Chapter 206: "Battle Royale"
Before entering the instance, Li Zhi watered the flowers in the garden.
Some, full of vitality, were already budding, while others were just beginning to show vibrant green life. Regardless, all the plants were thriving. The harsh winds and frost had not crushed them—only forced them into dormancy, making them even more resilient.
Chi Yi stood beside her, instructing Owen Dong: "Be careful when weeding. Don’t mistake the flowers for weeds!"
Owen Dong protested, "Am I that stupid?"
Chi Yi eyed him skeptically before calling out, unconvinced, "Mengmeng! You do it!"
You Jingmeng dashed over excitedly, waving a small shovel. "The flying shovel is here!"
Owen Dong defended his dignity fiercely. "I can do it! I’m the weeding master!"
Amid the clamor, Li Zhi called to Chi Yi and Lian Qinglin, who was lounging on a swing watching the commotion. "Time to enter the instance."
The three in the garden vanished instantly. Owen Dong and You Jingmeng, still squabbling over the weeding rights, looked around at the empty space and sighed in unison.
You Jingmeng tossed the shovel at him, listless. "You handle it."
Owen Dong pleaded, "Come on, let’s do it together!"
But You Jingmeng was already sprinting away. "I’m going to watch Boss Zhi’s livestream!"
After a brief New Year’s break, the audience flooded in the moment they received Li Zhi’s notification. Everyone knew this was the real battle for survival—whether Li Zhi would rise to completely surpass Xie Qiong or remain the eternal second-place would be decided in this instance.
At the Tianwen base, Shu Xinglan clicked on the livestream that had suddenly appeared on the homepage. Unsurprisingly, Xie Qiong’s name was on the popularity rankings for this round.
She had anticipated this, but the viewers pouring into the stream were stunned. Shock quickly gave way to wild excitement. Soon, news of Li Zhi and Xie Qiong competing on the same stage spread like wildfire across the streaming world.
Almost instantly, the viewer counts in other livestreams plummeted as everyone rushed into the one titled Battle Royale:
[A once-in-a-lifetime moment!!! Thank goodness I didn’t oversleep and made it to the stream!]
[Are they going to fight?! I’m so hyped! Oh my god!]
[I can’t wait to see their first encounter!!! Hurry up! Why is the teleportation taking so long this time?!]
[Li Zhi will win! Li Zhi will win! Li Zhi will win!]
[Instead of them fighting, I’d rather see them team up! A powerhouse duo would be epic!]
[Xie Qiong is a lone wolf. He doesn’t team up with anyone.]
[What’s going on? Why is everyone’s POV pitch black? A bug?]
[...]
Amid the chaos outside, Li Zhi, who had just been transported into the instance, slowly opened her eyes.
She was lying in a cramped, pitch-black space. Not a sliver of light penetrated the darkness, and the air carried the musty stench of rotting wood.
Li Zhi reached out, her hands brushing against wooden barriers less than an arm’s length away on all sides—above, below, left, and right.
She quickly realized she was inside a coffin.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
The worst part was that Li Zhi had no memories.
Aside from knowing her name and basic common sense, she had no recollection of her origins, background, or why she was here.
The silence around her was eerie. Li Zhi exhaled slowly, lying still in the coffin as she analyzed her situation. The ease of her breathing suggested she wasn’t buried underground, but living people shouldn’t be sealed inside coffins.
Perhaps she had been knocked out and locked in here by someone she’d crossed—hence the memory loss, likely due to a head injury.
But when she touched her head, there was no pain.
For most people, amnesia combined with such an environment would induce panic. Yet Li Zhi felt strangely calm.
It was as if she was accustomed to handling such situations.
This suggested one of two things: either she lacked the capacity for fear, or she had experienced this kind of scenario many times before.
With no further clues to glean from the coffin, Li Zhi decided to escape first. After listening carefully and hearing nothing but her own breathing, she braced her arms, arched her back, and kicked upward with all her strength.
With a loud thud, the tightly sealed coffin lid flew off.
The heavy lid crashed onto the ground, the impact echoing through the space. Li Zhi swiftly sat up, her eyes taking in a square burial chamber. Four white candles flickered weakly in the corners, casting eerie reflections on the damp stone walls.
The moment she sat up, a faint, peculiar fragrance wafted through the air.
