First Round, Preliminary Evaluation

!!Warning: Slight Gore!!

First Round, Preliminary Evaluation

The 'broadcasting studio', as the mechanical voice called it, was a bright and luxurious hall teeming with extravagance.

Ornate grotesque chandeliers of pure gold hung down from a high vaulted ceiling, and the walls were vividly carved with exquisite and lifelike relief sculptures. Flames flickered on silver candlesticks from every nook in the wall, casting looming shadows.

The whole hall was partitioned as a giant flight of steps, divided into a total of nine segments. The further down the steps, the more spacious they were. The most spacious step was even wide enough to accommodate a large football pitch. A different coloured carpet was draped on each step, and adorned by different decor.

Naturally, the most eye-catching feature was the ten thrones on the highest step.

The base of the thrones was made out of the most luxurious crystal and the seats were padded with velvet. Fruits and drinks were placed next to it, prominently declaring the strict class gap.

There was only one similarity between the steps, and that was, they all faced a three-dimensional projection hovering in the air.

Two large words floated on it: 'Thriller Trainee'.

These words were stereographically projected into the irises of everyone's eyeballs. No matter how large the hall was, these words could be seen effortlessly. Similar to the sound that appeared out of thin air without the need for any medium to transmit it, this wasn't technology achievable by modern-day science.

The people fanned in and gathered high and low on the various steps, converging at the centre of the hall.

The expressions that filled their faces were varied. Most showed restlessness and anxiety, and the noise they kicked up fell incessantly on the ears.

It was impossible to observe the size of the hall with the naked eye. No one could see the end of it. The dense congregation of heads was innumerable.

Yet completely unperturbed, Zong Jie stood where he was, constantly twiddling his fingers and magnanimously accepting the attention that baptised him from all sides.

The beauty of the cannon fodder in the novel was needless to be mentioned. Due to a congenital lack of pigment, he exhibited the physical characteristics of mild albinism, such as his white hair. Wherever he went, as long as there were people present, he could effortlessly collect a large swathe of gazes.

Zong Jiu felt it was a pity.

If this was a regular talent show in the entertainment scene, he could rely on his beauty to amass audience votes without worry.

Disturbance suddenly broke out in the crowd; shrill shouts rose one after another.

They spotted something that appeared out of thin air on their chests.

"What's this thing?!"

Amidst the din, Zong Jiu silently lowered his head and wasn't at all surprised to see blue words appear from nothingness on his own chest.

Thriller Trainee. E-Rank.

The canonical owner of this character was just a pretty glass vase. There wasn't much muscle on his body, just like a white chicken with a combat power of five. Giving him E-rank was entirely within reason, no mistake about that.

Where there could have been room for explanation for all the previous incidences, this badge on their chests left none.

The crowd began to turn restless. But not everyone was.

At least, those people standing by the wall weren't.

Their faces were calm with cold indifference.

The words on the badge of these people were uniformly ranked C and above with the highest in sight being A-rank, in stark contrast to the masses of panic-stricken E and F-rank newcomers crowding about Zong Jiu.

On top of that, they seemed further divided into several different organisations, keeping a necessary social distance from each other.

Although he did not know the specific politics behind them, Zong Jiu knew the background the novel was set in and thus was well aware of this.

Not all the trainees were like Xia Chuan and the others, transferred directly from reality to this gruesome and horrific trainee show.

For years, people from all over the world had the misfortune of being the selected 'chosen ones' to enter the horror of an infinitely looping dimension, and the numbers weren't small either. After all, the number of inexplicable disappearances each year reached over two million people, and by broad estimate, millions more continue to struggle here.

No method of return to the real world existed in this infinite loop. Let alone escape, even staying alive was a challenge. Most of the survivalists died in the never ending rounds of forced participation. Only a very small minority of them survive and struggle on into obscurity.

Compared to these shrewd and ruthless survivalists with at least a dozen different means to save their life, this group of newcomers with Zong Jiu that appeared without the slightest chance of winning seemed to be dragged here to fill numbers.

"It's been a long time since I last saw this many people at once."

