Chapter 313 – Colosseum (21) “I am Lin Crow”

Unnamed Guild base, inside Frog Hospital’s office.

A newly installed big screen hung in front of the desk, broadcasting Lin Ye’s progress in clearing the Colosseum instance from his perspective.

The streamer Lin Ye, like every other player, was staring fixedly at the slate relay of Nian Fu and Chang Xu’s movements.

Chang Xu, the number-one rookie, had still accumulated quite a few fans; right now a huge wave of them flooded Lin Ye’s stream, spamming bullets of comments.

“I’m new—what’s happening? Why is everything pitch-black?”

“Chang Xu is hunting a Slaughter-path player called ‘Qi Si’—seems he’s that Si Qi from the Hopeless Sea instance, no pushover.”

“Yeah, he even used the Dark Judge card to make killing him the main quest—enemy of the world and still alive, tough.”

“Am I the only one who thinks Chang Xu’s off this time? Condemning the guy without asking right from wrong—what if it’s a misunderstanding?”

“I bet Chang Xu’s feeling guilty himself—didn’t even dare turn on his own stream. By the way, is this the legendary Identity Card? The effect is terrifying…”

Ignoring the brain-dead fan spam, there were still some calm, objective comments that broadly reflected players’ views on Chang Xu’s actions.

Setting aside whether Qi Si was a Slaughter-path player, Chang Xu’s relentless pursuit alone was enough to put most players on edge—who knew if he’d wipe out others the same way?

To say nothing of the Dark Judge card, a killing tool that basically let you murder whomever you wished… some players had already quit the game, preparing posts on the forum denouncing Jiuzhou Guild’s arrogance.

Lin Chen sat behind the desk, ignoring the chaotic barrage, tracking Qi Si’s situation through Nian Fu’s eyes.

He heard Qi Si confess to Nian Fu that he was already dead, saw him collapse in a pool of blood, life ebbing away with every crimson drop.

The red-suited youth wore a tranquil smile, half-lidded eyes gazing at the dome; the scarlet of his pupils faded as they dilated, all sharpness dissolving into a serene blankness.

After drawing the blood to lift the curse, the Ratmen prostrated themselves; rich, saturated colors draped the scene in a religious-painting holiness.

Lin Chen suddenly felt Qi Si looked exactly like the dismembered god in those frescoes.

“Brother Qi, what’s your next plan? Anything I can help with?” Lin Chen asked again.

He didn’t know Qi Si’s intentions, but inwardly believed Qi Si already knew how to clear the instance.

Otherwise why bother lifting the Ratmen’s curse? It had to be part of the solution.

Come to think of it, ever since they met Qi Si had never miscalculated—how could he die so easily in an instance?

The Frog Hospital had been just as perilous, yet he’d managed to escape unscathed.

“The plan, huh…”

Qi Si had long known from Lin Chen’s description that Nian Fu’s view was being relayed by the slate, so every word and action carried a hidden message, enough to mislead the other players.

He wanted to bait the players—more precisely, Chang Xu—into a certain choice using half-truths; that decision would be a key factor in whether he could revive.

But that alone wasn’t enough; he still had to gamble on an even lower probability.

This could no longer be called a “plan”; it was pure gambling—a single misstep would lose everything, the payoff nowhere near worth the risk, yet he had to stake everything on it.

Qi Si figured he’d been unlucky his whole life; though fortune occasionally smiled, it was never the norm.

Besides… he didn’t believe Li, the one who controlled fate, would ever be fair.

“My plan is… after I die, carry on my will and live well; remember to light a stick of incense for me at New Year’s.” Qi Si narrowed his eyes, beaming.

Lin Chen thought, “Brother Qi’s joking again,” and was about to reply when the youth continued: “Lin Chen, by my count I’ve only ten minutes left. Stay and talk with me these last moments…”

What did that mean? It wasn’t a joke?

But how? He looked like he’d arranged everything… Lin Chen froze; he suddenly recalled Qi Si had once explained the trait of The Undying—

after injury there’s no self-healing; once the blood runs out, eternal sleep follows.

