Chapter 51: Class Game (Seventeen)

Fu Wuxuan paused, his tone somewhat meaningful. “You noticed it too.”

Fu Wuxuan had known from the very start that he would choose the red ball.

He wouldn’t be so foolish as to participate in such a stupid “gamble” for anyone else’s sake.

The reason he had come out so late was that he was certain there was a trick involved.

The setup laid by the Goatman wasn’t particularly clever. Anyone who had survived this long could figure it out: choosing the red ball was safe.

Only one or two idiots whose minds had been shattered would pick the blue ball, because they could no longer even hear the rules.

There might also be one or two fools with “heroic tendencies,” or those desperate to save their loved ones—like people who couldn’t swim jumping in one after another to retrieve a family member—and choosing the blue ball.

But no matter how many idiots there were, they couldn’t exceed four.

After all, this wasn’t the ordinary world; it was an artificially created domain, not much different from a Weird Domain.

Selfishness was humanity’s basest instinct. Even family or lovers ultimately couldn’t outweigh one’s own life.

No matter how grandly they spoke or how many excuses they made, when faced with life and death, who would dare to bet on human nature?

Most people would follow their hearts and choose the sure-win red ball—the one they truly wanted.

Those who chose the blue ball were doomed to be fewer than those who chose red; it was a certainty.

No more than four would pick blue.

With sixteen people, at most four would die—and the dead ones would be the idiots who chose blue. Was that what the King wanted to see?

Clearly not.

Killing idiots held no interest.

But killing the “smart” people who thought themselves clever—watching them go from certain victory to total defeat—that was what the King most wanted to see, the most dramatic outcome.

Fu Wuxuan tugged at his lips. “I felt the game wouldn’t be that straightforward, so I studied it a bit longer.”

He had held two balls and discovered they had given him a blue ball and a magenta one.

A magenta ball, not a pure red one.

He pondered thoughtfully, pacing the room and looking around for a long time until he finally spotted an extra lamp on the side table.

The room was already brightly lit and needed no additional lighting, yet there was a lamp—suspicious no matter how you looked at it.

Fu Wuxuan turned on the lamp, only to find the light wasn’t the usual white or yellow but rare cyan and red lights.

The two colors alternated constantly, which might seem ordinary in a nightclub but was utterly eerie in this white room of life-and-death trials.

It was a fairly common puzzle trope. Fu Wuxuan had an epiphany and shone the light on the balls.

Cyan light mixed with the magenta ball produced blue.

Red light mixed with the blue ball produced magenta.

After explaining, Fu Wuxuan sighed. “This Goatman is quite meticulous, even knowing that the primary colors red and blue can’t be transformed with lights.”

That was why it used magenta, close to red.

It might have had a touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder, pursuing perfection even in such minor details.

The Goatman, having heard his words, nodded reservedly. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Fu Wuxuan didn’t look at it but asked Yun Xueqing, “How did you spot the anomaly with the balls?”

Through the lights as well?

Yun Xueqing replied flatly, “I gripped the ball rather forcefully.”

After all, he was a Sword Cultivator; his strength was considerable.

Fu Wuxuan: “And so?”

Yun Xueqing paused for a moment before slowly saying, “The layer of paint on the surface rubbed off from my grip.”

Fu Wuxuan: “…”

This was a method of cracking it he had never imagined.

He looked up at the Goatman, who wore a mocking half-smile. “You had this backup plan too?”

The Goatman smiled. “There is more than one path to survival.”

After all, it was just a little game; no need to exterminate everyone.

Besides, if too few discovered the trap, too many would mistakenly choose blue. If more than half picked blue, everyone would win.

If that happened, the game would prove only that most people were idiots—hardly the outcome it desired.

It had coated the balls with a new layer of paint so that even peeling it off would reveal the truth.

It considered this a clever design, never expecting it to be uncovered so crudely.

Fu Wuxuan opened his mouth, about to say something more to Yun Xueqing, when the choosers emerged one by one.

Ji Tongsheng and San Zhi exchanged a glance, their smiles sly and malicious, as if harboring ill intentions.

Li Yulin emerged too, his face expressionless but his eyes holding a spark of vitality. The mindset shattered by the Nine Layers of Hell seemed partially restored.

The Goatman smiled faintly. “Now, we announce the results.”

Somehow, it held a list in its hand.

Everyone looked up at it, expressions varied—tense, fearful, or calm.

The King had a wicked sense of humor, and the Goatman’s was no less. Rather than stating the results outright, it read the names one by one.

“He Ming, red ball.”

“Xue Yi, blue ball.”

“Jiang Kai, blue ball.”

“Song Jiayin, red ball.”