While Zong Jiu surreptitiously observed that group of people, the survivalists over there were whispering to each other.

In the past, they were all in fixed teams in an organisation and they weren't able to interact outside these teams. Now, seeing so many people at a glance as well as the countless noisy newcomers below, they couldn't help but feel a little moved.

Although the rewards of the show 'Thriller Trainee' were alluring beyond compare, the mortality rate of the system caused many to flinch back. So even though there were many survivalists, those who actually had the guts to sign up for it and managed to pass the screening would not exceed one in ten.

There weren't many old-timers. In order to build momentum, there was naturally a need to pull newcomers into it.

"So what if there are more people?"

Qin Ye crossed his arms, sneering. "All the high-rankers are old faces now, I reckon the newcomers are just noobs the system is dishing to us so that we can feel more involved."

The other person didn't say a word, silently agreeing with what he said. He casted a pitying look over, "What a pity, if the newcomers could fight through a few instances, their chances of survival might be higher, but they got hell-mode right when they entered. Tragic."

The newcomers over there made as much noise as if they were shopping in a grocery market.

Impassive, the veterans watched on; none of them had any intention of coming forward to explain or maintain order.

This was the only large-scale system task that had been released in the many years of the infinite loop. Furthermore, with such abundant rewards, the difficulty level would be unimaginable.

The veterans weren't able to guarantee that they wouldn't be eliminated and survive to the end of this draft, much less those newcomers who lacked even the strength to truss a chicken.

No one was a saint. They could barely even save themselves, let alone others. It would be good enough to be able to take care of themselves.

[Time is up. The entrances to the broadcasting studio are sealed.]

In an echo to the voice, as soon as it finished speaking, the doors around the hall slammed close like a jackhammer, blocking all those who had yet to enter the broadcasting studio outside.

[The first round of the preliminary evaluation has ended.]

The mechanical voice resonated throughout the hall without any infection whatsoever.

One after another, the candles went out, and sparks from the extinguished candles floated into the air, coalescing into a blazing silhouette.

"Welcome to the Thriller Trainees who have successfully entered the venue. I am the anthropomorphic state of the main system."

", I will explain to you the basic rules and show schedule of Thriller Trainee. Stay tuned."

—

Holding his phone in a hand, Xia Chuan sat on the stairs, occasionally checking it in his boredom.

After having used it so much, his phone was about to run out of battery. The battery level had receded to a blinding red and was liable to turn off at any time.

Disappointingly, the signal bar on top stayed empty.

After a large ruckus, many people had gathered in the stairwell. Many others took out their mobile phones and came up the stairs to take photos with Xia Chuan. Although Xia Chuan felt impatient on the inside, he had no choice but to go along with it as he had no assistants or bodyguards around him.

"Something's wrong. Why is it so quiet?"

After everyone had lined up to take photos with the celebrity, a person finally sensed that something was off. "Huh? Where did those people upstairs go? Why isn't there any sound at all?"

After the mechanical voice made its final five-minute broadcast, there no longer came sound from the corridor. Any sound of footsteps and noise from before had vanished cleanly, too. The stairwell only echoed with their voices, inexplicably giving them chills.

"Hang on, what the fuck. It can't be that there's an exit upstairs and they have all left, right?!"

The man who had just finished taking a selfie with Xia Chuan suddenly had a flash of inspiration. He slapped his thigh. "Everyone's gone out already and we're still sitting here waiting like idiots. What are we sitting around here for, come on!"

"Holy shit! You're right! Why else would it be

so quiet!"

"We're fools, we just stood here without a clue."

Realisation dawning on them, the crowd rushed up the stairs, thumping loudly as they went up.

"Damnit, I've been trapped here for so long, laozi has long had enough of it. Gogogo!"

They charged up raucously.

But after running several flights up, the people leading the crowd collectively screeched to a halt at the turn of the stairs.

"What's going on, don't block the way! Keep going!"

The people behind made a commotion, unable to understand why they had stopped all of a sudden.

Maybe it was an intuition, but an intense wave of unease suddenly swept through Xia Chuan's senses.

