Chapter 471

Li Cheng recognized the Joker by his gaze, expression, and aura.

Players' eyes often carry a numb, weary exhaustion from long-term persecution and manipulation by the Kill System.

The difference between them and native inhabitants of the script world is like that between a cockroach and a Canadian lobster—though Canadian lobsters were indeed once called sea cockroaches by British colonists.

The Oracle paused, then lowered her voice: "You know him?"

"No connection."

Li Cheng shook his head decisively; the original version of the Joker had long since died somewhere, and this one was an Nth-generation replica.

He had possessed men, women, transgender individuals, and cockroaches, leaping between bodies, and now merely taking the form of a child—harmless.

At this moment, the blond youth had donned a black priest's robe with gold embroidery, fastened his belt and collar, hung a cross over his chest, and held a holy book in his hands.

He adjusted the camera on its tripod, then walked slowly toward the Joker on the wooden horse,

murmuring devoutly: "Jesus called a little child to him, placed him among them, and said: 'Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.'"

Having finished, the blond youth set down the book, slipped on a perforated oral gag designed to stimulate salivation, gripped a leather whip in his right hand, and held a candle in his left.

"Uh…" The Oracle hesitated slightly as the rich heir dripped scalding wax onto the Joker, causing him to scream like a slaughtered pig,

while the blond youth himself continued mumbling prayers: "Jesus said: 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'"

Crack!

One lash struck down; the Joker wept and sniveled, his mouth towel accidentally falling out,

and as he turned his head, he saw the blond youth pulling from a box a monstrous, spiky anal massager, thicker and longer than a Mexican cactus, and he shrieked: "Master Pi Fu, save me!"

Master Pi Fu?

The youth instinctively turned his head—before he could make sense of it, Li Cheng had taken control of the security guard Bob, kicked out, and smashed his skull.

Thud!

The blond youth slammed headfirst into the wall with a dull thump, eyes rolling back as he passed out.

The noise was loud enough to reach outside the villa—but the four armed guards downstairs had long grown accustomed to their employer's "playtime" noises, and paid no mind, continuing their posts.

The Oracle sliced open the security guard's skin-suit with a rusty surgical knife; Li Cheng leapt out, breathed in the outside air, then casually unfastened the Joker's restraints: "Tell me how you got here."

"Thanks, bro. This one's a long story."

The Joker wiped his snot and tears, then began speaking.

Like Li Cheng and the Oracle, he had received the initial mission to stand before a mirror at 20:00 tonight, and had witnessed the bizarre teleportation scene.

One blink, and he landed in a basement with several one-way glass walls, sold as merchandise for wealthy patrons to choose from.

The rich heir now unconscious in the corner was the heir of a New York old-money family who had paid one million U. S. dollars for the Joker.

The Oracle raised an eyebrow; she was paralyzed from the waist down and sat on the table: "Like the movie Taken?"

"Yeah."

The Joker nodded; Taken was an action film starring Liam Neeson, about a protagonist rescuing his daughter from Albanian traffickers who planned to sell her into slavery.

In fact, even before the Kill System arrived, 6 to 8 million people worldwide were trafficked annually—forced into labor, sexual exploitation, or organ harvesting—with Europe and America as primary destinations.

"I only spent a few minutes in the basement, but from what I observed, the slaves on this island fall into three categories."

The Joker knew Li Cheng and the others didn't save him for free; to prove his worth, he rushed to explain: "The first are American girls lured by Epstein—since they may still have family on land, if they obey, Epstein pays them.

If they resist, he controls them with drugs and illegal imprisonment.

The second are foreign slaves Epstein bought through special channels—from South America, Africa, Asia, Europe.

These slaves have no American status; if they die, no one cares—they're treated as disposable consumables.

Customers can abuse them freely, even kill them.

The third are people like us—beautiful-faced and unusually 'pure,' marked as SVIP-exclusive.

Either sold at high prices in the basement auction, allowing buyers to take them off the island,

or kept by Epstein himself, reserved for top-tier VIPs."

The Joker scratched his head, hesitating: "Though I was blindfolded with a semi-transparent hood and gag when taken from the basement, I think there was another underage slave there—possibly a player.

