Chapter 3: No Need to Worry About a Crooked Body When Your Shadow Is Straight!

At the same time.

On the homepage of an app called “Spirit Catastrophe Game,” a live stream was being prominently recommended.

【Final Beta Access Granted!】

[Unprecedented! Nightmare-Difficulty Pre-Registration Dungeon! Certain Death!]

The sensational headline drew users of the app into the live stream in droves.

They were all Spirit Catastrophe players.

Beings selected by the Spirit Catastrophe Game to enter dungeons and gain extraordinary power, yet also desperate outlaws clinging to life.

After all, if you die in a dungeon, what returns to reality after the game ends is only a corpse.

“Real? A pre-registration dungeon with nightmare difficulty? That’s just suicide!”

“I bet a hundred Misfortune Coins the newbies get wiped out within two hours. Anyone else in?”

“Who you calling weak? I bet one hour!”

Many viewers in the live stream’s chat expressed shock at this pre-registration dungeon with zero starting resources.

Normally, pre-registration dungeons that grant player eligibility come with clear survival hints—they’re “guaranteed wins if you try your hardest.”

Everyone jokingly called them beginner tutorials.

Dungeon difficulty levels are divided into Easy, Medium, Hard, and Nightmare.

Beginner tutorials are merely Easy level.

Nightmare-level dungeons are those with a total clearance rate under 1% across the entire Endgame.

Forcing newbies into a Nightmare dungeon...

As the chat section said—this is pure suicide!

For instance, right now, as soon as new players died upon waking, others in the stream were already lighting incense and placing bets.

Yet a few still sensed something off.

“The Spirit Catastrophe Game is, in a sense, fair—it never creates truly impossible dungeons.”

“Meaning, if it’s using fifty lives just for entertainment, then the game’s balance is broken!”

“If this is the final beta access, will there be a public test?”

“We must uncover the true nature of the Endgame before public test! This stream might be a perfect chance!”

The live stream included several powerful players.

But even these veterans didn’t believe a Nightmare dungeon could be normally cleared by newbies.

They sought to uncover potential flaws in the Endgame itself from this final stream.

As for the newbies...

No one cared about the fate of the sacrificial lambs.

Yet among the veterans was one oddball.

Her focus was precisely on the newbies!

More precisely...

She hoped every single newbie would die inside the dungeon.

This strange woman lay on a hammock in a seaside villa, sipping expensive red wine, watching the stream, and sending messages to a secure chat app—

“Ritual successful. Special Spirit Tablet carried by Li Guoqiang, a police captain from Mingyang City.”

“Don’t worry. After spending so much to deceive the administrators and alter the dungeon difficulty, no one will survive—this dungeon has no true clearance condition.”

“Once all newbies are sacrificed, I’ll use the Special Spirit Tablet to control Li Guoqiang’s corpse and bring the【Thing of Descent】back to reality.”

“May catastrophe endure forever.”

————

Inside the pre-registration dungeon.

No one knew this was a ritual of certain death.

Their current focus remained on the dead.

“Who’s going to check... how did he die?”

These wary individuals couldn’t help speaking up, seeking comfort in unity.

In reality, they were all criminals who treated human life as worthless, dangerous in the eyes of normal people, to be avoided at all costs.

But here, facing supernatural horrors, knowing real ghosts lurked nearby...

They had all become the weakest prey.

Weapons at their waists or drugs in their pockets now offered zero security.

Those clutching knives felt the blades growing colder, mirroring their own dread.

Cold enough to pierce the bone.

“What nonsense! Why don’t you go check? You want us to rush to our deaths?” someone snapped back at the suggestion.

Most held the same attitude.

Of course! Who knows if examining the corpse will draw the ghost’s attention to you?

Aside from the woman collapsed on the floor, everyone else involuntarily stepped back.

The situation froze again.

Only Wu Wang paid no attention to the corpse—he watched the woman on the ground.

More precisely—her shadow.

Maybe he was imagining things.

Wu Wang thought he saw the woman’s shadow trembling?

Was it a glitch in Purple Mood?

“Thud!”

Another heavy sound.

