“Is this a formality, to introduce yourselves in battle? Ghosts, are you asking me to carve your names on a gravestone?” Lu Mingfei swallowed.
“You won’t die here. The worst thing here is that you won’t die,” said Gao Mi, the Execution Bureau agent, with a soft sigh.
The train passed through a station at high speed, and the platform lights briefly illuminated the three faces across from Lu Mingfei. They were all equally gaunt, equally pale, like they had been dug up from an ancient tomb. But Lu Mingfei didn’t believe that ghosts would be holding poker cards. Each of them held a hand of cards, as if they had been interrupted mid-game and didn’t want to put them down. If they really were ghosts, they must have loved gambling in life.
“Alright, folks, I’m new here,” Lu Mingfei said, sitting on a bench, gasping for breath. “Are there any rules I should know about?”
“How’s your math?” Gao Mi asked.
Lu Mingfei was taken aback. “I’m always on the edge of failing.”
“Then you’re out of luck. You won’t be able to leave this place either.” Gao Mi sighed. “Back then, I was ranked second in math at the college.”
“Who was first?” Lu Mingfei asked involuntarily.
“Finger von Frings, I think that was his name.”
Lu Mingfei was stunned. He didn’t expect the useless senior to be a math genius. Come to think of it, Finger had also been taught by the humanities professor Guderian.
“There are many things here that you wouldn’t expect. You’ll soon see—it’s a rare experience. It’s better to witness it with your own eyes than to hear me talk about it,” Gao Mi said. “What I can tell you is that this seems to be an alchemically constructed labyrinth, like the mythical labyrinth of Minos.”
“The Minos Labyrinth?”
“Yes, the historical Labyrinth of Minos. It wasn’t an ordinary labyrinth; it was constructed through alchemy. Such a labyrinth must have a guardian,” Wan Boqian said. “In the myth, its guardian was the Minotaur. Anyone entering an alchemical labyrinth would never find their way out on their own. The only way was to kill the guardian—this was accomplished by the Greek prince Theseus.”
“But this labyrinth isn’t as exaggerated. If your math is good enough, or if you’re good enough at cards, you can leave,” Gao Mi said.
“If this were StarCraft, you’d be fine…” Zhao Menghua said mournfully.
“Who is the guardian?” Lu Mingfei asked.
“You’ll see soon,” Gao Mi said. “When I was in the college, I researched ancient texts about this. The characteristic of an alchemical labyrinth is that there must always be a rule by which you can escape. This is the foundation of creating an alchemical labyrinth—even the guardian cannot break it. Just like the riddle that the Sphinx gave to Oedipus, that too was an alchemically constructed labyrinth, except it used ‘language’ as its material. Oedipus answered the riddle, and the Sphinx had to throw itself off a cliff, even though it was far more powerful than Oedipus—it couldn’t go back on its word. This is the constraint of ‘rules.’”
“It’s like… Yanling?” Lu Mingfei started to understand.
“Exactly. So you should have guessed by now—this is a marvel constructed using Dragon technology, a labyrinth that exists beneath Beijing,” Gao Mi said softly. “Here, the rules are different from those outside. Even without food or water, you won’t age or die; you’ll just grow more withered…” He slowly pulled open his shirt, revealing skin clinging to his ribs, gaunt as a skeleton.
Zhao Menghua also sadly opened his shirt, revealing the same horrifyingly emaciated body… Lu Mingfei shifted his gaze to Wan Boqian…
“Hey… are you being a pervert?” Wan Boqian covered her chest, shouting angrily, “I’m not as skinny as these guys!”
“Oh, oh, oh.” Lu Mingfei snapped back to reality. “So what’s the card game?”
“Texas Hold’em,” Gao Mi said. “Want to familiarize yourself with the rules? We’re heading toward the guardian now—you’ve got forty-five minutes to learn.”
“Seriously? The game is Texas Hold’em? What kind of gambler designed this labyrinth?” Lu Mingfei’s spirits lifted a little. “Well, I know how to play Texas Hold’em.”
“If you can win the last chip from the dealer, you can leave. If you lose all your chips, you’re out of the game and have to try again next time,” Zhao Menghua said.
“So, what’s the stake?” Lu Mingfei asked.
Their eyes were filled with despair, a dark and heavy gray. Finally, Gao Mi took a deep breath. “As long as you ride this subway train, constantly moving forward, your stakes increase. As long as you endure the torment of loneliness, your stakes increase. The more sorrowful and hopeless you become, the greater your stakes. But you can never die…”
“Your stakes are your loneliness,” Wan Boqian said softly.
The only sound left in the carriage was the clattering of the tracks. After a long silence, Lu Mingfei turned to Zhao Menghua and said, “Chen Wenwen… she’s really worried about you.”
The sound of running water from the platform gradually faded. Chu Zihang wiped away the black contact lenses from his eyes, revealing the ever-burning golden pupils shining in the darkness. His powerful bloodline regeneration had already restored seventy percent of his advantages, perhaps even more.
How many blades could this enhanced bloodline draw? Chu Zihang took a deep breath, grabbed the roof of the train, and flipped himself up.
His enhanced bloodline gave him enough strength to resist the strong winds on top of the train, allowing him to move as if he were on flat ground. With each step, he felt the vibrations beneath his feet—the monotonous rhythm of the train moving over each segment of track. If anyone or anything was moving in the carriages below, he would be able to detect it. He didn’t want to enter the train because he didn’t want to be surrounded in an enclosed space. Murasame was a very long blade, difficult to wield in such a confined area.
He was never afraid of a fight, and he knew many people called him a natural-born killer.
Since he was ready to fight, he had to find the best place to exert his full strength.
Water still dripped from the ceiling of the tunnel, landing on his face, cold. The feeling of walking alone in the cold rain was terrible. And yet, he was truly alone here. The carriage below was deathly silent, and the feeling of being fully prepared with no enemy appearing was equally frustrating. Since entering this place, the birthmark on his back had been burning, though he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign.