Chapter 110: Blast

On the high-definition screen, Annie’s vote count surged rapidly, soon surpassing Leonardo to become number one.

Cutting off the fuel under the cauldron—how terrifying.

Several players wore expressions as if they’d seen a ghost, all guessing Annie’s move was likely inspired by the real-world case of Carol v. Trump.

On April 25, 2023, Carol, a 79-year-old American female writer, filed a lawsuit at the Federal Court in Manhattan, New York, accusing former U.S. President Trump (then a New York businessman) of forcing sexual acts upon her in the 1990s inside a department store dressing room.

Despite the excessive passage of time, lack of critical physical evidence, and Carol’s own vague recollection of the exact date—only remembering it was roughly mid-90s.

But since she filed a civil suit, not a criminal one, the jury ruled Trump bore some responsibility and ordered him to pay Carol two million dollars in sexual assault damages and three million dollars in defamation damages.

(Under U.S. law, criminal cases in such matters require clear physical evidence; civil cases require only unanimous jury opinion to impose penalties.)

Trump was furious with the outcome, repeatedly made public statements belittling Carol, and on January 16 of the following year, was again ruled by the Manhattan Federal Jury to pay Carol a total of eighty-three million three hundred thousand dollars in defamation damages and fines.

Watching her vote count rise alone to the top, Annie sneered inwardly. Evidence? What the hell do I need evidence for? Setting facts aside, aren’t you still responsible?

Rumors cost nothing to spread; refuting them exhausts you. The one accusing you knows better than you how falsely accused you are. This whole thing was fabricated offhand by Annie—how could Irwan possibly produce evidence?

Even if Irwan produced photos or other physical proof showing he hadn’t been in Boston two years ago, Annie could instantly retract and say perhaps she’d misremembered the timing due to prolonged psychological trauma—maybe it was three or four years ago.

‘This isn’t a courtroom, where the burden of proof lies with the accuser. Even in court, the Carol case stands as precedent—you can still manipulate the audience into judging Irwan guilty.’

Annie’s mind churned, yet her face still maintained an expression of fear, pain, and terror.

‘You—’

Irwan, the Indian-American hunk, was seething with rage. In the real world, he was a second-generation Indian elite immigrant; both his parents were Silicon Valley executives, and he himself belonged to the relatively fair-skinned Brahmin caste. His looks were no less than Leonardo’s.

He also possessed the skill called {The Kama Sutra}, which temporarily boosted his physical stats and charm after yoga practice—clearly advantageous in this dating reality show.

But Annie’s devastating smear campaign completely disrupted his plans—he was now on the defensive, trapped in an endless cycle of self-exoneration.

Anything he said in front of the camera was useless; rational defense would be seen as sophistry;

Admitting guilt and begging forgiveness would be seen as insincere;

Using violence would be interpreted as rage-fueled desperation, revealing his true nature;

‘You wanna play this game? Fine, let’s die together!’

Irwan’s face twisted with fury, his hands shaking as he gripped a pair of ornate fist-swords and charged straight at Annie.

Sprinting at full speed, Irwan moved like a blur, the blades of his fist-swords slicing through air with a shrill whistle.

‘Help!’

Annie, like an ordinary person, screamed and shut her eyes. She had already stepped back several paces; now she sidestepped perfectly, slipping behind Leonardo.

‘Fuck!!!’

Leonardo cursed inwardly—Annie had played a masterful trick of diverting the fire. If he pretended to be slow to react or dodged, the audience would see him as incompetent and cowardly, inevitably costing him popularity in the coming episodes.

‘Annie, you’ll pay for this.’

Leonardo gritted his teeth and reluctantly pulled a two-handed greatsword from his backpack, blocking Irwan’s strike.

At the same time, he slightly smirked, feigning a calm, effortless demeanor, and said coolly, ‘Mr. Irwan, please show some gentlemanly conduct.’

‘Help her? You die too!’

Irwan’s eyes bulged with rage; his right hand pushed forward, locking Leonardo’s greatsword, while his left hand struck like a phantom, aiming straight for the opponent’s throat.

Leonardo’s expression didn’t change; he gripped the hilt and dragged it rightward, using the counterweight at the end of the hilt to smash Irwan’s wrist. If it landed, it would shatter the carpal bones, rendering the fist-swords useless before they reached their target.

Irwan knew he couldn’t take the blow head-on; he instantly changed tactics, switching from thrust to horizontal slash. But that fleeting moment of hesitation was seized by Leonardo, who stepped back half a pace, placing himself at the ideal distance for the greatsword’s full power.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

Their weapons clashed at high speed; the battle’s shockwave swept through the living room, smashing tables, chairs, and benches into splinters.

