Editor: Elanor
The long advertisements and trailers finally ended and the draw for participants began, and their team ushered in the next round of new teammates.
The new teammate was a doctor; the signing luck really wasn’t good.
The doctors who were shoved in this kind of competition, in fact, could only do some basic dressing and nursing, and most people who engaged in the Killing Show could do the basic care themselves, so it could be regarded as one of the most useless professions in the Killing Show.
The organizers often confused the audience in this way, creating chaos and increasing the death toll. When Xia Tian got the draw, he swore, and a guy next to him told him with a bitter face that he should be glad he didn’t get a cook or a tailor in the team.
Now, the main hall of the program building of the Floating Gold TV’s Asaijin Team Competition was full of players resting and eating. Testosterone was flying all throughout the air. The whole building was like a powder keg waiting to blow, with fights and brawls seen everywhere.
Xia Tian’s group sat on a sofa in the third hall, drinking the free alcoholic beverages supplied. This kind of thing relaxed the players and made them easily out of control, allowing the TV station to do some gimmicks.
One of the guys in the next table broke down, screaming “This is underhanded!” or something—their team of four originally only had a sniper and a cook, and then drew a tailor and cleaner. It was simply a scene from a comedy.
The man dropped his wine glass and cried in the middle of the hall without caring about any image. A teammate tried to persuade him, but he had also drunk too much, so it turned into both of them holding each other and crying.
The hall was brightly lit with windows, decorated with the theme of battlefields. Everyone was drinking, talking, and yelling, and they paid no attention to the decoration. Some people were gloating, but no one advised them to speak less. The TV station liked this kind of scene, and some people fainted from crying on the spot.
After La Tie finished off his twelfth cup of alcohol, he said loudly that they should kill the doctor first after entering the arena; this would make it easier when they further into the competition and save resources. Everyone did the same.
Xia Tian felt that he should be crying with the next table, because everyone had a bad luck at drawing teammates, and what this guy said was so stupid that people didn’t know how to answer him.
“Killing teammates counts as murder. The organizer has rules!” He said.
“But he’s in the way!” La Tie said.
“Of course he’s in the way. Why else would he be here?”
“I don’t understand why the organizers are making all this mess. The Killing Show is about courage and the glory of fighting, so why not just start fighting directly?”
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.
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These injuries came from his experience in the arena of the Lower City. Xia Tian had also had a short stint there, from where he got a three-foot-long scar that was still deeply entrenched in his back; it was really not a sweet and beautiful time.
“Thank you, I, I won’t hold you back,” the doctor stammered, “I have been working out recently. I have a degree from the Third Medical University in Floating Gold. I never thought I would participate in the Killing Show, but something went wrong at work recently…”
He grabbed a glass of alcohol and smiled tentatively at Xia Tian, wanting to kindle a flame of friendship, but Xia Tian ignored him.
Compared to La Tie’s appearance of a glorious fighter, the doctor huddled up in the corner was another version of tragedy.
His name was Xu Peiwen, his black hair was neatly trimmed, and his body was thin and fragile like a tender stem that would break with a single poke of a finger.
He was here because of the additional terms under the loan contract.
These types of contracts could be seen everywhere in the Upper City, attached to the rules of lending, guardianship, immigration, criminal law enforcement, etc., to ensure the blood and richness of the Killing Show.
They were another kind of sinners in the Upper City. They had failed in work, money, competition, and life themselves and finally falling into the Killing Show and never getting out again.
Xia Tian took another plate of snacks with a cold face and concentrated on finishing it. Other tables only had alcoholic beverages, only their table was full of colorful snacks.
He hoped the guy would shut up, but the other person paused and then continued again, “They want to repossess the house, saying that if the additional terms aren’t enforced, my wife and daughter will be sent to the Lower City, and they won’t be able to survive there. Mr. Li… my contract executor, he said that I only need to play ten games. Exceeding it would be overcompensation, and I could sue them. As long as I survive ten games, I can keep the house…”
He kept talking, as if after careful calculations, he found that his situation wasn’t very bad, that the organizer’s contract was fairly tolerant, and that the future was quite bright.
Xia Tian was pretty sure that he wouldn’t survive the first two games of the Pay-to-View Competition, and the person who talked to him about the contract must also know it. But he wasn’t going to say anything, just like the contract executor must have said nothing, and had probably smiled and encouraged the dream.
Dr. Xu continued to talk endlessly, while the next table was discussing how to kill the newly drawn tailor in a non-intrusive but lethal way without violating the rules—the person of discussion cowered in the corner without saying a word.
The third round was a survival tournament. A hundred or so teams would enter different arenas randomly that had just enough resources to survive for six or seven days, but the survival tournament lasted for fifteen days.
Only then would the gates open and the bountiful sunshine of the Upper City would shine on them, allowing the winners to eat, drink and have fun, leaving the bones of the losers to rot.
This year, it was a men’s tournament—the Killing Show initially held three mixed events, but it was stopped because the scene was too perverted. Now team competitions were held separately for men and women, but it didn’t help much in prohibiting rape and sexual assaults. Gender had never been a barrier for outlaws.
It was going to be hell in there.
Next to him, Bai Jingan was holding a small notebook and writing something in it, looking as if he was filling out a list of boring user surveys. He was dressed smartly in his tuxedo, with a lock of hair hanging down, making his face a little boyish. But it was a face with no expression, someone who had long known not to expect anything.
If he was planning to kill—of course he was planning to kill, and that was what tactical planners did after all—he was definitely the most frustrating and tedious conspirator Xia Tian had ever seen.
