Deceitful Game

Chapter 60 Hello, are you Mr. Frankenstein?

"Why……"

The little black cat sighed in a human-like manner: "You guys..."

"Speaking of which," Mingpo didn't directly ask Mo for an answer, but instead changed the subject, "Lord Mo, do you have any special criteria for choosing players?"

"I also met other players, and their qualifiers... didn't seem as brutal as ours."

"……ha?"

Upon hearing this, the eyeball hanging around Mo's neck glared at Mingpo with an expression that said, "What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it because you're there that survival is more difficult?"

Mo countered, "Based on my experience, while the minimum number of survivors in 'Death of the Minority' is theoretically two, in reality, about half of them actually survive. Even in 'Escape from the Sheepfold,' the wolf's winning condition is 'killing at least two sheep.' That means the theoretical number of survivors is still 11."

"In all my games, I provide players with an 'optimal solution.' For example, the worldline you just escaped from... didn't you also achieve the optimal solution? You cracked the world's structure, and you rescued the other players trapped in the illusion. Although their progress might be slower, and they haven't obtained a single chip... as long as they can crack the world's structure to the point that 'the cause of the world's structure is that Yao Yao was falsely accused of cheating,' they will at least have 'one day' of chips to break even."

"Aside from that one brainless idiot at the very beginning, this is a game where almost no one dies. You mean this game is brutal?"

Mo said without any politeness, "Also... don't call me 'sir.' Call me Grandpa Mo, or even more impolitely, Old Man Mo. Those kinds of titles aren't common around here. We're in a business relationship, not a superior-subordinate one, and I have no interest in taking care of kids."

...So it was an old man?

Mingpo was somewhat surprised and somewhat disbelieving.

He noticed that Mo's tone was quite manic and exaggerated, and his voice sounded quite young, so he thought he must be a teenager with a delusional mindset.

"As for my criteria for selecting players..."

Mo was silent for a moment, but then said, "It won't hurt to tell you."

"The players I choose are all 'villains.' But the one I will choose in the end is the 'repentant.'"

"...So, that's why they're ranked according to their sins?"

Mingbo understood: "The lighter the sin, the higher the ranking, and the higher the ranking, the greater the advantage... Is it because you want to choose players who are guilty but willing to repent?"

"After all, ink is always black. But no matter what, ink is ultimately used to write on white paper."

The black cat circled Mingpo twice: "So choosing people is quite troublesome for me. I always have to give you some challenges that test your character or involve fighting amongst yourselves. If you're willing to listen, try to gravitate towards that..."

"Then," Mingpo suddenly asked, "was I also chosen by you?"

Hearing this, the black cat looked up at Mingpo with some surprise.

The mouth hanging around its neck grinned: "Not really."

"It took me more than half a year to gather twelve players who met the criteria. When I was waiting for one of the twelve, a friend of mine gave me a soul and asked me to guide you. He said your strength was definitely high enough... maybe you could save me. When I took a look, I found that your aptitude was indeed high enough, so I gave you a werewolf identity card and planned to have a classic werewolf-sheep game."

"...Who is that person?"

"Limbo Hell".

Mo gave a straightforward answer: "A very authoritative host... probably the strongest host. At least one of the strongest."

Having said that, the black cat turned and walked towards the gray mist, seemingly refusing to answer the rest of the questions.

He only conceded on the question Mingpo had initially raised: "If you want to see the little rabbit, each of you should place a 'Red Copper of Time' chip and enter a multiplayer game."

"She's already on standby; we're one player short for this round. I'll wait for you for a day; this offer won't be available after that."

As he said—he hates riddle tellers, so he answers almost every question.

However, his straightforward answer only added more mystery to Mingpo's life.

"I have one more question!"

As the little black cat's front half entered the gray mist, Mingpo called out to it again: "Weigu Qiongchen—have you ever heard of this name?"

Upon hearing this, Mo paused for a moment.

He glanced back at Mingpo and gave an answer that Mingpo had never considered:

"—I have indeed heard of it."

"He was my host when I participated in the game of deception."

Mingpo was taken aback.

Mo then turned and left.

What... is going on?

Could it be that Wei Gu Qiong Chen is not himself from the previous timeline?

Otherwise, how would he know Ideal Country and be a host on Mo?

But... why does the Ideal Country blurt out this name when it sees itself?

Could it be the name of the face I'm currently using? Then why didn't Mo recognize me?

Or is it that the host's timeline is higher than the charlatan's? Just like the charlatan's timeline has a higher priority than the average person's?

