Chapter 227: Death Game 2 (Revised)

Lin Xian and Kiki stared grimly down at the darkness below, where Wang Duo's room had vanished—blocking both sight and sound was the ultimate exposure of human nature, meaning if Wang Duo died, no one would ever know who the killer was.

The remaining seven rooms each held someone with their own thoughts.

In this moment, the evil in human nature was endlessly summoned; Lin Xian's expression turned dark, for the human heart is unfathomable, and this was the most tormenting time.

Soon, everyone saw Wang Duo appear at the far left of the massive room—her frame thin, once vibrant and youthful, now like a willow trembling in a dying wind, standing there utterly lifeless.

"Challenger Eight, if you're ready, let me know."

The voice came from the red skull.

Wang Duo now wore a black blindfold; even from afar, everyone could see her slender body trembling slightly. No matter when, fear of death is innate, and her fists were clenched tightly. After a long pause, she gave a slight nod.

"I declare the game begun!"

The red skull's booming voice made the temperature in the space feel like it dropped by one degree.

Drip~

The first light to turn on was in the seventh room directly in front of Lin Xian; the young man named Chen Jia saw his indicator light up and immediately trembled with nervousness.

He swiftly scanned the area around Wang Duo, then hesitantly pressed the directional buttons on the screen.

Wang Duo heard the command, quickly crouched, jumped up—and leapt!

Thud!

She landed on a solid platform; still unaccustomed to the first jump, she wobbled her arms slightly before steadying herself.

She silently counted numbers in her mind, listening intently to the instructions from her headset.

"Left."

Hearing the command, she rotated her left foot ninety degrees on the heel, then brought her right foot around to avoid directional deviation.

"Forward."

Wang Duo took one step forward.

"Right."

Wang Duo took another step.

The seven people in the observation rooms stared fixedly at Wang Duo; each jump made their hearts tighten.

Clank~ Clank~ Clank~

Inside the massive room, the mechanical floor continuously opened, closed, and shifted.

Meanwhile, the seven people in the observation rooms acted like directors, controlling every move Wang Duo made.

In the upper room, Kiki gripped Lin Xian's hand tighter and tighter, her gaze locked on the jumping girl.

Lin Xian glanced at Kiki and gave her a signaling look.

Kiki immediately understood and nodded.

Below, the jumping game proceeded with unusual smoothness—Wang Duo had successfully reached the far right.

At this moment, everyone saw: only one final step remained.

There, she simply needed to jump forward to complete the challenge.

Everyone's hearts rose to their throats.

Then Lin Xian's gaze sharpened—he noticed Wang Duo, who should have jumped forward, suddenly rotated her right foot and turned right…

Lin Xian's heart sank; he sensed something was wrong.

Wang Duo, moments from completing the challenge, turned toward the direction of the observers.

Having received correct instructions throughout, her previously dull face now held a faint flush; beyond fear of death, repeated jumps had drained her strength. She exhaled softly, pressed her lips tightly, and like before, bent her knees and leapt forward!

Hum!

Instantly, Kiki lunged forward, unleashing an invisible mental force—but strangely, it failed to grasp Wang Duo; everyone watched helplessly as her slender form vanished into the abyss…

Lin Xian's eyes turned sharp; he rose abruptly.

"Ah!" Kiki's face turned pale, unable to believe her mental force had failed.

"I forgot to mention—this is only a projection, not live." Hua Xiaoling sat calmly, gazing at the two.

Lin Xian's gaze grew cold; even under the apocalypse, he could not accept using living people as test subjects.

He looked at Hua Xiaoling and spoke coldly: "Is this the experiment you mentioned?"

Hua Xiaoling's expression flickered; after a brief silence, she said: "Don't rush. This recording isn't over. What you've seen isn't necessarily the truth."

"You've already killed someone—and it's not over? What the hell are you doing?!" Kiki shouted, fists clenched.

Hua Xiaoling said nothing, gestured toward the glass window, signaling them to keep watching.

…

Click~

In the game room, all walls became transparent again.

"Damn it! Who the hell did this?!" Wang Anjian in Room Six exploded in rage.

"Oh my god, she fell! She really fell!", Qiao Min in Room Three was clearly terrified.

