future ahead of me; I can’t sacrifice it for him… And Mother told me some things just can’t be done.】

When he read the first half of the text, Qi Si could quite empathize. But when his gaze fell on the latter half, he was momentarily speechless, feeling a profound sense of absurdity.

Who writes a diary like this? And did he really write this? Why did he have no memory of it at all? That line, “some things just can’t be done,” sounded familiar, even giving him a sense of PTSD… “A diary, huh… in a way, it’s a new clue.” Qi Si rubbed his chin, stood his Chinese textbook upright, and began to flip through the diary that had appeared from nowhere, using the textbook as cover.

The second entry was about his cousin’s family… 【Three】

【During the summer vacation, I stayed at my uncle’s house in the countryside for a while. My cousin really disliked me and always made sarcastic remarks… I really want to kill her.

【Every time my cousin and I argued, my uncle and aunt would call my father without asking any questions, saying sarcastically that I had been corrupted in the city… I really want to kill them.】

If this world was indeed a game, and the diary served as a clue, then deciding the target of killing based on the hints was perfectly reasonable. The next to be killed would be his uncle’s family.

However, considering it from the perspective of categorical conditions, killing Zhu Ming, as written in the diary, did not have a positive effect. Whether killing others would facilitate clearing the instance is a question mark.

Qi Si flipped the diary to the very first page. On the pristine flyleaf, seven large characters boldly proclaimed, “Qi Si’s Happy Life.” The last four characters were identical to the instance name displayed on the game panel.

On the back, a smaller font explained: “Without ripples, smooth sailing, peaceful and joyful, I have a happy life. If only everyone I hated would disappear.”

It was Qi Si’s handwriting, but Qi Si didn’t think he would write such a thing, nor did he feel that such “happiness” was worth pursuing.

Giving up his uniqueness, repeating the fate of most people in the world, living as an unremarkable ordinary person in accordance with public morals, like a mediocre craft produced on an assembly line… Such a life was a horror film for Qi Si. He only thought about it for a moment and was covered in cold sweat. If this was a eerie game, then… it was indeed quite eerie.

“Considering the instance name and the pre-requisite hints, I am playing the owner of this ‘Happy Life’ diary. It seems I need to help him fulfill his wishes and get rid of the people he hates. But from the perspective of the main quest, if you can’t solve the problem, you solve the person who raised the problem. I just need to find the diary owner and kill him. After all, even the diary name is the same as the instance name; it’s simply unbelievable that he isn’t the creator of the instance…”

Qi Si pondered earnestly and quickly decided to diligently complete the main quest. Helping a mediocre person content with an ordinary life solve problems and create a so-called happy life—just thinking about such a good deed made him feel uncomfortable all over, so it was better not to do it.

Of course, there was still a serious problem… “To kill the diary owner, do I have to kill myself?” Qi Si fell into deep thought.

The deceased Zhu Ming was still staring chillingly at Qi Si. Teachers entered the classroom one after another, stiffly reading the text from their lesson plans, their gazes invariably sticky on Qi Si, scrutinizing him emotionlessly.

Water droplets fell to the ground with an unchanging frequency, making a “drip-drop” sound; the second hand of the clock crawled tick by tick, and the vast shadow of dark clouds outside the window slowly spread across the classroom floor; more and more gazes intertwined on Qi Si’s back, as if something big was about to happen, and he was the protagonist of it all.

The edges and corners of this world exuded a palpable unreality, like a subjectively constructed dream or a conceptual mental world.

Qi Si thought of the description in the main quest section, which used the word “create.” If it was creating a dream world or a mental space, then although he was playing the diary owner, the real diary owner might be hidden in the shadows, watching how he broke through the situation.

Based on this, the next course of action was clear: find a way to force the diary owner to appear.

Qi Si leisurely flipped through the other parts of the diary.

“I got good grades on my exam, and Father bought me the electronic dictionary I always wanted…”

“Mother heard that I wasn’t getting along with my classmates, so she specially rented a house near the school and arranged for me to be a day student…”

“Every Friday, I start looking forward to the weekend because Father and Mother will definitely take me to Tianxiang Tower for a big meal…”

Each trivial entry outlined a happy family of three, undoubtedly adhering to the title “Happy Life.”

Qi Si tried to recall based on the diary’s records, but the bottom of his memory seemed covered by a vast white mist, burying all details within it.

He only remembered having loving parents, but had no impression of the various small things that demonstrated “love,” as if those two people didn’t truly exist in his life, but were ephemeral concepts.

In contrast, he had a deep impression of what Zhu Ming and his uncle’s family did, but he was puzzled as to why he had kept them until now, despite having long harbored murderous intentions.

