Chapter 158

Chapter 158: The Boundless Dark Realm 13

Kui Xin woke up and stared blankly at the familiar ceiling.

She turned her body slightly, her eyes drifting to the window in the room. The curtains were drawn, but the streetlights shone through, casting a few patches of light onto the fabric.

Exhaustion washed over her. This week, Kui Xin had really been worn down; she was always tired, needing to deal with countless events and resolve numerous crises. But thankfully, she had gained some initial freedom. Although the threats still existed, the situation was more flexible, and things were moving in a better direction.

The phone by Kui Xin’s pillow vibrated. She picked it up and saw that it was Su Rong calling.

“Hello?”

“Big Sister Xinxin…” Su Rong spoke in a low voice, seemingly not wanting to disturb her sleeping parents. Her tone was a bit hesitant. “I’m sorry for disturbing you… but…”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m awake.” Kui Xin replied. “That’s me.”

Su Rong’s deep-seated conjectures were finally confirmed. She sat on the bed, letting out a deep sigh of relief. The tension in her shoulders eased as she covered her mouth, her fingers trembling slightly.

“I know Big Sister Xinxin must have a reason for what she did,” Su Rong sobbed.

“Let’s talk about it in detail tomorrow when I come to give you a lecture,” Kui Xin said. “Just get a good night’s sleep, Rongrong. You’re already home now.”

“Okay!” Su Rong replied.

They ended the call. Su Rong lay on her bed, curling up in the blanket, feeling an overwhelming warmth in her heart. Suddenly, she felt like she had something to lean on. A moment later, she suddenly pushed back the blankets and ran to the door, cracked it open, and listened. Hearing her parents snoring, she felt deeply reassured.

She was back! Back to a peaceful world.

Su Rong wiped away the tears from her face and returned to the bed and lay down again.

In the First World, she had her parents and Big Sister Xinxin. In the Second World, there was Big Sister Xinxin too. No matter where she was, someone was with her. She did not want to check the forums or pay attention to anything else. She just wanted to follow what Big Sister Xxin told her and get a proper rest.

Before putting down her phone completely, Kui Xin received several messages.

One from Yuan Lu and one from He Kangshi.

As usual, Yuan Lu asked about her well-being, and Kui Xin responded appropriately. He Kangshi’s messages contained much more information. He sent a series of rapid-fire messages.

“Boss, Aunt Maotoufu is too powerful! Gao! She’s only been in our White Whale City for one day! The young master of the Popov family got kidnapped, and they’re asking for a hundred billion yuan from the Popovs. Yesterday, I heard everyone talking about this on the streets of the Midnight Zone. Now we have the funds for our organization’s activities!”

Kui Xin reflected for a moment. “Be careful not to expose your identity.”

“That’s right; I’m always cautious,” He Kangshi replied. “I logged into the dark web, and ‘The Shadowless’ bounty announcement is ranked among the top ten. However, no one knows who the organization members are; just an empty bounty task is posted. The status of us being unique is undeniable—our prestige rivals that of destroying the Hei Hai City Bureau of Investigation and an S-rank Awakened by Mechanized Dawn.”

Kui Xin’s lips twitched slightly.

He Kangshi probably didn’t dream that Kui Xin herself was behind the assassination attempt on the Deputy Director.

Additionally, on the list, there was another bounty notice, for killing Mayor Shu Chengyan of Hei Hai City, known as ‘Blue Sparrow’. Later, with the exposure of Mechanized Dawn, the missions to capture ‘Blue Sparrow’ and those targeting Mechanized Dawn were combined.

Among the top ten bounties, Kui Xin accounted for one-third.

This record, she thought, was unparalleled.

“In the future, Maotoufu will be in charge of work in White Whale City,” Kui Xin said. “You all should cooperate well and work closely together.”

“Alright,” He Kangshi agreed. “Does Aunt Maotoufu’s temper not suit you?”

“Do you think her temperament isn’t good?”

“She doesn’t like playing jokes much, and sometimes talking to her feels awkward…”

“Then I’ll tell her ‘Hunter Falcon’ suggested she lighten up and play more, otherwise, ‘Hunter Falcon’ might feel uncomfortable.”

He Kangshi frantically refused. “No need! Don’t mention it! Just the way she is is good enough!”

Kui Xin responded, “Alright.”

A corner of He Kangshi’s lips lifted as he quickly switched to the forum after the chat session.

Closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, He Kangshi silently prayed.

“Don’t die too many people… please don’t let too many people die…”

The page loaded, and He Kangshi immediately looked at the survival count at the top, then leaned back in disbelief.

79,653!!

The survival count was close to 80,000 players, whereas during the beta test alone, the slot availability reached up to 110,000.

Nearly one-third of the players had died.

Meanwhile, Kui Xin also noticed the number of survivors in the forum.

