### Chapter 158: Dark Boundless Realm 13
Kui Xin woke up and stared at the familiar ceiling in a daze for a while.
She turned onto her side, her eyes looking toward the window in the room. The curtains were drawn, but the streetlight’s glow seeped through, leaving several patches of light and shadow on the fabric.
A wave of fatigue swept over her; this past week had been incredibly exhausting. Each week was filled with many events and numerous crises to resolve… But fortunately, she now had a semblance of freedom. The crises still existed, but the situation had become more flexible, with things progressing in a positive direction.
Her phone buzzed beside the pillow. She reached for it and saw that the caller was Su Rong.
She answered the call, “Hello?”
“Sis Xin…” Su Rong’s voice was very low, seemingly trying not to wake her sleeping parents. There was a hint of hesitation in her tone, “Sorry to disturb you, I…”
“Uh, you’re not disturbing me. I’m awake,” Kui Xin replied. “So it’s me.”
The suspicions that had been hidden deep in Su Rong’s heart were finally confirmed. She sat up in bed, letting out a large sigh of relief as her tense shoulders relaxed. She covered her mouth, her fingers trembling slightly.
“I know Sis Xin must have a reason for doing what you did,” Su Rong said, her voice choked with emotion.
“I’ll explain more when I come to teach you tomorrow,” Kui Xin said. “Get a good night’s sleep, Rong Rong. You’re home now.”
“Okay!” Su Rong replied.
Once the call ended, Su Rong lay back on her bed, curling into a ball under the blanket, feeling an overwhelming warmth in her heart, as if she suddenly had support and a pillar to lean on. After a moment, she suddenly threw off the blanket and dashed to the door of her room, cracking it open a bit. She listened closely and heard her parents snoring. People in middle age always tended to snore while sleeping; sometimes Su Rong found it annoying and would slam her bedroom door shut, but now her parents’ snores made her feel incredibly at ease.
She was home! Back in a peaceful world.
Su Rong wiped away the tears on her face and returned to bed.
In the First World, she had her parents and Sis Xin around; in the Second World, Sis Xin was still there as well. No matter where she was, she had someone by her side. She didn’t want to check the forum; she didn’t want to focus on anything else. She just wanted to follow what Sis Xin said and get a good night’s sleep.
Before Kui Xin could completely set down her phone, she received several messages.
There were messages from Yuan Lu and He Kangshi.
Yuan Lu, as usual, was checking in on her safety, and Kui Xin replied that she was fine. He Kangshi had sent a bit more, typing several lines of messages rapidly.
“Boss, Maotoufu is way too strong! Giao! She just arrived in our White Whale City yesterday! The little master of the Popov Clan was actually kidnapped and they asked the Popovs for a hundred billion! I heard everyone in the Midnight District talking about this yesterday. Now we’ve got funding for our organization’s activities!”
Kui Xin thought for a moment: “Be careful, don’t expose your identity.”
“Of course, I’m always careful,” He Kangshi replied. “I checked the dark web, and the bounty for ‘The Shadowless’ is now in the top ten of the black market. But no one knows who the members of this organization are; there’s just an empty bounty task hanging there. This level of notoriety is unique to us, drawing attention comparable to Mechanized Dawn taking out the Deputy Minister of the Bureau of Investigation and Order Maintenance in Black Sea City and an S Rank Awakened.”
Kui Xin couldn’t help but twitch her lips.
He Kangshi likely would never have imagined that the assassination of the Deputy Minister was orchestrated by her. Furthermore, there was another bounty listed for killing Mayor Shu Chengyan of Black Sea City, known as “Blue Sparrow.” Later, when Mechanized Dawn surfaced, the bounty for “Blue Sparrow” merged with the one for Mechanized Dawn.
In the top ten bounty rankings, Kui Xin single-handedly occupied one-third.
This achievement was likely unmatched.
“From now on, the work in White Whale City will be handled by Maotoufu,” Kui Xin said. “Make sure to cooperate well and build rapport.”
“Understood,” He Kangshi replied. “Is Maotoufu’s temper not that good?”
“You think she has a bad temper?”
“She doesn’t really joke around that much, sometimes it feels a bit uncomfortable talking to her…”
“Then I’ll let her know that ‘Hunter Falcon’ suggests she tell more jokes, or else ‘Hunter Falcon’ might feel awkward.”
He Kangshi frantically refused: “No need, no need! You don’t have to tell her! Maotoufu is fine the way she is!”
Kui Xin: “Alright then.”
He Kangshi smirked slightly, switched away from the chat page, and quickly logged onto the forum.
When he opened the forum page, He Kangshi closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, silently praying in his heart.
“Please don’t let too many people die… please don’t let too many people die…”
The page popped up, and the first thing He Kangshi checked was the survival count, then he leaned back in shock.
79,653!!
With the survival count nearing eighty thousand, but the number of open slots since the beta test had exceeded 110,000.
Nearly one-third of the players had died.
On the other side, Kui Xin also saw the survival count on the forum.
She gave a bitter smile, unsure whether to feel relieved or despondent. The worst-case scenario she had estimated was that half of the second batch of beta testers would immediately perish. Now the number of deaths was much lower than she anticipated…
Perhaps the guidance and strategies from the old players on the forum played a role, or maybe the number of people who crossed over this time was too large. The federal government of the Second World couldn’t fully screen and clean up in time. In just a week, the manpower of the TQC was limited, and so was the Bureau of Investigation. The players were distributed across the globe, and handling it was very time-consuming. Even with these capture departments working around the clock, the number of people they could catch in a week remained limited.