Well, Qi Si was always one to hold a grudge.

He closed the diary and chuckled softly: “What a happy life, but tell me, if I destroy your so-called ‘happiness,’ can you still resist showing yourself?”

“Clatter!” The fountain pen on the desk fell to the ground, rolling to his feet.

Qi Si bent down, reaching to pick up the pen. The blood on the ground had, at some point, flowed to less than half a meter from him, and was still spreading faster.

He grabbed the pen, seemingly oblivious, and straightened up. The gazes of his classmates and teachers converged on him from all directions, no one speaking.

The hour hand of the clock spun rapidly, crossing the twelve o’clock mark, sweeping past numbers, and finally landing on “6.” The sky changed from early morning to dusk in the blink of an eye.

The figures of the teachers and classmates became increasingly faint, turning from black to gray, then white, and finally disappearing.

Qi Si got up and walked out of the classroom. In the corridor, a middle-aged man grabbed his wrist: “Qi Si, your parents had something urgent come up and can’t pick you up. Uncle will take you home.”

“Is that so?” Qi Si looked up and scrutinized the shifty-eyed face, identical to the one in his memory, for a moment, then smiled with his eyes curved: “Alright, thank you so much, Uncle.”

Uncle’s hand was like an iron clamp, tightly gripping Qi Si’s wrist, as if afraid that if he loosened his grip even slightly, the boy would shake him off and run away. He dragged Qi Si’s arm, hurrying downstairs towards the school gate. Qi Si heard the sharp wail of a police siren in the distance, and his right hand subtly gripped his compass.

“Qi Si, Zhu Ming is dead. Surveillance shows he was with you during his last moments. You must cooperate fully with the police investigation.” Uncle said earnestly, undisguised malice in his eyes.

It was almost certain that the diary owner had heard Qi Si’s threat and, to prevent him from carrying it out, altered the instance’s progression.

—The police noticed him earlier, and Uncle also intervened, doing his best to create obstacles for him.

“Zhu Ming is dead?” Qi Si feigned a trembling demeanor, his face filled with disbelief, “But he was fine this morning. I even lent him my politics test paper…”

As he spoke, he silently raised the compass and plunged it into the back of Uncle’s neck.

Blood spurted out. Amidst the shrill police sirens, he pushed away the corpse with wide-open eyes and sprinted towards the school’s back gate, past the lush small garden, gradually approaching the base of the wall where Zhu Ming was killed.

“Rustle, rustle, rustle…” The overgrown weeds moved without wind, emitting the rustling sound of creatures crawling. The blood scent, diluted by moisture, grew stronger from far to near. A pale face, belonging to Zhu Ming, emerged from between the half-closed vines.

The previously dry ground had unknowingly become damp. A thin film of water teemed with blood streaks and fat, surging towards Qi Si’s heels as if alive.

“Qi Si… you killed me… I’m going to kill you too…” Muffled grumbling echoed around Qi Si. A ghastly pale face appeared in every clump of grass, their ghostly, venomous gazes intertwining, and the palpable malice made the air viscous.

“Hoo hoo hoo… you can’t escape…” A face abruptly appeared in front of Qi Si. Qi Si swung the compass and stabbed it. The sharp point sank into flesh as if sucked into a swamp, unable to be pulled out again.

Qi Si immediately let go, sidestepped the obstructing ghost, and quickened his pace, running wildly towards the gate without looking back.

The iron gate ahead was wide open, empty. Only a private car was parked by the roadside. As he approached, he saw a pale-faced middle-aged man through the half-rolled-down driver’s side window, and a woman sat in the passenger seat.

“Qi Si, hurry and get in the car,” the man said.

“If you don’t get in now, it’ll be too late,” the woman added.

Qi Si recognized them; they were his father and mother. He opened the car door, got into the back seat, and the vehicle started, quickly driving away from the campus.

However… he had previously threatened the diary owner with his parents, so the diary owner, in a moment of urgency, mobilized the instance mechanism to hunt him down. Under the major premise that this deduction held true, the diary owner should have been avoiding him like the plague. How could he have encountered his parents so easily?

“Qi Si, you’re out of breath. Did something happen at school?” his mother asked with concern.

Qi Si casually held his schoolbag in front of him, unzipped it, and took out a history book. Under the cover of the textbook, he retrieved a jade paperweight hidden in his pencil case, weighed it twice, and decided that its weight and hardness should be enough to smash some things.

“Nothing happened,” he said without changing his expression. “It’s just that a question suddenly occurred to me: do you still remember how old I am this year?”

