Chapter 110: Artificial Soul 37
Kui Xin began to get used to operating at night.
The nights in Hei Hai City were bustling and noisy, much like nocturnal creatures revealing themselves when the sun went down; the darkness served as a cover for some people.
Now that the rain had stopped, the ground was wet, and there were fewer pedestrians on the streets.
Kui Xin moved through the dark alley, stepping through puddles on the road, the murky water reflecting her silhouette.
She had a headset in her ear, with Augus providing intelligence support.
It had thousands of eyes scattered throughout Hei Hai City, every camera under its control.
The street cameras followed He Gaoyi’s figure.
She entered a supermarket, and half an hour later, she emerged from the mall carrying bags of all sizes. She headed south, waiting at the traffic light before walking back to the employee dormitory.
“She’s only three hundred meters away from you,” Augus said in her ear. “Be discreet.”
“Uh-huh,” Kui Xin responded.
Killing He Gaoyi posed no difficulty; she had no combat experience, and her physical condition was no different from that of an ordinary person. It would be easy for Kui Xin to kill her; she just needed to avoid the surveillance, and she could do it silently.
He Gaoyi could directly connect her consciousness to any data device, effectively making her a humanoid computer. Therefore, Kui Xin had to ensure a single decisive blow, leaving her no chance to struggle, ideally knocking her out instantly to prevent her from using her communicator to send a distress signal to the Investigation Bureau.
As He Gaoyi approached, Kui Xin mentally simulated countless methods of killing. She would pull her into the dumpster when she passed by, then choke her and snap her neck, all within two seconds.
Kui Xin made thorough preparations, covering herself completely, wrapping her head in plastic bags and tape so that not a strand of hair was visible. She also wore rubber gloves to leave no fingerprints.
“Watch out, there are people on both sides. The person behind is an adult male, thirty meters away from He Gaoyi,” Augus said. “If you pull her into the alley, the person behind might notice she’s suddenly gone.”
“It’s fine, fifty meters is enough reaction time.” Kui Xin looked around her surroundings.
The trash alley was filled with garbage bags and sewage that sanitation robots had not yet cleaned up. Behind the alley was a brick wall about three meters high; she had climbed over it to get into the alley. After killing the target, she would escape through that wall, giving her enough time to leave the scene even if others noticed something was off.
A few minutes later, He Gaoyi finally arrived at the spot where Kui Xin was hiding.
Like a deadly snake hidden in a cave waiting for its prey, Kui Xin struck with lightning speed, wrapping around the woman’s throat and effortlessly snapping her neck.
All the actions unfolded perfectly as Kui Xin had planned, taking less than two seconds.
Plastic bags from the supermarket fell to the ground, scattering their contents all over.
“You have killed He Gaoyi.”
“You have gained extraordinary ability [Data Manipulation: Grade A].”
Seeing the system notification, Kui Xin relaxed her brow.
She dragged the body deeper into the alley and crushed all electronic devices He Gaoyi had on her to prevent the Investigation Bureau from locating her. This would delay the discovery of the corpse.
She casually kicked at the fallen garbage bags, covering the body, and then activated Shadow Transition to pass through the wall, returning along the same route to her residence.
The passerby who had been following He Gaoyi had been engrossed in playing a tablet game the whole time, swaying to the beat of the music in his ears, completely oblivious to the fact that the person walking in front of him had vanished into thin air.
“Pleasant cooperation,” Augus said.
Though it was a mechanical synthesized voice, there was a hint of relaxation in it.
Kui Xin smirked, “Pleasant cooperation.”
Returning to her apartment, Kui Xin checked the time: 23:59:45.
“Time to go home,” she said, “See you in seven days.”
“Yeah, see you in ten seconds,” Augus replied.
……
“[Data Manipulation: Grade A]: You can manipulate the flow of data with self-awareness. In the world of networks and data, your role and capabilities are no less than that of a supercomputer.”
Kui Xin opened her eyes in the dark, hearing breathing and rustling sounds beside her.
It was Su Rong; she had woken up as well.
Kui Xin pretended to be asleep, but soon she heard soft sobbing.
Unable to maintain the act, she sat up and asked, “Rong Rong? What’s wrong?”
Su Rong was startled and forced back her tears, saying, “Nothing, just had a… uh, nightmare.”
Kui Xin frowned, “What was the dream about?”
“It’s nothing, Xinxin. Just a dream,” Su Rong buried her face in the blanket, speaking muffledly. “Just a dream… it’ll be fine once I wake up. Sorry for waking you, go back to sleep.”
But in the later half of the night, neither Su Rong nor Kui Xin could fall asleep.