This bloody brawl further boosted the livestream’s popularity, surging past two million to reach two million three hundred thousand.

The screen was instantly flooded with a barrage of comments.

{Good! Kill him! Kill him!}

{I want to see rivers of blood!}

Harley, the Black woman, didn’t want to get involved in the fight; she immediately stood up, feigning shock and helplessness.

Jin Huiying also realized the situation and shouted from where she stood, ‘Stop fighting, both of you!’

Her acting was so convincing she actually burst into tears.

‘One after another, so good at acting—brilliant. I won’t watch the Oscars this year without you two.’

Li Cheng, watching from the corner, muttered to himself—now was no time to do nothing, but he didn’t want to intervene, so he could only...

‘Stop!’

Li Cheng drew his 170mm straight blade, charged two steps forward, then suddenly reversed the blade as if struck by a spring, turning pale and stumbling backward several steps, spitting out a spray of blood from his mouth.

Little Red Riding Hood rushed over anxiously: ‘Mr. Piyifu, are you alright?!’

‘I’m fine—just old injuries from before. I fought alone against over a dozen mutated beasts to escort a group of vegan/environmentalist/animal rights/transgender/depressed/trauma-survivor/minority/disabled/cancer-stricken/overweight orphans across the wasteland to their guardians.’

Li Cheng wiped the blood from his lips (actually from biting his cheek) and sighed with regret.

Harley and Jin Huiying exchanged wary glances—wait, the outside world is a wasteland, where did all these politically correct buffed orphans come from? And what’s this nonsense about veganism and being overweight? Are you eating plants every day, damn it?

This guy named Piyifu’s lying and acting skills are just as impressive.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

On the TV screen, the countdown for this round ended. Several robotic arms simultaneously retracted cameras and boom mics, transforming into cannon shapes, aiming downward and firing metallic rods.

No one knew what principle the robotic arms’ fire-control system used, but they locked onto and tracked Irwan’s high-speed movements perfectly. Four rods pierced his shoulders and thighs, pinning him to the floor like an insect specimen.

The smoking robotic arms ignored Irwan’s screams, roughly grabbed him, and dragged him toward the door.

Bang!

The door opened automatically; the robotic arms hurled Irwan violently into the deep darkness.

His screams faded into the distance, then came the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground, followed by the roar of some beast, and finally, absolute silence.

The door slowly closed under the effect of the damper.

The robotic arms retracted their rods, pulled out vacuum cleaners and floor scrubbers, and began cleaning the wreckage like housekeepers. Some even retrieved glue and wooden panels to patch the large holes in the floor and reattach shattered ceramic ornaments.

The repairs proceeded swiftly and methodically; from a corner of the ceiling, the broadcast speaker crackled to life—still that emotionally rich, deep voice.

‘Ah ha! It seems our {Oh No! I’m Surrounded by Beauties and Hunk} wasteland dating reality show has produced its first eliminated contestant—Mr. Irwan failed to secure enough votes and is sadly out. Next, we’ll give the remaining contestants two hours of rest to return to their rooms and recuperate. After two hours, we’ll proceed with the talent showcase round. Now, a commercial break.’

The livestream ended. On screen, all contestants’ vote counts reset to zero; Irwan’s portrait turned gray and white, with a large red {WASTED} stamped across it.

The next round requires three million popularity.

‘Something’s off...’

Will, the Black man, narrowed his eyes—this reality show eliminates one person per round, yet the popularity requirement keeps rising—it makes no sense. As the number of contestants decreases, the show’s natural dramatic peaks should decline.

Unless someone artificially creates conflict to force dramatic moments...

‘Annie, right?’ Leonardo, forced into the fight, sheathed his greatsword and glared coldly at Annie. ‘I’ll remember you.’

‘Don’t be so cold, handsome.’

Annie feigned vulnerability, blinking her eyes. “I’m just thinking of everyone’s sake—if popularity isn’t met, we all get executed. Besides, I boosted your support rate—you and I can still cooperate in the next round.”

‘Hmph.’

Leonardo Landefeihua , turned and walked away. Others also avoided contact with the snake-woman Annie, leaving the living room to explore the villa.

The villa was enormous, containing not only the living room, master bedroom, secondary bedrooms, kitchen, game room, makeup room, and walk-in closet, but also an indoor pool, indoor gym, private cinema, and parking lot. Through the windows, only darkness stretched beyond.

