"Hey, big guy, your kidney cooling fan is vibrating at a frequency of seventy-four revolutions per second. It sounds like a castrated rooster sharpening its claws on my eardrums. Mind shifting two coordinate points to the left?"
Ling Yan was slumped halfway into the peeling, synthetic leather seat of the maglev train, his eyelids heavy as if weighted down by lead balls. He lifted a finger and feebly poked the "Meat Mountain" blocking his view.
It was a giant of a man, nearing three meters in height and subjected to heavy, illegal modifications. His back exposed a rusty metal spine, and several thick exhaust pipes were wheezing, spewing hot air.
Hearing the commotion behind him, the giant slowly turned. His neck emitted the sizzling sound of hydraulic transmission, and his head — which retained only half a human face — drooped low. Electronic prosthetic eyes flashed a dangerous red, locking dead onto this young man who looked like a strong wind could blow him over.
The air in the carriage froze instantly.
The surrounding passengers, clutching various severed limbs and broken arms for warmth, shrank their necks into their collars, terrified of getting blood splattered on them — in this madhouse known as the "Singularity Casino," cleaning fees were usually more expensive than medical bills.
"You looking to die?" The giant's voice, filtered through a cheap synthesizer, sounded like he had a mouthful of gravel.
He raised a massive mechanical arm; the energy jet in his palm began to charge, emitting a high-frequency hum.
Ling Yan sighed. It was the sigh of someone utterly disappointed with this boring world. He didn't even bother to open his eyes, simply shifting his head to a more comfortable angle against the filthy window.
"According to the Second Law of Thermodynamics, entropy in a closed system always tends to increase. That obsolete 'Titan Type-3' power core of yours... if you don't change the coolant within three minutes, a beautiful mushroom cloud is going to bloom right inside this carriage."
Ling Yan stuck out his tongue to moisten his cracked lips, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather.
"Also, judging by the corrosion on your left shoulder's drive shaft, your attack latency is about 0.8 seconds. That's enough time for me to kick apart that waste collection bag under your abdomen, which has exactly zero defense."
He paused, finally opening one eye. That pitch-black pupil held no focus, only a heart-palpitating void.
"Trust me. If you cause a sewage leak on crowded public transport like this, the other passengers will tear you to shreds. That's a very undignified way to die."
The giant froze.
Not out of fear, but because his internal system actually popped up an overheating warning at that exact moment. Red error codes scrolled madly across his retinal projection, conveniently obscuring Ling Yan's punchable face.
The massive mechanical arm hovered in the air for a moment before dropping down in resentment. The giant glared viciously at Ling Yan and, accompanied by ear-piercing metal grinding sounds, clumsily shuffled two steps to the side, revealing the window he had been blocking.
"Thanks for your cooperation." Ling Yan closed his eyes in satisfaction. "By the way, I suggest you check out 'Old John's Repair Shop' in Sector D. Mention my name... although he might beat you up because I owe him money, he's really good at fixing that specific part."
The maglev train let out a wail akin to a dying beast and came to an abrupt halt.
A female voice, sweet but filled with static interference, came over the broadcast: "Sector C, 'Scrap Transfer Station' reached. Passengers, please take your belongings, organs, and consciousness backups with you. Mind your step; the gap between the platform and the train occasionally swallows living things."
The doors opened, and a smell mixing acid rain, machine oil, and some kind of rotting protein hit them in the face.
Ling Yan pulled his slightly thin trench coat tighter around himself and squeezed out of the carriage with the flow of disembarking passengers.
Sector C was different from the slums he was in before. It was more chaotic, but also more prosperous — in the way a spreading cancer cell is prosperous.
Overhead, the massive energy conduits of the Dyson Sphere's inner wall crisscrossed like veins, and occasional leaks of energy sparks dyed the dim sky a sickly purplish-red.
The streets were lined with vendors selling all manner of strange items.
"Fresh 'Dopamine' extract! Only thirty time units! Experience the feeling of first love again!"
"Second-hand combat memory chips! Recorded personally by former Special Forces instructors! Guaranteed mastery, as long as your brain capacity is big enough!"
Ling Yan turned a deaf ear to these peddlers of cheap temptation. His goal was clear: the coordinates marked on that golden invitation — Sector C, Underground Level 3, Entrance 741.
However, as he passed an alley flowing with fluorescent green sewage, his footsteps suddenly stopped.
Seven steps ahead of him, a man in a white coat was squatting on the ground. Holding a delicate scalpel, he was fully engrossed in dissecting a giant mutated rat that was already stone dead.
This scene wasn't rare in Sector C; starving people would eat anything. The weird part was the man himself.
In this world full of filth and grease, his white coat was so clean it felt like a provocation. Not a single wrinkle, not a speck of dust, even the cuffs were folded with such precision it looked like he had used a ruler.
The man seemed to sense Ling Yan's approach, but he didn't look up. With a gentle flick of the scalpel, he precisely fished out a faintly beating tumor from the rat's body.
