Chapter 28: Setting Twenty-Eight

Setting Twenty-Eight: Monster Hunter (Part 10)

The two small tentacles slithered up Shan Ziwei’s neck like serpents. One hooked behind his neck as before, its tip happily nuzzling his Adam’s apple. The other tried to slip inside his collar. His skin crawled with goosebumps. He reflexively grabbed the audacious tentacle and yanked it away from his collar.

“Hiss—”

He stared at the small tentacle in his hand, surprised—he’d expected a struggle, but it came off easily.

The captured tentacle waved its tip, then turned the tables and wrapped around his right hand, coiling tightly and scratching his wrist lightly—once, twice…

Under this two-pronged assault, his breathing grew ragged. Sweat beaded at his temples, dampening his white hair. He was desperate—panicked and desperate. He had no idea what the monster wanted anymore!

Before, he could vaguely guess the monster’s intentions and resist accordingly. Now he was completely in the dark, with no way to fight back.

He caught a glimpse of his Heart SP (Joy) plummeting—his heart sank. Did the monster think this was his weak point and was trying to wear him down with it?

Well, it was a weak point—one that could even kill someone with his condition. Poor Shan Ziwei, in his 23 years… no, 233 years, had never been subjected to anything like this. He’d rather have the monster snap his neck than be slowly tortured to death like a frog in warm water.

So he struggled with all his might. But he was still trapped—unable to move, both hands bound. All he could do was hunch his shoulders and tilt his head, trying to nudge the tentacle off his neck.

“Plop.”

A drop of sweat fell onto the monster’s tentacle tip, bouncing off like rain on a banana leaf. The monster paused, its tip turning to follow the droplet’s trail. It found the side of his neck—warm, damp skin flushed from his agitation, glistening with a thin sheen of moisture.

Wet, just like itself.

Soon, Shan Ziwei noticed a terrifying change in the tentacles. The one entangled with his right hand began secreting a red liquid—at first he thought the tentacle was bleeding from being squeezed too tight, but he quickly realized it wasn’t blood. It was some kind of secretion, like an overly rich red wine, giving off a sticky, sweet, fishy smell.

The crimson fluid dripped down their intertwined hands, tracing his arm to his elbow. It looked luridly sensual. He felt a slick sensation on his neck—even without seeing it, he could imagine the monster smearing its secretion all over him. There was no burning pain, so it wasn’t corrosive like acid, nor was it the sticky pus from before. It was slippery, like overripe fruit that oozed thick juice at the slightest touch.

When the soft tentacle, coated with the fluid, pressed and moved across his skin in slow strokes—the effect could be seen in the white-haired youth’s free-falling Heart SP.

“Mmn…”

He blinked hard, his blurring vision clearing slightly. He was starting to lose control.

He wanted—wanted so badly…

His Heart SP dropped by nearly a third in an instant. His mind fogging, he barely remembered his Heart SP recovery method. He parted his lips—before any words came out, a breathy moan escaped.

“Mmph… I… like… you…”

He only remembered it as a lifeline, forgetting that those words affected the monster too. The monster’s round eye was filled with his reflection. As if greatly encouraged, it pressed harder against his skin, greedily drinking in the white-haired youth’s desire-laced murmurs.

By the time he realized this was a downward spiral, it was too late. He didn’t want to die from his condition, so under the tentacles’ teasing, he had no choice but to repeat the words it wanted to hear, over and over.

Like, like, I like, you.

The silver-haired, black-robed doll tilted its head slightly, listening to Shan Ziwei’s confession—blurred by desire, almost sobbing. Its eyes were half-closed, its mask expressionless, showing only a nearly devout focus.

“…like… you… mmph!”

Shan Ziwei gasped heavily, drenched as if pulled from water. Transparent sweat and red fluid mingled, painting his skin in disarray. If not for the game, he’d have long since succumbed to his urges. But being in the game, the pleasure wasn’t localized—it spread throughout every corner of his body, numbing even his fingernails. At this rate, even an ordinary person would have become unbearably sensitive.

His breathy confessions couldn’t keep up with the plummeting Heart SP. He was about to Spirit Collapse—in fact, he was already breaking down in every sense of the word—when a distant call reached him.

“—Fanzi—”

The monster paused. Forgetting even to recover SP, he screamed desperately: “I’m here—!!!”