"Does this game really kill people?!"

"Who is it?!" Tan Meng in Room Five was the most agitated; she thought hard, then suddenly noticed: Room Two was still dark.

"It's Room Two!"

Everyone turned—and the glass door of Room Two instantly became transparent; inside, Zhao Bo was gone.

"Damn that bastard!!"

"Fucking bastard—he was just pretending to be righteous! I spit on him!" Wang Anjian snarled.

The murderer had appeared.

Now, some panicked, some regretted, some feared, some cursed.

Choosing the correct answer meant surrendering control of survival; the traitor, however, could survive and escape. In this moment, human instinct was endlessly awakened.

"Congratulations, everyone."

The red skull reappeared; though a young life had just ended, its first words were words of celebration.

"First round failed. To make the game more exciting, the reward for the next round is doubled—to two million units of supplies!"

Clank~

The display case lights flared again; the pile of supplies inside had doubled in height.

So much supply—even by train—would require at least two full cargo cars to carry!

Seeing the lavish pile of supplies, everyone fell silent; their gazes subtly shifted.

Survival and supplies—this seemed to tell them all: only selfishness ensures the longest life.

The remaining six now moved in eerie silence; their eyes met, but no one dared speak.

"The second round will be the same as the first—you have thirty minutes for free discussion."

Everyone remained silent, waiting.

The red skull's eerie voice sounded almost excited: "Let me introduce the second round…."

"'The Sword of Trust'!"

Clank!

The floor of the massive room rose again; two iron maidens faced the observers, standing at the center.

Unlike traditional iron maidens, these humanoid metal devices had no spikes inside—instead, they resembled bloated armor, their sharp protrusions replaced by black holes, with the head exposed, vaguely resembling "Barrel Uncle."

The difference was the lower half was split into limbs and torso.

A masked black-clad figure stood beside them, slightly hunched, his exposed eyes gleaming with sharpness—neither man nor ghost.

A chilling sensation swept through them, tightening every heart.

Everyone's gaze swept to the right corner of the room—there, still wet, was a pool of blood where Wang Duo had fallen…

But the body was gone.

"What the hell is this?!"

Seeing the device like a torture instrument, everyone's faces turned grim.

"Let me explain this fun little game," the red skull rasped.

"The game is simple: two challengers enter the specially designed armor. Each armor has seven identical holes, numbered 1 to 7: 1 and 2 on the shoulders, 3 on the abdomen, 4 on the waist, 5 on the chest, 6 and 7 on the legs. The two armors total fourteen holes. The black-clad sword-bearer holds nine blades. The two challengers take turns selecting a numbered hole on the other's armor, and the bearer pierces it. But among the fourteen holes, nine cannot be pierced. That means—if luck favors you—both challengers can win without shedding a single drop of blood!"

The red skull spoke with clear excitement—it clearly approved of this game.

"This round differs from the last: only two may participate. If both survive, they pass and receive supplies and freedom."

"If both die, the mission fails, and the others receive supplies and freedom."

"There is one additional rule: if only one dies, the mission still fails. The survivor receives no reward but may leave freely."

…

"Two people participate?!" Tan Meng in Room Five was terrified: "This… this game has nothing to do with the other four?"

"Correct," the red skull said slowly. "Those who do not step forward have forfeited their right to choose—they must wait for the outcome."

At these words, everyone paled.

This game was nearly identical to the last: survival rested entirely in others' hands.

Even those who volunteered had their lives in the other's control.

Who would let someone stab them?

Wang Anjian's gaze turned cold: "I won't play this game. Let someone stab me?"

Fang Xiaonian, among them, trembled, trying to reassure himself:

"If all nine blades target only shoulders and legs, none would be fatal—and with nine holes being unpierceable, if the two agree…"

But he dared not continue speaking.

Made an agreement?

Wang Duo's death was still fresh in everyone's mind—who would trust another person?

Unbeknownst to him, Qiao Min beside him had overheard his words; she hesitated, then suddenly whirled around to stare at Han Dong.

At that moment, Han Dong's gaze met his directly.

The two instantly understood each other!

If there was one person left among the six who still retained trust, it was these two.

Qiao Min trembled all over; she wanted to speak, but could not summon the courage.

Because she feared being stabbed.