This time, not someone falling—but the sound of nearly all classroom lights going out.

Only one overhead lamp remained, illuminating the podium; the standing microphone instantly became the center of attention.

Strangely, the light defied physics—it did not spill at all. Even the space right next to the podium remained pitch black, invisible even to touch.

Shhh-shhh-shhh—

In the darkness, the rustling of clothing and footsteps began. At first, just occasional sounds, then gradually, most in the classroom moved spontaneously.

Phototaxis isn’t unique to moths.

Humans are the same.

In an unknown environment, no one wants to stay in total darkness—you might not even sense danger approaching.

The podium’s area could hold about ten people; even if something lunged from the dark, there’d be time to react.

Undoubtedly, a safe zone.

“Fuck! Get the hell away from me!”

The first curse erupted from the darkness.

Pfft—

With the faint sound of a blade piercing flesh, nearby people immediately felt warm liquid splatter on their faces.

Everyone knew what it was—or rather, what it meant.

Someone had attacked to seize the light source!

As ruthless murderers with no moral limits, the scent of blood in the air painted their darkened eyes with madness.

Of course—positions aren’t first-come, first-served!

Only the living have the right to stand in the safe zone!

“Try to trip me? You won’t need that leg!”

“Filthy dog, you’re blocking my way!”

“Ahh! My hand! Who cut it?!”

Screams and combat cries rose and fell in the darkness.

All sounds amplified and echoed through the microphone, sending chills down spines.

The classroom instantly became a blood-soaked hell—everyone’s mind focused only on carving a path through blood.

Thud—Thud—Thud—

Yet before anyone could reach the light, the thudding returned—identical to the sound of the first corpse hitting the floor.

The problem? Too many thuds!

Far more than the number of people killed.

People kept collapsing, motionless, without struggle or cries—clearly not dying from combat wounds.

Even those already severed, screaming moments ago, fell silent.

The entire classroom instantly fell dead quiet, as if muted.

“Gulps...”

Everyone nervously swallowed.

Almost simultaneously, all movement ceased.

Even the most frenzied now sensed something was wrong.

Another death rule had been triggered!

And at least twenty-some people are dead!

About ten seconds passed.

No one dared make a sound, fearing they too might die without reason.

The classroom fell as silent as it had been at the start, when everyone had slipped into slumber.

Only the occasional, tightly restrained breath revealed that others still lingered in the dark.

“Sing mountain songs, hey hey hey hey~”

“Sing here~ come on~ sing back there~”

At the moment when their heartbeats surged as if about to leap from their throats, the sudden singing made everyone feel a sharp, unpleasant pang.

Worse yet, the singing was off-key, like demonic noise piercing their ears.

Even though nothing was visible in the dark, everyone instinctively turned their gaze toward the source of the sound.

Tap-tap—tap-tap—

A dynamic tap-dancing rhythm erupted from the singer’s location, moving forward with steady, rhythmic pace.

He’s singing and dancing now!?

What the hell is this thing?

Everyone’s mind went blank, one thought echoing: Is this guy not afraid of death?

“Not just a sound—I’m the star of the show!”

No sooner had he finished speaking than they noticed he had reached the podium.

Under the only light in the room, his pale, handsome face—now with dead fish eyes—appeared. Many who had spoken to Wu Wang before felt another sharp pang.

It’s him again!

“Hum—”

Wu Wang tapped the microphone. A piercing electrical screech rang out, making everyone cover their ears and frown.

After confirming the mic worked, Wu Wang smiled with the practiced, insincere grin of a hotel attendant and said shyly: “Thank you all for your kindness in letting me speak. I’m a bit embarrassed, so I’ll just briefly mention three points.”

Who the hell gave you permission to speak?!

Didn’t you just hop up there on your own?!

And what are you even shy about?!

You’re hard again.

Now everyone’s fists clenched tight.

“First, I’m not an expert on handling ghosts. Second, I’m sure everyone wants to know how to break the three death rules—so the third point is crucial.”

“Third, as I said in the first point, I’m not an expert on handling ghosts, so I don’t know.”

