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Thank you Teoos for the Kofi.
Chapter 82: “You just said… I seem to be controlled by something.”
As soon as their figures left the second-floor hall, Zhou Yijue said to the blond man beside him, “Go ahead.”
“What if he refuses? Should I find someone else?”
Zhou Yijue’s eyes were fixed in the distance, his tone resolute: “You won’t be able to persuade anyone else, it’s got to be him.”
“Alright, I’m on it.” The blond nodded and headed towards the gambling table in the center of the hall, as instructed by Zhou Yijue.
At the edge of the gambling table, a member of the red team was waiting for the current round to end, focusing intently on the cards on the table. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Hello, hello,” the blond greeted him eagerly with a smile as he turned around. “Can we talk?”
***
Inside the exchange area, hidden from sight, was a “gold mountain” that An Wujiu hadn’t anticipated.
He walked in. Apart from the largest coin-pusher machine, there was nothing else. The ceiling was crisscrossed with metal pipes, some of which connected to the machine.
Approaching the machine, An Wujiu peered through its glass walls at the heap of coins inside. What caught his attention was the coin’s design: a sun totem.
This pattern was appearing far too frequently in the altar.
Turning around, An Wujiu fixed his gaze on Shen Ti’s throat.
Noticing this, Shen Ti touched his neck. “What’s up?”
“What is your connection with the altar?” An Wujiu suddenly asked. Shen Ti, unsure how to respond, replied, “Do you think I should be connected to the altar?”
“The tattoo on your neck resembles the altar’s recurring symbol, only with an added eye. Don’t tell me you got it randomly.”
An Wujiu continued, “Of course, sun designs are common, but… someone like you is rare.”
At times, Shen Ti seemed otherworldly, yet sometimes he seemed deeply human, understanding and overlooking humanity. An Wujiu couldn’t define him.
“Really?” Shen Ti laughed. “You’re not common either. I’m not sure if I’m connected to the altar. Like you, I’ve lost many memories. I’ve told you almost everything I remember.”
An Wujiu usually preferred finding answers himself, but with Shen Ti, he felt an urge to listen to him. If Shen Ti sounded convincing, he would believe him.
“What’s on your mind?” Shen Ti asked as he noticed An Wujiu in deep thought.
Just as An Wujiu was about to answer, a dense fog enveloped him, obscuring everything. The mist thickened, covering all.
He could no longer see the high piles of coins in the exchange area; there was nothing.
“Shen Ti!”
An Wujiu called out into the void, but there was no response. The thick white mist brought a cloying, bloody smell, and the surroundings were silent. Just as he grew more alert and bewildered, countless slimy tentacles emerged from the mist, attacking him.
An Wujiu resisted, but the tentacles wrapped around his limbs. Each tentacle’s tip suddenly split open, revealing blood-red mouths with sharp teeth dripping with sticky green fluid, their forked tongues flicking out like snakes.
Outside the hallucination, Shen Ti noticed An Wujiu had stopped talking. At first, he thought An Wujiu was thinking, but after a while, he realized something was wrong.
An Wujiu’s black eyes seemed to stare at the exchange machine, but his gaze was unfocused, his pupils reflecting a golden light.
“An Wujiu.” Sensing something amiss, Shen Ti grabbed his arm. “Wujiu?”
He stood between An Wujiu and the machine, cupping An Wujiu’s face with his hands. “What’s wrong?”
The golden light in An Wujiu’s pupils wasn’t just a reflection of the coins; it was the strange sun totem.
That sun again…
An Wujiu’s face showed an eerie expression that Shen Ti had never seen before. It was reminiscent of a fanatic who had lost their consciousness, consumed by their faith, dissolving themselves to follow their deity.
Why was this happening?
“Wake up, An Wujiu.”
An Wujiu remained unresponsive, like a machine that had lost power, reduced to an empty shell.
Shen Ti had never seen An Wujiu like this before, and he was worried. He first checked An Wujiu’s breath, then his pulse at the carotid artery. Both were normal.
What was happening?
Shen Ti reached out, intending to place his hand on An Wujiu’s chest to check if his heart was beating normally. However, the moment his fingers touched An Wujiu’s chest, an intense pain surged through Shen Ti’s body, the greatest agony he had ever felt in his life.
It was as if it pierced his soul.
He could barely endure it, but at the same time, An Wujiu woke up as if from a dream, gasping for air, his body swaying slightly. Ignoring his own excruciating pain, Shen Ti immediately extended his arms to catch the collapsing An Wujiu.
An Wujiu suddenly awakened from the bizarre fog, as if a powerful force had dragged him out from the tentacles that had tightly bound him, allowing him to breathe.
He emerged from the inescapable fog into a warm embrace.
“Wujiu, are you okay…”
In a daze, An Wujiu heard Shen Ti’s voice.
He woke up and met Shen Ti’s eyes, which now held an expression of pain and furrowed brows.
“I’m fine.” An Wujiu steadied himself, his chest rising and falling. His lungs felt as if they had a gaping, bloody hole, and no matter how he breathed, the suffocating sensation brought by the tentacles didn’t easily dissipate.
Shen Ti’s piercing pain gradually subsided. He checked An Wujiu’s pupils, which had indeed returned to normal.
“You seemed to be controlled by something just now. You couldn’t hear me or see me, but your bodily functions were operating normally.”
