Chapter 145: Give Them an Inch, and They’ll Think They’re a Tiger!
This was a train carrying death row inmates, and even the prison officials and guards of Paradise didn’t dare slack off.
The prison officer himself was only a six-star in strength, so he truly couldn’t afford to offend Zhang Yangqing.
Normally, following procedure, the inmates arriving were mostly six-star convicts. The prison officer would deliver a long, tedious speech—like an endless cutscene—to motivate them to assist in completing their final destructive mission.
But now? A speech?
The moment the prison officer saw Zhang Yangqing, he immediately put on a smile and hurried over.
Gripping Zhang Yangqing’s hand excitedly, he said in the most amiable tone, “The journey must have been exhausting. However, there are still some matters we’ll need your help with. Let’s discuss them in detail in the lounge.”
His words left everyone nearby wide-eyed.
You’re a prison officer! How can you be this submissive?
What happened to the speech? What about the mind-numbing monologue other contestants had to sit through?
Zhang Yangqing didn’t even press “skip,” yet the officer just fast-forwarded the whole thing?
The prison officer’s unusually warm attitude toward Zhang Yangqing didn’t just stun those around him—even the audience outside was frozen in disbelief.
Seriously, has this prison officer no dignity? Just because he’s a seven-star powerhouse, you’re already scared?
Some could even detect a hint of sycophancy in his tone.
If they didn’t know better, they’d think Zhang Yangqing was some high-ranking prison official.
While others scorned the prison officer, he could only think: If you’re so tough, why don’t you try dealing with him?
The officer’s attitude filled Zhang Yangqing’s snake-eyed lackey with excitement and pride.
My boss is just on another level. Even the prison officer, who terrifies death row inmates, has to bow and scrape before him. This feels amazing!
Following his boss meant strutting through life with impunity.
The unparalleled sense of superiority was intoxicating. He longed to be like his boss—respected wherever he went in this world.
The snake-eyed lackey could hardly believe how far he’d come. Once a nobody who couldn’t even stand up to prison bullies, he was now a peak six-star powerhouse capable of effortlessly slaughtering six-star convicts.
And it all started because he’d chosen the right boss.
I wonder how that cowardly cellmate who ran away is doing now.
If he knew how high I’ve climbed, he’d be sick with regret.
The other death row inmates also felt vindicated. In the past, they’d cowered before the prison officer like grandsons before their grandfather.
Their strength might’ve been similar, but the officer held the controller, leaving them powerless.
Now? The tables had turned. The prison officer was the one groveling before their idol.
In the eyes of the inmates, Zhang Yangqing had ascended to idol status.
After all, this was a world where strength commanded respect.
Zhang Yangqing had given them a taste of sweet revenge.
If not for him, they’d have been subjected to the officer’s tiresome lecture—whether they liked it or not.
Faced with the officer’s deference, Zhang Yangqing didn’t hold back. After shaking hands, he simply nodded for him to lead the way.
His demeanor exuded the natural authority of someone who deserved such treatment.
Some might argue Zhang Yangqing should’ve been more polite, exchanging pleasantries to build rapport.
But to him, that was unnecessary.
What’s my status here? If I were a prison guard, sure, I’d humor you with small talk.
But right now, I’m playing a death row inmate. Why should I bother cozying up to a prison officer?
Zhang Yangqing’s goal was to act in line with a convict’s behavior, ensuring his identity was unquestioned by both the prison staff and fellow inmates.
While Abdul and other contestants were still enduring the prison officer’s tedious lecture, Zhang Yangqing had already followed him into a towering, futuristic building.
The structure was grand and imposing, radiating cutting-edge technological vibes.
As they walked, the officer briefed Zhang Yangqing on the local situation.
At this point, he wasn’t a high-and-mighty official—he was more like a tour guide.
The area where Zhang Yangqing disembarked appeared to be the affluent district. The surroundings were immaculate, with floors so polished they reflected like mirrors.
Purple-green neon lights flashed incessantly.
Giant screens on the buildings displayed strange, pattern-filled visuals.
This was a city that never slept—or perhaps it had no daytime at all.
Though Paradise wasn’t encased in a steel fortress, the eerie plants couldn’t invade, suggesting some unique defensive measures were in place.
Viewers noticed that passersby would stop and stand aside when they saw the prison officer, only resuming their activities after he’d passed.
Whether it was running children or busy office workers, everyone adhered to this rule.
This was a place of strict hierarchy and order.
It also highlighted the officer’s lofty status.
Yet even someone of such standing didn’t dare cross Zhang Yangqing, leaving the inmates in awe.
They weren’t fools. Having long carried out missions for the prison, they knew they were merely hired muscle.
Even as six-star convicts, they were still small fry in the officer’s eyes.
The prison only kept them around to get things done, offering them a chance at survival.
But a seven-star? That was different. A seven-star powerhouse was the prison officer’s daddy.