Yet the thought of winning two million units of supplies—and gaining freedom—filled her with overwhelming desire; this might be the best chance for her and her husband to escape!

Even as cautious and timid as she was, she knew that in this game, only she and Han Dong were suited for it.

Han Dong saw through her thoughts; his face turned pale, he hesitated briefly, then gritted his teeth and gave her a firm nod.

If they missed this chance, they might regret it for the rest of their lives!

Lin Xian glanced at the couple on the far left and guessed what was happening.

This game seemed tailor-made for this husband and wife.

If they didn't participate, no one else would—who would hand a knife to a stranger?

What nonsense!

Time ticked away second by second; everyone remained silent. Clearly, there was no need to discuss this game. As the thirty-minute countdown neared its end, Han Dong, drenched in cold sweat, finally clenched his teeth and raised his hand.

"I'll participate!"

"I… I'll join too." Seeing Han Dong raise his hand, Qiao Min immediately raised hers.

As if afraid someone else would snatch it away.

"Excellent. Our second round of the game now has participants."

The red skull slowly turned toward them, revealing a sinister smile.

"Good luck to you both."

The remaining four sat with grim faces, silent as they stared at the couple; the atmosphere seemed frozen. They had no other choice but to wait for the outcome.

Clang.

The glass doors of Room 1 and Room 3 slowly opened; the shackles on Han Dong and Qiao Min's wrists automatically unlocked. The two stepped out shakily.

Unlike the first round, the remaining rooms were not cut off from sight or sound.

"So, can we talk freely this time?"

Wang Anjian stared around, his expression grave.

Tan Meng trembled violently, her eyes fixed anxiously on the room ahead: "If we want to survive… it seems we can only pray they both die."

At these words, Fang Xiaonian and Chen Jia both wore complex expressions.

"They're husband and wife—if they both choose hand or foot, they probably… won't die, right?" Fang Xiaonian said nervously.

Hearing this, the bald, fat Wang Anjian grunted.

"If they survive being stabbed multiple times, I'll admire them. Whether leg or arm, a single stab through will cause serious injury—it's not that simple."

He was right. The human leg contains major arteries; excessive blood loss, in a post-apocalyptic world with no medical aid, could easily kill an ordinary person—not an adept.

Soon, the lights in the large room ahead flared on. Han Dong and Qiao Min were locked inside humanoid armor, their eyes locking—both filled with terror.

"Wife, we'll win this!"

"Husband, I'm scared!" Qiao Min's voice cracked with tears; fear had completely swallowed her.

"Wife, I love you. Believe me—I'll protect you!"

Perhaps to bolster her courage, Han Dong found a sudden, immense bravery—he clenched his teeth, his lips turning white.

The red skull turned sideways toward them.

"Then, the game begins. Who goes first?"

"Her! Let her choose first!" Han Dong swallowed hard. Letting her choose meant he'd be stabbed first—but how could he bear to stab his own wife?

Qiao Min nodded shakily, glancing at Han Dong with deep gratitude. "O-okay, husband."

The hunched, black-clad sword-bearer stepped forward slowly.

"Choose—number?"

His dry voice sounded like sand poured into a ruined throat—chilling to hear.

Qiao Min's face turned pale, her eyes filled with struggle and hesitation.

She had never faced such a bloody choice; it was a tremendous trial for her.

Han Dong watched, gritted his teeth, and urged urgently:

"Stab me! It's fine—we've always had good luck, remember? That time we got trapped in the collapsed tunnel and found a hole to crawl out?"

"And all those times we faced zombies—we survived, didn't we?!"

"No hardship can defeat us, as long as we stand together!"

Her husband's words stirred her; she regained a sliver of reason. Her fearful gaze fixed on Han Dong's armor, she trembled as she whispered:

"6…6. I choose…6."

Number 6: Han Dong's right thigh.

The lowest position among all the numbers.

As soon as she spoke, the others across the room heard clearly—it was indeed the safest choice.

At that moment, everyone's hearts tightened.

The black-clad sword-bearer slowly approached Han Dong's position and drew one sword from the nine in the rack.

Han Dong felt unprecedented fear and tension; his heartbeat pounded like a drum in his ears. His face turned pale, sweat poured down.