Leonardo entered a bedroom, closed the door, rubbed his aching shoulders, then suddenly grinned, laughing silently.

Stupid woman, thinking she eliminated a rival—she’s digging her own grave.

‘Stupid?’

At the same moment, Little Red Riding Hood, exploring the villa with Li Cheng, asked sincerely, ‘Why does Mr. Piyifu think Annie is stupid?’

‘Because she really is.’

Li Cheng played with his nuclear lighter casually. ‘She falsely accused Irwan of being a sex offender, eliminating him while crafting for herself the persona of a “survivor of abuse.”’

Now, in future rounds, any contestant targeting her will easily be seen as “harming the vulnerable,” and viewers will naturally lean toward giving her sympathy votes.

From a purely strategic standpoint, Annie’s plan makes sense. But she ignored one thing—the mission briefing mentioned this show’s purpose is to sustain human civilization.

Little Red Riding Hood asked, ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘Ignoring Western political correctness, sustaining human civilization requires both male and female participants, right? The mission briefing and TV ads never mentioned cloning, artificial humans, or anything like that.’

Li Cheng said, ‘Therefore, the final survivors of this show must be one man and one woman—or multiple men and multiple women.’

‘Under these conditions, what’s the most advantageous situation for an individual?’

‘The most advantageous situation...’

Little Red Riding Hood tilted her head, then understood. ‘Only one person of my own gender!’

‘Exactly.’

Li Cheng smiled faintly. ‘The fewer people of your own gender, the more of the opposite gender, the better for you. If only one person remains of your gender, you can never lose.’

In other words, the essence of this reality show isn’t about cross-gender rivalry—it’s about same-gender competition.

Annie’s actions have actually trapped herself.’

He leaned against the wall, jumped onto the table, and reached up to unscrew the ceiling track’s mounting bolts.

Hum!

A robotic arm instantly extended from the track, holding a small LCD panel with a red × symbol, and spoke mechanically: ‘Contestants must not interfere with or damage the camera system. Consequences will be borne by the violator.’

‘Sorry, occupational habit. I’ll be careful next time.’

Li Cheng quickly withdrew his hand, his expression sincere.

The robotic arm paused briefly, then silently retracted.

Hmph—so tightly monitored, afraid contestants will figure out how the camera system works?

Li Cheng squinted, pulled several metal cans the size of paint buckets, each with wires sticking out, from his backpack, and stuck them to the villa’s walls with tape.

As he stuck them on, he also kept watch on the movements of the track-mounted mechanical arm.

“Uh”

Little Red Riding Hood stared at Li Cheng’s actions, her eyes wide, her voice trembling: “Are these bombs?”

“Yeah, homemade IEDs,” Li Cheng replied offhandedly.

IED, short for Improvised Explosive Devices, comes in many forms and uses materials including but not limited to discarded grenades, artillery shells, civilian detonators, and fertilizer. Common in asymmetric warfare in the real world, it is a potent weapon for weaker sides against armored and infantry units of stronger opponents.

All these explosives were handcrafted by Li Cheng himself in the Bone Corridor, using materials bought from the Slums, after studying relevant books.

He chose to handcraft them not only to hone his combat skills, but also because a popular theory on player forums claimed that the Arena, to some extent, counted any “external items” in a new player’s inventory as part of the player’s own strength, thereby increasing mission difficulty.

This was to prevent new players from simply buying ten or twenty standalone thermobaric grenades and stuffing them into their inventory, then blasting everything the moment a monster showed its head.

But if a player crafted their own weapons, ammunition, drones, or vehicles, those would not be counted as “external items.”

During this time, Li Cheng studied theoretical mechanics, materials mechanics, structural mechanics, soil mechanics, fluid dynamics, ammunition engineering, and explosive technology—not only learning to build IEDs himself, but also mastering military demolition.

All IEDs could be controlled via shortwave signals, and each was placed on the villa’s load-bearing walls—if Li Cheng was eliminated, he had no qualms about blowing up the entire villa to test how the production team would react.

Social worldviews, life philosophies, and value systems evolve rapidly with the broader environment. Before 1954, the United States still enforced racial segregation; by 2020, the Black Lives Matter movement had erupted—just over sixty years apart.

From the scrolling comments on the TV screen, it was clear that external time was at least the 22nd century, having endured nuclear war, wasteland chaos, and even the rebuilding of civilization. Logically, moral and value systems should have undergone earth-shattering changes. Yet viewers’ tastes had not deviated much—Annie’s framing tactics still worked.

This in itself was abnormal.

(End of Chapter)