I just don't know his identity."

Another player meant more strength; the Oracle rubbed her chin: "Can you remember the location of the underground auction room?"

"Of course—I'm from the 【Crazy Laughter Troupe】, after all. I can die, but I can't be useless." The Joker immediately perked up; when taken away, he had mentally recorded his route by counting time, measuring distance, and listening to surrounding sounds.

With no paper or pen, he pulled from a plastic crate a bottle of baby lubricant stamped with a gorilla logo, sprayed it on the floor, and used his fingers to draw a scaled-down map.

"Wait—that script mission is in a parallel world."

The Oracle instantly realized: the real-world Epstein Island covered only about 0.29 square kilometers, shaped like a bird, far from land.

But according to the Joker's sketch, this island was at least three square kilometers—more than ten times larger.

Li Cheng immediately pushed open the window, stepped onto the sill, and silently climbed onto the roof. From above, he gazed into the distance.

As expected, the island was far larger than reported in real-world news: the east held endless beaches, the west steep cliffs, and the north dense forests.

Alongside the forest lay a runway over 1,500 meters long, capable of handling Gulfstream luxury private jets.

Li Cheng leapt back into the room; all three players simultaneously thought:

'Shit.'

Hunting eight SVIPs in a child's body was already hard enough—now the arena had expanded tenfold, complete with an airport, helicopter pad, and dock. Once exposed, the VIPs would scatter like monkeys after a gunshot.

Worse still, who knew what the Kill System might add? Like declaring "all VIPs are actually subterranean lizard people, members of the Illuminati, Freemasons, and Skull and Bones, secretly aiming to control the world."

In a real fight, those VIPs would tear off their human skins and transform into two- or three-meter-tall giant lizards.

Then the players could only scream: "Kill System, I burn your dream!"

"Wake this guy up first," the Oracle said after a moment's thought, decisive: "Extract information from him."

"I'll do it!"

As the saying goes: petty people seek revenge from dawn till dusk—the Joker was never a righteous man, and now reduced to a child, he was a true petty soul.

Without a moment's delay, he snatched up the cactus-like spiky massager from the floor in a flash, flipped up the priest's robe,

With a soft "pfft" and a sound like tearing cloth, he violently thrust it into the blond youth's body.

To describe it with an ancient poem, it would be roughly,

"The flower-strewn path has never been swept for a guest,"

"The humble door is opened for you today."

"The peony weeps blood, cinnabar falls,"

"The rabbit-moon tonight shines on the rear court."

"Guh!"

The blond youth was jolted awake by the pain, his eyes nearly splitting, tears, snot, and drool streaming down his face, letting out a wretched wail: "Mmmmmm."

The room's walls were lined with soundproofing material, and he himself was wearing a ball gag, so this bit of sound couldn't reach the outside world at all.

"You guys."

He groggily turned his head, opened his blurry eyes, saw three young children, and the terrifyingly shaped security guard's skin in the corner, and instinctively asked: "Who are you people?!"

"Since you've sincerely asked, I'll mercifully tell you."

Li Cheng grabbed his hair and said with a light laugh: "Know APTX4869? That's a special drug secretly developed by the Black Organization, capable of making the human body revert to childhood.

I'm MI6 agent Akemi Miyano, she's the biochemist Haibara Ai, and he's the famous detective Conan Edogawa.

The three of us are here to investigate Epstein Island. If you don't want to be tortured, just honestly confess everything."

In theory, the manga Detective Conan was serialized starting in 1994, and the anime aired in 1996. Even bin Laden's computer had the anime saved on it.

But whether it was because this blond youth lived too fulfilling a life and had no interest in Japanese anime, or because the searing pain behind him was interfering with his thinking,

He didn't bother puzzling over what APTX4869 was, his face looking dazed, and mumbled incoherently: "I'll talk, whatever you want to know I'll tell you, ohhhh—"

The blond youth suddenly burst into a string of low roars, his whole body curling up like a cooked shrimp,

??

Why are you screaming so loud?

Li Cheng let go of the rich second-generation's hair and turned his head, only to see the Joker awkwardly say, "Uh, this massager seems to come with a built-in electric shock function, I accidentally tripped the switch."