Warning: This chapter contains description of torture. Read at your own risk.
Editor: Junyans
Bai Jingan sat in the fourth vehicle he had switched to after escaping. The vehicle was parked in a corner of the underground expressway in the Third Satellite City.
This was a black van—which was more convenient for committing crimes—with the same model as the previous one. It was like a corpse lying in a dark corner. As passing headlights briefly illuminated it, the car’s body reflected a dim light.
Inside the compartment were a dozen or so personal terminals that Bai Jingan had dragged out of the warehouse when leaving the toy city.
He was seated in the rear of the car, surrounded by floating screens which were constantly flickering. The dim space felt crowded, as if there was a whole world inside the van, waiting to expand outward.
Bai Jingan’s face remained impassive as he studied the screens, the light reflected in his eyes devoid of any warmth.
The largest screen on his right showed the floating city looking down from the satellite, with areas lacking surveillance marked in red, orange, and yellow layers.
In the Upper City, there were many such hidden places, some because they contained sensitive business information, while most were playgrounds for the powerful.
The main screen on the other side displayed a dirty burgundy color, presenting a large-scale query and analysis of data related to the circulation routes of “dangerous luxury items” in the Upper City.
Among them, Bai Jingan saw countless pieces of information about cages, chains, aphrodisiacs, torture devices, and information about living people for sale described in obscure and interesting terms.
Bai Jingan had a pounding headache. Red spots kept flashing before his eyes, casting a dark red tint over the entire world.
He had a persistent illusion that Xia Tian was somewhere behind him, also analyzing data, ready to call him “Lil’ Bai,” saying he was hungry, and suggesting they should grab something to eat—it must be dinner time by now, right?
But he’s not here, Bai Jingan thought while staring at the bloody data in front of him. In the sewers of the bustling Upper City, an endless flow of desire and emptiness flowed through, and countless bloody corpses were screaming and decaying. He must find the patterns.
Xia Tian is in there. He’s the most luxurious prey, on whom they definitely utilized the highest-end customization.
On the large screen, a large swath of red icons flickered to the east of the Third Satellite City, reflecting a dark red in his pupils. It is still too broad, Bai Jingan thought. He didn’t have time for a more precise location.
But it didn’t matter as long as Xia Tian was there.
He could destroy any place.
The cage had no door.
It was like a large natural red cave. Xia Tian was sure that they had a way in and out, but he couldn’t find it.
“As you all know,” the male narrator said, “the feast is an elegant and bloody event—we feast on a personality with strong individuality and willpower. It is inevitable that it will be a gory spectacle, but it is also the ultimate delicacy.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Xia Tian lifted his head, and there was a gold and silver metal decorative cage embedded in the top of the room, reflecting a faint light, as if outside the cage was a blood-red night.
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“In the end, he will become a willing plaything, losing his will and any sense of shame. He will do anything we ask, whether it’s ruthlessly killing highly mutated creatures or shamelessly begging for mercy,” the narrator said, “and he’ll consider it the greatest joy in life.”
When he spoke, the light above the cage always shone on Xia Tian. It was a kind of orange-yellow light with a somewhat divine style, which followed his every move and accentuated the details.
“God of War, how about we relax a bit?” the narrator suddenly said, and it was after a while Xia Tian realized that the man was addressing him.
The man continued, “Why don’t you play a game with us? We know you enjoy playing games. You’ve even set the highest score on the Killing Show Team Competition platform three times.”
At that moment, the wall on his right side flickered, and a large screen lit up.
Xia Tian turned to look, expecting a gruesome scene, but instead, the start screen of a game appeared.
The game was beautifully and tastefully made. At first glance, it seemed as if you were entering a classically styled corridor. After a while, the scene stopped at the main page—a red mahogany screen with fruits, flowers and birds carved on it, presenting irregular square patterns.
The music was also very exquisite and full of classical temperament.