"This rodent suffered from severe anxiety while alive," the man said, pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses. His voice was cold and pleasant, completely out of place in the noisy environment. "Its adrenal gland is a full 1.4 times larger than a normal specimen. If you're here to ask for directions, you'd best stand downwind. The smell of blood on you will interfere with my olfactory judgment."
Ling Yan raised an eyebrow, straightening his lazy posture slightly. He could feel it; this was no ordinary lunatic.
"I just won a card game and killed a fortune teller." Ling Yan shrugged. "The blood isn't mine; it's the digital residue splatter effect from that unlucky bastard. But you, Doctor—dissecting things in a place crawling with viruses, aren't you afraid of infection?"
"Infection?" The man finally looked up, revealing a pale, exquisite face. His pupils were a rare grayish-white, like two pieces of polished frosted glass.
"Bacteria and viruses are the most honest life forms. They follow the purest logic of survival, unlike humans, who are full of lies and variables. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Shen Zhe. A... Biostructural Engineer."
"Ling Yan. Unemployed vagrant," Ling Yan lied effortlessly, his gaze falling on the tumor in Shen Zhe's hand. "Looking at your technique, that rat was dissected within three minutes of death. What are you looking for?"
"The key." Shen Zhe stood up, took a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket, and meticulously wiped the blood from the scalpel. Every movement was filled with a compulsive sense of ritual.
"The ticket to the 'Flesh and Blood Maze' isn't just that golden card. The system released a hidden patch ten minutes ago; the true entrance coordinates are encrypted in the DNA sequences of these mutated creatures. This is the third one. The probability distribution map is complete."
Ling Yan narrowed his eyes. He had indeed received the invitation, but his terminal hadn't given any notification about a "hidden patch." This meant two possibilities: either this man named Shen Zhe was a liar, or his intelligence clearance was far higher than that of ordinary players.
Given the man's heinous level of mysophobia and calmness, Ling Yan leaned toward the latter.
"Interesting conclusion." Ling Yan put his hands in his pockets and took two steps toward Shen Zhe, deliberately stepping on a loose floor tile and splashing a puddle of sewage.
Shen Zhe frowned slightly. His body shifted half a meter backward in a posture that defied physical inertia, perfectly avoiding the drop of sewage that might have sullied his leather shoes.
"Reaction speed: 75 milliseconds. Leg muscle explosiveness: Class A," Ling Yan assessed silently, though he wore that punchable smile on his face. "Since you've found the coordinates, mind leading the way? I'm not good at solving puzzles, but I am good at solving trouble for people—for example, dealing with that guy behind you who's been invisible for five minutes waiting to ambush you."
Shen Zhe paused for a moment, then turned around.
In the empty air behind him, a translucent outline suddenly materialized. It was an assassin in optical camouflage, his dagger less than ten centimeters from Shen Zhe's heart.
The assassin clearly hadn't expected to be detected, and his movement froze for a split second.
In that critical instant, Ling Yan moved.
No flashy moves. He simply pulled a rusty steel pipe from a nearby trash heap and, as if playing golf, swung it with an extremely standard and elegant posture.
Bang!
A dull thud. The pipe struck the assassin's temple with precision. The assassin didn't even have time to scream before his body flew sideways like a kite with a cut string, slamming into the wall. The optical camouflage failed, revealing a black bodysuit.
"Force controlled perfectly. Mild concussion, likely unconscious for four hours." Ling Yan tossed the pipe aside and dusted the rust off his hands. "Now, can we talk about carpooling?"
Shen Zhe glanced at the unconscious assassin, then at Ling Yan. For the first time, a ripple called "interest" appeared in his gray-white eyes.
"You didn't look at him," Shen Zhe stated. "Did you judge his position by sound? No, the noise level here exceeds ninety decibels; you couldn't hear a heartbeat. Air currents?"
"Smell." Ling Yan pointed to his nose. "That guy reeks of cheap 'stealth spray' propellant. That chemically synthesized ozone smell is even more pungent than the dead rats in this alley. Like I said, I'm not good at puzzles, but I'm sensitive to trash."
Shen Zhe was silent for a moment, then pocketed his clean scalpel and turned to walk deeper into the alley.
"Keep up. If you step on my shadow, I'll sever your hamstrings."
"Yes, sir, Dr. Clean Freak." Ling Yan's lips quirked up as he followed with a leisurely stride.
The two passed through Sector C's intricate underground pipelines, the surroundings becoming increasingly bizarre. The walls were no longer simple metal or concrete but were covered in a thick layer of flesh-like membrane. Under the dim light, these membranes writhed slowly, as if breathing.
"We're here." Shen Zhe stopped in front of a massive circular metal door.
The door was carved with complex patterns. upon closer inspection, those patterns were composed of countless twisted human faces. The door had no handle and no keypad, only a giant, tightly closed eyeball embedded in the center.
"Entrance 741. Biometric lock," Shen Zhe said, pushing up his glasses. "It requires a specific biological frequency to awaken."
"Let me guess, you dissected the rat to extract this frequency?" Ling Yan leaned against the wall, watching with interest.
"Not entirely. That was just to calibrate the data." Shen Zhe pulled a small vial from his pocket containing a few drops of green liquid. "This door likes the taste of 'fear.' This is concentrated fear hormone extracted from that anxious rat."