The sword-bearer raised his blade, its glinting tip aimed precisely at hole number 6.

Then—he thrust swiftly!

In an instant, Han Dong felt his heart freeze; his molars nearly shattered.

But the next second came a sharp—

Ding!

The sound of metal clashing—yet to Han Dong, it sounded like celestial music.

Because that sound meant the hole was fake—unpierceable!

"It's fake! It's fake!"

Han Dong exhaled deeply. In those few seconds, his entire back was soaked.

Qiao Min stared in astonishment. After a long moment, she cried out joyfully:

"Great! Great! Husband, you're okay?!"

Han Dong felt as if he'd escaped death.

Yet the black-clad sword-bearer still stood before him, his voice cold: "Your turn."

"Which part of her will you choose?" Han Dong fell silent for a moment, then suddenly grinned fiercely, looking up at the sword-bearer with resolve.

"How could I stab my wife? I choose… my own number 7!"

At these words, everyone in the isolation room froze.

Wang Anjian frowned, staring at him as if he were an idiot; Fang Xiaonian stared in shock, stunned by Han Dong's courage.

"Oh? Still playing the gentleman now?" Wang Anjian sneered.

Tan Meng's expression was complex. Her eyes locked on the screen, and for the first time, she secretly hoped the blade would kill one of them.

Realizing how monstrous her thought was, Tan Meng shuddered. She glanced sideways at the other three, silently reassuring herself: they must be thinking the same thing.

Even these strangers were stunned by Han Dong's choice—let alone Qiao Min.

"Husband!!!"

Qiao Min was weeping uncontrollably, sobbing loudly: "Husband, I love you!! Thank you, husband!!"

"It's fine, wife!" Han Dong's gaze was firm, his breath ragged. "It'll be over soon—I'll protect you. I…"

!

Before he could finish, the black-clad sword-bearer silently drew a gleaming blade.

Then—he stabbed!

Pfft!

A soft, clean sound—the blade pierced swiftly, driving straight through Han Dong's thigh!

"Aaaah!!"

Han Dong's scream echoed, sending chills down every spine.

The hole at that position—was real.

Agony surged through his leg; a cold numbness spread. Han Dong was yanked back to reality. His fleeting hope shattered instantly—only raw survival instinct remained.

Lin Xian watched Han Dong's pale, terrified face, his heart tightening.

He knew: promises were being tested…

Below, the black-clad sword-bearer now stood before Qiao Min. His voice, dry as ever, spoke:

"Your turn."

Qiao Min looked frantically between the sword-bearer and Han Dong, trembling as she whispered—

"Then… then… his position one?"

Position one is the shoulder—it's already avoided the vital spots compared to others.

But at this moment, Han Dong lifted his head in utter shock, ignoring the searing pain in his leg, staring fearfully at Qiao Min.

He hurriedly said, "No… wife, you can't!"

Qiao Min watched him anxiously.

"Huh? Position one won't do? Then… then… what about position two, the shoulder?"

Hearing this, Han Dong panicked: "Wife, it's not about the number! I mean, how did it already come to stabbing my shoulder? Your legs are still available, aren't they?!"

Everyone knew that under these circumstances, the legs were the safest positions.

Qiao Min froze at his words. "What… what did you say?"

She said in utter disbelief.

"Didn't you say you'd protect me?"

Han Dong, on the verge of tears, cried out desperately: "But even so, you can't stab all nine swords into me! If both my shoulders are pierced, where will you stab next?!"

Qiao Min hastily defended herself.

"I-I know… but I'm just a woman. What if stabbing my leg kills me too? You're a man—you can surely hold out longer than I can…"

Hearing this, Han Dong's eyes widened in horror, a chill rising in his chest.

Looking at Qiao Min's tear-filled eyes, Han Dong suddenly felt this woman he loved had become strangely alien.

He stared at her in disbelief, unaware that the black-clad sword-bearer had ignored their argument entirely and walked over, picking up a blade gleaming with cold light.

"Wait! Wait!"

Han Dong snapped back to reality and shouted in alarm.

But the black-clad sword-bearer paid him no heed—plunged the blade straight into his shoulder!

Position two!