A fucking little cartoon guy with red hair held a flag and started saying the rules of the game in a high-pitched, cheerful voice.
Xia Tian knew this kind of game, tapping squares—it was straightforward.
“Very simple,” the narrator said, “you just need to reach out and click. The sensor will capture your movements. We know you’re good at playing games. We liked seeing you sitting on the couch playing games during the show. You looked so happy.”
He continued, “But the fun of the game lies in winning or losing, meaning if you fail, you’ll have to accept the consequences.”
Xia Tian turned his head, not bothering to glance at the game.a second time.
He searched the room, looking for anything that might be of help—most likely there was nothing—and continued to ponder the next steps. There was no chance, but it was his nature; even on the brink of death, he would seek an escape in the final second.
The organizers seemed accustomed to this uncooperative behavior. The electronic game music played at a leisurely pace for a while, and the squares started to descend.
Xia Tian knew this trick.
First, set a rule that appears simple and friendly but is a lie. This was an unwinnable game designed to make you fail.
Because you were either too dumb, too slow, too obedient, or too disobedient, they didn’t like the way you smiled. You couldn’t even do the most basic things, so punishment was inevitable.
He looked at the cage with its frozen blood-like red, adorned with luxurious gold, silver, and black—a sadistic execution ground where they just wanted to crush and devour him. That’s all there was.
He didn’t want to play.
He would die here, but he would die by his own rules.
The urgent drumbeat music in the game urged him on, but Xia Tian didn’t bother to look.
After the first square touched the bottom, two seconds later, a tremendous force struck him.
It felt like all his blood boiled in an instant, not in some parts but everywhere, from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes, an unbearable and intense pain. A violent, dark flame ignited within his body, seizing everything, burning into powder in extreme heat.
Xia Tian lay on the floor, taking a while to regain consciousness. When he got up, blood continued to flow from his nostrils. He wiped it away and felt that his cheeks were itchy and his ears were bleeding then found that blood was also oozing from his ears.
He heard the narrator’s unhurried voice saying, “This is one of the oldest ways to tame a wild beast—electric shock.”
Xia Tian’s whole body trembled; everything before him turned blood-red, and the entire world seemed to be screaming. He clenched his fists, but he couldn’t hold them at all. His body felt like it wasn’t his own.
For a moment, he considered escaping to the bed; the sheets seemed insulating… but then realized it wouldn’t work. Here, they could torment him however they pleased. This was a cage built for torture.
Then he saw a flash of light across from him… and what he saw made him shudder.
A “window” opened in the “cage,” presumably a display screen, but it looked very lifelike.
It was a feast, with a distant view of the sea. The people inside were well-dressed, wearing masks representing either gods or devils, artistically and eerily designed.
Some people were holding wine glasses, and there was food on the table. Everyone watched him with keen interest as he lay on the ground, trembling and bleeding.
The narrator remarked, “Many future ‘masters’ are waiting for the moment when the God of War voluntarily performs—”
Xia Tian fell back to the ground and curled up, waiting for the next torture.
Outside the Guest Show arena, all media were discussing martial law in the west district of the main city.
The rumors of guest shows have long been confirmed. Although such shows for powerful people would cause a stir in the past, they were only on a small scale. In the Upper City, blowing up a bridge or destroying a house should not be too much, and it would not attract too much attention.
But this time was different; the entire west district—and half of the north district—had been under martial law for five hours. The central computer had been directly commandeered, altering the schedules of numerous residents, enabling the bigwigs to indulge in their hunting activities.
Guest Show. The twisted, gory, and curious Guest Show.
And Xia Tian. The God of War of the Upper City, perched at the pinnacle of attention, gathering countless admirers, desires, and dreams.
It was like a whole Yingkong Lake of fuel with a fire on top.
—What is the Guest Show? What happened to Xia Tian? Are these bigwigs really hunting their God of War?
The wealthy always had everything they desired. Now, are they placing the God of War on their dinner plates?
