Chapter 443: Performance

At the moment the hat touched his head, his whole body shuddered violently, as if he also realized what an unfortunate symbol this was; his shoulders jerked up and his neck went rigid.

The two people sitting beside him seemed to be his teammates.

After seeing clearly what had happened, the two teammates stared in shock at the red hat on his head; before they could utter a word, the stage announced: "Substitute actor… please take your position."

That voice did not come from a speaker like a normal stage; it seemed to seep from the wood grain of the walls, the dust in the floor cracks, even the interior of the audience's old velvet seats…

From countless invisible pores, it simultaneously seeped out.

It was murky and thick, mixed with the scratchy hiss of an old phonograph record, piercing crystal‑clear into everyone's ears.

It made the hairs on anyone who heard it stand on end, a chill ran up their spine, and their whole body tensed.

The theater fell utterly silent for a moment, until the second announcement sounded: "Substitute actor… please take your position."

The instant the announcement ended, the shattered debris on the stage, together with the prop axe and the unnatural crack in the floor, vanished like pencil marks erased by an eraser, silently and without a trace.

All that remained was the still‑vivid cardboard backdrop and that lone, harsh white spotlight shining on the center of the stage.

Everyone seated below knew who that spotlight was waiting for.

In the dim audience, the male player wearing the red cap jerked upright like a drowning man finally surfacing, shouting, "Help me take it off! Quickly take it off! Just take it off!"

His two teammates immediately reached out, almost simultaneously grabbing the edge of that ominous cap.

The teammate on the left frowned tightly, the one on the right was equally anxious, but just as one of their fingers touched the soft red fabric edge…

Whoosh…

Another gust of wind.

It was the yin wind blowing behind each player.

But it was this wind that lifted the little red cap, which had been fastened to the head of the player in the middle of the team, and it landed on the head of the one who had touched it.

The announcement immediately let out a "shhh" sound, like a sinister laugh.

Immediately afterward, like a death talisman, it repeated those words again: "Substitute actor… please take your position."

This was already the third time.

That red cap had now become as if it were growing on the head of the player on the left of the three‑person team.

His anxiety had not yet faded when he was frozen by shock and a bone‑deep chill; he instinctively reached up to touch it, but his fingertips only dared hover a few inches above the brim, trembling, afraid to make contact.

He could feel the hat's weight—a soft, icy sensation, as if it were alive and clinging tightly to his scalp.

Meanwhile, the teammate on the right sat slumped in the chair beside him, staring at the finger that had almost touched the hat, then at the companion wearing the cap; his face drained of color, his lips quivered, and he could not utter a word.

The teammate in the middle, as if drained of strength, collapsed heavily back into his chair, gasping heavily, his eyes filled with the relief of having survived.

In the silence, the player wearing the cap finally reacted, grabbing the middle teammate's body with a grip that almost dug into his shoulder, and hoarsely bellowed:

"Quickly touch it and take the hat back! Take the hat back! It chose you! It chose you!"

That player kept his head lowered, saying nothing, letting his shoulder sway slightly as his teammate shook him.

He offered no resistance, did not lift his head, and simply stared fixedly at his hands resting on his knees.

"Say something!" the cap‑wearing teammate shouted, his voice distorted as fear completely overrode reason, "I'm doing this to save you… just touch it! Just a touch! Take it back! Please!"

Please.

Those three words struck like the final chunk of ice into the heart of the player who had first been chosen by the little red cap.

He lifted his head extremely slowly.

His face bore no tears, no expression—only a dead‑gray pallor and hollow eyes.

He looked at the face of his companion shrouded in that glaring red.

That face was written with the shock and anger of betrayal and the terror of impending death, twisted almost beyond recognition.

He tugged at the corner of his mouth, gave a faint laugh, and finally said to his would‑be sacrificial pawn: "But I also want to live…"

That light‑hearted sentence, however, was more lethal than any shout or struggle.

The cap‑wearing player's roar cut off abruptly.

He glared fiercely at the teammate with his head bowed; the shock, anger, fear, and pleading in his eyes were gradually replaced by despair.