He dripped the liquid onto the giant eyeball.
Squelch—
The eye snapped open. It was a cloudy yellow orb; the pupil contracted madly before letting out a satisfied sigh.
Accompanied by the wet sound of tearing flesh, the giant metal door slowly slid open to both sides, revealing a bottomless darkness beyond.
A cold, gloomy wind blew from within, carrying a sickeningly sweet, metallic scent.
"Welcome to the waiting lobby of the 'Flesh and Blood Maze'." Shen Zhe glanced back at Ling Yan. "Friendly advice: once inside, watch your mouth. The rules here... are sensitive."
"I'll try." Ling Yan shrugged and stepped inside first.
The scene behind the door exceeded Ling Yan's expectations.
This wasn't some gloomy dungeon; it looked like a highly modern, luxurious banquet hall.
The floor was covered in soft red carpet — though the texture felt like the fur on an animal's tongue. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the dome, but the light source wasn't bulbs; it was hundreds of glowing deep-sea jellyfish.
A fair number of people had already gathered in the hall. About forty or fifty, standing alone in corners or whispering in small groups. Every single one of them radiated danger.
Ling Yan's gaze swept the room, rapidly building character models.
To the left, a monk wearing a cassock but holding a submachine gun, eyes fierce, Threat Level B; to the right, a little girl holding a doll — she looked harmless, but no one dared come within two meters of her, Threat Level A; and in the distance by the bar, a red-haired woman manicuring her nails with a dagger...
"Looks like the quality of opponents is decent this time," Ling Yan whispered.
Just then, a giant holographic projection descended into the center of the hall.
A strange creature wearing a tuxedo with a rabbit's head appeared in the projection. Holding a pocket watch, its long ears twitched excitedly.
"Good evening, dying trash! Or good morning! After all, time has no meaning here!"
The rabbit let out a shrill, piercing laugh that echoed through the empty hall.
"I am the host of this Karmic Duel. You may call me the 'Rabbit Gentleman.' Congratulations on standing out from millions of discarded codes and arriving at this great hall of art!"
Ling Yan noticed that when the "Rabbit Gentleman" spoke, Shen Zhe's finger twitched slightly beside him, as if recording a frequency.
"The theme of this game is—Survival and Evolution!" The Rabbit Gentleman spread his arms, the background behind him shifting into a dizzyingly complex 3D map. "This maze is alive. It has been hungry for a long time, longing to devour your wisdom, your courage, and of course, most importantly, your flesh."
"The rules are simple: The maze has seven layers. Each layer has an entrance to the next, but the gate will only open if you possess a sufficient quantity of 'Evolution Factors.' And these 'Evolution Factors'..."
The Rabbit Gentleman's ruby-like eyes scanned every player present, revealing a cruel smile.
"...are hidden inside each other's bodies."
As soon as these words were spoken, the relatively harmonious atmosphere in the hall instantly became volatile. The way everyone looked at each other changed; they were no longer potential allies, but walking supply packs.
"Oh, right, there is one tiny additional rule." The Rabbit Gentleman held up a finger. "To increase the fun of the game, all players must perform a 'Sacrifice' before entering the maze. You need to sacrifice one organ from your body, or... a segment of memory, in exchange for starter equipment."
A commotion broke out in the crowd.
"Sacrifice?" Ling Yan rubbed his chin, a playful arc curling at the corner of his mouth. "Interesting. I happen to have some parts that aren't working very well."
"What are you thinking?" Shen Zhe asked coldly, seemingly debating what to sacrifice so it wouldn't impact his surgical precision.
"I'm thinking," Ling Yan turned his head to look at Shen Zhe, his eyes shining with a maniacal light, "if I sacrifice my 'fear' center, what equipment will the system give me? A chainsaw? Or a pack of diapers?"
Shen Zhe was silent for two seconds, then answered seriously, "According to neuroanatomy, removing the amygdala will cause you to lose your perception of danger, thereby increasing your mortality rate by eighty percent. That is not a wise choice."
"I know." Ling Yan smiled, grinning like a child who just got a new toy. "But don't you think a gambler who doesn't know what fear is... is the most terrifying thing of all?"
"Attention all players. The Sacrifice Ritual will begin in sixty seconds. Please line up and proceed to the 'Mouth of Truth' ahead for processing."
The Rabbit Gentleman's voice rang out again. Simultaneously, a wall in the hall slowly rose, revealing a row of giant, grotesque stone mouths.
"Let's go, Dr. Clean Freak." Ling Yan patted Shen Zhe on the shoulder and strode toward the statues. "Let's go see just how lavish this feast of flesh and chips really is."
He walked up to the stone mouth numbered 04 and reached his hand inside.
In that moment, he felt it.
The stone statue's cold tongue licked his palm, and a stinging, electric sensation instantly spread through his body. The system's cold notification sound exploded in his mind:
[Player Ling Yan detected. What do you wish to sacrifice?]
Ling Yan didn't hesitate for a second. In his consciousness, he softly uttered the answer he had decided on long ago.
It was an answer that caused a momentary lag in the system's logic.