Chapter 49: The Class Game (Part 15)

Did this world also have a book called The Divine Comedy?

Fu Wuxuan thought about it, and they indeed had been limited in their perspective.

The Divine Comedy was a book from the Renaissance period, and the era they were in even had steam engines. Finding a copy of The Divine Comedy wasn’t difficult at all.

Nobles kept such books to appear cultured, even if they didn’t read them, and always had dedicated studies.

Fu Wuxuan directed Yun Xueqing to take him to the third floor, where they rummaged through the study and finally found The Divine Comedy.

He eagerly flipped it open and read through the first few pages about the First Layer of Hell, but still found no relevant clues. Fu Wuxuan tapped his fingertip on the wheelchair’s armrest. “The First Layer is indeed related to religion and faith.”

The things they had encountered so far had absolutely nothing to do with religion or faith.

Yun Xueqing lowered his gaze. “Perhaps it’s in the later pages.”

He continued flipping through more than a dozen pages, but they contained only ordinary text and content.

Fu Wuxuan pondered. “…Maybe it’s not related to The Divine Comedy at all?”

Yun Xueqing didn’t speak but kept flipping through the book, reading further.

When he reached page twenty-nine, his movements paused. “Perhaps this is it.”

The title on page twenty-nine clearly read: Fourth Layer of Hell, the Hoarders and the Wasters, the Maligners of Fate.

Fu Wuxuan curled his lip into a sinister smile, his eyes devoid of any amusement, only coldness remaining. “We’ve been fooled by that King and the Goatman.”

This place wasn’t the First Layer of Hell at all—it was the Fourth Layer of Hell.

The Goatman had given them false clues. Following those wrong leads would trap them here forever.

They had been deceived by the Concealment Technique from the start.

Fu Wuxuan said, “If we couldn’t remember the full contents of The Divine Comedy, we really would have died here.”

The King had said he wanted to test their virtue and knowledge, and he wasn’t joking at all.

Fu Wuxuan calculated that once they got out, he’d settle the score with that bastard King and the Goatman. Meanwhile, he analyzed the current clues. “The Hoarders and the Wasters—the Wasters must refer to us nobles, right?”

As the uppermost class, nobles possessed money and power, standing above the common folk with their extravagant and indulgent ways. Calling them Wasters was spot on.

Yun Xueqing replied, “If the Wasters refer to you, then the Hoarders must be us.”

Nobles lived in extravagance, but the people in the slums, due to class differences, were equally ruthless. The old man in the Wooden Cabin was a perfect example.

Nobles held the position of the strong in the class hierarchy, while the slum dwellers were the weak.

Ambitious weaklings tried to approach the strong, but helplessly, the weak only turned their blades on those even weaker.

The old man in the wooden shack had done just that—hoarding greedily and stingily, forcing the children around him to sell matches to provide him with money.

Once Yun Xueqing figured this out, he had a general direction. “The King said he was testing knowledge and virtue.”

Knowledge had already been tested; what remained was virtue.

Hoarders and Wasters lacked virtue, so they had to be eliminated.

Fu Wuxuan raised an eyebrow. “Kill them all?”

Yun Xueqing said, “…Perhaps that’s not what it means.”

Killers wouldn’t count as virtuous people either.

Though this world had people who deserved death, doing so would go against the intentions of the King, the one who set the trial.

Fu Wuxuan suddenly spoke up. “I have an idea.”

Yun Xueqing asked, “What?”

Fu Wuxuan replied, “Have you heard of a fairy tale called The Little Match Girl?”

Yun Xueqing corrected him. “Don’t you have it backward?”

Fu Wuxuan smoothly amended, “Right, The Little Match Girl.”

He began recounting the story on his own. “On a Christmas Eve, there was a little girl selling matches. She hoped to sell some to buy food and warmth. But she didn’t sell a single one and didn’t dare go home, fearing her parents’ beating and scolding. She huddled in a corner and lit three matches, dreaming three beautiful dreams. The next morning, people found the little girl frozen to death on the street.”

Yun Xueqing interjected coldly, “That’s not very fairy tale-like.”

It was extremely cold and realistic, even carrying the cruelty of society.

Fu Wuxuan laughed. “The story itself isn’t important. What’s important is that you use it to shed the sin of the Hoarders.”

If Yun Xueqing had followed the original plan and helped the old man in the Wooden Cabin sell matches, he would have become an accomplice to the Hoarders, unrecognized by this layer of Hell.

Fu Wuxuan blinked, his tone casual. “Can you play pitiful? Don’t actually freeze to death—just put on a show.”

Disguise himself as the victim and deceive this layer of Hell.

Yun Xueqing roughly understood and nodded. “What about you?”

“My sin as a Waster is a bit trickier,” Fu Wuxuan said, his eyes curving into smiling arcs, those rippling peach-blossom eyes calm and unruffled, as if nothing could stir his emotions. “But I have my ways. Don’t worry about me.”