He was just about to look up when he felt something hot and sticky fall from above onto his head.

It abruptly covered his vision; Xia Chuan subconsciously pulled the object before him away. "What's this thing?"

But he realised that something was wrong when he grabbed it.

That thing was sticky and scarlet, dripping slimy tissue and blood from one end, and foul-smelling black and yellow goo from where it had broken.

The body, cleaved in half, fell heavily into the crowd, scattering blood and broken entrails everywhere.

Xia Chuan shuddered, screaming higher than he ever had at any concert. He swiftly flung away the object in his hand.

What he had held onto earlier, was actually a bloody segment of intestine.

—

The system monotonously explained the rules of this evaluation round of the infinite loop to all the trainees in the broadcasting studio.

Although Zong Jiu had long known of these rules, he still listened carefully from beginning to end.

The rules resembled the format of selection drafts in the real world.

The hall was filled with at least tens of thousands of successful finalists of the preliminary evaluation, and they would all have to compete together in the future.

They would go through countless horror instances, endlessly repeating the elimination process until the last hundred people and the c-position was chosen.

For the preliminary evaluation, the system had assessed their individual strength, roughly dividing the trainees into the seven, SABCDEF, ranks.

"After the conclusion of each competitive round, the system and instructor will reevaluate the ranks based on the individual trainee's performance in the round."

"The higher the rank, the more privileges you are entitled to in the trainee dormitories, and the higher the personal authority. High-level trainees can own rooms, have service privileges, and even know tips or contents of the next instance in advance."

Everyone in the hall stood on different steps according to the ranks on their badges. Even the other nine thrones had their own sequence, but only the throne for No. 1 remained empty.

The young white-haired man silently raised his head and looked behind him towards the highest step.

Zong Jiu remembered what the novel had described.

The S-rank trainee dormitories were on the top floor. It was an excessively luxurious suite with a skyview window and a panoramic roof garden. Even the whirlpool bathtub was as big as an apartment.

Whereas their E-rank dormitory was a rudimentary eight-room dormitory with practically no human rights afforded.

"Because this is a draft set in a variety show, the survivalists will be live broadcasted for the whole duration of the show and the on-screen bullet chat will be turned on. In order to preserve the show's effectiveness and to prevent the leaking of secrets, trainees will not be able to see the live broadcast and bullet chat. During the show, except between trainees, the survivalists' communications system will not open, either."

"With the explanation out of the way, it's time for the question and answer. As long as the questions are permitted by the rules, I will answer them for you."

It was clear that some people harboured the same doubts Zong Jiu had. "Why is the first seat in the top row not occupied?"

"Good question," the system said coldly. "If you are No. 1, you can also have the privilege not to participate in the assembly."

The crowd suddenly stirred. Conversely, the veterans narrowed their eyes as they exchanged a few words to each other with fear on their faces. They didn't look at all surprised about that vacant No. 1 seat.

The crowd were merely frightened by the empty seat, so they obediently listened to the explanation. After the system finished speaking, a defiant voice suddenly emerged.

"And why should we listen to you?"

"

Yeah, that's right. There are so many of us, if we work together as one, we can force our way out and even drown you in our spittle; what can't we do?"

But the system never answered these noisy doubts.

On the contrary, the veterans stood by. While the newcomers were confused and still in the mood to question the system, they had already memorised the rules that the system had stated earlier like the back of their hands, and already begun to quickly analyse it.

At this moment, a mild voice suddenly rang out, easily overshadowing the contention in the hall.

"You hadn't mentioned the elimination rules."

The source of the voice was from above, coming from the ten thrones at the top.

The veterans exchanged a look with each other.

"If death in the instance equates to being eliminated, is the ranking relevant to this? If it is relevant, can it be regarded as lagging behind in ranks, thus eliminated and

obliterated?"

That nice and unhurried voice hit the nail on the head, directly pointing out the questions that the system hadn't explained.

It wasn't clear if it was because the asker's authority was more than sufficient, or that the question was astute enough, but the system swiftly gave an answer.

