Chapter 104: A Terrifying Theory—The Frightening All-Rounder!
Inside the half-mountain estate, as Scarface and his crew tidied up, Zhang Yangqing checked his phone.
11:27 PM.
Close to the “lights-out” time mentioned in the rules.
A thought struck him. He turned to Scarface—the former boss, now reinstated—and asked:
“What’s with the weird black stuff that appears after midnight here?”
Scarface pondered carefully before answering.
“It’s a terrifying entity that devours people’s minds upon contact. Victims might look the same on the outside, but their brains are replaced. So if any of us get infected, we kill them without hesitation.”
He added more details based on Zhang Yangqing’s questions:
The basement’s location.
The truth about the “administrators.”
Why scour for intel when you could just ask the boss directly?
The audience was floored.
Other challengers grovel for scraps of info, and this guy just… interrogates the boss?
According to Scarface, the community had only one basement—beneath the cafeteria.
That was also where the cafeteria owner sourced his meat.
As for the administrators?
Scarface’s explanation matched the rules:
This community has no real administrators. But there are beings who claim to be. They appear unpredictably. Anyone they catch disappears.
That was all he knew.
How to turn the black cat white?
That was beyond his knowledge.
By the time the conversation ended, it was 11:34 PM.
Zhang Yangqing prepared to leave.
“Since no one objects to the distribution, I’ll head back to rest. Deliver the rest to my room by morning.”
He only took the seal for Unit 7-4.
Apart from the properties promised to the former landlords, Zhang Yangqing claimed the rest without hesitation—these affected his final rating.
Why else would he come here? Not for charity.
He wasn’t worried about them reneging. Tomorrow, he’d put them to work—for free.
“No problem, boss. We’ll deliver everything on time. Rest easy.”
Satisfied, Zhang Yangqing donned his raincoat and left.
Once his figure vanished completely, a landlord turned to Scarface.
“Boss… are we really giving him all the other properties?”
The room held over a hundred seals. Their group of twenty-plus would only get twenty-something.
The remaining seventy-plus? All for their so-called “partner.”
Some weren’t happy—they just didn’t dare say it to Zhang Yangqing’s face.
Scarface shot him a look.
“Want to take it up with him?”
The man instantly shook his head.
His idea was to skim a few seals—seven or eight.
More seals meant more power, more allies.
But Scarface knew better.
We’re begging on our knees here. Be grateful he’s giving us anything.
Misjudging your place in this world is a quick way to die.
So Scarface laid down the law:
Take only what’s yours. Touch nothing else.
Back at the rental building, Zhang Yangqing entered his unit—once again, right on the dot.
The ominous black mist seethed, teeth gritted.
So close to devouring this chronically late bastard.
It felt like a taunt. But rules were rules.
The moment he stepped inside, the black cat greeted him at the door—as if pledging allegiance.
Perhaps sensing danger, it was desperate to prove its worth.
This wasn’t unique to Zhang Yangqing’s cat. Other challengers’ black cats behaved similarly.
They had protected their owners from supernatural threats while they were out or asleep.
Yet any challenger who knew the true customs clearance conditions would still coldly turn them white.
No matter how guilty they felt.
If you don’t throw the cat, you die.
There’s no choice.
“Relax. If you behave, I won’t kill you.”
After feeding the cat, Zhang Yangqing retired to his bedroom.
The only challenger who didn’t need to whiten his cat.
The black cat seemed to understand. After eating, it resumed patrol.
Tonight, nothing disturbs this master.
That was its resolve.
…..
Most challengers double-checked everything before bed.
Apart from a few mishaps, the night passed without incident.
Day 3.
Before dawn, before alarms could sound—
BANG BANG BANG!
A cacophony of knocking jolted challengers awake.
“Open up! We’re the administrators! Inspection!”
Though the voices came from outside, they felt inside their skulls—impossibly close.
Covering their ears did nothing. The words echoed in their minds.
The administrators’ voices held a hypnotic quality, compelling limbs to move against their will—toward the door.
Panic set in.
Eagle Country’s Miller slapped himself hard—thwack!—shocking himself alert.
He rushed to the bathroom to splash water on his face.
But instead of clarity, hallucinations worsened.
The mirror reflected a grotesque face—beckoning.
Furniture came alive, creeping toward him, hungry.
No matter where he fled, it pursued. Only his agility kept him from being swallowed.
