Deceitful Game

Chapter 171 Who is the real BOSS?

Chapter 171 Who is the real BOSS?

Mingpo stepped lightly on the soft carpet, making a creaking sound.

Accompanied by the piano, he hummed "Singin' in the Rain".

The cheerful "Singin' in the Rain" sounds somewhat eerie against the backdrop of "To Alina's" melody.

"Everyone here, rush out into the rain!"

Mingpo sang leisurely.

Just then, the light in front of him flickered a few times and then went out abruptly.

Yet, even in the darkness, Mingpo's pupils still shone with a flame-like brilliance.

Like liquid gold, or like solidified twilight.

I'm smiling~

Mingpo walked slowly forward, humming a little tune.

The lights went out one by one, and the piano music on the second floor suddenly stopped.

Pure darkness and silence enveloped the entire villa.

This sudden silence can instantly focus one's attention.

The silence lasted only about two seconds.

--call!

Like the sound of a gunshot.

As Mingpo walked past the corner of the entrance hall, several panes of glass in the long corridor ahead suddenly shattered!

The heavy snow outside the window came rushing in.

When he arrived, there was already a considerable amount of snow outside, but the sky outside the dense forest was relatively clear. Now, however, the blizzard seems to have intensified.

A bone-chilling cold draft rushed into the Listening Pavilion through the broken windows.

Crunch, crunch—

The heavy footsteps seemed to come from above Mingpo's head, or perhaps from behind.

Mingbo completely ignored these anomalies.

He even swayed his body slightly, and his singing, rising in the silent villa, sounded even more eerie than the piano music.

"I want to stroll along this alley, singing a cheerful little tune—"

"And so we sang—"

"And so we sang in the rain—"

Click.

The next moment, the light at the very front of Mingpo suddenly turned on.

That's the light at the end of the corridor.

But now it was no longer bright as before, but a sinister blood-red color.

A tall, black-clad mannequin quietly appeared under the blood-red lights.

He was like one of those half-length plaster mannequins displayed in a clothing store—no facial features, no hair, and no legs. He was wearing the kind of black kimono that middle-aged men would wear, and he looked like a martial arts instructor.

Click.

Immediately afterwards, blood-red lights came on closer to Mingpo.

The corridor was now at least four or five times longer than it had been just seconds before—it looked to be over a hundred meters long, unbelievably so. Even the blurry plaster mannequin looked almost like a living person standing there.

Click.

The lights are moving.

Click.

Click. Click. Click—

At first, the lights would turn on every two seconds, but then the speed at which the lights turned on gradually increased until they turned on every second, before finally stabilizing and not speeding up any further.

The blood-red light gradually approached Mingpo.

With each new light that illuminates, the doll's position instantly moves forward a few meters—bringing it a few meters closer to Mingpo.

crunch~

As Mingper walked to the broken window, he stomped on the shattered glass.

And at this moment, the blood-red doll finally appeared beside Mingpo.

A pair of hands suddenly emerged from the empty sleeves, reaching out to grab Mingpo's collar.

Mingpo simply nimbly dodged backward, avoiding the grab.

He slapped away the "doll's" grabbing hand with his backhand, and then advanced instead of retreating.

He reached out and grabbed the doll by the collar using the same trick.

With an over-the-shoulder throw, Mingpo slammed it to the ground.

"So much fun I can't stop!"

Mingpo didn't stop humming her song; she simply stood up leisurely: "I dance and sing to my heart's content in the rain—"

'

He moved with such grace, as if dancing with a costumed doll, that his clothes remained perfectly in place. Even his steps were like those of a dancer.

But before anyone knew it, a dagger appeared gleamingly in the doll's chest.

It stood there quietly—

They didn't even know when Mingpo had inserted it.

Mingpo pulled it up and then quickly pulled it back.

The doll seemed to have lost all its strength and returned to normal. The space beneath its clothes was empty; the arm that had just been extended was no longer visible, and there was no flesh or blood inside the shattered plaster statue.

"Let's sing and dance to our hearts' content in the rain!"

After finishing her song, Mingpo politely bowed to the plaster statue lying on the ground as a bow of thanks.

He turned around again.

The crimson lights had returned to normal, and the ridiculously long corridor had somehow returned to normal as well.

"What's wrong?"

Mingpo asked somewhat displeased, "Why did the music stop?"

Seemingly startled by Mingpo's words, the piano music hurriedly resumed.

This time, he even played two wrong notes at the beginning.

The eerie melody had barely begun when Mingpo called out, "Give us something more upbeat!"

The piano music upstairs paused for a moment.

The result really did change.

The background music this time is "Kikujiro's Summer".

The player's technique was quite good; the lively piano keys created a relaxed and pleasant feeling. The warm and touching music flowed out like a summer stream.

"That's how it should be."

Mingpo smiled contentedly: "Music is something that brings happiness, so don't hold such a grudge."

"That way I can work better."

As if in response to Mingpo's words, the piano music leaped out with a few bars of variation.

The upbeat music sounded like a question, or perhaps a complaint.

Mingpo smiled slightly and walked into the hall to the accompaniment of warm music.

He already understood the background of this promotion game.

"The Silence of the Lambs" is indeed very useful for analyzing psychology.

The most crucial point is that many game designers are actually in the game itself. This is especially true for games like Ascension.

These charlatans, who have become a paradox, are less like malevolent accomplices to harm others and more like trapped in their own nightmares.

They are unable to take revenge, nor can they bring themselves to hate.

Because the one who abandoned them here was their past selves.

This is punishment, and also torment; it is the price paid for those who arbitrarily alter the course of history—it is the punishment of hell.

It is a life sentence like that of Sisyphus.

They certainly resented the deceivers and envied the living—

But ultimately, what they really want is liberation.

Just like what Chang Ning said to Ming Po back then—

Killing you won't change anything! I've already warned you to stop playing this deceptive game—it's an endless cycle of suffering! Everyone is destined to be trapped here life after life! Living in ignorance is a kind of happiness—

That was not a malicious curse.

Rather, it is heartfelt advice, the unspeakable suffering of someone who has been through it all, and the constant nagging of someone like Xianglin's wife.

It's about not wanting others to experience the same sadness as you.

It was the fear of being stuck here forever.

Unless their past selves become innocent victims again and re-enter the game of deception, they will never be able to leave this place.

They killed all the ascendants who came here simply to prevent the tiny possibility of "their resurrected selves falling back into hell"—to protect their current possessions so that they could return to the game of deception in the future.

But everyone knows that.

What if one day, that resurrected self, who has attained complete happiness—gives it all up again and re-enters the game of deception?

That means that the "happiness" they dreamed of has also collapsed.

"Don't be afraid, Chizuko."

Mingpo said softly, "I know it's you."

I know you're listening.

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