"The ranking is indeed related to elimination. After the reevaluation in each round of the mini tournaments, the lowest standing rank will be eliminated." The reddish-gold false silhouette responded, "Trainees who are eliminated because of their rankings will be put into a penalty instance. If they are able to pass the penalty instance, they will be given a revival chance."

"But if they die within the instance, they will not be entitled to challenge the penalty instance."

"So, last question," that voice said frostily, "—who is the instructor?"

The veteran's eyes all flashed. Their backs tensed.

The system had already mentioned that the rank evaluation would be conducted by both the system and the instructor. This meant that the mysterious instructor held the power to dictate each person's life and death.

Amongst the whole infinite loop, all the famous and powerful people had without exception voluntarily signed up to enter the lineup for the Thriller Trainee. And in all this time, aside from the system, they had never encountered any other being who could have absolute say, or even interfere, with their life and death.

The system replied calmly, "The question is beyond the scope of authority and will not be answered."

"Wait."

After hearing this, the newcomers who had been in uproar earlier startled. "What joke are you pulling, how can we die?"

He laughed as he spoke. "No way. There's so many of us… So what if you have the ability to get us here, you even want our deaths?"

"You have already come this far, yet you still refuse to face reality." The system said, "In that case, verify it all with your own eyes."

On the central platform, the brightly lit figure of the system suddenly cracked open, re-dispersing into bright sparks that flew to the previously extinguished candles.

The doors sealing the broadcasting studio slowly pulled up from the ground.

It wasn't quite right to call them doors; better put, the entire dome of the hall was rising, like a gift box waiting to be unwrapped, the elegant wrapping torn apart to reveal the cake placed within.

The barriers around them all withdrew, and radiant sunlight cast in from the outside, gilding the thick carpet with a reddish-gold outline, fragmented streams flowing.

As striking as the sunlight was the crimson red blood splattered all over the corridor outside.

Corpses lay around haphazardly, their faces pallid and green. Their chests were ripped open to the stomach and disemboweled, and the innards were cast aside like garbage.

A mountain of corpses and a sea of blood; the image of a purgatory.

And at the end of this gruesome red, there was a person still with some breath in him.

The man's back was dripping with blood. Half his spine had been extracted raw, minced flesh drooping and dripping from him.

Absolute silence befell the studio.

The veterans had been through countless trials and storms, and were able to take this scene well. Only those lower-ranking newcomers each wet their pants in terror, retching loudly "Blaargh—"

Amidst the sound of puking, a person suddenly exclaimed in abject horror, "W, Wait… That… Isn't that Xia Chuan? That lead singer of that boy group, that's Xia Chuan!"

Almost simultaneously, the man who was crawling on the floor heard the sound of the hoisting jack raising and writhed ecstatically towards them.

His hands clawed into the thick carpet, forcing through excruciating agony. His expression was insane with pain, his eyes bulged, and the gnarled white bones of his fingertips left long bloody streaks across the floor.

"Hah, hah…"

A broken, tone-deaf sound broke from Xia Chuan's throat as he weakly pleaded for help.

This short ten or so metres felt like they would take a century of crawling.

Finally, just as Xia Chuan was about to reach the doorway, his head suddenly fell off his neck, like a ball of skin rolling aside rapidly, spilling white brain marrow all over the floor.

A star who would normally appear in front of cameras and surrounded by countless microphones was now as defenseless as a fat lamb waiting for slaughter. Without warning, without arms, without any uncertainty. Without even knowing how he died.

And just like that, he died, in full view before everyone's eyes.

The newcomers watched this scene, quivering.

They were scared out of their wits and didn't dare move forward at all.

"This is what happens if you don't act in accordance with the rules, also the explanation and proof you were looking for."

"Congratulations to all of you for choosing the right path on your first step."

Like an echo, the wide dome fell back down from up high in the sky.

In a split second, everyone in the hall was yanked into the air by an unseen force.

The voice of the system reverberated through the hall. "We have received notification from the instructor that the first match scheduled to begin tomorrow morning has been moved up to today. Please get ready."

They turned pale with fright. The next moment, the carpet they were stepping on suddenly changed, dragging everyone into a deep, bottomless darkness.