Ding~

The crisp sound snapped Han Dong out of his near-fainting terror. His mind went blank for several seconds as he stared at the blade that had failed to pierce him, his expression complex.

As if some deep conviction within him had suddenly become uncertain.

"Great! Husband, great!!!"

Seeing this, Qiao Min cheered: "You're safe! Thank goodness!"

Huh~

Huh~

The black-clad sword-bearer stood before Han Dong. Now, having returned from hellish terror, Han Dong bowed his head, sweat drenching his forehead, his glasses fogged white.

He breathed heavily, his face dark and terrifying.

"Your turn to choose," the black-clad sword-bearer asked.

Silence.

Long pause.

Han Dong spoke slowly, still not lifting his head, his gentle bangs hiding his eyes.

"I choose her position six."

"Wait!!"

Qiao Min screamed upon hearing this: "Han Dong, weren't you supposed to protect me?!!!"

Watching the black-clad sword-bearer slowly approach her, Qiao Min's terror reached its peak—she screamed with all her strength.

At that moment, Han Dong slowly raised his head, his fogged glasses revealing eyes that looked faintly afraid. He trembled as he spoke:

"Didn't I… already protect you?"

"Stop! Stop! Don't!"

Qiao Min shrieked in agony as the black-clad sword-bearer raised the blade!

Pfft!

One blade pierced through!

Qiao Min's position six—was real.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!"

Qiao Min let out a piercing scream; the agony sent her fear skyrocketing to its peak.

"I choose his position three!!"

Without waiting for the black-clad sword-bearer to ask, Qiao Min, in excruciating pain, blurted out her choice without hesitation.

At these words, everyone's expression darkened.

She hadn't even chosen the remaining position one on the shoulder—she went straight for position three, the abdomen.

Had she lost her mind from pain?

The turn of events stunned everyone; the two who had trusted each other moments ago had now become strangers.

Lin Xian scanned the room; everyone else's faces had turned grim.

This game was even more twisted than the first round—right before everyone's eyes, it used the instinct for survival to utterly crush trust between people.

In the room, Han Dong's eyes were wide with terror.

He watched helplessly as the black-clad sword-bearer approached, raised his hand, and stabbed!

He closed his eyes, as if welcoming death.

Ding!

Han Dong was lucky—this position was fake too!

At this point, Han Dong no longer hesitated—he shouted decisively: "I choose her position seven."

Position seven—still the leg.

"Ahh! No! No! Han Dong, you bastard!!!!"

The black-clad sword-bearer approached again and stabbed.

Pfft!

Qiao Min's position seven—also real.

"Ahh!!!"

A shrill cry of agony.

Qiao Min, both legs pierced, nearly fainted from pain; her whole body trembled and spasmed uncontrollably as she sobbed in agony: "Han Dong, you bastard!!"

Yet at this moment, Han Dong shouted with excitement:

"Great, wife!"

Qiao Min turned her head in horror, staring at him in disbelief: "What… what did you say?! You think it's great that I'm pierced?! I must've been blind to ever love you—are you a demon?!"

Han Dong's face was pale as he shook his head, his eyes filled with desperate hope as he explained:

"No! Wife, listen to me! Nine swords, fourteen holes—six stabs have already happened: three real, three fake. One on my leg, two on yours. That means eight positions remain, with six fake holes—but only three swords left!"

Han Dong was a math teacher; the fact he could still analyze rationally under these conditions was remarkable.

Hearing Han Dong's words, Qiao Min regained some clarity.

She thought hard, then nodded slightly, gritting her teeth:

"Yes… only three swords left…"

"Stay calm, stay calm!" Han Dong urged.

"Calm?!" Qiao Min glared at him, eyes red with both grievance and hatred, screaming: "You've only been stabbed once—I've got both legs wounded, I'm dying, do you understand?!"

"But I've never chosen your upper body!" Han Dong replied.

"I don't care!" Qiao Min's eyes burned red. "Since three swords remain, I think they should all go to you—that's fair!"

Han Dong's face turned ashen, his lips trembling with fury:

"You're insane! I only have one shoulder left—my upper body's already been stabbed twice. The remaining two are chest and waist. Your shoulder hasn't been touched at all! How is that fair? If either my chest or waist is real, I die, don't I?!!!"