He searched for the cat—nowhere in sight. Maybe hiding from the noise.
Reality twisted. Shadows morphed into “figures”—past tenants, perhaps.
Every room he entered, the furniture and “figures” chased.
The knocking drilled into his brain like a toxin, eroding control.
He wasn’t alone. Others barely clung to sanity through sheer willpower.
Two rules flashed in Miller’s mind:
[Rule 3: If furniture behaves abnormally, leave immediately.]
[Rule 9: This building has no administrators. Ignore anyone claiming to be one.]
Stay? Die by furniture.
Leave? Captured by administrators.
Then—epiphany.
There’s a way out.
On Day 1, when trapped in Old Smoker’s unit, he’d escaped through the window.
Maybe leaving the unit breaks the auditory hallucination.
No time to hesitate. The knocking had lasted under four minutes, and he was already crumbling.
Who knew how long it would continue? Staying meant death.
Gambling on the window was his only shot.
Miller scrambled into his raincoat, flung the window open, and climbed out—rain be damned.
Hanging outside, the hallucinations faded. Sanity returned.
He’d guessed right.
The administrators’ voices only affected those inside.
Eagle Country’s audience erupted in praise.
“First S-rank challenger for a reason—his comprehension is unreal.”
“Miller’s the peak of normal humans. Only he could clear this.”
“Another challenger just opened the door. Execution was… graphic.”
“Hindu Monk’s a beast too—meditating through self-harm to stay lucid.”
Faced with this sudden trial, many shone.
The Hindu Monk believed the bedroom was safe—if you could withstand the mental assault.
Chanting scriptures, he dug nails into his thighs—blood soaking the sheets.
Pain anchored him to reality.
He never left the bedroom.
Such willpower commanded respect.
As Sakura Country’s top Onmyōji, Abe Hirohira had some resistance to illusions.
But even he knew his limits.
Donning his raincoat, he climbed out the window—scaling to the roof to observe these “administrators.”
What he saw chilled him.
Pale, waterlogged figures patrolled the halls—several per floor—pounding on doors.
Those who succumbed or broke rules were dragged out, submerged in rainwater.
“Does prolonged rain exposure turn you into… that?”
Suddenly, one administrator whipped around—staring straight at him.
Abe ducked, heart pounding.
If spotted, I’m dead.
But time was running out. Rule 11 loomed:
[Rule 11: Rain causes discomfort. Raincoats block it—but only for 2 hours daily.]
He’d been outside for 1 hour, 32 minutes.
With the day barely started, his raincoat had only 28 minutes left.
And he still needed to:
-
Whiten the cat.
-
Find the boy to stop the rain.
Both required time.
No solution meant no clear.
At 8:00 AM, his phone alarm blared—nearly giving him a heart attack.
But it also signaled the administrators’ departure.
As they retreated, Abe finally exhaled.
…..
The early morning had brutalized challengers.
Every night here was torture.
Last night: rain-soaked, feverish, fitful sleep.
Tonight: rudely awakened, then dangled outside for over an hour—a test of endurance.
This was truly an elite-tier run. Only 13 challengers faltered.
Four, too weak-willed, succumbed to the hallucinations and were executed.
Several fell to their deaths misjudging window exits.
Others, underestimating the duration, chose poor handholds—exhaustion led to fatal slips.
The longer the nightmare lasted, the heavier the mental toll.
The Hindu Monk could barely walk—a liability for upcoming tasks.
Abe Hirohira was fraying. Frustration gnawed at him.
Now I get why some never return.
This place is hell.
Watching from outside hadn’t prepared him for the relentless dread.
Back in his unit, Abe eyed his loyal shikigami—unaffected, it seemed.
“You okay?” he asked casually.
“Yes, master.”
The familiar voice held reverence.
Abe nodded. “Good. Shift change—you’ve earned rest. Accompany me to find the basement and boy.”
“As you command.”
Leaving one shikigami behind for security, they set out.
At a quiet stretch, Abe halted.
“You’ve been with me since birth, right?”
“Yes. My former master charged me with your protection. That is my duty.”
To Abe, this shikigami was closer than family.
It had guarded him through childhood, secured his status as top Onmyōji.
That’s why he’d summoned it while sleeping—ultimate trust.
“Then… would you die for me?”
