chapter 41

Whenever a thread discussing Bai Liu appears on the forum, it almost invariably devolves into acrimonious quarrels. The point of contention is nearly always Bai Liu's recent ascension to the coveted "core promotion slot," and whether or not he is truly worthy of such a distinction.

Many players believe Bai Liu's abilities are mediocre, that he relies on petty cunning, and is undeserving of such a prime position. Others retort that Bai Liu has already claimed the spot—what business is it of yours whether he deserves it or not?

Wang Shun, having observed several of these disputes, concluded that most of Bai Liu's detractors believe he is "morally unworthy of his station."

The last time such a grand debate over "moral unworthiness" erupted, it was during Du Sanying's rookie days.

Du Sanying, blessed with a luck stat of one hundred, succeeded effortlessly at everything he attempted. Points flowed into his account as if money were no object, inciting the envy of many players. Every day, they cursed Du Sanying, claiming that someone who coasted on luck alone had no right to exist and would inevitably perish in the game.

Some argued that Du Sanying possessed genuine skill, but such defenses were invariably met with, "If you're so capable, let's see Du Sanying survive with his luck stat set to zero before you talk about skill."

However, as Du Sanying steadily secured his place among the top three on the rising stars leaderboard, the number of players bold enough to speak against him dwindled, and the situation improved considerably.

Now, Bai Liu's luck stat is zero. He has climbed to the "core promotion slot" purely by virtue of his strength and strategy, yet this crowd still finds him disagreeable, still deems him "morally unworthy."

It seems that "virtue" is irrelevant; what truly matters is the position itself. So long as someone occupies that seat—anyone but themselves—they will always find fault, magnifying every flaw for all to see.

Wang Shun shook his head, choosing to ignore the players' endless debates. Yet, as he gazed at the wall of small TV screens before him, he found himself wrestling with a similar dilemma: whose stream should he watch?

The Puppet Master's stream had switched to a paid model, as had Mu Sicheng's. Although Du Sanying, the third-ranked rising star, had always played with little fanfare and failed to cultivate a loyal paying audience, his stream remained free.

As a newcomer, Bai Liu naturally had not enabled paid viewing either.

Yet, despite Bai Liu's free stream, his audience was far smaller than Mu Sicheng's or the Puppet Master's, to say nothing of Du Sanying.

Du Sanying had always been immensely popular, and with his stream free and the three titans gathered for this much-anticipated game, nearly all the non-paying players flocked to his viewing area. From afar, the crowd around Du Sanying's stream was so dense it seemed to outnumber Mu Sicheng's and the Puppet Master's by an order of magnitude.

Even the Puppet Master's three puppet players, such as Li Gou, enjoyed considerable popularity simply by association, their streams drawing far more viewers than Bai Liu's.

Only Bai Liu's stream stood desolate and forlorn.

With a sigh, Wang Shun, unable to bear the sight, entered Bai Liu's viewing area.

In a game crowded with so many luminaries, most viewers could barely keep up with the stars' streams—who would spare a glance for a newcomer? It was only natural that Bai Liu's traffic had been siphoned away, leaving him all but ignored.

[301 people have liked Bai Liu's stream. 170 have bookmarked it. 210 are currently watching. No one has tipped Bai Liu's stream.]

[Please keep striving, Bai Liu! Your likes are only one percent of Du Sanying's, who ranks first among all players in "Explosive Last Bus" this season!]

"Du Sanying already has thirty thousand likes—how long has the game even been running?" Wang Shun exclaimed in genuine amazement. He watched as Du Sanying instantly claimed the first promotion slot and departed for the central hall. With a sigh, Wang Shun gave Bai Liu a like. "Hang in there, Bai Liu. Don't fall into obscurity…"

——————

Du Sanying stood outside the platform, his glasses nearly pressed to his ticket as he scrutinized the destination. He muttered to himself, "How odd… the departure and arrival stations are the same…"

Behind him, the LED clock on the platform had already begun its countdown: [00:10]. As the timer entered the final ten seconds, the station was plunged into darkness, only to be illuminated a second later by a flickering, ominous red glow.

The subway station was now awash in alternating red and black, the light casting the entire space into the likeness of a photographic darkroom. From the depths of the tunnel, a train with blood-red headlights roared forth like a ravenous beast, eyes agleam, eager to devour its prey. It screeched to a halt before Du Sanying.