The last sliver of hope also went out.

His lips moved as if he still wanted to say something, but all that came out were ragged gasps.

The hand gripping his opponent's shoulder slipped limp.

Just when everyone thought the outcome was settled, the teammate on the right suddenly rose to his feet.

He seized the middle player's hand, and with lightning speed—before either could react—pressed it onto the little red cap.

Another gust of wind rose, and the little red cap fluttered.

After winding around, the cap returned to the head of its first owner.

Everything happened too fast—so fast that there wasn't even time for a look of surprise to fully form.

The teammate who had stood up, after doing all that, quickly stepped back one pace.

His face was lost in the deeper darkness of the audience; only the tension in his jawline and the slight rise and fall of his chest could be seen.

He offered no explanation, felt no remorse, and didn't even glance again at the companion whose cap he had just forced back onto.

He simply stood there in silence, his gaze locked firmly on the middle teammate.

"You—" the cap‑wearer managed to utter a single syllable before being cut off…

"You don't want to die, so does he want to?"

That made sense, and Cheng Shuili found herself glancing at that person a few more times, though the dim light prevented her from seeing anything beyond broad movements.

Because of the silence, however, the voice was very clear.

Cheng Shuili waited for the cap‑wearer to retort, and then heard the announcement again.

"Substitute…"

"Zzz… zzz…"

The announcer's voice crackled twice, then suddenly amplified many times over; that voice almost shouted: "Actors, take your places!!!"

This voice was different from the previous announcer's voice; it clearly came from above the audience seats.

It felt as if a monster lurked in the shadows, ready to leap down at any moment and snatch away a living life.

All the players shuddered and looked up, trying to locate the source in the dim light, but saw only a blurry dome and layers of heavy curtain shadows.

Immediately, the hat-wearing player's body jerked violently!

His shoulders, elbows, knees… all his joints simultaneously emitted a faint "kakaka" sound.

It was like a matchstick figure being forcibly twisted by whoever was manipulating it, struck into various poses.

His arm lifted unnaturally, then bent, while his legs straightened and pressed together; his whole body was slowly realigned by an invisible force at an angle that defied reason.

His facial expression froze in despair, his gaze began to scatter, yet deep in his pupils reflected the top light shining on the stage.

The hat-wearing player, or rather, the entity about to become an "actor," began to move.

Like a puppet manipulated by invisible strings, his joints emitted strained creaks, each step hesitant, as he slowly walked toward the shadow-devouring side of the stage.

His movements were stiff and bizarre, each step falling into a heart-pounding silence.

The red hat on his head swayed slightly with this discordant movement, appearing ever more shockingly red in the dim light.

No one spoke anymore.

No one attempted anything else either.

His two teammates' faces showed no readable expression; they simply stared fixedly at that patch of red.

The other players also held their breath, watching that figure inch by inch disappear into the darkness at the stage's edge, as if being slowly swallowed by a giant beast.

On stage, the cardboard cottage smiled silently, and the substitute actor took his place.

The spotlight shone on him; the little red hat seemed to have grown considerably, its shadow covering his eyes and nose, leaving only his lips pressed together into a pallid straight line.

Under everyone's gaze, the axe fell once more……

Everything was without suspense.

The prop axe that had fallen from the sky flashed a real cold light along its blade in the lamp light, easily cutting through his fluffy hair and then his skull.

The whole process was swift yet cruel, and because the figure stretched its neck to meet the blade, it felt extraordinarily long.

The blood did not spurt out; it seeped out slowly.

At first, only a few thin threads of blood trickled down the wooden handle; then the scarlet liquid surged out from the gaps on either side of the axe.

A large amount of blood splashed onto the brightly colored cardboard mushrooms at his feet; their round, cute smiling faces were instantly soaked and then collapsed limply.

The person was gone, yet one second before the axe fell, that red hat flew up again.

The audience's pupils contracted sharply, tightly fixed on that fluttering patch of red.

The hat floated down slowly, spinning like a maple leaf blown by the wind in the spotlight's beam; yet when it landed, it did so with fated precision, settling firmly onto the head of another player in the audience.