The question was ice-cold—yet laced with anguish and resolve.
“Master?”
Confusion flickered across its inhuman features.
“Don’t underestimate me. As chief Onmyōji, I know my shikigami. You’re corrupted.”
The pain in Abe’s voice was palpable.
“But I’m lucid! I can still protect you!”
It knelt, pledging loyalty.
“Do it yourself. Don’t make me.”
Abe wouldn’t risk betrayal like Mitsurugi Saburō.
Corrupted or not, this shikigami had to die.
In nightmares, even a sliver of doubt meant death.
Better to err on the side of caution.
He suspected this was how Longguo’s extraordinary operated.
If Zhang Yangqing heard, he’d protest:
I only kill enemies! Since when do I off allies? Stop using me as an excuse!
The shikigami suddenly stood—laughing maniacally.
“HAHAHA! You saw through me! I planned to kill you at the climax—but now works too!”
It lunged, claws aimed at Abe’s heart.
A snap of Abe’s fingers summoned three stronger shikigami.
Outmatched, the corrupted one fought recklessly—ignoring its own safety to strike Abe.
Soon, it lay in pieces—a gory mess.
One of the victors spat: “Traitor. Deserved worse.”
“SILENCE!”
Abe’s roar froze them mid-sneer.
They dropped to their knees, trembling.
Gazing at the remains, Abe sighed.
“Not your fault. Mine.”
He knew the truth.
His shikigami had chosen to play the villain—to spare him guilt.
Even in death, it protected him.
That knowledge haunted Abe.
But adversity forged growth.
No wonder Level Passer say: Only those tempered in nightmares survive.
His resolve hardened.
Complaints and hesitation had no place here.
Even Kangaroo Country’s Jones—the “luck-based” challenger—evolved.
His second run had earned him an S-rank and a skill: [Simulation].
Simulation:
-
Duration: 5 mins.
-
Uses: 2.
-
Cooldown: 100 hrs.
When facing certain death, Jones activated it.
Time slowed as his mind projected possible outcomes.
He had to find a survival path within the simulation, then replicate it in reality.
An absurdly overpowered ability.
Faced with the administrators, Jones simulated:
Route 1: Charge out, using flour to blind the entities (as Longguo’s extraordinary taught).
The flour worked—but more awaited outside.
Death.
Route 2: Stay inside. Two minutes in, his mind fractured. He jumped out the window.
Death by fall—but he realized outdoor hallucinations ceased.
Thus, the solution: endure the rain outside.
In a way, he’d grown.
His skill was borderline cheating—two extra lives if used well.
…..
Most challengers displayed remarkable judgment this round.
Even Jones silenced Kangaroo’s “I could do that” crowd.
Level Passer gained experience with each run.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
The morning showcased elite-tier performances worthy of applause.
This was a high-difficulty run—and challengers rose to the occasion.
Their eyes hardened with resolve. Actions grew decisive.
No hesitation.
Only Longguo’s feed was… dull.
Yep. Utterly uneventful.
At 8:00 AM, Zhang Yangqing finally stirred—yawning.
The knocking? The voices?
Zero effect.
Viewers wondered: Did he complete some hidden quest to avoid the administrators?
Eagle’s veteran analyzed Zhang Yangqing’s demeanor versus other extraordinary and reached a startling conclusion:
“His resistance is so high, he just… ignored the hallucinations.”
Data showed extraordinary had some immunity to mental attacks.
Sakura’s Onmyōji resisted longer than most.
The Hindu Monk endured over an hour through pain.
Thus, the veteran’s theory:
Zhang Yangqing’s defenses were so high, the attack didn’t register.
Magic damage?
Zero. His MR’s too stacked.
Posted in global chat, the theory blew minds.
“Sounds insane… but I can’t disprove it.” (Eagle)
“Longguo’s extraordinary is cracked. A true all-rounder!” (Chosun)
“That猛诡 punched him earlier—he caught it ONE-HANDED. Didn’t budge. This nightmare’s power ceiling can’t touch him.” (Maple)
“No wonder he’s so reckless. I’d be worse!” (Kangaroo)
“Others are here to survive. He’s on vacation.” (Tea)
…..
One thing was clear:
Most challengers grew through Life and death test.
Had Zhang Yangqing?
Unclear.
But the supernaturals matched against him certainly had.
Because those that didn’t?
He killed them all.
