Infinite Peculiar Games

Qi Si, sensing the hysteria in the screams, remained composed as he stated the conclusion he had already known: “Someone’s dead.”

“Someone’s… someone’s dead?” Lin Chen’s face turned pale as he looked at Qi Si. “We…Weren’t none of the blind boxes opened?”

“But unfortunately, common sense isn’t common,” Qi Si remarked as he walked towards the door, pushing it open. “Lin Chen, interested in taking a look?”

Having seen his fair share of corpses, encountering death in the Peculiar Games was a novel experience for him.

He was curious to understand what it meant to die in the Peculiar Games.

As soon as they stepped out of the room, a strong smell of blood slammed them like a crashing wave, momentarily overpowering the floral scent that lingered in the air. Mixed with the already nauseating aroma, it created a sickly sweet smell that seemed to cling to their surroundings.

Qi Si lowered his gaze to the ground, where a pool of viscous blood lay, half congealed, just a few inches in front of his shoes. Its surface was uneven, resembling molten lava, and it exuded a heavy, lifeless aura as it pooled on the ground. Thank goodness it didn’t stain my shoes.

Lin Chen also spotted the blood on the ground. The next second, he let out a high-pitched scream, resembling that of a rooster whose neck had been stepped on.

He jumped up and screamed, flailing about. If Qi Si had not dodged in time, Lin Chen would have ended up clinging to him.

“You should go back,” Qi Si advised calmly, touching the bracelet on his right wrist. “If you feel like vomiting, remember to clean up after yourself.”

Lin Chen dashed back to the room as if spared from a punishment, followed by retching sounds.

The source of the blood was in the centre of the room, where a dark mass lay, huddled by Zou Yan and Ye, who were examining the object closely.

Qi Si cautiously followed the edge of the bloodstains and approached the object on the ground, finally getting a clearer look.

That was a bloodied and indistinguishable corpse, naked and curled up, with its skin sliced into fragmented pieces by erratic lines. Fuzzy tendrils sprouted from the flesh, resembling the roots of a plant upon closer inspection.

Blooming roses spewed out from the gaping, bloody mouth of the corpse, their thick stems penetrating the throat like plants potted in a skull.

Zou Yan and Ye stood on either side, relatively composed. Apart from the initial scream, there was no other evidence of fear from them.

Ye murmured to herself bitterly, “The first death on the first night. I wonder which rule was violated…”

A hint of sorrow and dread flickered in her eyes as she remarked, “This method of dying is truly tragic.”

“It’s Brother Shen,” Qi Si concluded. “The height is between 183 and 185 centimetres, with a medium build, which matches closely with Brother Shen.”

Ye automatically retaliated, “Even if that’s the case, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s him…”

Without a word, Qi Si squatted down in front of the body, wrapping his right hand with a napkin he had taken from the dining table the day before. Gently, he touched the crimson rose petals stained by blood.

Carefully, he pushed aside the rose growing on his arm, causing the thick, semi-coagulated blood to flow slowly.

Zou Yan observed his actions, her expression morphing into one of bewilderment. “Qi Si, what exactly are you doing?”

Qi Si replied lightly, “Didn’t I tell you I’m a taxidermist? Dealing with corpses is right up my alley.”

Zou Yan: “…Your expertise seems quite diverse. Are the specimens you create legitimate?”

As she spoke, Qi Si deftly adjusted the joints, closing the corpse’s jaw. His slender, fair fingers then caressed the deceased’s features, almost as if possessed by a mystical force. With skillful movements, he pieced together the fragmented and bloodied face, gradually revealing the familiar likeness of Shen Ming before the trio.

The identity of the deceased was now undeniable. Zou Yan gasped for breath, while Ye’s complexion immediately turned as pale as a corpse, hardly better than the deceased’s.

“How could this be?” Ye’s voice turned tinged with despair. “Brother Shen shouldn’t have died. He’s… He’s an experienced player…”

Qi Si countered, “Chang Xu shared a room with Brother Shen; he’s also an experienced player, isn’t he?”

He wiped his fingers clean with the napkin, then lifted his gaze to survey the surroundings. “Where’s Chang Xu?” he asked. “He and Brother Shen shared a room. Even if he didn’t lend a hand, he should at least know something.”

