Chapter 328: The Realm of Transformation

Golden sunlight flooded the corridor; even at midnight, Vivian Harbor still looked like noon.

Ning Zhe casually brushed the dust off his shoulder and left Sector 1, where Sally Sally, I Kesi , and others lay dead.

The corpses of players who died in the Ghost Card game still lay there, but the ghost who initiated the gamble had vanished, along with the deck of cards they had used to play.

“The Gambler woke up faster than I expected—almost the moment the Requiem stopped.” Ning Zhe toyed with the music box in his hand, thinking silently.

When he received this music box from Daoist Duan Geng, he also received its usage instructions—the hypnotic power of the music box came from the Requiem recording inside, a supernatural melody played by an actual ghost, capable of plunging anyone who heard it into an almost unbreakable eternal slumber.

The Requiem “recording” inside the music box had a similar effect, but it was weaker than the original; it could still lull minor ghosts in semi-silent states, whose rules hadn’t been triggered. But if it encountered an active, dangerous entity whose core rule was activated—like the Gambler or the God of Wealth—it was clear this fragile hypnosis wouldn’t last long.

Once the music stopped, the ghost would awaken quickly.

To hypnotize an entity like Lei Te—whose core rule is perpetually active, hunting people down constantly—it would likely require bringing the actual ghost who played the Requiem here; the recording in the music box could at best slightly slow Lei Te’s movements.

“The Gambler and the God of Wealth are both gone now. Where will they go when they wake up?”

Ning Zhe shoved the music box into his pocket, crossed the audience seats, and reached the edge of the dance floor. Before him lay emptiness—only the corpses of the few players dragged into Russian Roulette still sat in the audience seats, their clothes stained with dried blood and brain matter. Aside from these dead bodies, the audience seats were utterly empty.

According to the Gambler’s behavioral pattern, the first thing it would do upon waking was to select a few lucky individuals nearby for a new round of gambling—the Gambler, after all, couldn’t stand a day without betting.

According to the rules of the Five-Path God of Wealth, upon waking, He would prioritize seeking out those who had met Him but failed to conduct business—like how He had chased Ning Zhe around Ji Bochang’s Yunyun Manor just to shove money into his hands.

Ning Zhe pondered for a moment, then reached a conclusion: “The Gambler and the God of Wealth were asleep in the same room. Where they go after waking depends on which one wakes first.”

“If the God of Wealth wakes first, He will ignore the still-sleeping Gambler, leave the card table, and seek out Fu Suoles, Xia Yubing, and others to complete unfinished transactions. The later-waking Gambler will continue wandering the opera house, pulling people in for gambling under some specific condition.”

“If the Gambler wakes first, the still-sleeping God of Wealth might be dragged into another gambling round—just like those makeup artists who died in Russian Roulette… though, only possibly.”

Ning Zhe couldn’t be certain whether the God of Wealth, having just finished a game, would be pulled into another one immediately—the Gambler’s rules were still unclear, and many unknowns remained.

Another absurd possibility was that both woke up at once and stood there awkwardly—but Ning Zhe thought that unlikely. Regardless of which scenario actually occurred, one thing was certain: the Gambler was still probably inside the opera house.

He had to find it… Ning Zhe’s peripheral vision swept the edge of the dance floor, where a pale-skinned, faceless figure in red stood silently, hands folded over her abdomen, looking strangely forlorn—as if quietly watching something or someone in a certain direction. Ever since the almanac was won by the Gambler, she had worn this expression.

…No, this thing had no face at all—just a blank sheet of paper. How could it have an expression?

A sudden ominous premonition rose in Ning Zhe’s mind—a faint, blurred shadow had just slipped past the corner of his vision. Intense dread surged through him—it was a familiar feeling.

The feeling of “intuition” being triggered.

Ning Zhe spun around instantly, his body tensing instinctively. In the center of the empty dance floor, beneath dim lighting, stood a straight, motionless figure cloaked in a long robe. Inside the hood, darkness swallowed all features. He had appeared behind Ning Zhe without warning, like a demon crawling from the dark.

In the instant he turned, a black shadow flashed across the tempered glass floor. The next moment, the man’s head severed from his body, rolling to the ground like a ball. Blood, belatedly, gushed from his neck like a fountain. His body crashed down, spreading a pool of crimson.

Ning Zhe lifted his skirt hem and stepped toward the bloodstain. His feet, wearing Fan Daike’s leather boots, had switched to Feng Yu’s usual crystal sandals. He automatically gathered his skirt and crouched, alert, preparing to inspect the corpse—but before he could complete the crouch, the bloodstain had vanished.

As if the game had glitched—the character model present in the last frame disappeared in the next, too fast to react. The severed head and its body vanished into thin air before Ning Zhe’s eyes. The center of the dance floor was empty once more.

Ning Zhe reached out and touched the floor. The tempered glass felt cold and hard beneath his palm—dry, as if it had never been splashed with blood.

“Gone?” Ning Zhe stood, frowning. He Nianjun, in her red bridal gown, still stood at the edge of the dance floor. Behind her, the audience seats were empty, the dim lights flickering.

Beneath the flickering lights, the audience seats held no one.

The corpses of those who died in Russian Roulette were gone.

Ning Zhe’s pupils shrank sharply; his heartbeat slowed an instant: “What the hell…?”

He shut his eyes tightly, spreading Lei Te’s senses throughout the entire opera house. The feedback sent chills deeper into his heart—the entire Saint Gelia Opera House held not a single living soul.

At the edge of the dance floor, the girl in red bridal attire still stood there, her face a blank sheet of paper, devoid of features.

(End of Chapter)