Chapter 78: Three Possibilities

The veterans were long accustomed to death, but their expressions darkened at the revelation of a hidden trap in the rules. The newcomers, on the other hand, were witnessing someone die so horribly for the first time, and several collapsed to the ground in fright.

The words “Zheng Hua Game Over!!!” flashed across the massive city screens, drawing the eyes of countless onlookers. After the announcement repeated, the display changed to a skeletal figure, followed by two chilling lines in English:

All tragedies end with death!
Brought death pain, and death will be kept!
— Mr. Death

Liu He frowned, confused. Li Yuan, his tone sour, translated:
“First line: All tragedies end with death. Second: Pain brings death, and death will in turn breed new pain.”

Liu He pressed, “And the third line?”

Li Yuan rolled his eyes.

Lin Kuo answered simply: “It’s the Reaper’s signature.”

After that brief remark, Lin Kuo paid them no further attention. He wanted to check Zheng Hua’s body, to see if there was any clue left behind. But as he approached, a security guard blocked his way.

“Mr. Lin, I hope this accident doesn’t interfere with your competition. We’ve already contacted the authorities—please leave this matter to the police. Ah, and since it’s getting late, have you found lodging yet? If not, we can arrange it for you.”

The guard’s eagerness was obvious, already offering to arrange accommodations. Lin Kuo cast a distant glance toward Zheng Hua’s corpse before Li Yuan came up beside him.

“Any clues?” she asked.

Lin Kuo shook his head. “None.”

“Figured as much,” Li Yuan replied without disappointment.

The instance had already shown them a death vision—if it left extra clues on the body, the difficulty would be far too low.

Because of the falling signboard, a crowd had gathered, casting curious glances at them. Li Yuan disliked being the center of attention. “Let’s find somewhere to rest first,” she suggested.

That one line lit up the guard’s face. He jumped at the chance: “If you’re willing, our corporation owns a five-star hotel. I’d be honored to arrange suites for all of you.”

Li Yuan eyed him skeptically. “Do you even have that authority?”

The guard smiled warmly. “Naturally, I don’t. But I can apply. I’m certain our higher-ups would be delighted to host you—it would be our privilege.”

It was late, and they did need a place to stay. But hotels meant crowds and unpredictability. Lin Kuo thought for a moment, then said, “Arrange a large villa. Quiet, spacious, with a good environment.”

“…”

The guard happily went off to make the arrangements. Li Yuan didn’t bother asking why Lin Kuo insisted on a villa, and Lin Kuo didn’t explain. Villas and manor houses were common in City Enclosure instances. People still died there, but at least the accommodations were decent.

As he made his request, Lin Kuo’s thoughts strayed—would he even get used to life outside once he left the City Enclosure? And then there was Sheng Wen… Sheng Wen lived like an emperor in S-Zone. Could he, just a comic artist, really support someone like that?

Since the requirements were “large,” “villa,” “quiet,” and “good environment,” the city center wouldn’t do. The guard eventually escorted them to a grand villa on the outskirts.

The villa was magnificent—complete with gardens and a swimming pool. Yet because Zheng Hua had just died, the newcomers were in no mood to enjoy it. The veterans, who knew they were still inside a deadly instance, weren’t swayed by such hollow luxuries either.

After delivering them, the guard said a few more pleasantries before leaving. Because there were twelve of them left, three luxury cars had brought them here. The guard didn’t even take the cars back—he handed them the keys for their convenience.

Once he was gone, the remaining twelve gathered in the villa’s reception hall to analyze the instance.

The hall was equipped with a whiteboard and markers. Like Liang Sihong from the Intruder instance, Liu He naturally carried the air of a leader.

Snapping the cap off a marker, he rapped it against the table to call attention. “It’s just one death,” he said brusquely. “We’ve only just begun.”

Some of the newcomers bristled at his phrasing. Xiaoyu protested, “That was still a living, breathing person! Just before, he was alive and talking about lending me his shirt!”

Li Yuan shot her a sidelong glance. “Was it you who killed him? If we’re going to talk about responsibility, isn’t yours heavier?”

Xiaoyu faltered. “I…”

Li Yuan’s words came rapid-fire, not giving her room to breathe:
“If you’d looked closer at the death vision, maybe Zheng Hua would still be alive. If you hadn’t insisted on changing clothes, he wouldn’t have been standing under that sign at exactly that time. And most importantly—you noticed the sign falling before anyone else, and still you didn’t warn us in time.”