The first reincarnation for the second batch of beta testers was over. They would have a deeper understanding of that world. In the next game traversal, they would learn to hide themselves, consciously study and arm themselves, making it difficult for the federal government to capture and clean them up again.
Kui Xin first clicked into the second section where the second batch of beta testers congregated to browse the posts.
The front page was mostly filled with posts wailing in despair.
“This is a true game! A real game! I can’t believe so many seniors were earnestly advising me not to be so rash! I really thought everyone was just joking around!”
“Help me, I’m willing to be a vegetarian for life to exchange for a chance to exit.”
“What does it mean to bring destruction upon oneself? This is it. I was curious when I saw the game UP, old Kang’s advice, and against everyone’s warnings, I joined the ‘Crimson Soil’ beta test. Now I just want to travel back and slap my own face!!”
“I’m sorry, I was just joking around in the old players’ advisory post. I was completely wrong… but I read all those strategies. When I crossed over, I didn’t make major mistakes. If any new players who read this post were led astray by my comments and ignored those strategies and advice, I sincerely apologize; I didn’t mean to…”
Regretful? It was too late to regret now.
“You have only one chance to exit.”
This statement was clearly displayed on the page when players joined the game, marking their last opportunity to exit. If they missed this chance, they could only continue on with a stiff upper lip.
Kui Xin refreshed the posts, and a constant stream of new ones emerged.
The second section, with its 100,000 players just returning to the forum, had very high activity, with dozens of posts refreshing every second—a level of discussion that the first section with only 10,000 players could not reach. Posts in various languages mixed together.
More posts meant it became challenging to retrieve information.
“Help me! Please, is there anyone who can help me? At midnight on August 23 in the Second World, a group of people in combat uniforms suddenly burst into my residence. This should be the department the old players said was responsible for capturing and cleaning up players.”
First post: Is there any way for me to survive? They just barged in for a couple of seconds before I returned to this world. How will they treat me? Will they kill me right away?
1L: Damn, just pray for your own luck.
2L: I don’t know what to say, just wish you good luck.
3L: Do you have any unfinished wishes? Complete what you can in the remaining week back in our world. That’s all you can do.
12L: Your timing is quite unfortunate, friend. I sympathize with you; I’m a first batch beta tester and also a cancer patient; living each day is just waiting to die. To put it bluntly, you’re essentially fallen into the same predicament now—waiting to die. I suggest, as previously mentioned, to finish any unfinished business and say goodbye to your family. Many of our first batch beta testers wrote their wills in advance. Newcomers should prepare for their aftermath just in case; tomorrow’s fate is uncertain.
There were too many unfortunate posts; many people tearfully shared their experiences in the Second World.
Kui Xin had witnessed such a scene once when the first batch of beta testers returned, but this time the scale was evidently larger, with the number of player posts multiplied by ten.
She kept refreshing the page, her expression barely changing.
She was used to it, accustomed to reading about unfortunate events with a calm mindset. However, seeing the bloody survival count at the top of the forum still stirred her heart.
“‘Crimson Soil’ will definitely open a third batch of beta tests, a fourth batch, or even a public test! What will the world look like then?”
“After reading so many posts, I can’t help but feel grateful for my luck. My identity remains concealed, and I have awakened my superpower, putting me somewhat ahead—just unsure if I can maintain this luck moving forward…”
Finally, Kui Xin skimmed the posts and clicked on the pinned post in the second section.
The list of fallen players included not only the first batch of beta testers but also the second batch, indicating that the list was mixed and only followed chronological order.
She quickly scanned through the long list of fallen information, searching for Remover 777.
When she reached the end of the page, Kui Xin finally saw a notification.
“Proxy 69801 was killed by Remover 777 on August 21.”
Flipping through the entire page, this was the only death notification for Remover 777. By his proactive challenge thrown at Remover 233, it was clear that if given the opportunity, he definitely wouldn’t have just killed one player.
Was there an accident?
Kui Xin pondered for a moment and then messaged He Kangshi.
“Send a private message to Remover Augus on the forum to gauge his status,” Kui Xin instructed.
He Kangshi quickly replied, “Understood. How should I ask?”
“Just directly ask him why he killed so few people,” Kui Xin said.
He Kangshi sent the message swiftly.
After a while, He Kangshi reported back, “Augus hasn’t replied yet… I thought with his craziness, he would message me right away to brag about how many people he’s taken down.”
Kui Xin frowned and repeatedly checked the list of fallen players, unable to find any death notification for Remover 777.
Without any results, she temporarily set aside the matter of Augus and returned to refresh the posts in the first section where the first batch of beta testers had gathered.
The atmosphere of communication in the first section was evidently more composed. Most old players had reached a state where they were unmoved by praise or criticism; only a few posts lamented the reactions of newcomers. Most posts were focused on exchanging information for knowledge building. Naturally, there were also enthusiastic old players rushing to the second section to provide insights, teaching newcomers how to use various high-tech products and how to disguise themselves as qualified cyber natives.
Kui Xin refreshed the forum again, and two new posts captured her immediate attention.
One of the post titles was in English: “My companions and I were attacked by Remover 777 in the Second World. I survived by chance, but my companions were tragically killed. I urge everyone to beware of Remover 777! He is a psychopath, a complete lunatic!”
The other post was titled: “Has anyone noticed that time has started flowing again during the soul traversal?”
Upon seeing the second post, Kui Xin found it almost impossible to remain calm.
