That boy, to save himself, had personally shoved his own mother into the water plants, leading to her gruesome death.
Maybe he was still young, maybe he didn’t fully grasp the consequences—but that couldn’t excuse what he’d done. Especially not when the victim was his own mother.
For a while, everyone kept their distance from him. Even the livestream chat had gone utterly silent.
[What the hell…]
[That kid is terrifying. No question, that’s future criminal material. Too bad he’s not old enough to be charged.]
[Exactly. Even if he clears the game, first—this happened in an instance, and second—he’s underage. No one can touch him. He’ll get off scot-free.]
[I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I kind of want him to die in the game now… confession.]
[Screw confession. I’ll say it: he deserves to die!!]
[But he’s still just a kid…]
[Oh shut up. Have you ever seen a twelve-year-old who hides behind his mom to do whatever he wants?]
[Saints shouldn’t be playing this game. Do me a favor—grab your ID, buy a plane ticket to Sichuan, then catch a high-speed train to a little place called Leshan. There’s a big Buddha statue there. Wake him up and let him take your seat.]
The boy noticed everyone had pulled away from him. He looked around, his face dark, eyes scanning the crowd.
Then he saw his sister—and his eyes lit up with hope.
“Jiejie!”
Lu Zhaodi took two steps forward out of habit.
But Lin Shu called out loudly, “Don’t go to him! You’re not his mother—his mother just died because of him!”
Lu Zhaodi froze in place, looking at her younger brother, unsure what to do.
For over a decade, in her home and among relatives, she’d been taught one thing again and again: be good to your little brother. Give up everything for him.
No one had ever told her, “You don’t have to take care of him.” No one had ever told her she could live her life for herself.
The love she’d received from her mother and brother—two people she’d lived with for fourteen years—added together, didn’t even compare to what she’d just gotten in under an hour from complete strangers.
Her brother’s voice still echoed in her ears, but Lu Zhaodi’s gaze slowly grew resolute. She pressed her lips together and quietly stepped back.
“Lu Tiangan, clear the instance on your own.”
With that, she turned around and never looked back, ignoring the sudden darkness clouding her brother’s face.
Lin Shu and Lin Ze called her over again and had her stay with them.
Fu Changxun didn’t feel any particular sense of triumph from the outcome of this twisted little drama—but neither did he feel any pity.
He just sighed quietly and adjusted the mental player count in his head… down to 166.
Battle royale games really did have a terrifying mortality rate.
The group now faced a new problem: what to do with the water plants occupying the fresh food section. They weren’t particularly aggressive, but they didn’t discriminate between food and people who got too close. That made the entire area dangerous.
“The fresh food section is in the northeast corner. Let everyone in the mall know—it’s off-limits,” Qiu Yi said calmly.
He left Song Zhenpeng to guard the area and went to inform the NPCs.
After all, in a battle royale game like this, even seemingly unimportant NPCs couldn’t be casually discarded. To put it bluntly—they made for excellent human shields.
Using NPCs as cannon fodder in this type of instance wasn’t something the game punished.
Two elderly NPCs had been badly shaken by the incident, so Lulu went over to talk with them to calm them down.
Meanwhile, Xiao Xiao tugged at Fu Changxun’s sleeve and asked, “Ge, can I go talk to her?”
Fu Changxun smiled gently. “Go ahead. Just stay safe.”
He sat up straight and watched Xiao Xiao approach Lu Zhaodi—and quickly, the two girls hit it off.
For once, Lu Zhaodi actually smiled.
After a day of recovery, the group gathered to discuss preliminary clearance strategies.
“There should be enough supplies in the mall to last us a month,” Lin Shu said. Despite being in a wheelchair, her demeanor was firm and composed. “The water and power are cut, but it’s not the height of summer, so food spoilage shouldn’t be too fast. Still… with this group of old, weak, sick, and injured folks, in a battle royale we’re basically walking meat.”
She seemed entirely unfazed by her own condition, even factoring her immobility directly into the plan.
Lulu disagreed. “No. Staying here will only become more dangerous. We don’t know how far the plants outside might evolve. If they learn to move…”
If they crept inside the mall, they’d be trapped like fish in a barrel.
“Not only that, we have to consider food distribution for the NPCs too,” Lulu continued. “They’re sentient. If supplies run low, there’s bound to be conflict.”
Lin Shu didn’t want to refute herself, but she had to admit—Lulu was right.
She’d overlooked the NPC factor. After a pause, she said, “Then let’s work with them. Ration out food supplies and get through this month together?”
But before anyone else could respond, the most delicate, least noticeable member of the group—the pretty young man—spoke first.
“Mm… there’s something that’s been bothering me.”
Fu Changxun tilted his head slightly, his black eyes glimmering as he asked, “I just want to know… are we really the only players in this mall?”
His voice was soft, clear, and pleasant to the ear—but the question sent chills down their spines.
Since the game had started, aside from the official players working with Special Affairs, there had also been a group of rogue players. They played on their own terms and refused to cooperate with authorities. Some kept to themselves, while others actively stirred up trouble.
