Not long after Bai Liu left the game, he was walking and chatting with Mu Sicheng.
"What are these panel attribute points?" Bai Liu asked, pointing to the reward he'd received from "Explosive Last Bus." "Are they what I think—points I can freely assign to any attribute to enhance my stats?"
"Yes and no," Mu Sicheng replied simply. "In this game, your player level is determined by four attributes: stamina, agility—which is speed—attack, and resistance. The points you earn can only be distributed among these four."
Bai Liu mused, "I didn't get any attribute points as a reward in my last game."
Mu Sicheng rolled his eyes. "That's an extra reward from the system. You already got a [Personal Skill] bonus in your last solo newbie game. Now you want attribute points too? Dream on. These are hard to come by. You only get a hundred for clearing a level-two game, and the system is stingy. Plus, there's a cap—once you hit your potential limit, no matter how many points you add, your stats won't increase."
He paused, a subtle shift in his tone. "But most people die before reaching their potential limit. With only a hundred points per level-two game, unless you're sponsored by a big guild or have exceptional skills, it's easy to fall behind. There is a way to get attribute points quickly, but few dare to use it."
Bai Liu looked at him. "What way?"
"Join the tournament," Mu Sicheng said quietly. "That's how Spades became an S-rank player. The league gives a huge attribute point reward to the victors."
Before Mu Sicheng could finish, a cascade of dazzling virtual fireworks exploded in the game lobby, forming words that drew the attention of every passing player.
[Breaking News! The annual Horror Game E-sports League is here! Don't miss out—this is the grand event for all players!]
The players glanced at the announcement, then looked away, unfazed:
"Ha, which guild is so rich, buying system fireworks for ads this early?"
"It's support season. From this week, all the big guilds will start advertising their players like crazy. Last time, King's Guild spent ten million points on ads and barely broke even…"
As the virtual fireworks rained down, a promotional event interface popped up on every player's system panel:
[System Event—The Horror Game E-sports League is about to begin!]
[Players may choose their role—contestant or spectator.]
[As a contestant, you'll battle fiercely in the arena, life and death on the line. As a spectator, you can watch thrilling matches, cheer for your favorite teams and players, and show your support.]
[This is a competition where life and desire are wagered. Have you chosen your place? Will you be a participant, reckless in pursuit of your desires, or a godlike observer, cold and detached?]
…
[League registration requirements: Teams of five, each with over 52 dungeon runs.]
[Format: Each match consists of a team battle, a duo battle, and a solo battle. The team with the highest combined score advances.]
(Note: If a player dies during a match, the team may recruit a new member.)
…
Below were pages of event details, such as the prohibition of system shops during matches.
Fireworks fell on Bai Liu as well, and his system interface displayed the event ad. He scrolled through it, finding it reminiscent of real-world e-sports tournaments.
Yet, Bai Liu had little interest in this kind of competitive gaming—he preferred horror games to PvP. Still, the existence of an e-sports league within a horror game surprised him. Mu Sicheng, however, seemed unsurprised, clicking his tongue as he closed the notification and grumbled, "Annoying. The guilds and the system are spamming ads again. Support season is really here."
"Support season?" Bai Liu glanced at Mu Sicheng. "What does that mean? Is this the league you mentioned with the high attribute point rewards?"
Mu Sicheng gestured impatiently. "Just scroll down. It's all ads—viral marketing."
Bai Liu scrolled to the bottom, finding, as Mu Sicheng said, a sea of promotional pages for players and guilds, complete with team posters, solo posters, and buttons for "charging" and "liking." The higher the combined support, the higher the ranking.
The top-ranked solo player was a man with his eyes hidden by his fringe, his lips pale, jaw sharp, and a slender, cold wrist wrapped around a black whip. Even in the blurry photo, his features were striking—an aesthetic perfection that reminded Bai Liu of Tavir, though this man was far more severe. If Tavir was moonlight, this Spades was a naked blade, so sharp it seemed to cut the eyes. Even through the blur, a chilling aura and lofty indifference radiated from him.
Bai Liu opened his profile:
[Player: Spades]
[Current support: 1.3 million, ranked first, Death Immunity Medal unlocked]
(Note: Due to overwhelming popularity, this player is protected by the system. If he is near death during a match, he will be forcibly ejected and shielded.)
[Total points ranking: 1st]
[Guild: Killer Sequence]
Scrolling further, Bai Liu saw the second-ranked player's poster—a world apart from Spades' candid shot. This was a professionally retouched photo of a stunning woman in a cheongsam, with snow-white skin, black curls, almond eyes, and red lips. A heart symbol was beneath her right eye, and she lounged lazily, shuffling cards, exuding a seductive, intoxicating allure.