Satellite images could be seen everywhere on the TV, and the entire bustling area was turned into a huge hole like an abyss in the blink of an eye.
The horror seemed to come from nature itself, not human hands. No one could win such a battle; merely watching it induced bone-deep despair.
The screen at Bai Jingan’s hand displayed filtered information from the media. Three hours after the battle, the media tried their best to release a virtual video of the “last battle.”
They were indeed capable, with satellites, camera footage and virtual imaging. It was basically the same as the real situation.
Within three hours, this brutal and decisive battle unfolded before everyone’s eyes.
Bai Jingan’s hand paused in the middle of gathering information, his gaze fixed on the car that raced out like a cliffside road. In the virtual footage, steel bars from the railing pierced Xia Tian’s body. Covered in bloodstains, he was pinned to the seat, appearing fragile and quiet. He stared into the nothingness ahead, and the sunlight seemed to be gathering in his eyes.
In the nightmarish dead-end, their God of War fought until the very last moment.
Finally, Xia Tian was dragged onto the torture rack.
His body’s contours were stretched to the extreme, and the golden and black “snakes” crawled slowly over him. The iron torture rack clamped onto his body, making him appear like a luxury item in the top-tier torture club.
As the favored tool of the big shots, the “snakes” were high-precision flexible tubes. With advancements in virtualization technology, the operators of the “snakes” could even feel the subtle sensations when they coiled or killed their prey. According to Minkov Jr., “These people wish they could grow tentacles themselves.”
The snake’s fangs deeply bit into his carotid artery. Xia Tian had no idea what substance was inside, but it worked slowly. The blood in his body began to boil from the deepest part. The pain was so excruciating that he couldn’t even scream.
At the same time, several snakes penetrated the hem of his clothes, lifted them up, and scratched sensitive parts with their sharp scales.
His legs were pulled wide apart, and the snakes continuously tightened, relaxed, and rubbed. His hands and feet maintained a stretched position, unable to curl up, and the light hitting his body intensified. He was forced to showcase every detail of pain, every muscle spasm, on this terrifying stage
Xia Tian thought to himself that he must look terrible now, like someone who acted in a pornographic film… He was probably acting in a pornographic film.
“No matter how ferocious a beast is, it must suffer before it can learn a lesson,” the narrator said softly.
“But it is also a very enjoyable job. In this cage and stage that combines the latest technology and aesthetics, one can see such a very beautiful and truly artistic destruction process—”
Xia Tian’s hair was drenched in sweat due to the pain. He struggled with all his might, but his head hit the torture rack heavily. The thing held him firmly, preventing any movement.
He heard his uncontrollable, choked sobs, so fragile. This wasn’t him; he was the stronger one who always had a gun in his hand and survived the battlefield. He knew how cruel the world could be, and he had adapted long ago; he never used to cry.
He thought of Bai Jingan… It hurts so much, Lil’ Bai. How can it hurt so much?
When the punishment was over, Xia Tian fell directly from the torture rack.
His whole body felt as if he had been fished out of the water, and he could not move a finger. The tubes receded, but it was still wrapped around the torture rack, like a hungry snake, staring at him. A golden one still coiled around his ankle, slowly rubbing, unwilling to give up its prey.
“Well, it seems that God of War doesn’t want to play games,” the narrator said.
“Your future ‘masters’ don’t want to see you in so much pain, Xia Tian. What we ask of you is straightforward. You just need to tell us…” he said, “Does it hurt, Xia Tian?”
Xia Tian curled up on the carpet, erupting into a fit of coughing. Every time he coughed, his bones felt like they were being torn apart.
The voice asked again, “You only need to say one word to end it. Do you feel pain, Xia Tian?”
Xia Tian curled up even smaller, remaining silent.
Then he heard the narrator laugh.
It was a laugh that came from the depths of the soul, dark, twisted, and excited.
He said, “Your Excellency, the God of War, has very hard bones.”