This hinted at an underlying truth: the prison staff needed Zhang Yangqing’s cooperation.
Soon, the group arrived at the lounge inside the building—a spacious, well-lit area with uniquely textured decor.
Zhang Yangqing finally settled into a plush sofa, just as he liked.
Other contestants had slept on hard floors without complaint, yet Zhang Yangqing, who’d spent the night on a metal bed, still had grievances.
“Sit, why aren’t you sitting?”
The prison officer was about to speak when he noticed something odd.
Of the thirty-plus inmates who’d followed him, only Zhang Yangqing—the seven-star—had taken a seat. The rest remained standing.
There were plenty of comfortable chairs, yet none of them moved.
Since he still needed their help, it made sense to keep them in good spirits.
“We’ve been sitting all the way here. Standing’s fine,” the lion-man inmate replied casually, staying put.
The others followed suit.
Are you kidding? With Zhang Yangqing here, who dares to sit?
Sitting would imply equality with him.
You’re the prison officer, the host here—you can do as you please. But us? No way.
Even the snake-eyed lackey, a peak six-star, stood behind Zhang Yangqing. The rest wouldn’t dare presume.
Whether their idol minded was beside the point—his lackey would slaughter them for disrespect.
Moreover, their reverence for Zhang Yangqing was genuine. They saw him as an idol, not to be overstepped.
Respect mingled with fear—that was their true sentiment.
It was also part of Zhang Yangqing’s innate rules, ones the natives had to decipher.
The prison officer paused but didn’t press further. Suit yourselves!
His eyes kept darting to Zhang Yangqing, ready to rise at the slightest hint of displeasure.
But Zhang Yangqing seemed unbothered, easing his nerves.
Back on Dragon Tiger Mountain, Zhang Xuanjing watched the scene thoughtfully. “Elder Brother, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t the natives in the Ghost Stories World all deferring to the Heavenly Master? Why is that? Don’t they still have the controller?”
Zhang Xuanjing couldn’t grasp why the prison staff would grovel when they could just order Zhang Yangqing around.
Su Muyu shot him a look. “I genuinely think you’d die instantly in the Ghost Stories World. Yangqing is highly observant of its workings. Haven’t you noticed his arrogant demeanor? He barely acknowledges the prison officer’s words. Anyone else, and the officer would’ve lost his temper by now. Yet here he is, still playing nice. What does that tell you? It means he’s deduced they need him, so there’s no reason to lower his stance. That’s the optimal strategy.”
Su Muyu found Zhang Xuanjing’s view of the Ghost Stories World overly simplistic but patiently explained.
For instance, if you could control a powerhouse but wanted their willing cooperation, threats wouldn’t work—you’d have to curry favor.
Coercion would only invite catastrophic backlash.
Conflict meant permanent opposition.
So, unless the prison officer was blind, he wouldn’t dare offend Zhang Yangqing.
The higher Zhang Yangqing’s posture, the more the officer had to appease him.
And human nature being what it is—
The more polite you are, the weaker you seem. Why else would you be so accommodating?
The colder your attitude, the more they assume you’re formidable. Powerful people often have short fuses.
Especially with Zhang Yangqing’s natural air of authority, the prison officer’s pride crumbled at first sight.
Just as other contestants, upon encountering a prison bully, instantly recognized their inferiority and submitted.
“That’s why, after watching so many Ghost Stories World runs, have you noticed Yangqing never treats anyone kindly? It cuts out most of the trouble.”
This was also why Su Muyu never criticized Zhang Yangqing’s ruthless approach.
Some people just don’t deserve an inch—give them one, and they’ll think they’re a tiger.
“Oh, I see,” Zhang Xuanjing said, feigning enlightenment.
“Oh, my foot. That’s Yangqing’s playbook. If you ever go in, play it safe. Know when to fold,” Su Muyu retorted, kicking him.
He was only analyzing Zhang Yangqing’s methods—not endorsing them for his junior.
Your death would be inconsequential, but tarnishing Dragon Tiger Mountain’s reputation? Unforgivable.
Thanks to Zhang Yangqing’s performances, Dragon Tiger Mountain had become a sacred site.
Pilgrims from across the globe flocked there, achieving what countless predecessors never could.
Su Muyu wouldn’t let his juniors ruin that legacy, hence his strictness.
Back in the Ghost Stories World, after ample flattery, the prison officer got to the point—the final mission for Zhang Yangqing and Abdul.
They were to attack a nuclear power plant, the lifeline of Paradise’s energy supply.
Destroying it, along with backup power sources targeted by others, would collapse the defense system.
Then, the invasive plants would overrun Paradise, dooming it.
Abdul breathed a sigh of relief. Just sabotaging a power plant? That’s manageable. With a clear objective, there’s always a solution.
Zhang Yangqing nodded. So there’s a proper procedure. Not that it matters—I’ve got my own plans.
Once both agreed to their respective missions, the prison officer deactivated their restraints.
