Chapter 152 – Grand Performance (XV) Act Three

The system gave the players no time to prepare.

As two lines of text refreshed, the surroundings collapsed in an instant; the room’s walls toppled like dominoes and stretched outward in every direction.

Only rooms 1, 3, and 5 remained of the original six; the rest were demolished, re-forming into a winding corridor instantly stabilized and splashed with garish decorations.

A maze sprang up. Ancient-Greek-style colonnades bore yellowed parchment scraps here and there; from afar the twisting, serpentine script could be faintly seen.

Further along, several Display Shelves jutted from the walls, holding all kinds of card and board games.

“Hello, hello? What’s going on? We just got up and you’re already pushing us into the next stunt. Didn’t you promise not to overwork us?” Dong Xiwen squinted and muttered, receiving no reply.

On the system interface, new rules refreshed.

【Battle Royale Rules – Stage Version】

【1. This act is a Battle Royale segment. The pursuers are Ghosts formed from the players’ sins; the fugitives are the “players.”】

【2. Normally, a player will not be attacked by the monster corresponding to them; when a player dies, their monster will also vanish.】

【3. Strength is represented by numbers: Ghosts 2, players 1.】

【4. Killing a player raises your number by 2; killing a monster changes nothing.】

【5. Victory in any clash is decided by comparing numbers; the higher number always wins.】

【6. Ghosts cannot cooperate; players may attack one another.】

Immediately after, a cold Countdown hovered at the upper left of their vision:

【Preparation 00:10:00, Escape 01:00:00】

Ten minutes to prepare, one hour to flee—survive the hour and the act ends.

Dong Xiwen scanned the rules several times and couldn’t help grumbling, “This is a Battle Royale? Feels like a math exam. Ever since blackjack, every scene is testing our arithmetic, right?”

“It’s a Game Theory problem,” Qi Si said, eyes fixed on the words “kill a player.” A strange smile slowly curved his lips. “The solution is already embedded in the rules, isn’t it? Pick someone to kill, push one of us to a value of 3, then wipe out the Ghosts fast.”

He paused, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Or just kill everyone—then every monster disappears.”

Dong Xiwen looked constipated. A psycho Murderer indeed—talking about killing as casually as eating or drinking.

Then it hit him, and his face darkened; Qi Si’s plan was horrifically feasible and efficient.

One kill would let the rest cruise through the “Battle Royale”; numerically it was a bargain.

And if someone had to die, the rookie who just entered—him—was the obvious candidate… He Hui hung her head and timidly suggested, “Maybe we can talk to our own Ghosts and ask them not to hurt the others…”

When she looked up, Dong Xiwen and Qi Si were both gazing at her with the fond exasperation reserved for small children.

“Rule six says Ghosts can’t cooperate, which means they can’t communicate,” Qi Si explained, more patient than ever now that he had a plan. “Anyone with Game Theory sense knows cooperation would be optimal for the Ghosts. If my monster isn’t stupid, why wouldn’t it team up with the rest? Yet it doesn’t—because it can’t.”

“If we hardened our hearts and killed one of us, pushing someone’s value to 3, it would be Armageddon for the Ghosts. Do you think they haven’t figured that out?”

By now Dong Xiwen understood the nature of this game.

Zero-sum, utilitarian—the instance forced players to harness collective power to sacrifice the individual.

In this kill-or-be-killed game, the quota of survivors was fixed, and every survivor would bear original sin… Dong Xiwen exhaled softly. “Whatever happens, I don’t think we should harm anyone until the very last moment…”

Qi Si tilted his head. “Got a better idea?”

Dong Xiwen was stumped, racking his brains for an alternative.

Qi Si sighed. “Too early to fret. ‘Battle Royale’ is literally about running. Maybe if we split up and dash in three directions, the Ghosts won’t catch us before the clock runs out.”

The young man’s calm tone carried a trace of resignation, as if the attitudes of his two teammates had truly made him abandon his murderous shortcut.

Dong Xiwen relaxed. “Right. Killing should be the absolute last resort. Maybe we’ll find another way while we’re running…”

Having strung their emotions along with his rhetoric, Qi Si waited until they were no longer focused on the key problem before he began studying the newly generated stage.

The lights were still blinding, yet no source could be found, as though the world were woven from particles of light—every corner glaringly bright, no shadows, nowhere to hide.

The once-cramped space now stretched boundlessly. About the size of a Sports Field, with the three of them standing dead center. Smooth walls could be seen in the distance, punctuated by evenly spaced Doorways.

The instant their eyes registered the scene, a flood of non-narrative information poured into their minds, mapping out the maze of routes inside.

Perfect for a Battle Royale. If you were fast enough and nimble in your turns, zig-zagging through those passages might… actually keep you off the Ghosts’ radar.

Only five minutes left on the Countdown; the looming arrival of the Ghosts felt like the first drop of rain behind black clouds, fraying every player’s nerves.

Qi Si pressed his lips. “Split up. Live or die by fate.”

Hands behind his back, he seemed to be suppressing some impulse.

Dong Xiwen knew that, by the veteran’s usual utilitarian creed, the man ached to kill someone right now for the simplest clear.

An egoist who prized himself above all—so why abandon the crude, straightforward plan at this juncture?

Dong Xiwen couldn’t fathom it. Memories of Act Two replayed: the young man’s words to the group—

“I’ve always loathed that utilitarian rule of sacrificing one to save the many. It’s boring, inefficient.”

Had those been his true feelings?

He calmly expounded his own sins, yet detested Utilitarianism—could it be because he himself had once been the one sacrificed?

Dong Xiwen felt he’d found the ultimate answer; in that instant, the character logic of “Zhou Ke” clicked for him.

His gaze toward Qi Si carried open sympathy.