"You could've used both your shoulders and one of mine to share the three swords—maybe all the holes are fake!"

"Then we'd both survive, wouldn't we?!"

Han Dong shouted, utterly unable to comprehend her decision.

"Impossible!"

Qiao Min shrieked bitterly: "Stab my shoulders twice? Are you insane?!"

"I'm not insane! This game requires both of us to survive to win—I'm stating facts! If I die, we both lose!" Han Dong retorted.

Survive…

Survive…

Han Dong's words echoed in her ears. The icy blades piercing her legs brought unbearable pain, and terror surged as death crept closer.

Then, a demonic thought suddenly rose in her mind.

Seeing her silence, Han Dong felt something was wrong.

Bright red blood kept flowing from beneath Qiao Min's armor, filling the air with a thick, nauseating stench of blood—frightening, maddening.

Long pause.

Qiao Min slowly lifted her head, her hollow eyes fixed on the red skull.

"There… there are still three… three swords left. That means I still have two chances, right?"

At these words, everyone was stunned.

The four people sitting in the room all grew grim expressions, sensing something ominous in the air.

"Hey!" Qiao Min suddenly shouted at the red head.

"I want to know—if a person is dead, can you still stab swords into the holes left on their body?"

Han Dong heard this and his pupils shrank in shock; he stared at Qiao Min in disbelief, then cried out in terror:

"Hey, Qiao Min, honey… what are you planning to do?!"

Qiao Min did not answer him. Instead, she glared at the "Hatter" with bloodshot eyes.

At that moment, the red head suddenly laughed—a strange, chilling laugh, as if it had caught the scent of its favorite thing.

"The rules don't say it's forbidden," the Hatter said in a low voice.

"So a living person can stab swords into a dead person's body!"

At these words, Han Dong's face turned deathly pale; he immediately shouted at Qiao Min:

"Honey! You'll die! You'll really die! Don't you remember our promise? We were supposed to survive together!!"

"Only two people surviving counts as victory—we're about to win!!"

"What are you going to do?!!"

The shift in the room's atmosphere made the other four observers' faces darken with dread; this outcome seemed impossible, yet somehow inevitable.

One person surviving is enough to leave.

This rule felt like a curse, finally making Qiao Min realize something.

Like the deepest, most primal truth of human nature.

Survival!

Lin Xian watched the giant red head—he had seen the correct way to play this game from the start.

Two people dead, the other four can leave.

One person dead, the other can leave.

In truth, this game was designed to shatter every intimate bond—the simplest way was to deceive the person you trusted most, then kill them with a single stab!

…

Qiao Min's expression turned dark and hollow; her eyes were empty with terror. Han Dong's shouts seemed to vanish entirely from her awareness.

With a mad, numb stare at the red head, her lips trembled as she asked:

"Then… can I use both my chances at once?"

The red head's smile widened, replying with the same words as before.

"The rules don't say it's forbidden."

But these words sent Han Dong into a frenzy; his eyes bulged as he screamed at the Hatter:

"How is this allowed?! This is cheating! This is against the rules!!!"

He screamed hysterically, as if something inside him had just snapped into place.

He had thought the rules were complex—but they were shockingly simple.

As he raged against the unfairness of the rules, Qiao Min on the other side bowed her head, her eyes vacant, staring straight ahead, her vision drowned in the stench of her own bloodied legs.

She looked at the black sword-wielder before her and said:

"I choose… his #4 and #5."

Her voice was soft, flat.

Qiao Min knew—if these two chances didn't kill Han Dong, his final stab would target her vital points. So she left herself no room for mercy.

Those simple words sent Han Dong's mind blank; his whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.

He understood. He finally understood.

The most reliable trust, the strongest love—none of it could withstand the deepest selfishness and the will to survive.

He had foolishly believed this was a game of trust.

The true way to play this game

was to begin with the intent to kill the other—not to foolishly share the damage…

If you kill the other, you can stab all remaining swords into their corpse—even if only two swords remain, you can stab them into your own legs and still guarantee survival!

Even without any supplies, you still earn the chance to leave alive.

Only the closest, most trusted person can be chosen—and you must kill them, utterly destroying your humanity!

This… was the optimal solution to this game!

(End of Chapter)