“Qi Si, you’re sixteen this year,” his father and mother said in unison.

Qi Si was silent for a moment, then slowly curved his lips into a strange smile: “But I suddenly remembered that you both died in a car accident when I was sixteen. I even made your corpses into specimens and placed them in the master bedroom.”

There was no response. The car accelerated. The man and woman in the front seat turned to dust at a visible speed, leaving only two black and white posthumous photos on the seats. On their blurred faces, only their eyes were clearly visible, staring intently at Qi Si through the glass frames.

Soon, Qi Si felt a third gaze and looked up. His reflection in the rearview mirror showed him wearing a white shirt… 【Four】

“Actually, the moment I killed Zhu Ming and discovered that the instance had settings like ghosts, I realized that the creator might not be human, but rather some abstract existence. It could be a segment of consciousness, a spiritual entity, and naturally, it could also be the ghost in the mirror.”

In the game space, Qi Si sat on the divine throne behind the bronze long table, casually placing a white piece on the chessboard in front of him: “The hint was very clear from the beginning: an unusual day, the reflection in the mirror suddenly didn’t look like himself, and to awaken from a strange dream, besides suicide, there was probably only killing the other self. And the person in the mirror is a common imagery for another self.

“So, I decided to smash the mirror. The reason I got into the car at the school gate, even though I knew it might be a trap, was because I considered the rearview mirror to be the easiest mirror to smash that reflects a full-body image. Of course, to prevent the person in the mirror from being afraid to appear, I deliberately pretended to be ignorant, only acting when the vehicle started to accelerate and he thought he had me cornered.”

“It’s clear you endured for a long time, so much so that in the three minutes after the instance ended, you still uttered such a scathing critique of the instance’s design.” Qi sat opposite Qi Si, forming a black piece between his fingers and blocking the right side of three white pieces in a row.

Yes, the man and the god were playing Gomoku. Compared to the lofty game of Go, Qi Si clearly preferred casual puzzle games like Gomoku, which in a sense had a similar appeal to Candy Crush.

“Indeed, I can’t see what other purpose this instance serves besides annoying me,” Qi Si casually placed a white piece in another corner of the board, opening a new battlefront. “A me who is accustomed to obeying laws, a me who only hides unhappiness in my heart and hopes others will solve it for me, a me who makes a happy life my entire pursuit… In my opinion, apart from using my likeness and name, and applying some of my experiences, the image you created has as much relation to me as a monkey does to a human.”

“Don’t you find it interesting?” Qi tapped his chin with his index finger, a smile blooming on his lips. “As another possibility of ‘Qi Si,’ with parents alive, restraining wild thoughts, growing up smoothly and peacefully, and although encountering malice, beautiful things occupy a larger part of his life…”

Qi Si smiled without warmth: “And you saw, even a me who lost my memory, given an opportunity, would not hesitate to choose murder.” He took advantage of Qi’s attention being off the board to quickly place three white pieces in the corner of the board.

“Yes, after all, you are the embodiment I created with all malice.” Qi’s smile deepened. He waved his hand, and the chessboard on the bronze table disappeared, leaving only floating sun, moon, and stars. “Sixteen years of ‘happy life’ will return to its original path in less than a day with your intervention. You are the greatest evil in this world; as long as there is a slight inclination towards darkness, you will unleash surging malice upon the world without hesitation.”

“So?” Qi Si raised an eyebrow slightly, leaning forward, assuming a posture of eager listening.

“So,” Qi placed his index finger to his lips, his crimson gaze falling like bloody rain, “I can confidently hand over the subsequent arrangements to you.

“The world is about to face its end, or an endless cycle. I hope you treat everything that happens next with the greatest malice.”

Qi Si smiled: “Sounds interesting, but I feel like this is a trap specifically waiting for me to jump into.”

“That’s also very interesting, isn’t it?” Qi raised his hand, and strokes, characters, and patterns appeared on his palm. “I remember I once told you a hypothesis: a madman wants to compete with you in killing. Whoever kills more within a limited time wins. If you win, nothing will happen; if you lose, he will destroy the world.

“Next, it’s your turn to play that ‘madman.’ The most painful deaths breed the most viscous sins, which will become chips in the struggle for power on the stage of the finale, whether to promote the birth of a new world or to return to the old world without rules, all require the drive of sin. As for whose hands the roulette wheel determining the future direction is in, it depends on whose chips are more abundant.”

Qi Si’s smile became strange for a moment: “Then what about you? Who are you playing?”

“Me?” Qi laughed joyfully, leaning over the table between them, “I’ll find a spot with a good view, eat popcorn, and watch.”

【END】