She sighed, unsure whether to feel relieved or sorrowful. Her worst-case scenario had players dying off rapidly, so having fewer deaths than anticipated…

Perhaps the experienced players had informed newcomers about survival strategies. With the large influx of cross-over participants this time, the Federation government struggled to fully identify and clear them. Within a week, agents from the Special Affairs Department and the Investigation Bureau had limited manpower and resources, and players dispersed across the world made the process time-consuming, even when these departments operated around the clock.

The first轮回 cycle for the second wave of beta test players had concluded; these players now had deeper insights into the world. During their next game crossover, they would learn to hide themselves, self-protect, and gain new abilities—making it harder for the government to capture and clear them.

Kui Xin first navigated to the page focused on the second wave of beta test participants, browsing their posts.

Horror-filled posts dominated the homepage.

“For real, this is actually a game! For real! Damn it, seeing so many seniors warning me against recklessness… I thought everyone was just making jokes at first!”

“Help! I would dedicate my life to meditation and ascetic practices for a chance to quit.”

“What goes around comes around. When I heard an influencer’s warnings about the game, I became curious and, rebelling against others’ advice, joined the beta test. Now I wish I could slap myself for being so impulsive!!!”

“Spiritual Journey: If anyone else was misled by my carefree attitude and ignored warnings and strategies, I am truly sorry. Regret? It’s too late.”

New posts kept appearing.

In the new forum section, with a staggering 100,000 players returning, activity was extremely high. Fresh posts appeared every second—a far cry from the single-section first wave, with only 10,000 players.

Post volume made searching for particular information challenging.

“Save me! Please help me. Someone, can anyone? On August 23rd at midnight, a group wearing combat uniforms invaded my house. This is probably one of the organizations responsible for hunting game players. ”

Top floor post: Is there any hope left? They burst into my place less than two seconds ago, and returned here. How will they treat me? Will they kill me?

Post 1: Good luck!

Post 2: Not much to say but good wishes.

Post 3: Do you have any unfinished business? Spend this week in our world fulfilling them. What more could there be?

Post 4: Your timing couldn’t be worse. Feeling your pain, as a member of the first batch of beta testers with cancer, living each day is tantamount to facing death. Frankly speaking, you find yourself in a similar predicament now. Complete your unfinished business and reconcile with loved ones. We’ve written our wills early. Prepare for your own funeral too.

Many posts detailed players’ unfortunate experiences in the Second World.

This scene was something Kui Xin had witnessed when第一批内测玩家第一次回归的时候 already, but this time the scale was larger, with tenfold more posts.

Kui Xin repeatedly refreshed the page, her expression largely unchanged.

She had become accustomed to it. She could read such hardships calmly. Only when she saw the blood-soaked surviving numbers at the top did her heart stir.

“The Crimson Soil will definitely start the third batch of tests and public tests. What will the world look like then?”

“Reading these posts makes me realize my fortune. My identity is hidden, and I have awakened superpowers, putting me at an advantage. Just don’t know if luck will hold.”

Kui Xin glanced one last time and opened the top post in the second section.

The list of deceased included not just those from the first batch, but also the second batch. They seemed mixed sequentially based on the time.

Skimming through the prolonged loss notices, she was searching for information on Deprivation Agent 777.

At last, she stumbled upon a bulletin.

“Proxy 69801 was killed by Deprivation Agent 777 on August 21st.”

Scanning the whole page, Kui Xin found this singular notice. Given his bold challenge to Deprivation Agent 233, if given the chance, he likely wouldn’t have stopped at one death.

Something must’ve gone wrong.

Kui Xin pondered for a while, then messaged He Kangshi.

“Send a private message to Deprivation Agent Augus on the forum. Gauge his state.” Kui Xin said.

He Kangshi immediately replied, “Got it, how should I ask?”

“Directly ask him why he’s killed so few people.” Kui Xin answered.

He Kangshi soon sent a message.

Kui Xin waited, then He Kangshi added, “Augus hasn’t replied yet… I thought his crazed energy would prompt him to send a boasting message right away.”

Kui Xin frowned, reviewing the death list, failing to locate Deprivation Agent 777’s notice.

No progress. She temporarily shelved Augus and switched to the first section, updating the posts of the first batch of beta participants.

The communication in the first section felt calmer. The majority of experienced players had reached a level of serenity, occasionally posting about the reactions of newcomers. Many posts were about sharing intel and learning, and some enthusiastic old players journeyed to the second section to guide newcomers, teaching them how to use advanced technology and blend in as cyber natives.

Kui Xin refreshed the forum. Two new posts caught her eye.

One titled in English, “Me and my companion were attacked by Deprivation Agent 777 in the Second World. I survived, but my companion didn’t. Beware everyone of Deprivation Agent 777! He is a serial killer, a complete lunatic!”

Another titled, “Have you noticed that time starts moving during the soul transition?”

The latter almost made Kui Xin lose her composure.