The station's PA system, its female voice mechanical and cold, announced: "Passengers on the train have arrived at the terminal station of Antique City. Please disembark if this is your destination. The train will soon begin its next journey. Passengers departing from Antique City, please board now—Passengers on the train have arrived at the terminal station of antique city. Please get off the train at the destination of ..."

As the announcement played, the train doors slid open before Du Sanying. A gust of wind, thick with the stench of charred flesh, rushed out to greet him, the acrid tang of burnt meat filling his nostrils and forcing him to cover his mouth and nose, coughing violently.

Du Sanying looked up at the subway he was about to board—the No. 4 line. Under the stuttering lights, he saw the train alternately empty, its handrails swaying in solitude, and then packed with a crowd of faceless passengers, as congested as a city subway at rush hour, so crowded he could not squeeze aboard.

The red LED clock behind him crackled and jumped to [00:05], as if signaling something. The station's air vents abruptly ceased operation.

The temperature began to rise rapidly. The PA speakers, melting like candles, dripped and deformed. The announcer's voice grew distorted and drawn out, finally stuttering on a strange syllable—[44444]—repeating endlessly. Du Sanying surmised she was trying to say "Line 4."

The other passengers waiting to board began to shuffle slowly toward the train. Under the flickering red and black lights, their figures wavered eerily. As they walked, several suddenly burst into flames, transforming into blazing corpses.

The skin on these burning "passengers" split and curled, blackened by the flames, revealing the pale yellow fat beneath, which melted and dripped like butter onto the floor. Their limbs convulsed and shrank in the heat, emitting acrid black smoke, yet they seemed oblivious to their own immolation, continuing to board the train.

The train gradually filled with these charred corpses. Some sat, some stood, hands gripping the rails, bodies pressed against the doors. The flames melted the plastic handholds, which dripped like cream onto the "passengers." The subway glass crackled and threatened to shatter in the heat, while the "passengers" stared down at their phones, wires exposed by the fire, as if utterly unaware of the horror around them.

Were it not for the unquenchable flames consuming them, they might have seemed like weary commuters on the last train home.

[System prompt: Player Du Sanying, please board the train immediately.]

"You've got to be kidding…" Du Sanying muttered, exasperated. "What kind of game is this? Is it a death train? With the carriage burning like this, am I supposed to be roasted alive?"

The viewers of Du Sanying's stream erupted in laughter:

"A death train! Hilarious! Don't worry, no one would dare harm our little parrot!"

"Have faith in your luck, little parrot! Maybe your presence will extinguish the flames!"

"Wait, look closely! Are there any burning people on the train? There are players on board!!"

"Damn! Who's so bold as to get on first? Aren't they afraid of dying?!"

Amidst the charred, blackened corpses, there was a man with fair skin, dressed in a white shirt and slacks, looking every bit the ordinary office worker, calmly conversing with another.

His companion, a young man with a lollipop in his mouth and hands in his pockets, looked like a university student. He leaned in to listen, a mischievous smile playing on his striking features.

In a train filled with smoke and flames, surrounded by burnt, desiccated "passengers," these two, so conspicuously normal and attractive, drew every eye.

Du Sanying's viewers exploded:

"Holy—! It's Mu God! He's so handsome!"

"Who's that office worker? So composed!"

Mu Sicheng looked at Bai Liu, who had reverted to his original appearance, and chuckled, "Why did you change back? Not going for the punk look anymore?"

"The stream's started. Of course I changed back to attract viewers," Bai Liu replied shamelessly, adjusting his shirt cuffs. "People are visual creatures. Since I have a decent face, I might as well use it to rake in some cash."

"But there's another reason," Bai Liu added, glancing at Mu Sicheng. "To make it easier for the Puppet Master, who's coming after me, to find me."

Mu Sicheng's smile faded slightly, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Bai Liu, are you really going to use yourself as bait to lure Zhang Gui? He's strong, his skills are formidable, and your plan is full of holes. Even if I help, there's no guarantee we'll succeed in killing him…"

"Shh." Bai Liu pressed a finger to his lips, eyes fixed on the LED countdown outside the train: [00:01]. He whispered, "The countdown's almost up. Someone's about to board."

"Whatever you want," Mu Sicheng replied, folding his arms and leaning against the door. "After all, you're the one most likely to die with that plan, not me. If you're so eager to throw your life away, be my guest."