Xia Tian managed to get another drink from a waiter. The doctor was still talking, and La Tie struck up a conversation with a table next to him, asking for tidbits of information about the tournament—the number of deaths in the last round, the stars who died, the regulars who died, the NPCs who died, basically information on everything that died.
Xia Tian and Bai Jingan were seated separately at the two ends of the sofa, one holding a notebook in his hand, and the other holding a snack tray in his hand. They were both silent and their expressions were sombre, waiting for the killings to begin.
But by the time the draw for teammates was over, Xia Tian began to feel that the doctor wasn’t so bad.
To decide the type of survival tournament, the Asaijin game system again took the approach of drawing a lot; so it might be post-apocalyptic survival, guns against guns, a bizarre contest in a mansion, or a sword fight in the cold war era.
This time, they drew the lot that said medieval.
In other words, there were no guns, cannons, or explosives in this show, and there were no airplanes and cars. Everyone had to go back to the cold war era of knives, arrows and spears.
Xia Tian looked at the notice on the big screen and gloated, “I really want to see the facial expressions of those teams who drew the network logistics now.”
Bai Jingan said without raising his head, “‘The Pre-Show Warm-Up’ will be filmed and you can see it then.”
Xia Tian laughed. Bai Jingan was talking about the pre-show warm-up program, which was about capturing the expressions of the players when they watched the notification, and then choosing interesting specials to make some fun from torturing the contestants. You simply didn’t know how boring these people could get.
He wandered around the room again, and the pre-match scene was buzzing with excitement, but he was nervous, overwrought, and his stomach squeezed into a ball.
He wanted to watch something to distract himself, so he looked up at the screen in the preparation area, which had been continuously showing advertisements for the Killing Show, and now it was broadcasting a wide-angle shot of the massacre in Zone N, the disaster was vast and humongous, as far as the eye could see.
Xia Tian felt a cold chill, stood up abruptly, rushed to the bathroom, and vomited violently.
No matter what lens was used, he could recognize the scenes in that disaster. Some things that were experienced personally could never be erased from the soul.
When he came out of the bathroom with wet hair and a sullen face, the map had already been posted. Bai Jingan was turning over a piece of a paper map—probably to echo the medieval theme—with a cold face. He was a tactical planner. He had to remember all the routes in his head and then come up with a general plan within half an hour.
However, the map might also be wrong. Since it was a medieval map, the chances of fallacy was inevitable, and it depended on your luck.
Despite the tendency to be misleading, the official map still marked one or two resource supply points accurately, so everyone still had to painstakingly memorize.
La Tie anxiously and restlessly walked around the room. The doctor was sitting in the corner, calling his family, as if he couldn’t survive without speaking. At first he was talking about some common problems before he died, and then he actually started talking about the new TV show that was airing recently.
Xia Tian sat in a corner, biting his nails, and after a while, he said, “I still want to throw up.”
“The bathroom is on the right hand side,” Bai Jingan said coldly.
Xia Tian went to the bathroom again, his face in a gray pallor. Even here, the doctor’s voice could be heard talking about the show. Xia Tian really knew this film. It was a nightmarish drama about the love between Bai Lin, the leader of the Lower City Resistance Army, and a daughter of a rich and powerful broker in the Upper City, and how he filled her painful heart or something. How come whenever the Lower City had anything good, the people of the Upper City wanted a piece of it.
He sat distractedly on the toilet seat staring at the tiles in a daze. The doctor’s voice was urgent, tone trembling, it was almost as if once he stopped talking, he would collapse and become a pile of debris.
Xia Tian tossed and turned, and came out of the bathroom feeling like a stray dog waiting to be slaughtered, as if he was mentally retarded and trapped in a tiger’s den. Bai Jingan gave him an annoyed look and he couldn’t even fight back by giving a bright smile.
He sat down in the corner melancholily. He had just vomited and couldn’t eat anything, so he picked up the introduction manual and flipped through it, knowing that they would enter a large forest next, each would have nothing but a knife and a pot of drinking water. Want to make a fire? Drill the wood to make one.
There was basically no prey in the woods. You might catch a hare, disassemble it and find that it was a sophisticated electronic device, without even a bit of meat. Instead you would have to pay three times the cost for dismantling the hare as official losses.
In other words, they had to pick a resource point and get something out of it.
According to the published information, there were a total of three resource points, and the teams that participated in the competition would gather there. In the Killing Show, this segment was commonly known as the “opening ceremony”. A large number of players would die in this battle, sometimes as many as hundreds of people, that is, a meat grinder.
He raised his head, and then immediately saw the back of Bai Jingan’s head. The lock of hair had curled up again, and looked very unpleasant to see.
Xia Tian stood up, walked up to him, distractedly pressed down the lock of hair, and smoothened it again, making sure it stayed in place.
Bai Jingan took a breath, and didn’t say anything, probably telling himself to be patient.
LoL that last part…
Thanks for the chapter ♥️♥️
lol it would be amazing if the doctor turned out to be so very useful
Let’s hope the doctor is useful 😔
The last part was kind of cute o(￣▽￣)
Thank you for the chapter ❤️
Lmfao the lock of hair. Thanks for the translation.
These two are just <(￣︶￣)>
Thank you very much for the translation
I wonder does Xia Tan have OCD??
That little hair really bothers him when it curls up. Lol 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
Sometimes cowlicks are just fun to play with. They are so bouncy! They make your partner get all huffy when you keep patting down their hair, too. It’s adorable.
I’m starting to love that lock of hair, help
haahah just shave your head if you are so bothered.
🤣 That’s adorable. Thanks for the chapter