Deceitful Game

Who is the BOSS in Chapter 22?

Despite the difficulties, Mingper still decided to give it a try himself.

He was in an extremely awkward position, almost lying on the slippery pool wall, his other hand struggling to reach upwards.

I could barely reach the top of the pool with my left hand, but I couldn't find the key at all.

After trying twice more, Mingpo decisively withdrew her left hand.

There's no need to waste any more energy.

A 70-centimeter chain, a 2.2-meter-high swimming pool... this seems to be a height that the other party had calculated.

That person deliberately placed the key in a position that was just out of his reach at his height!

If you want to get the key down, you have to wait until the water level rises high enough.

Moreover, he couldn't use his hands; he had to rely on his feet—the buoyancy of the water—to raise his body to a sufficient height. Then, he would sweep the key into the water with his legs, hold his breath, and sink into the dark red water to find the key.

—This is almost impossible to accomplish.

It was full of malice.

This must be the plot that the scriptwriter had in mind.

"It seems you've realized... and know what you're supposed to do."

The distorted synthesized voice emitted a cheerful tone: "If you really wait for the water to rise, you will have a slim chance of survival."

"But the great 'Grim Reaper' has decided to show you mercy—"

"You have another way."

"As the saying goes, 'the one who tied the knot must untie it.' Before the water rises, let's take a look at the tile connected to the chain and see what's different about it."

Mingpo realized something, so he squatted down and reached out his left hand to search.

His right hand was bleeding. The previous scuffle had caused significant damage, leaving a large area of ​​broken skin. The only good news was that the low temperature was slowing the bleeding.

Every few seconds, Mingpo realized that the voice was telling her to look for something—

It was a broken tile.

Its shape resembles a seashell. It's impossible to cut the iron chain with it.

But it has another use.

...That is to cut off one's own thumb.

The shards of the tile were sharp, but not hard enough. It would be impossible to chop or cut a thumb with them.

It requires grinding bit by bit, sawing through the flesh or severing the tendons.

If so, he could escape from those shackles.

Is it choosing a short and immediate sacrifice, harming one's own flesh and blood in exchange for the gecko's chance to sever its tail?

Or perhaps they quietly await the approach of death, gambling that their physical strength is enough to hold out until the right moment arrives?

"……Oh."

Mingpo smiled sarcastically.

He casually stuffed the tile into his pocket and then squatted down.

"It seems you ultimately couldn't bear to hurt yourself and chose the path of a coward!"

The voice let out a gloating laugh: "Abandoning short-term pain and choosing long-term pain—but is it really possible for a person to squat in icy water for an hour, wait for the water level to slowly rise, and then float in the water for two hours?"

"If we do that, there's no turning back! Or perhaps, it's the path of a warrior?"

"—Wait, what are you doing?"

Mingpo ignored him and simply tied her sneakers together.

Then, he took off his shoes.

Like wielding a flail, he held one shoe and waved the other.

In just a few moments, he managed to get the key.

The key hadn't even hit the ground before Mingpo caught it in mid-air.

He raised his wrist and used the key to unlock his wrist.

Then, he straightened up and gave the middle finger to the sky above.

"—Idiot."

Mingpo mocked him directly.

He laughed sarcastically, "What a clumsy imitation."

As he said this, he slowly put his shoes back on.

At this moment, the water level hadn't even risen to their ankles.

The person coming from the loudspeaker seemed to have been driven to death by Mingpo.

Even after Mingpo left the pool, emptied the water from her shoes, and took off her soaked sweater, she didn't hear her say another word.

Only then did Mingpo finally see the entirety of this space clearly—

This looks like an underground research institute.

Besides the enormous "water prison" that looks like a swimming pool, there is also a strange, huge "steel wool ball" in front of it.

Mingpo slowly walked forward and leaned closer to observe.

It was a huge ball of steel wool, about half a person's height in diameter.

Each bar of wire is covered with a dense array of sharp spikes, resembling thorns. It's somewhat like the old-fashioned barbed wire used to prevent people from scaling walls.

And in the very middle of the wire, a key was hanging.

Under the intense red light, the wire looked as if it were stained with blood.

"Hmph..."

It seems they've recovered.

The voice blared again from the loudspeaker: "Don't get cocky, cheater. Your cleverness got you through the first round, but this is far from the end."

"Wait a minute. Explain yourself clearly what I did cheating on."

Mingpo retorted without hesitation, "So, not following your solution is cheating? What kind of designer are you, trying to teach players how to play the game?"