Mingpo's mind was immediately in a complete mess.

His problem now is not a lack of intelligence... but rather an overabundance of it. Yet he is unable to distinguish which pieces of information are distractions.

Moreover, the mysteries surrounding him don't stop there...

Mingpo thought for a moment and walked back to the living room.

That strange countdown is still going on.

——131:21:09

——131:21:08

——131:21:07

……

If Mingbo remembers correctly.

When he left his home, there were 162 hours left in the countdown.

At that time, the time in the material world should have been around 10 p.m.

It is now the morning of the second day, which should be twelve hours ago.

—But 31 hours have passed since then!

Nineteen hours have been lost out of nowhere!

Mingper was certain that the time spent in the game was definitely less than nineteen hours.

It's not just a matter of motion perception... there's also the "game setting" as a reason.

According to Tingmo, only he, Chen Bingwen, Gao Fan, and the "Nameless" lady had successfully entered the world-building decryption phase. Therefore, the other players' tasks should still wait until the "exam ends." However, their exam hadn't ended yet, and he had released them prematurely because he had cracked the dungeon.

As we all know...

An exam lasts two hours.

Mingpo felt that about an hour had passed in the game, which made sense.

"What's going on...?"

He murmured softly.

Just then, Mingpo had a flash of inspiration.

He suddenly thought of a possibility—

Mo's voice echoed in his heart:

[It took me more than half a year to gather twelve players who met the criteria. When I was waiting for one more, a friend gave me a soul and asked me to guide you.]

[She's already on standby; we're one player short for this round. I'll wait for you for a day; this offer ends soon.]

"...Could it be that the matchmaking system for the Deceitful Game is actually a lobby waiting mode?"

Mingper realized the crux of the problem.

Although he only closed and opened his eyes briefly when he entered the game, the game started...

But just like everyone else who initially entered the game, their impression was that they had just died. Some people didn't even realize they were dead.

Perhaps entering the game only means entering the "waiting lobby".

You can only enter the game once all the people in this group have gathered.

The extra time lost in the middle is the time spent waiting for everyone to arrive!

...But that's not quite right either.

I spent an extra five hours in my own promotion game.

Did it really take five hours just to choose the right game for promotion?

"...However, there are ways to verify it."

Mingpo looked at the still-flowing blood-red countdown on the wall and an idea came to her mind.

Since Mo's game is only missing one more person, all I need to do is enter Mo's game and complete it as quickly as possible, then check how long it took after I leave.

Thinking this, Mingpo walked towards the broken mirror in the room.

Another version of myself, completely different from myself, emerged from it.

Mingpo was in a bad mood, so he didn't smile. But his reflection in the mirror showed a slightly manic smile.

Mingpo took out a fake gold coin and pointed it at the mirror.

The "Mingpo" in the mirror smiled silently, and also took out a chip, pointing it at Mingpo.

A burst of bright light came as the two chips touched the mirror.

The mirror surface underwent another subtle change.

Mingpo looked directly into her living room.

This time, he noticed the change immediately.

In the center of his living room, a square, old-fashioned television had appeared out of nowhere.

That's a bit too old-fashioned—even the knob type.

Even Mingpo had never seen such an old object before; he had only seen it in old movies.

Oh...that's not quite right either.

Strictly speaking, Mingpo had only recently seen something similar in Changning's paradoxical writings.

However, despite Mingpo's efforts, no matter how he adjusted the knobs, the TV only displayed static.

"...What exactly is this thing?"

Looking at this thing, Mingpo's already bad mood became even more irritable.

But just then...

His phone suddenly rang—

Yes.

In this world of the "dead" without internet, Mingpo's phone suddenly rang.

He took his phone from the bedside table, looked at the garbled text on the caller ID, remained silent for a moment, and then pressed the answer button.

"Feed?"

He greeted her casually, as if she were an old friend: "What is it?"

"Hello, are you Mr. Frankenstein?"

The other party suddenly spoke, his tone very polite.

—Holy crap, a box?

Mingpo was quite surprised.

But soon, Mingpo realized... that the voice sounded somewhat familiar.

It seems to be... that "nameless" lady?

"Someone might be trying to harm you! Can you come over?"

"Who are you? Where are you?"

Mingpo stood up, her tone becoming serious.

"Line 5, the final stop."

The other person quickly replied, "I am Wuming."

The call was then disconnected.

Mingpo immediately checked the call log, but found nothing.

It was as if I was just hallucinating.

It looks strange no matter how you look at it.

...Shall we go?