“You two should get going. If the Ghosts come out and you’re still here, I’ll have to kill someone to Break the Stalemate.” Qi Si adjusted the cold mask on his face and urged them without heat.

He Hui didn’t dare delay; she hurried away in small steps. Dong Xiwen gave him a long look, then followed without a word.

Qi Si stood slackly in place, watching the two figures shrink into the distance until they became one white and one blue speck, vanishing into the shifting light.

Judging that they could no longer see him, he shook his head and turned toward the door marked No. 1.

After the scene changed, the entire space had swollen several times its original size, like a sponge soaked in water and then stretched from within.

The door to No. 1, once within arm’s reach, now lay a good fifty metres away. He strolled over at leisure, reached the handle, turned it, and stepped inside.

The instant he crossed the threshold, the Countdown hit zero and a cold chime rang out—ding.

【Battle Royale, begin】

Crimson smoke coiled up from beneath the floor, sketching a blood-red silhouette starting at the ankles.

It was a young man in a scarlet tuxedo, standing sideways in the centre of the room in the same relaxed posture as Qi Si.

Seeing Qi Si, he tilted his head and bared rows of sharp white fangs: “Heads-up, I can’t help you—the rules are watching from above.”

Qi Si stared into the youth’s eyes and asked earnestly, “Then can you kill me?”

The Red-clad Youth blinked, then narrowed his eyes in a smile. “First, a reminder: the Chips from Act Two are useless in Act Three; they won’t buy your life. Second, if I kill you, I die too.”

Qi Si gave a soft “mm-hm.” “So, your choice?”

A hush spread through the air, carrying an unspoken understanding.

Two seconds later the youth curved his brows, scarlet eyes lighting with eager excitement. “Right now? I’ve wanted to try skinning myself for ages…”

Qi Si’s lips bent in a faint smile.

The dungeon really had his number; he had indeed always wondered what it would feel like to turn himself into a specimen.

Rustling noises crept suspiciously nearer outside the door. Mirrors sprouted from the ground, each reflecting Qi Si’s figure, while translucent arms stretched out, elongating grotesquely.

A huge balance scale rose slowly above the arena, halted at a certain height, and cast a cloud-like shadow, intoning solemn questions.

Qi Si shut the door behind him, sat with his back against it, pulled out his Role Card, and began prying at the edge with a fingernail.

After a moment he peeled away a thin sheet of paper from the surface.

Beneath it lay an entirely different card.

【Role Card – Spectator】

【Effect: “Otherworld”…】

The answer was clear.

Qi Si smiled. “So that’s how it is. As a Spectator, I should have the right to leave the show at any time.”

Charlie had said from the start: the players were both Actors and audience. Yet, vote after vote, game after game, they sank deeper into their roles, embracing “Actor” more and more.

Qi Si included.

Only when Dong Xiwen claimed his own card read “Spectator” did Qi Si realise a player’s role might hide another layer.

If the two roles could overlap, there’d be no need to hand out a lone Spectator card.

Unless… the roles could switch, and “Spectator” was a valid choice in its own right.

“Much as I’d love to chat, I doubt your colleagues will give me the chance.” Leaning against the door, Spectator card in hand, Qi Si felt the frantic pounding and scratching at his back and grinned brilliantly.

“—So, kill me now. I’m done playing this pre-written finale!”

The red youth bared a blood-thirsty smile, hooked a razor-tipped nail under Qi Si’s chin—and in the next instant drove it straight through.

A normal person would have died on the spot; the pain only sharpened Qi Si’s clarity.

He looked down to see himself split along the midline, each side of skin and flesh hanging like an unbuttoned coat.

It should have been agony, yet he beamed with pleasure, colour flushing his cheeks.

Laughing, he watched the scene dim like a curtain call, then flare into brightness as flames erupted.

Only then did his nose catch the acrid stench of scorched matter.

The surroundings had shifted: the burning theatre he had dreamed of on the first night.

But the blaze was less fierce than in the dream; save for one corner where fire licked the sky, only scattered tongues of flame clung to the walls, the lingering embers of a dying inferno.

“Zhou Ke, look at you now! Thought you could clear the game by offing me? Dream on!” Hansen’s vicious snarl rang out, mingled with pained howls.

Qi Si blinked. A man-sized Birdcage stood amid the flames; inside, the naked Hansen hopped to shield his vitals, glaring with a vindictive cackle.

Qi Si nodded in sympathy. “But I still have clothes.”

Hansen: “…”

Hansen: “Aaaaargh!”

Qi Si ignored him, shifting his gaze to find himself in a similar cage—minus the flames or any other discomfort.

A row of cages lined up beside him: two empty, one occupied by a figure hugging her knees—Cynthia.

Good; it seemed anyone who died in the performance ended up here.

Qi Si felt a surge of gratitude that he hadn’t, out of Shuangxi Town habit, wiped out every teammate.

Otherwise, once the cages opened, they’d probably unite to behead him first… Not that Qi Si wasted emotion on things that hadn’t happened.

He sat cross-legged, swept a cheerful glance over the two he’d indirectly killed, and smiled sincerely. “No conflicting interests now. How about we figure a way out of these cages together?”

…Meanwhile, the play continued.

Dong Xiwen clenched his teeth, darting left and right through the archways of the corridor.

Mirrors chased him relentlessly, flickering into walls without warning and lunging with outstretched arms.

A newcomer without any life-saving props, he relied on good reflexes to dodge most attacks.

When arms did latch on, he twisted free with practiced finesse.

Gasping, he dared not slow; legs numb with fatigue moved on sheer momentum.

Rounding a corner, he heard He Hui’s trembling voice: “Dong Xiwen, is that you? Please… kill me now…”