In other words, any wound inside an instance was a death sentence for Qi Si!

Yes, however flawless Qi Si’s schemes, he was still human—he could err, could slip, could be killed… yet Lin Chen had always ignored that, used to relying on Qi Si to weather crises; even knowing Qi Si faced certain doom, he assumed the man could turn misfortune into blessing. “Lin Chen, after I die, don’t wear the Human Skin Mask again; let the identity of ‘Lin Crow’ vanish for good. Right now you’ve left few clues—stay out of their sight and they’ll never link you to Unnamed Guild.

“Then you can enter Jiuzhou Guild under the name Lin Chen. Chang Xu had a good impression of you in Rose Manor, and you often post free walkthroughs on the forum; say you were used by me in the Wraith instance and they’ll believe you.

“The Final Dungeon is near, the situation treacherous; joining a big guild beats fighting alone.”

Lin Chen opened his mouth, but no words came.

He suddenly realized that though nominally the guild master, he depended on Qi Si for everything—from setting up the guild to negotiating with other factions—like a child who refused to grow up, needing Qi Si to handle every chore.

When Qi Si needed help, all he could do was dig up some information, foolishly asking what Qi Si required before knowing what he should do himself.

Qi Si called it an investment, but from start to finish it was one-way devotion; Lin Chen could offer no assistance… even now Qi Si still planned for him, willing to use his own reputation as a stepping-stone. “Mm, time flies—only ten seconds left.” Qi Si’s voice was soft as a dream. “Ten, nine, eight, seven… three, two, one…”

The final whisper scattered into silence; all sound vanished.

Lin Chen heard Qi Si announce his own death so lightly, fists clenching and unclenching.

Everything before him felt like a nightmare dragging at a lost traveler; inwardly he refused to believe Qi Si was dead, trying to convince himself it was just another prank.

But the stream showed Qi Si’s lifeless corpse, and the soul-level link quietly snapped like a thread slipping through fingers.

For the first time Lin Chen truly realized Qi Si wasn’t a god but a man—one who could be wounded and could die. On the desk lay piles of materials: past clearance records, related books and academic papers—all exchanged with points from the Eerie Game for anything possibly linked to the Colosseum instance.

Sheets covered in writing lay in disorder, open books stacked haphazardly, paragraphs circled in black and red for relevance; draft paper sprawled across them, scrawled with frantic deductions.

But everything felt like nothing more than self-deceiving pretense—futile, useless, unable even to delay Qi Si’s death… Lin Chen’s mind went blank as he stared at the scenes playing out in Lin Ye’s live-stream.

The Ratmen revered Qi Si as a god, carried off his corpse, and vowed to protect Nian Fu.

Inside the Colosseum, the players pieced together Qi Si’s motives… Lin Chen realized Qi Si had long known he was doomed; by hastening his own death and using his blood to lift the Ratmen’s curse, he was merely paving the way for Nian Fu.

That was Qi Si—always scheming for his companions, whether for the longtime friend that was Lin Chen or for Nian Fu, a stranger met only in this instance… But why did he deserve it? He wasn’t worthy… Lin Chen’s nails dug deep into his palms.

He was the most ordinary of men, ranked a mere thirtieth on the rookie rank, neither strong, nor quick, nor knowledgeable—lucky and nothing more.

Surviving the Novice Pool had already been a fluke; what right had he to expect veteran players destined for the top of the Eerie Game to sacrifice so much for him?

“Maybe because your name sounds like a novel’s Protagonist; figured it wouldn’t hurt to invest.”

Qi Si’s words still rang in his ears. Once, Lin Chen had resolved to become valuable, to prove Qi Si’s investment sound.

But could a good-for-nothing like him ever offer something Qi Si needed? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t measure up… “The god decreed his body be kept; he shall be reborn in time,” the Ratmen chanted piously.

The word “reborn” struck Lin Chen like lightning.

His Identity Card was Plague Doctor, able to resurrect one dead player in an instance.

Yet disappointment quickly followed.