[Player: Heart Queen]
[Current support: 970,000, ranked second, Death Immunity Medal unlocked]
[Total points ranking: 2nd]
[Guild: King's Crown]
…
As Bai Liu browsed, Mu Sicheng explained, "Every year after August, there's a league. Players can form teams, but for ordinary players, it's just a slaughter. The league is the big guilds' playground—they have deep pockets. To rally support, they set off fireworks and pull every trick in the book. We call it support season."
"The guilds also hoard in-game items to prepare their players, boosting their stats."
"All this hoarding and advertising is a pain. It makes it hard for players like me, who don't care about the league, to get the items we need," Mu Sicheng complained. "And I heard the Puppeteer was supposed to be a reserve for King's Guild, so they invested heavily in him. But now that you killed him, they'll need a new backup."
"This year, King's Guild is ambitious. They've recruited a newcomer called Little Witch, whose skill is healing—a rare ability. All the guilds wanted her, but King's Guild won out."
"They were planning a unique strategy with the Puppeteer's control and Little Witch's healing, but now that you took out Zhang Kui, they'll have to change tactics."
Mu Sicheng chuckled, a hint of schadenfreude in his voice.
Bai Liu gazed at the myriad team and player posters, pondering. "I've always wondered—why are the audience's tips so extravagant in a life-and-death game? The top player has 1.3 million in combined support, and there's even an e-sports league."
"The audience are just regular players. In a game where life is at stake, this level of entertainment seems… abnormal."
Mu Sicheng scrolled his own panel and handed it to Bai Liu. "Because the audience's 'charging' isn't just support—it's betting. Players only get ten percent, the system takes five, and the rest is the pot."
[System Reminder: 85% of the audience's charge points for a player are entered into the gambling system. If that player wins, the audience can win the losers' points.]
[Bet in moderation—gambling can be addictive.]
"1.3 million is nothing," Mu Sicheng said. "Last year's finals hit a hundred million in charge points. Support season's just begun—these numbers will soar."
"Usually, the audience's support for us ordinary players is just a drizzle, a way to train up newcomers."
"A hundred million…" Bai Liu's thoughts veered. Even if the winner only gets ten percent, that's ten million points…
Ten million points… Bai Liu's gaze grew deep and contemplative.
Mu Sicheng continued, oblivious, "The champion's reward is a hundred million points per person. There are also attribute point rewards for the top team, duo, and solo, but the details change every year. The total prize, including the cut from the betting, is astronomical. It's a once-a-year feast—enough to feed a family for a year. That's why the guilds go all out for support season."
Bai Liu's finger hovered over his system panel for five seconds, his gaze fixed when he heard "a hundred million per person." He took a deep breath, then quickly scrolled back to the registration page.
To hell with the story experience! He was going to compete! He had to compete!
His mind was filled with nothing but that hundred million. It was as if his eyes and brain had been transformed into coins. He raced to the registration page:
[Time until registration closes: 2 months, 1 day, 7 hours, 34 minutes]
[You need: 50 more dungeon runs, 4 more teammates]
Far too short.
Bai Liu cooled down, thinking rationally—he had only 61 days left and needed to clear 50 more dungeons. That meant more than one dungeon per day. Even if time passed more slowly in the game, his mind might not withstand the strain. The game took a heavy toll on him; otherwise, he wouldn't sleep so deeply after each run…
But his eyes drifted again to that hundred million point prize.
Mu Sicheng was still rambling, "But this year's competition has nothing to do with us newbies. You need 52 runs to qualify. I do one a week, so I've only done 26. There's no way I'll make it in two months…"
Just then, Mu Sicheng met Bai Liu's gaze and shivered, stepping back. "Bai Liu, what are you planning?!"
Bai Liu smiled. "Friend, how about some all-night gaming? Fifty dungeons in two months?"
Mu Sicheng: "?????"
——————
Mu Sicheng and Bai Liu logged out together, choosing Bai Liu's home as their exit point.
Mu Sicheng wanted to contact Bai Liu offline, but the game forbade sharing real-world details—addresses, phone numbers, and so on—just as it forbade discussing in-game matters outside. The fastest way to meet was to log out from the same player's exit.
Each player's exit was a twelve-digit code, like a password. After confirming logout, entering the code would send you to the corresponding exit.
A player's initial exit code corresponded to their first login location—the default logout point. If Bai Liu didn't enter a code, he'd log out at his original address.
For example, Bai Liu logged in from home, so the game generated a twelve-digit code for his home. Anyone with the code could log out there.
Mu Sicheng, a university student, logged in from his dorm. If Bai Liu logged out there, he'd be caught by the dorm supervisor, so they chose Bai Liu's small apartment.
As soon as they logged out, Mu Sicheng began, "Bai Liu, take my advice—don't compete. Besides, we don't have enough people. How can we enter with just the two of us…"
He trailed off, staring in shock at the delicate boy sleeping on Bai Liu's bed, his face streaked with tears.