"Didn't you put the key so close by yourself? You didn't test it properly. Does the key really have to be left by the pool? Why couldn't you just make a timer mechanism?"

"What if I refuse the tile cutter? Does that mean the design is useless? Or are you planning to come up with another mechanism to force me to self-harm?"

Just like a professor criticizing a graduation project, Mingpo pointed out the flaws in the design of this mechanism: "The tile cutter shouldn't be given at a time like this; the water is only ankle-deep. I haven't felt enough fear yet."

Looking at the messy, wire mesh-like opening, Mingpo narrowed her eyes: "And if I'm not mistaken... this wire mesh, along with that water prison, is what makes up the first level... right?"

"Of course," the voice said smugly, "the barbed wire will slowly tighten, and you only have three minutes. Once that time is up, you won't be able to get the key out."

"You were supposed to make a painful choice here; it would have been your journey of atonement... but now, alas."

As soon as the man finished speaking, the wire ball began to slowly rotate inward with a creaking sound.

That key placed amidst the thorny barbed wire was utterly malicious.

There are probably two ways he could have gotten here through normal channels.

Either he risks drowning, waiting until he reaches the surface enough to grab the key, then dives back in to find it and unlock the lock.

By this time, he should have been completely exhausted.

Even disregarding titles, even a physically strong ordinary person, after enduring this for several hours, would likely be barely alive when they crawl out. They might even suffer from low blood pressure or low blood sugar.

Without even time to rest, one's hands will inevitably shake like someone with Parkinson's disease.

To remove it from inside, your entire arm would be covered in blood. Skin chilled to the bone would lose its elasticity and become extremely fragile. It might even be ground to a pulp by the rotating wire.

In another scenario... namely, when the thumb is cut off to escape, this remains a problem.

At that time, one of his hands was already useless.

He then had to make a difficult decision: use his right hand, which was now useless and had completely lost its precision and strength, to take the key; or risk taking the key with his good left hand.

If you use your right hand to take the key, which is "making use of waste," then the "waste" is likely to disappoint him; but if you use your left hand, then both hands are likely to become useless.

However, Mingpo did not hesitate to put his right hand in!

He didn't take any chances by observing the trajectory of the barbed wire—he didn't believe the other party would leave him such a "way out." It could only be a vicious trap.

Therefore, he directly withstood the grinding of the iron thorns, and countless bloody holes appeared on his right arm in an instant, with blood gushing out in a torrent.

When Mingpo took out his right arm, there were already about a dozen thin iron wires stuck in it.

Thick, dark blood seeped out drop by drop. The deepest one was at least five centimeters in.

But Mingpo didn't utter a single word.

"You like to laugh."

Mingpo's lips curled up slightly as she slowly and methodically pulled out the blood-stained wires one by one with her left hand.

"It's okay, just smile more. You won't be able to smile for long."

—The voice was watching his every move in real time, whether Mingpo was in the pool or by the barbed wire fence, his words were heard instantly.

This implies one thing: the means by which the other party could hear his voice likely lies with Mingpo himself.

From a design perspective... it's even quite possible that the "game designer" is nearby.

Or rather, it's right there on the game's "map".

In just a brief exchange, Mingpo had already sketched out a profile of his opponent:

A young teenager, roughly fourteen to seventeen years old, most likely male. He has a high opinion of himself. He exhibits a relatively weak tendency towards adolescent delusions of grandeur, but possesses paranoid, violent, and antisocial tendencies.

"I think you'd better call your parents."

Mingpo said slowly and deliberately, "Otherwise, you'll regret it."

The other party was indeed provoked: "Who knows who will regret it!"

—They have a resistant attitude towards their parents and a strong desire to prove themselves. They are easily angered and have fragile self-esteem, which is very likely due to pressure from their family of origin.

He had already roughly figured out the outline of the matter in his mind.

Mingpo touched his face with his blood-stained left hand, revealing a menacing smile.

At that moment, the other party did not react more violently, but remained silent for a moment.

He was afraid. At least for a moment, he was clearly afraid of himself.

Mingbo understood.

So, the "Gu Tao" he is playing at this moment is either his father or his teacher.

If that's the case... is this hatred a result of domestic violence? Or is it simply a sign of a strict father?

What a loving father and filial son...

Thinking it over, Mingpo took the blood-stained key and slowly walked towards the door.

His steps were slow and heavy, and his breathing became labored.

"Hide well, kid..."

He murmured softly, in a low voice almost only he could hear, "Don't let me catch you..."

It's as if...

The boss of this game isn't the opponent, but rather Mingpo.