Once an instance began, there was no way to join Qi Si’s midway… In the upper-left of his vision, the black-robed doctor clutching a crow-mask moved among countless undead, a mocking reminder that he could save no one.

Lin Chen slumped in his chair, eyes vacant.

He couldn’t save Qi Si; once again he’d betrayed that trust. He owed Qi Si far too much, and now could never repay… Deep in his mind a scarlet leaf appeared, swaying gently.

Lin Chen’s attention snapped toward it; instinct told him it was linked to Qi Si, and he reached out with a tendril of thought.

A line of emotionless information arrived—

“Enter the Colosseum instance and claim final victory; you will gain the right to interfere across other timelines.”

In a space of utter darkness, Qi Si sat idly, waiting for the outcome.

He believed he wasn’t the only one waiting—the Eerie Game was waiting too.

The gambit he’d laid left the final verdict debatable; the Game couldn’t disqualify him outright.

So he had to sit on this backstage bench a while longer, instead of being booted back to reality with half an hour to write a will… Of course, Qi Si figured he wouldn’t write one; he’d just use the time to clear a few more rounds of happy match.

“I’m curious—how did you know that winning the Colosseum instance grants the power to interfere across timelines?” Si Qi’s figure reappeared, intrigued.

Qi Si could roughly tell how far his plan had advanced.

It seemed the timed message he’d set via the Sea-God Scepter had reached Lin Chen; trusting Lin Chen’s intellect, he’d take it for a hint from the Eerie Game and follow it devoutly… “Guessed,” Qi Si drawled, lifting his gaze to meet Si Qi’s eyes. “The Colosseum is clearly a microcosm of the Eerie Game, a testing ground tangled with time and space. If it can fold other instances inside, tearing through its own timelines should be easy.”

“Desire is the core logic here; the rules say the victor may see the god and have a wish granted—even a god can’t defy that. Li, so-called ‘Master of Time and Space,’ should have no trouble granting Lin Chen’s wish to reach my timeline.”

Si Qi looked down at him, crimson eyes curved in an unreadable smile. “You seem certain your believer will risk everything to save you—and win the Colosseum Game.”

“Just another bet,” Qi Si murmured, studying his fingertips. “Much like your bet that I’d win.”

…At the Ruins of the Sunset, Lin Chen left the guild base, paused beside a root of the World Tree, and transferred back to the Game Space.

Standing before the Rabbit Hole instance entrance, he enunciated, “I request entry to the Colosseum instance.”

“This instance is special; fatality rate 88%. Spend 10,000 points to designate entry?”

Lin Chen answered, “Yes.”

He touched the Human Skin Mask still on his face; since the day of the guild assembly he had never taken it off.

He suspected he never would again.

“Once you enter, you will experience the full instance, but no points, endings, or achievements can be gained.”

Lin Chen said, “I understand.”

He leapt into the hole.

“Loading instance… loading complete…”

“instance name: Colosseum.”

“instance type: Multi-player survival.”

“Pre-tip: Man is also a beast. Man is not born to be a beast.”

Lin Chen opened his eyes in a stone chamber; the host, The Goat, pushed open an iron gate and led him up to a high platform.

The instance proceeded methodically.

During self-introductions, a haughty young woman said, “I’m from the Jiuzhou Guild. This instance looks competitive, but if we cooperate we can clear it with minimal casualties.”

Lin Chen, silent until now, turned to her and asked, “You’re from Jiuzhou—so you’re streaming, right?”

“Of course,” she replied proudly. “We’ve nothing to hide.”

“Good,” Lin Chen uttered, stepping up to her.

Viewers of every stream then saw the face of “Lin Crow,” ghostly gloomy and chilling.

He stood straight, crow-black cloak over a white suit, fluttering in the wind.

“I’m Lin Crow, Guild Master of the Unnamed Guild,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “Not long ago, the Jiuzhou Guild lured our members into an instance under the guise of cooperation, then murdered and persecuted them.

“So I’ve entered this instance myself—to rescue my Vice Guild Master.”