Chapter 449: Uninvited Entrants

Cheng Shuili snapped back to awareness and lifted her gaze.

On the stage, the puppeteer's gaze had at some point left those VIP boxes that were either empty or bloody, and precisely landed on the box where Cheng Shuili was.

She stared at Cheng Shuili, and Cheng Shuili returned the look with her eyes.

The puppeteer's reason for killing those players had been made clear—uninvited entrants had no right to sit in the VIP seats; since they had acted contrary to their status, they must pay for their actions.

She deemed them uninvited entrants because they bore the markings of the corridor.

Cheng Shuili had none, meaning she, like Qing Qing's kiss that had avoided this judgment beforehand, was someone who did not need to be judged.

After the puppeteer's gaze lingered on Cheng Shuili for a moment, it shifted away as if she thought there were no players here.

Qing Qing's kiss rested her chin on her hand, staring at the one-way glass in front of her that had not even turned transparent, utterly perplexed.

She lowered her body and took two steps forward, pressing half of her body against the glass, then cautiously said, "Wuya Lao Da? You couldn't be some sort of connection, could you? The director has already lectured everyone, so why hasn't she pursued your responsibility?"

Cheng Shuili did not want to speak.

This guy wasn't like that when we first held the meeting—back then he was pretty aloof, and in front of the bubbling instant noodles he put on a big-sister act.

Cold, reliable, yet proud.

Now this ghastly appearance…

Cheng Shuili remained silent for a while, then quietly opened the system's built-in recording function.

She had already figured out how to threaten Qing Qing's kiss later: "Hehe, kiss-sis… you don't want others to know you're like this in private, do you? If you don't want people to find out, then…"

Cheng Shuili shook her head, tossed the strange thought aside, directly ignored Qing Qing's kiss, and turned her gaze to the puppeteer on the stage.

After completing the brutal cleansing of the VIP boxes, this director seemed to have finally lost interest in staying.

She stood at the center of the stage, her beautiful yet lifeless face slowly turning, her gaze sweeping one last time over the silent players below and over the boxes that were either stained with blood or empty and icy.

Then she said nothing.

There was no summary, no threat, not even an announcement of when the next act would begin.

She merely gave a slight nod toward the empty stage wing, as if an invisible band or attendant stood there, ready to come on stage and perform.

Next, she turned her body with a stiff, clearly inhuman coordination, her back to the audience.

Her gorgeous yet constraining long dress dragged across the stage floor without making a sound.

Her steps were very slow, supported by the two Gray Puppets, giving a puppet-like jerkiness as she stepped one by one toward the deep, impenetrable darkness at the back of the stage.

The curtain quietly closed behind her.

On the stage, there was no one left.

Only a solitary spotlight remained, focused on the center of the stage, its light harsh white.

Only after the curtain fully closed did the suffocating oppression in the theater lessen slightly as the puppeteer departed.

The silence remained.

But this time the silence was mixed with the heavy breaths of survivors and faint sobs.

"Is… is it over?" a player asked, voice trembling, uncertain.

No one answered him.

Because no one knew whether this was temporary safety or the calm before a greater storm.

Cheng Shuili withdrew her gaze and sat back down in her chair.

She appeared relaxed, but her spine stayed straight and her nerves remained taut.

The puppeteer's final disregard did not relax her; instead it felt like a tiny thorn. The injury was minor, yet it continued to ache faintly.

Qing Qing's kiss also finally retreated from the edge of the box, plopped back into her chair, and let out a long sigh: "Hah… this director, her aura is truly intimidating. I thought she'd come after me for the glass later."

She again looked at Cheng Shuili through the glass: "Wuya Lao Da, are you really okay? The way she looked at you just now didn't seem like she was looking at some nobody."

As she spoke, she lifted a hand to rub her chin, pondering: "Could it be that Wuya Lao Da, you… assumed some strange identity? By the way, your seat is also odd—VIP boxes are over there, while over here it seems you're the only one in a box."

Cheng Shuili glanced at her, made sure the other couldn't see her, then silently observed her for a moment.

She suddenly understood why Qing Qing's kiss had so many words.

In the audience, the surviving players chatted in twos and threes, comforting each other. Only Qing Qing's kiss sat alone, isolated, even though she was the benefactor of all surviving players besides Cheng Shuili.

Cheng Shuili remained silent for a good while, then suddenly asked: "Your glass—did you break it yourself?"

The answer to that question was obvious—Qing Qing's kiss had personally shattered the glass in front of everyone and jumped down.

"Ah? Oh, yeah." Qing Qing's kiss rubbed the back of her head, "Back then that red‑capped madman was running around picking people left and right; I figured if I didn't come down, everyone would die. Lips gone, teeth cold—I had no choice but to jump. What, is the glass important?"

She finally realized belatedly that breaking the theater facilities might also be a violation.

But the puppeteer did not lay a hand on her.

However, the several players who later tried to imitate her all died.

"I don't know," Cheng Shuili said frankly, "but judging from the result, your smashing the glass and jumping down seemed to be taken as leaving the VIP seats, so the puppeteer didn't put you on the cleansing list."

She paused, then added, "And those who later tried to imitate you, because they did this under the puppeteer's nose, were judged as attempting to escape during the trial, so they were killed."

Qing Qing's kiss furrowed her brows, pondering carefully: "So… does that mean changing one's identity is the key?"

"Perhaps." Cheng Shuili gave a noncommittal reply.

Although she had only participated in two server-wide Instances, Cheng Shuili had already discovered that these instances' rules are often harsh and subtle—one action in different contexts can mean completely different outcomes.

While the two talked, the players in the ordinary seats below also began to take other actions.

Several gazes furtively turned toward those VIP boxes that were already empty, even still containing corpses inside.

Especially those empty boxes.

The puppeteer had said, uninvited entrants have no right to sit in the VIP seats.

But now the original owners are dead, the boxes are vacant, and the judgment of the VIP box guests has already ended.

So… if we sit in now, could we become VIP spectators, enjoy VIP privileges, and yet not be disposed of by the puppeteer?