Watching the boy speak nonsense with perfect seriousness, still bouncing in place with tap-dancing steps, and using the light to cast animal hand shadows.

His hands, feet, and mouth moved in perfect harmony, no conflict at all.

No one knew whether to admire his versatility or just rush forward and stab him twice.

But given that the death rules had just triggered and over a dozen lives had vanished.

Do less, make fewer mistakes. Do nothing, make no mistakes.

At this critical moment, the murderers still chose caution and dared not act.

They could only let Wu Wang rant at the mic.

Besides, they also wanted to observe whether the death rules would strike this attention-seeking fool.

“Namo Amitabha Buddha, Fusheng Wuliang Tianzun, Amen, Allah Akbar!”

“Light~ The phoenix flies against the wind~ Light!”

Wu Wang kept muttering nonsense and singing.

Thud!

As he sang the word “light,” the spotlight above suddenly blazed, flooding the classroom with blinding brightness.

All the filth that had occurred in the dark was now exposed before everyone’s eyes.

Pools of blood stained the white floor like an abstract painter had splattered red pigment wildly; the thick, slow drip down the stairs resembled the crimson droplets falling onto the white cloth in “The Death of Marat,” while the scattered corpses stood out like jarring brushstrokes on a canvas.

Some showed clear fatal wounds—obviously killed in struggle.

Others lay on the ground with expressions of terror, like the first corpse, showing no visible injuries.

The darkness had lasted ten minutes.

The classroom, once filled with fifty people, now held only twenty-some.

The rate of death was grotesquely alarming.

But everyone’s gaze lingered on the corpses for only a moment—most eyes turned toward Wu Wang, filled with murderous intent.

“You—what did you find?”

A burly man, closest to the podium, stepped forward with a harsh tone.

At his feet lay two men, their necks twisted—strangled to death. His handiwork in the dark.

He voiced the doubt in most people’s minds.

Why hadn’t this boy’s insane, abstract behavior triggered any death rule?

Unless he’d already figured something out—and avoided it!

Watching the giant, a full head taller, muscles bulging like mountains, loom beside him.

Wu Wang remained unmoved, smiling:

“I don’t like your tone. Down in my neighborhood, I neutered every dog that barked loudly on New Year’s Eve. You should mind your manners.”

“Pfft, trash! You’ll be quiet soon!”

The giant sneered and reached out to choke Wu Wang’s throat.

His thick palm nearly covered the boy’s entire face.

So much so that no one could see Wu Wang’s expression growing colder beneath the shadow.

Thud!

A dull thump echoed through the classroom.

Everyone outside the podium stared in disbelief.

Something unexpected had happened!

They saw the giant lying on the ground, eyes rolled back, twitching involuntarily.

His temple was sunken inward—clearly struck by something heavy.

“W-what just happened?”

“One punch! He knocked out this huge guy with just one punch!”

Before anyone could recover, they saw Wu Wang yank the mic from its stand and smash it repeatedly into the giant’s sunken temple—like pounding mochi—his face expressionless.

Sploosh-sploosh—

Blood sprayed, red and white mixed.

Now everyone’s attention finally tore away from Wu Wang’s earlier absurdity.

They began to notice his true nature.

His bare torso revealed taut, sculpted muscles—sharp-edged, defined—as if carved by relentless training. Only those forged through countless trials could possess such elegance.

His punching technique was textbook-perfect, maximizing force to its peak—making observers tremble inwardly.

Add to that his cold, merciless killing.

Without doubt, this boy was one of them.

No—he was more dangerous than most murderers!

Because Wu Wang’s appearance and behavior were so deceptively harmless!

“If your body’s crooked, your shadow won’t be straight—I never claimed to be a good person.” A voice finally came from the podium, beyond the head-bashing.

Wu Wang plugged the mic back into its stand.

Then he plopped down on the podium, squinting, still smiling as he observed them.

These people weren’t wrong.

He had already guessed part of the death rules.

He’d even tested them himself.

But the rest needed a few more trials to confirm.

As for test subjects—

We’re all brothers here. I’m sure none of you folks here will refuse…