So far, red and blue were roughly even.

But with each red-ball name called, despair deepened on the faces of those who chose blue.

Some widened their eyes in shock: Why?!

They had clearly chosen red—how had it become blue in the Goatman’s mouth?!

If blue choices didn’t exceed half, they would die.

Someone couldn’t take it and shouted frantically, but the Goatman remained unmoved, calmly continuing.

Ji Tongsheng watched the spectacle excitedly, seeing those who picked blue collapse in tears, wailing injustice. He leisurely fanned himself and said to San Zhi beside him, “They chose blue themselves, yet fear death at the end. How amusing.”

San Zhi glanced at him meaningfully. “Don’t you think too many chose blue?”

Ji Tongsheng shrugged indifferently. “Maybe some had a saintly outburst? Or those slaves with shattered minds just picked blindly without brains.”

San Zhi said no more, merely giving him a deep, inscrutable look.

The Goatman continued reading:

“Jiang Kai, blue ball.”

“Jiang Yiyue, red ball.”

…

“Li Yulin, red ball.”

“San Zhi, red ball.”

“Ji Tongsheng, blue ball.”

Ji Tongsheng’s fan dropped to the ground upon hearing his name. He shot up from his chair. “What nonsense are you spouting? I chose the red ball!”

The Goatman ignored him and kept reading.

Ji Tongsheng’s composure cracked. He looked to San Zhi for affirmation.

But from his downward angle, he saw San Zhi’s otherwise expressionless face twist into an eerie smile.

A chill ran through Ji Tongsheng’s body.

He had perhaps overlooked some detail, made the wrong choice.

And that one mistake could cost him his life at any moment.

Normally, he wouldn’t make such a low-level error, but this was a test of humanity.

He was a man lacking humanity, yet he had grown overconfident in that regard, lacking caution and overlooking other factors.

He had focused on human nature, believing himself above it—thriving in such tests.

Unbound by family, friendship, or love, he could discard them easily.

Among the eight slaves the King brought, one was his younger sister, whom he had raised from childhood; somehow, she had ended up here too.

Seeing her tormented like that hurt, he wouldn’t deny it.

But he couldn’t abandon his sure survival for that bit of sentiment.

Nothing mattered more than himself.

He was ruthless enough to exploit and destroy everything, always securing the best outcome through cruelty.

In past Weird Domains, all human nature tests were survived by discarding humanity; the ruthless thrived. He had been unstoppable.

He survived the Weird by abandoning humanity, stood firm in the Strategy God Heavens by it, and became the Bard feared by Oracles through it.

But he forgot: this time, he wasn’t in a Weird Domain but in Zhongse’s Purification Domain.

This time, survival required kindness, humanity, and smarts.

Those lacking them couldn’t live on.

Ji Tongsheng pieced together the causes and effects, his heart sinking.

Yet, experienced in many Weird Domains, he knew panic was useless in life-or-death moments. He calmed down.

Though he had wrongly chosen the potentially fatal blue, blue was now even with red; he still had hope.

The Goatman knew how to build tension and paused before the last names. “Currently, red and blue are at 7:7.”

Seven had chosen red, seven blue.

Its tone was flat. “The remaining two are the earliest to emerge: Yun Xueqing and Fu Wuxuan.”

At those words, Ji Tongsheng inevitably tensed, scalp numb, limbs trembling as he stared at the Goatman, awaiting the verdict.

Two left—if even one chose blue, it would be 8:8, barely over 50%, and he could live!

Not just Ji Tongsheng; the others who chose blue for various reasons also fixed desperately on Yun Xueqing and Fu Wuxuan, seeing them as saviors from doom.

Most eyes gathered on them. Fu Wuxuan glanced at the calm Yun Xueqing beside him. “Looks like you made the choice you wanted.”

Yun Xueqing nodded. “Naturally.”

The Goatman checked the list, its tone icy. “Fu Wuxuan, red ball.”

Not too surprising.

After all, he was the one who set the manor ablaze—not exactly a saint or redeemer.

Only one left. Ji Tongsheng and the others sweated bullets.

They stared at Yun Xueqing, trying to judge his character from appearances.

No luck—only that he was strikingly handsome; personality unclear.

But recalling the First Layer of Hell, where he openly shared the match method to escape without hiding it despite competition, he seemed genuinely kind.

If someone found an exit, they’d conceal it—but he displayed it boldly, generously.

Several, including Ji Tongsheng, had escaped the First Layer using Yun Xueqing’s method.

Moreover, the Goatman had called Yun Xueqing the kindest here before the test began, so a kind person would surely choose…

“Yun Xueqing, red ball.”