Mu Ke, whatever he'd experienced in the game, had cried himself to sleep, wrists and ankles marked as if by a whip. He clung to Bai Liu's shirt, curled up at the edge of the bed like a small, wounded animal.
Bai Liu, unfazed, walked past without a glance, replying, "Three. The one on the bed is joining too."
"????" Mu Sicheng was dumbfounded. "Bai Liu, are you serious? Who is this?"
It wasn't Mu Sicheng's fault he didn't recognize Mu Ke—he never expected the newcomer to end up like this on Bai Liu's bed.
Bai Liu glanced at him. "Mu Ke, the newbie I brought out last time. I'll take him through the dungeons."
Both Bai Liu and Mu Ke were pure newcomers, each with only two runs. Bai Liu planned to clear dungeons with Mu Ke, so they'd both reach the required number.
Mu Ke had also logged out from Bai Liu's home last time, so he knew the code. After clearing his game, he'd chosen to log out there again, just as Bai Liu expected.
Before entering the game, Bai Liu had told Mu Ke to play solo—he wouldn't interfere. If Mu Ke survived, Bai Liu would consider training him.
Bai Liu disliked dealing with weak-willed people who made excuses, so he decided to test Mu Ke. If Mu Ke could clear a game on his own, Bai Liu would train him, avoiding another sunk-cost disaster like Zhang Kui, whom King's Guild had invested in, only for him to rely too much on his puppets and intelligence, and ultimately fall to Bai Liu.
Bai Liu preferred high-return investments.
It seemed Mu Ke had fought his way through, but the trauma of survival had driven him to seek comfort at Bai Liu's home—a way to prove himself, to show Bai Liu he'd succeeded.
Like a child, weeping with a perfect score, eager to show his parents.
Bai Liu, the "parent," took a shirt and trousers to the bathroom to change. Minutes later, he emerged, composed and immaculate.
Mu Sicheng, as if he'd seen a ghost, shrank into a corner, pointing at Mu Ke. "Did you drag that newbie onto your bed?!"
"He came on his own. He knows my exit code. I can't help it," Bai Liu replied, oblivious to Mu Sicheng's suspicions. "I was going to let him fend for himself, but time is short, and I want to compete. He's obedient enough—I think I can train him."
After learning about the hundred million point prize, Bai Liu was obsessed with competing. No matter how Mu Sicheng tried to dissuade him, he wouldn't listen. Mu Sicheng could only ask where Bai Liu would find enough teammates—he needed five with over 52 runs.
Even counting Mu Sicheng, who was still twenty runs short, Bai Liu needed three more.
But Bai Liu clearly intended to take Mu Ke, who'd only cleared two games, into the tournament!
It was madness—fifty runs in two months, even if Bai Liu's mind could withstand it, how could Mu Ke, an ordinary player, survive?
Mu Sicheng pointed at Mu Ke. "You might be crazy enough to grind fifty runs, but Mu Ke? He just cleared his first game, and he's injured. Do you know what it means when a player comes out of a dungeon with wounds? We came out unscathed."
Bai Liu adjusted his tie, glancing at Mu Ke's injuries, then at Mu Sicheng. "What does it mean?"
Mu Sicheng slouched in a chair, exhausted. "For wounds to carry over, the player must believe they're truly hurt and can't recover. Usually, that only happens under extreme fear—when your mental value drops below ten, you lose track of the game and think it's real. Then the injuries become real."
He glanced at the fragile-looking Mu Ke, then at Bai Liu, disapproving. "A player who comes out injured has poor mental fortitude and low potential. And if I'm not mistaken, Mu Ke doesn't even have a personal skill? Are you sure you want to take him? Isn't that just feeding him to the wolves?"
"But I can say, to some extent, I only cleared 'Explosive Last Bus' with his help," Bai Liu replied calmly.
It was thanks to Mu Ke's [Mermaid's Amulet] that Bai Liu had a trump card against the god-level NPC, and it was with that amulet that he'd convinced Mu Sicheng to join.
By Mu Sicheng's logic, Mu Ke must have been pushed to the brink of terror in his own game, yet he hadn't used his most precious survival item, saving it for Bai Liu, just because Bai Liu had mentioned he might need it.
Even with his mental value plummeting, Mu Ke had held on, escaping with injuries rather than using the amulet.
It was the same as what Mu Sicheng had done in "Explosive Last Bus."
"You and he are of equal value to me, Mu Sicheng," Bai Liu said, his gaze steady. "Because you both honored your bargains with me in desperate situations. I respect that, and I won't break my word. I said if he survived, I'd train him and help him live."
"Just as I won't abandon you, I won't abandon him." Bai Liu looked at the battered Mu Ke, his eyes softening. "Because you've both proven your worth to me."