Many inmates’ bodies swelled, their auras turning bestial, faces twisting savagely.
Abdul’s form underwent a dramatic change—his skin seemed to flow with molten rock, his entire being radiating boundless energy.
The prison officer, noting his transformation, asked why he’d worn a restraint.
Abdul claimed he’d struggled to control his power, hence the precaution. The officer didn’t press further.
With Abdul committed to the mission, an extra strong enforcer was a bonus.
As for Zhang Yangqing’s group, even the snake-eyed lackey transformed dramatically—except Zhang Yangqing himself, who remained unchanged, baffling onlookers.
Shouldn’t stronger individuals exhibit more drastic mutations? Why is he unaffected?
But the scanner had confirmed his seven-star status, and he’d demonstrated fearsome abilities, so the lackey stayed obedient.
The prison officer’s eyes widened as if realizing something, his demeanor growing even more servile.
Next, the officer introduced the Evolution Path contestants’ ally and mission details.
The nuclear plant was guarded by a seven-star powerhouse, hence the need for a seven-star to lure them away.
The standard approach, as seen with Abdul, involved using allies to divert the guardian while he and the inmates infiltrated to plant explosives.
Stealth was key.
The Ghost Stories World had empowered him for survival—escape, not head-on combat.
As for the ally, she was a fox-like mutant, akin to the snake-eyed lackey but with vulpine traits.
Her entrance captivated all.
Her curvaceous figure strained against black-red armor.
A slender waist, long legs, flawless porcelain skin.
Lush lips, a sculpted nose, and—most strikingly—animated ears and a tail.
The Ghost Stories World and reality alike erupted.
The inmates stared, spellbound. Years in prison had deprived them of female company, let alone a beauty of this caliber.
Viewers worldwide flooded Zhang Yangqing and Abdul’s streams, mesmerized.
The fox warrior’s icy, disdainful gaze made her seem untouchable.
Her eyes screamed disgust for the inmates, especially the way she looked at them—like trash.
Some viewers with masochistic tendencies thrilled at her contempt.
“That’s the look! Please, scorn me like I’m garbage!”
“Step on me, fox sis! I’ll be your dog!”
“Damn, y’all are wild. She’s dangerous—that’s murder in her eyes.”
“So what? Dying by her hand would be worth it.”
While many reveled in the fantasy, others frowned.
Like Abdul, they sensed resentment in the fox warrior—as if she’d been coerced into this.
Abdul’s strategy was compliance: follow the leader, curry favor with the fox warrior (since she seemed to despise only the inmates), and focus on survival.
Beauty? Irrelevant when your life’s on the line.
In the Chinese contestant’s stream, the prison officer introduced the group’s strength to the fox warrior.
Hearing there was a seven-star among the inmates, she glanced at Zhang Yangqing—her disdain unchanged.
Her hatred for convicts ran deep, seven-star or not.
As mission leader, she addressed Zhang Yangqing’s group with a commanding tone:
“Listen up. In this operation, you’d better complete your tasks—or I’ll kill you myself.”
A classic power play.
Normally, the inmates would chorus their compliance, as Abdul did, grateful for strong leadership.
But here, the lounge fell silent.
The fox warrior’s authority was being challenged—unacceptable for a powerhouse.
She singled out inmates, issuing orders, but they ignored her.
Scanning the room, she understood:
These convicts answered to the man on the sofa. Unless she subdued him, she held no real command.
Worse, Zhang Yangqing kept sipping tea, his lackey refilling his cup, both utterly dismissive.
Deciding to teach this new seven-star his place, she barked at Zhang Yangqing:
“On your feet!”
As her anger flared, the lounge’s temperature plummeted, frost spreading rapidly.
With a stomp, frigid energy erupted, jagged ice spikes shooting toward Zhang Yangqing—their tips gleaming lethally.
The sheer force behind them was terrifying.
Zhang Yangqing hadn’t expected this outburst. I’m just sitting here drinking tea—what’s her problem?
Facing the oncoming spikes, he set down his cup.
As spectators wondered how he’d counter, he simply stood.
Instantly, an overwhelming pressure engulfed the lounge, crushing all within.
Every piece of furniture shattered!
The fox warrior’s ice domain evaporated instantly under the divine-like might.
Inmates collapsed, trembling.
The fox warrior gasped for air under the immense force.
“I’m up. Now what?”
Zhang Yangqing’s tone was cold, almost mocking.
Colder still was his gaze.
The snake-eyed lackey thrilled at the sight—his boss’s signature “you’re already dead” look.
The fox warrior’s icy composure cracked, replaced by fear. Staring at Zhang Yangqing, she stammered:
“Impossible… I’m seven-star, you’re seven-star. How…?”
Her opponent’s strength defied comprehension.
Zhang Yangqing smirked.
“You’re seven-star because that’s your limit. I’m seven-star because that’s the scanner’s limit. Understand?”