Human minds naturally make connections; his words left plenty of room for interpretation, hinting and insinuating.

Ye murmured, “Brother Shen was an experienced player; how could he have died on the first day? Unless…”

The rest of her words were swallowed down as, in the next moment, the door in the corner was pushed open from the inside, revealing Chang Xu.

He was dressed neatly in all black. Clearly, he had been awake for some time, though it was unclear how long and how much he had heard.

Qi Si narrowed his eyes as he scrutinised Chang Xu’s face, which seemed as gloomy as if it had never seen light. He asked, with a smirk that was neither a smile nor a frown, “You must know something about Brother Shen’s death, right?”

“Your suspicion is normal, but Shen Ming’s death has nothing to do with me.” Chang Xu’s voice was cold and calm, as if he had not detected any accusatory undertones in Qi Si’s words. “Last night, what appeared to be Miss Anna’s NPC knocked on our door. Shen Ming wanted to open it when he woke up, and a noise was made when I tried to stop him. Then, the door was opened from the outside, and those strange vine-like things reached in.”

His concise recount, combined with Chang Xu’s face devoid of emotion, gave off an aura of indifference, leaving one feeling disappointed.

Ye coldly interrogated, “Why did he die, and you were unharmed?”

Chang Xu succinctly replied, “They couldn’t defeat me, so they switched targets and dragged Shen Ming out.”

“You didn’t think to help him?”

“I tried to pull him back once, but I failed. I estimated the power ratio, and if I had pulled him again, he would have been torn in half.”

“These are just your words…”

Seeing the tension rising, Zou Yan intervened at the right moment, “Enough. He’s already dead. Pointing fingers won’t help us now. This is a team instance, and I don’t think Chang Xu had any reason to harm Shen Ming.”

Ye let out a cold, mocking laugh, her tone growing more intense. “A team instance? There’s no such thing as a team in this game! We’re all veterans here, and we all know about the ‘minimum death count’ rule. As long as enough people die, the rest can clear the level safely and even get more rewards. Who knows if someone among us is thinking along those lines?”

Qi Si stood by and quietly listened, his eyebrows slightly raised.

Last night’s doubts were cleared up; who knew the Peculiar Games had such a sinister and competitive mechanism where only the fittest could thrive?

Fortunately, he was a lone wolf by nature, viewing all contests as zero-sum games*. Harming others required no justification; if given the opportunity, he would gladly stab the other players in the back.

The situation did not change much for him.

Zou Yan grabbed Ye’s sleeve, earnestly advising, “Rule number seven states that only ghosts can kill humans. At least in this mission, players cannot kill one another.”

Ye retorted bitterly, “Who said we have to do it ourselves? By hiding a few clues and making use of the ghosts’ powers…”

Chang Xu, who had been looking down at the corpse, suddenly lifted his gaze and stared icily into Ye’s eyes. “You seem to know quite a bit about how to harm others.”

Ye: “It takes one to know one.”

Qi Si stood by, calmly spectating the show before him.

These players seemed to have many secrets—the kinds that were deeply intertwined.

The dynamics within the Peculiar Games were probably intricate and complex, evolving into various game models of strategic play. It was proving to be even more challenging to navigate than he had anticipated, but yet… intriguing.

Chang Xu gave Ye a look, then turned away without saying a word, heading towards the staircase.

Watching his retreating figure, Qu Si smiled to himself and followed him.

“Chang Xu, I have a question. How did you determine the exact time after you woke up last night? It clearly violated the second rule. Why did you survive?”

He intentionally stirred the waters further, insinuating from various angles, attempting to pin all suspicions on one unlucky soul.

He pretended to hesitate, asking one final question, “Did you know something, or—did you have any other means?”

Chang Xu remained silent, fishing out a pocket watch and tossing it to Qi Si.

As he took hold of the antique copper watch, a slight chill permeated his skin, and before his eyes appeared rows of prompting text.

【Name: Destiny Timepiece (Damaged)】

【Type: Prop】

【Effect: Indicates objective time】

【Note: The concept of punctuality has long been established by the God of Destiny as a commendable quality, especially after the establishment of contracts.】

(End of chapter)

——

*TL’s note:

A zero-sum game is a situation in which one person or group can win something only by causing another person or group to lose it.

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