An Wujiu noticed Shen Ti’s voice was weak, something he had never heard before. So he asked first, “What about you? Are you feeling unwell?”
Shen Ti didn’t expect him to be concerned about him first, so he just shook his head and said, “I’m fine.”
Luckily, he woke up just like that.
“You said earlier… I seemed to be controlled by something.”
An Wujiu thought of the many dreams he had before, all very similar to the illusion he had just experienced.
Fog, mucus, tentacles, an inescapable fate.
He told Shen Ti all of this, including the many nightmares he had before.
“This should be related to the memories you’ve lost,” Shen Ti speculated.
An Wujiu didn’t want to dwell on it anymore. Thinking about it seemed to drain his mental strength, making it hard to concentrate as scenes from the nightmares kept popping up in his mind.
But now, he was in a timed life-and-death game.
“Maybe. Anyway, I’m awake now.” An Wujiu extricated himself from Shen Ti’s embrace, regulated his breathing, and walked to the front of the machine. “We can delve into it later.”
Shen Ti noticed he switched states again. An Wujiu’s state transitions were becoming more frequent and natural, almost seamless.
His anomalies were likely connected to his nightmares.
Suddenly, Shen Ti thought about the name of the game.
Why did it have such a religious name?
An Wujiu didn’t say anything more. He just stretched out his hand, placing his palm on the glass.
A cheerful tune started playing in the room, followed by a synthesized voice.
“Welcome to the Exchange Area. First, let’s introduce the rules for exchanging chips:
First, at least two players are required to exchange chips, one being the team leader and the other being the player who needs to exchange the winning chips. If the team leader needs to exchange chips, they must bring another player from the same team who participated in the game.
Second, the player who needs to exchange chips presses the red button on the right side of the machine, manually enters the amount of chips to be exchanged, and touches the team leader to proceed. Exchange requires processing time, so players are asked to wait.
Third, the earned points will be given in the form of holy coins. Holy coins have no affiliation and can be stored in the player’s game panel or exchanged for another team member’s chips.
Fourth, during the exchange process, players can choose to cancel the exchange, but this requires the team leader’s consent. Just like during the exchange, both must touch to cancel.”
After hearing the rules, Shen Ti said, “So, points can indeed be converted into chips for team circulation.”
“But it’s difficult to implement,” An Wujiu thought. “According to the rules, each time at least two people are required, one of them being the team leader, and they need to touch. The team leader also has the right to cancel. This might prevent traitors, but it also makes another scenario likely.”
“You mean the monopoly of power by the team leader,” Shen Ti said.
An Wujiu nodded, “The team leader’s power is too great. If he wants to cancel, he can. Players can convert chips into points, and the leader can keep the points for himself.”
Especially with team leaders like Maguire, who disregard their teammates and exploit their lives for profit, such actions are highly likely.
“We’re here anyway,” Shen Ti turned to him, “Do you want to exchange?”
“Isn’t it too early to exchange for points now?” An Wujiu frowned slightly, pondering, “If we convert them into points and then buy chips to distribute to others, it might cause panic.”
Shen Ti understood his point, “You mentioned before that they could use your body as a chip at any time. If you transfer it to others now, it would indeed make them think you intend for them to be used as chips.”
“Exactly,” An Wujiu stared at the gold coins before him, “I don’t mind if they use me as a stake. As long as we can last until the end and win first place, even if I die, I can be resurrected. But giving it to others without consulting them might make Wu You and the others uneasy, and I’m afraid the teammates we just met this round might misunderstand.”
This was indeed a better approach for now. Shen Ti privately didn’t want An Wujiu to distribute the chips to others. Firstly, it was troublesome, and secondly, he couldn’t control others from using An Wujiu as a stake. If An Wujiu’s chip value decreased, the penalties for losing a game would become more dangerous.
He didn’t want to see that happen.
Having learned the rules, they decided to leave for now and return to the casino hall to inform their teammates. An Wujiu felt uneasy all along, and as he stepped out of the exchange area, he suddenly realized the problem.
“Why is this place completely empty?”
They had been there for at least fifteen minutes, yet no one else had come.
While they were wondering, a familiar figure leisurely walked down from the staircase corner, the sound of high heels particularly clear in the silent space.
“Hi, handsome.”
It was Amy.
She waved and greeted them, “I knew you would be here, so I came to try my luck, and I really found you.”
An Wujiu had anticipated she would come to find him, especially since she had actively exchanged her guard card with him at the gambling table.
There’s no such thing as a free lunch.
“What do you want? You can tell me directly.”
An Wujiu’s face was calm, his eyes sincere, completely different from the manipulative demeanor at the gambling table, making Amy pause for a moment.
“What are you talking about, and so seriously?” Amy walked over and got close to him, “I don’t want anything, you know.”
Her voice was so ambiguous that Shen Ti couldn’t stand it. He reached out and pulled her away from An Wujiu.
“Why are you pulling me?”
“There was a bug under your foot just now.” Shen Ti lied smoothly. Amy looked down but couldn’t find the bug he mentioned. She even lifted her foot to check, and the sole of her high heel was clean.
“Don’t scare me,” Amy said coquettishly.
At the moment she lifted her foot, An Wujiu suddenly noticed a detail that seemed very wrong.
“Your shoe size…” He pointed and then looked at Amy, frowning and tilting his head on confusion.
“You’re a man?”
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