This time, it was a female player.

She had originally been sitting in the shadows of the back rows, hardly attracting anyone's attention.

At the moment the hat landed, her body stiffened and she let out a short gasp from her throat.

The announcer's voice followed right away, immediately sounding again: "Substitute actor… please take your place."

On stage, the blood pools and remains were being swiftly cleared away by an invisible force.

The corpse, the axe, and the blood-stained mushroom doll were sucked into the floor cracks, vanishing in the blink of an eye; all that remained was a spotless stage set and that tireless overhead light, waiting for the next actor.

No one stood beside the female player; she seemed to have no teammates.

The surrounding players instinctively shifted away from her, fearing she might seize an opening and grab their hands to touch the deadly red hat on her head.

She sat there, clutching the edge of the seat with both hands until her knuckles turned white.

She did not try to remove it; she merely lifted her head, her gaze struggling for a moment, before quickly being overwhelmed by despair and resignation.

After the announcer's voice sounded twice, the female player rose to her feet.

Her movements were much smoother than the previous actor's; she did not wait for the instance's rules to control her body, but instead walked step by step toward the side of the stage, her figure disappearing into the shadows before reappearing under the spotlight.

She wore ordinary white clothing, standing before the garishly colorful set, looking utterly out of place.

The little red hat sat on her head; the face beneath its brim was a lifeless gray-white.

She did not look down at the audience; she merely lifted her gaze upward, her lips moving silently for a moment, and a flash of light burst in her eyes.

But it seemed already too late……

The axe fell.

This time, the blood spray rose higher, with some even splashing onto the feet of the front-row spectators.

The front-row players jerked backward, their faces turning deathly pale.

The red hat flew up again.

The cycle of death began once more.

The hat fell again and again, selecting its actors.

The players went from initial terror to gradual numbness.

Everyone kept their heads down, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, as if that would lower their chances of being chosen.

Yet those who were selected reacted in various ways.

Some screamed hysterically and struggled, trying to fling off the hat, even madly scratching their own scalps until their nails drew blood, but that red cloth seemed fused to their skin, unmoving.

Yet under the invisible control, they were lifted toward the stage, their hands bloody and faces streaked with tears.

Others, like the second female player, silently accepted, even walking willingly toward that pallid light.

That person's final performance clearly showed they had found a way to live.

These people went onstage with a sliver of hope, but as time passed they grew ever more desperate, ultimately dying beneath the giant axe.

The audience dwindled, and the theater's bloody smell grew stronger.

The only thing that remained unchanged was that red hat, spinning and flying.

In the SVIP room, Cheng Shuili quietly watched this cruel audition.

On the coffee table in front of her, the box of sliced watermelon was already empty. She picked up a cup of clear water beside her and took a sip.

The performance outside, to her, felt more like a silent play separated by a screen.

Safe, but genuinely bloody; watching too much only made her feel nauseous.

Cheng Shuili withdrew her gaze.

Compared to whether these people could survive, she cared more about when this level would finally end, and… where exactly Qing Qing's kiss was.

They couldn't really be dead, could they?

The number of players in the audience seats was slowly and steadily decreasing.

Each time the axe fell, it was accompanied by a reduction in numbers.

The seats grew increasingly sparse, and the aura of despair surrounding the remaining players became ever thicker.

When the red hat flew up once more, a thick single-pane window at the back of the audience seats shattered with a boom! Countless glass shards splashed out in the dim light.

Immediately afterward, a figure shot out from the rain of shards that had not yet landed.

This person's movement was so fast it left barely an afterimage, yet in midair they precisely adjusted their posture, shooting straight toward the spinning red hat!

The red hat seemed to sense something, its spinning speed suddenly increasing as it tried to drift higher.

But that figure was even faster!

They reached out and snatched!

"Smack!"

Five fingers closed together, accurately gripping the brim of the hat.

Then, going with the momentum, they flipped mid‑air, shed the forward force, and landed lightly on an empty seat in the last row of the audience.