Li Zhi instinctively covered her nose. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw dark, shadowy masses retreating like a receding tide along the walls—countless insects scuttling away, vanishing into the darkness as she climbed out of the coffin.
The chamber was small, its contents immediately visible. Aside from the black-lacquered coffin in the center, there was nothing else. Li Zhi walked to a corner, picked up a candleholder, and crouched to inspect the spot where the shadows had disappeared.
Nothing. As if the black tide had been an illusion.
She pressed her hand against the cold, damp stone wall but found no hidden mechanisms. The chamber wasn’t completely sealed—a low arched doorway stood at the far end, though the dim light couldn’t reveal what lay beyond.
Li Zhi blew out the other three candles, pocketing them, and kept only one for light. After checking the coffin for more clues and finding none, she headed for the arched doorway.
The faint candlelight revealed a narrow, winding passage ahead. The corridor was so tight she had to hunch over to move forward. If danger lurked within, evasion would be nearly impossible.
But it was the only path available.
Li Zhi didn’t know why she was in this underground tomb-like place, but she knew she had to leave as soon as possible.
Only by moving forward could she uncover more clues.
Holding the candle in one hand and the bronze candleholder like a weapon in the other, Li Zhi bent low and entered the passage.
Once she left the burial chamber, the strange fragrance disappeared, replaced by the damp, earthy scent of a place untouched by sunlight. The candle’s glow illuminated only a small radius, leaving the endless passage ahead and behind swallowed by darkness. At any moment, something could emerge from the shadows.
After walking briskly for about fifty meters, Li Zhi suddenly stopped.
She raised the candle to the walls.
Crude murals were carved into the cold stone, their pigments faded and peeling. Stepping back to where the murals began, Li Zhi could barely make out a depiction of a couple buried together.
Time had eroded much of the artwork, leaving large sections illegible. As she moved the candle along the walls, she could only discern scenes of mass sacrificial burials.
But the offerings weren’t gold, silver, or animals—they were living people.
In the murals, these people, shackled at the feet, lined up one by one to leap into a burial pit.
Was she inside an ancient tomb?
Just as she leaned in for a closer look, a faint rustling sound reached her ears—the same noise she’d heard earlier in the burial chamber, like countless insects skittering.
Not daring to delay, Li Zhi hurried forward, half-running in a crouch.
The rustling grew louder, as if a tide of insects was gathering behind her. With only the candle’s weak light, she couldn’t see what was pursuing her.
Why had the shadows retreated in the burial chamber but were now chasing her?
Thoughts raced through her mind as the candle’s flame guttered out in the wind from her sprint, plunging her into total darkness. Li Zhi stuffed the extinguished candle into her pocket and reached out to touch the walls.
Her fingertips scraped against the rough stone as she ran, the pain negligible compared to the threat of being overtaken by the insect swarm. She picked up speed, the cramped passage doing little to slow her down.
After several hundred meters, her left hand brushed against a corner. Li Zhi abruptly halted, pivoting into the leftward passage.
In the darkness, her foot kicked a loose stone. The pebble clattered ahead, its echoes rolling downward endlessly.
Clearly, the previous passage had ended at a cliff. If she had kept running blindly, she would have plummeted to her death.
The new passage was wider, allowing her to stand upright. Stretching her arms out, she still couldn’t touch the walls.
But the darkness remained absolute. Without light, fear could fester uncontrollably. Li Zhi closed her eyes, steadying her breath to stay calm.
Whoever had brought her here clearly had a purpose. If they hadn’t killed her outright, it meant they wanted something more than her death.
The burial chamber, the coffin, the strange fragrance, the murals, the insect swarm—these horrors that didn’t immediately kill her felt more like a test… or a game.
Were they watching to see how she’d escape these life-threatening dangers?
Her missing memories were suspicious in themselves. Everything she’d encountered so far reeked of malice, but if this was a test or a game, it meant there was a way out.
After all, if she died too easily, where was the fun in that?
So these seemingly hopeless situations must have solutions.
Li Zhi opened her eyes, her breathing steady.
If this was truly an ancient tomb, there had to be more chambers. Finding another would grant her a light source and confirm her suspicions about the insect swarm.
With a plan in mind, Li Zhi moved along the right wall, her fingers trailing the smooth stone. After about five minutes, a faint glow appeared in the darkness—reflected candlelight from a side passage.
Her eyes, adjusted to the dark, found the light almost blinding.
Li Zhi quickened her pace toward it.