Xiaoyu went pale.

Li Yuan sneered. “And that weak little murmur of yours counts as a warning?”

“I… I was trying!” Xiaoyu stammered. “It was my first time…”

“Not good enough,” Li Yuan cut her off mercilessly.

Lin Kuo pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want this escalating into a breakdown. Looking at Li Yuan, he said quietly, “Enough.”

A teammate’s collapse would only make things worse.

Because it was Lin Kuo who spoke, Xiaoyu instantly mistook him for an ally. Her nose stung, tears welled up, and she broke down in muffled sobs.

Li Yuan showed no remorse. “Not everything can be excused with first time or no experience.” But catching Lin Kuo’s disapproval, she reluctantly fell silent.

Lin Kuo pulled tissues from the box and handed them to Xiaoyu.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then looked at him desperately. “Do you… do you all think I killed Zheng Hua?”

Lin Kuo frowned. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Every death in the City Enclosure, he blamed on the Main God System itself. Without it, none of these pointless deaths would happen.

“Then… then am I just holding everyone back?” she asked softly.

The question silenced him.

“Enough quarreling.” Liu He banged the table again. He looked around at the newcomers. “If your abilities aren’t enough, then find another way to contribute. Crying won’t save you. No one here has the duty to comfort your fragile feelings.”

Xiaoyu went mute, and the other newcomers forced themselves to sit up straighter. But when they glanced at the veterans, they saw only cold indifference on their faces. Even Lin Kuo, though somewhat gentler, carried a distant, detached air.

Liu He turned back to the whiteboard, writing down the Death God’s message Li Yuan had translated earlier. “These two lines must hide a clue,” he said. “What do you all think?”

Lin Kuo stayed silent. The other veterans from A-Zone instances likely had thoughts similar to his. The message probably did conceal a vital clue—but it was buried too deeply. He had no leads yet, and he wouldn’t voice reckless guesses that might derail the group.

The other veterans also stayed quiet. If it were obvious, they wouldn’t still be struggling in a three-star instance.

Liu He wasn’t surprised at the silence. He changed the subject. “Then what about the death visions?”

Xiaoyu had foreseen two: first, an earthquake; second, Zheng Hua’s death. But now, nearly four hours had passed since the supposed quake, and nothing had happened.

“My theory,” Liu He said, “is that death visions are both true and false. The false ones exist to lure us to our deaths.” He paused, then looked past the newcomers, fixing his gaze on the four other veterans. “Do you have any other ideas?”

Again, silence. None of them had seen the visions firsthand. And with Xiaoyu so scatterbrained, interpreting them was even harder.

Breaking the silence, Li Yuan asked, “Lin Kuo, what do you think?”

“I agree with Liu He,” Lin Kuo said evenly. “But if you want a different answer, I do have another idea.” He paused, then continued:
“Since Xiaoyu saw two visions, there are three possibilities.

First: If the two visions can be linked into one continuous sequence or theme, then Liu He is correct—the visions are both true and false. The false ones mislead us toward death.

Second: If the visions don’t connect—if they’re drastically different—then it may mean the Reaper is patching the narrative.”

The veterans’ faces changed.

“Patching?” Xiaoyu echoed, confused.

“Yes.” Lin Kuo explained calmly: “Your first vision was of an earthquake. But we all escaped, so that outcome didn’t happen. If the Reaper still wants us dead, it compensates by creating a new vision—in this case, Zheng Hua’s death.”

Thanks to Zhang Mengnan in a previous instance, Lin Kuo had learned how to phrase insights in a way others could grasp.

Li Yuan asked, “Is that why you asked her earlier whether the two visions connected?”

Lin Kuo didn’t answer. He had, indeed, realized it the moment Xiaoyu saw the second vision. But since she hadn’t given him a clear answer, he’d lost the chance to save Zheng Hua.

Now the newcomers understood. Xiaoyu’s blunders suddenly looked even worse. Head bowed, she whispered, “I’m sorry… If I see another death vision, I’ll pay closer attention. I’ll describe it as clearly and accurately as I can.”

Li Yuan dismissed her empty promise and turned back to Lin Kuo. “And the third possibility?”

Lin Kuo said, “That both of the first two are true.”