Yun Xueqing nodded, and Fu Wuxuan safely escorted him to the door.

Yun Xueqing carried the match basket, feeling somewhat uneasy. He subconsciously glanced back and saw Fu Wuxuan, in the flickering lights, surrounded once again by noble heirs.

Yun Xueqing frowned. Time for the task was limited, so he ultimately left first.

He walked toward the alley with the match basket. Snow had fallen all night, accumulating thickly and submerging his ankles. Each step required pulling his foot from the deep snow, making progress arduous.

His feet had gone numb from the cold, but Yun Xueqing patiently continued forward.

As the banquet neared its end, many nobles passed by in carriages, occasionally accompanied by the coachmen’s mocking laughter. Some malicious nobles even shouted offers to “give him a ride,” but he ignored them, pressing onward.

After walking an unknown distance, he finally returned to the original alley. He lit a match, its faint glow guiding him back to the Wooden Cabin.

He didn’t go inside but leaned against a corner of the Wooden Cabin, letting the wind and snow pile up on him. Expressionless, he lit a match.

In the fairy tale, the little girl saw illusions when lighting matches, but Yun Xueqing saw nothing—just a faint glimmer, barely any light at all.

He lit another, seeing nothing again. Undeterred, he kept lighting them, piling up spent matchsticks beside him as the snow thickened on his body, numbing him completely.

In the end, from hypothermia, his body even felt waves of heat.

After staying outside in the blizzard for hours, his body neared its limit, with only a few matches left in hand.

Yun Xueqing made no other move and was about to light another when a extremely feeble voice came from beside him. “Yun Xueqing, give me the matches in your hand, okay? I’m freezing to death!”

Yun Xueqing stiffly turned his frozen neck and saw Ji Tongsheng, who had vanished for so long, squatting pale-faced next to him.

Ji Tongsheng wore a thick coat, clutching used matches. Each breath exhaled ice shards. “I couldn’t sell the matches, and that damn old man wouldn’t let me into the Wooden Cabin!”

His angry tone suddenly turned pitiful. “Yun Xueqing, hand over your matches. I have the Divine Oracle of Fire-Making. With a spark, I can extend the flame and warmth indefinitely—we won’t freeze to death.”

Yun Xueqing glanced at Ji Tongsheng’s bluish face from the cold. The easily exposed lie and his obviously weird demeanor made it clear something was off.

Yun Xueqing said nothing and didn’t refuse. Instead, he obediently handed the matches to the eerie Ji Tongsheng.

In the next moment, the icy snowscape vanished, replaced by warm lighting. Yun Xueqing’s mind cleared as he realized he was back in the palace.

Before him stood the Goatman holding The Divine Comedy. “Congratulations, noble lord. You are the first to pass the first round of trials.”

Yun Xueqing looked at the Goatman’s face, recalling what had happened, certain he had bet correctly.

The Ji Tongsheng in the snow wasn’t real—it was the Fourth Layer of Hell’s ultimate test.

In the eyes of the Fourth Layer of Hell: Only in a life-threatening crisis, handing over the hope of survival without reservation to a complete stranger—or even someone disliked—proved one was not a Hoarder, truly virtuous.

Willing to give away even the hope of life without greed or stinginess, such a person could leave the Fourth Layer of Hell.

The Goatman said admiringly, “With such kindness in your heart, you will surely go far.”

Go far, but not necessarily become the King.

Of course, the Goatman didn’t say the latter half, but Yun Xueqing knew it well.

Yun Xueqing remained silent, waiting for Fu Wuxuan beside him to awaken.

Time might have passed long in the illusion, but only an instant in reality. Soon after Yun Xueqing woke, Fu Wuxuan did too.

His water-blue eyes were clear, showing no sign of having been trapped in an illusion.

Yun Xueqing couldn’t help asking, “How did you get out?”

Fu Wuxuan said lightly, “I burned down the grand Estate in the illusion, and that did it.”

The grand manor was the nobles’ dwelling, the site of banquets, the Wasters’ carnival.

Burning it denied the Waster identity.

Fu Wuxuan acted decisively, unafraid of being wrong, setting it ablaze without hesitation.

To avoid becoming a murderer by harming others, he waited until everyone left the Estate before burning it, wasting some time.

Later, once others learned the method, most awoke one after another, including San Zhi, Ji Tongsheng, and Jiang Yiyue.

The Goatman checked the time. “About time.”

Those still not awake had lost all hope of survival.

It announced, “Now, entering the challenge of the Second Layer of Hell.”

Fu Wuxuan suddenly interrupted. “Wait.”

The Goatman replied politely, “What doubts do you have, sir?”

Fu Wuxuan smiled lazily. “No doubts. I just want to withdraw.”

The Goatman’s tone remained polite, but a close listen revealed the chill. “What did you say, sir? Please don’t joke.”

Fu Wuxuan smiled too, his tone equally cold with deep menace. “That’s enough. I want to withdraw from the King’s Challenge.”