Kui Xin heard Su Rong getting up to go to the bathroom and picked up her phone from the bedside to check for any new content on the forum.
However, when she opened her phone, the first thing that popped up was a message from the class group, with several night owls still awake, chatting enthusiastically.
Kui Xin had a minor compulsion; she needed to clear every new message notification before feeling comfortable.
But when she opened the chat page, she was stunned.
“Did you fill out the beta test application form?”
“I did, just finished. Hope to get selected.”
“This time there are a hundred thousand beta test spots, so the chances of being chosen have significantly increased.”
“Oh man, I’m such a unlucky person; I don’t have high hopes.”
“Dang, I won’t be eighteen until October, so I can’t even fill out the application form.”
Cold sweat began to form on Kui Xin’s forehead.
She pulled the page to the top, and saw the first message that had sparked the class group’s discussion: “Hey, wake up! The official announcement for the new beta test of ‘Crimson Soil’ has been released, and there are a hundred thousand spots available for signing up!” [Image]
Kui Xin opened the image and found a screenshot stating that the application period was one week, with the list of selected candidates to be announced on August 16… August 16, the day of her next return to the Second World.
This time, a hundred thousand spots were opened—exactly one hundred thousand! If that many players were sent to the other world, how much impact would it have there?
“… Damn.” Kui Xin collapsed onto her pillow, her lips about to burst with a string of curses she barely managed to suppress.
She had a faint premonition that her life would never be peaceful again.
At six-thirty in the morning, Kui Xin woke up on time, thanks to her internal clock.
Su Rong had a restless night, finally falling into a deep sleep as dawn approached. Kui Xin wondered what she had encountered in the Second World that made her cry all night… She didn’t wake her up, quietly getting out of bed, tidying up, and leaving a note before leaving Su Rong’s home.
Because she needed to go for a morning run.
She must not miss her morning exercise—a life may be at stake if she didn’t keep her body well trained.
Moreover, there were many things that were inconvenient to do at Su Rong’s place. Kui Xin needed to check the forum for information and practice her newly acquired Grade A extraordinary ability. There were too many things to do, piling up over her head, needing to be resolved one by one.
With her backpack on, Kui Xin jogged down the street, and when she had run enough, she took the subway home.
Upon returning home, Kui Xin opened her phone with a serious expression to check the forum posts.
“Hey, can someone remind those poor newbies not to enter the game?”
“My family wants to play ‘Crimson Soil,’ and I warned them not to play, they thought I was joking; I literally begged them to stay away from the game for their safety, and they think I’m insane.”
“Crap, my brother was quick and applied for the beta test last night. Is there any way to fix this? Are we just waiting to die?”
“Don’t panic. If I’m not mistaken, there should be another chance to refuse the game before entering, just like we did initially. As long as you seize that last chance to refuse, it’ll be fine.”
The forum was filled with a sense of despair, making it hard for Kui Xin to breathe.
What was the point of persuading those around her not to play? The existing player base was simply too small, under ten thousand; could they really dissuade billions worldwide from playing this game? It was unrealistic.
Unless someone stood up to expose the whole game’s inner workings, only then could there be enough alertness. But who would be willing to do that? Who would dare? Who could bear the risk of doing so? What would happen if they were labeled as part of the game’s marketing after exposing it?
Kui Xin was well aware that in this information-driven world, very few could remain rational in the face of public opinion. If someone exposed the truth, it might end up attracting even more people to apply for the game. Moreover, certain individuals have a strong rebellious psychology—if others dissuade them from playing, they feel compelled to try.
Kui Xin pursed her lips, her gaze shifting up to observe the number of survivors on the forum.
The number of dead had decreased this time, with the current survivor count at 8,899.
The first round of cleaning and screening had claimed the most lives; now that the first round had passed, those who survived were temporarily safe. If the game hadn’t suddenly opened a second round of beta testing, the subsequent death toll would likely transition smoothly over time, without exhibiting any drastic increases.
Thinking of the second round of beta testing filled Kui Xin with anxiety.
Once it began, a hundred thousand players might appear right beside her, like the sweet and naive folks in the class group, all of whom had filled out the beta test forms, including those who hadn’t, urged by others to fill them out.
All she could do was hope they had better luck and not be chosen by this deceptive game.
Kui Xin’s expression turned numb as she sifted through the forum, looking for information with higher engagement, when she saw a player posting: “Damn, does anyone remember that YouTuber who deleted his account and ran away after entering the game? He posted a video! This guy is brave!”
Kui Xin froze, clicking the post to see the screenshot, revealing the YouTuber’s video title: “I, a first-time player of ‘Crimson Soil,’ urge everyone to stay away from this game unless you want to pay the price of your life and die alongside innocent players in a strange world.”