These players usually had their own unique clearance strategies—and never followed anyone’s commands.
“We’re screwed. We’ve been way too obvious.” Qiu Yi wiped a hand down his face. “If there are rogue players here, they could already be disguised among the NPCs, watching us in secret.”
They had drawn too much attention from the very start.
Fu Changxun: “…”
“I was just asking out of curiosity… but now that you’ve said it—” He trailed off, subtly calling attention to Qiu Yi’s jinx ability.
Lulu, who knew what that meant, immediately jumped up and clamped a hand over Chief Qiu’s mouth. “Can you not say another word?!”
With his luck, even a casual comment could become prophecy!
“All right, all right, don’t blame Qiu-ge.” Fu Changxun added with a faux-apologetic look, “It was me who accidentally brought it up.”
Qiu Yi: “…”
Damn it, that little brat totally set me up!
Sure enough, before the words were even fully out, Lulu pressed down harder. “It’s still your fault for talking too much!”
Qiu Yi: “Mmph mmph mmph—!”
Dong Zi overheard Fu Changxun call him “Qiu-ge,” and though he understood it was just for appearances, he still felt a little sour. Without warning, he wrapped Ah Xun tightly into his arms.
“Ah Xun, ignore him. Don’t risk getting cursed.”
Qiu Yi’s muffled cries grew more indignant. I did not curse anyone!
Their little scuffle left the uninformed players confused.
So far, what was known: the beautiful, sweet-talking youth; the quiet, loyal guard who always stayed close to him; the girl who seemed to adore the youth; and the Special Affairs agent, Qiu Yi, who got along great with the girl but seemed to have some tension with the youth.
This group’s relationship dynamics were… complicated.
Weird. Gotta rewatch this later.
Lin Shu didn’t understand the drama—but it didn’t stop her from admiring the pretty youth.
Barely half a day into the instance, and this guy had already built such an entangled web of relationships. Either a professional heartbreaker or a manipulative green tea—either way, he definitely knew how to play.
“In any case,” Dong Zi took over the conversation on behalf of the tangled-up Lulu and Qiu Yi, “don’t get too comfortable here. If anything goes wrong, we’ll find a way out.”
He paused, then added, “If you can still scavenge food, do it. Don’t just lie around.”
Food supplies would only dwindle from here, and both Dong Zi and Fu Changxun had a bad feeling about what was to come.
“I’m getting a little worried… Ah Zi, let’s get ready. We should scout the area,” Fu Changxun said quietly.
***
And sure enough, their instincts were spot on.
Day Four in the mall. The NPCs began showing signs of anxiety.
There was still plenty of food and a reliable water supply, but the isolation was taking its toll. People were starting to miss their families, to fear the unknown. One by one, panic set in. Sobbing filled the air.
“I can’t get through to anyone… what do we do…”
“I miss my mom, I miss my dad!”
“Has the world outside already collapsed? Why hasn’t anyone come to rescue us?!”
“We’re trapped here, no backup, and when the food runs out, then what? If you ask me, we should charge out of here and fight those mutated plants head-on!”
That last line came from a young man—impatient and impulsive by nature.
But to their surprise, his suicidal declaration received a disturbing amount of support. A small group armed themselves with kitchen knives and baseball bats from the mall, then stormed outside to hack at the nearest plants.
At first, nothing happened.
The young man’s face lit up. “Yes! The plants haven’t mutated any further—”
His words cut off abruptly.
His eyes widened in terror as he looked down.
Countless thin, sharp vines had already pierced straight through his body—dozens of them, tearing him apart. In seconds, he was a blood-drenched corpse.
Then, thud—he fell backwards, eyes glazed over, never to rise again.
“AHHH—RUN!!”
Most of the NPCs who had charged out with him were met with the same fate. Only a few, fast and lucky, scrambled back inside—tumbling, crawling, panting.
Only one among them had been injured, quickly taken aside by the others for emergency treatment.
“Don’t go out there. Don’t ever go out there again…”
The survivors trembled in fear, shaking their heads.
“I’d rather starve here than… than that…”
They had brushed against death—only a sliver away from losing consciousness entirely. The terror of that moment was far worse than the fear of hunger.
After this incident, the total number of players and NPCs in the mall dropped to 103.
More people chose to accept their fate, deciding to wait here for rescue.
But if that elusive rescue never came… they really might starve to death.
A few sharp-minded individuals had already stashed away food in secret, hiding it and guarding it with everything they had. The players sat together, their food supplies kept close at hand.
Fu Changxun excused himself to go to the bathroom—but instead, climbed to the second floor and stood on the balcony, overlooking the crowd below.
So… which ones are players?
His gaze paused on someone for a long moment—then subtly shifted away.
The person he’d been watching quietly exhaled and relaxed their muscles, exchanging a look with their companion. A small shake of the head—we haven’t been found out.
“Did you find them?” Dong Zi mouthed silently from below.
Fu Changxun’s lips curved ever so slightly. Without looking directly, his peripheral vision landed back on the pair. “Mm.”