The nearly frantic cry startled whoever was coming. Soon, rapid footsteps approached—then stopped. Sha Polang’s voice came, much closer now.

“Fanzi—you’re under this pile of rubble? Was that explosion your doing—”

Hearing his partner’s voice steadied him, clearing his mind a little. He quickly confessed to restore some Heart SP before replying.

“Get me out first, then I’ll—ah!”

“Fanzi? Fanzi?” Sha Polang’s voice was tense. “What’s wrong?”

“…The monster… attacked me.”

He turned his face with difficulty, his voice barely a whisper. The monster had seized the moment of inattention to hook both small tentacles around his neck and pull down—too fast for him to do more than turn his head before his face smacked against the monster’s bell. This time, once it had him, it wouldn’t let go. The two tentacles crossed behind his neck like a child wrapping its arms around a parent’s neck, asking to be held.

Though being pressed face-to-face with the monster was terrifying, at least it wasn’t teasing him anymore. The heat inside him raged for a while longer before gradually subsiding.

“The monster’s in there?”

Shan Ziwei’s eyes widened in surprise, trying to see through the layers of stone. That was a man’s voice—there was more than just Sha Polang outside. He remembered the footsteps earlier; in all the chaos, he hadn’t realized there had been multiple sets.

“Who are they?”

He directed the question to Sha Polang, who answered quickly: “The reinforcements the bald guy mentioned! All high-level players—”

“Save the small talk.” The man cut her off, addressing Shan Ziwei: “You and the monster are buried in there?”

The man’s voice was commanding, with the air of someone used to giving orders. Shan Ziwei was relieved—a high-level player and a natural leader, probably at least a team captain. He’d been terrified the system would send another ragtag group; maybe even the game had realized that its previous stunts had made it unplayable.

He cooperated fully: “Yes. There’s a gap in the rubble—both the monster and I are pinned in it. Neither of us can move much.”

“Can you pinpoint your location?” the man said. “So we can rescue you.”

Shan Ziwei was about to say no, then remembered he did have a way to locate himself. His left hand was stuck, but luckily the Multi-Function Panel on his wrist was still exposed. The monster had been still since wrapping around him—except when he tried to free himself, it would tighten its tentacles in warning. So in a very awkward position, he managed to insert a battery and activate Mode 2. The panel projected a radar scan showing seven nearby heat sources—five red dots on the left, likely Sha Polang and the four new players; two red dots in the center, him and the monster.

“Take one step forward so I can get my bearings… okay, 25 degrees to your right-front, 4.7 meters—that’s where the gap is.”

“Good. Hang in there—you’ll be out soon.” After speaking, the man gave orders to his companions: “Tianya, Hongchen—set up a T-formation, quickly!”

“On it, Boss Chunqiu.”

A young male voice answered enthusiastically. A female voice chuckled in response. Shan Ziwei pieced together the scene outside—the man, probably named something like Chunqiu, was indeed a team leader. Tianya and Hongchen were his teammates; from their similar names, they were likely part of the same group.

Before Shan Ziwei could think further, Sha Polang shouted outside: “Hey, what are you doing?!”

“Blowing the rubble apart to rescue your friend.”

“T-formation? After an explosion like that, my friend won’t need rescuing—he’ll be ashes!”

Hongchen, holding a flint, raised her eyebrows impatiently at Sha Polang blocking her way. “Do you want to clear this Chessboard or not?”

“Yes!” Sha Polang said with conviction. “And my friend wants to too!”

Hongchen, about to say “then move,” was momentarily speechless and began arguing with Sha Polang.

“I read the briefing in the car—this monster was only Pawn-rank originally, and you went and raised it to Bishop-rank through a feeding frenzy! Do you think a Bishop-rank Chess Piece is easy? Losing one person to take it down is a good deal!”

“Instant liberation” indeed. Shan Ziwei silently mocked Chunqiu’s earlier words as he listened to the argument above. Chunqiu’s plan was ruthless, but effective. After a moment of frustration, he was about to call out and convince Sha Polang to agree—he wasn’t a saint, just weighing his own death against a pointless struggle that would get everyone, including Sha Polang who’d been good to him, killed. He chose the former.

Besides, dying early meant starting over sooner, he consoled himself bitterly. After this Chessboard ended, he’d still have time for another round.

“Sha—”

“KABOOM—!!!”

The entire pile of rubble exploded. Amid the shaking and collapsing debris, Hongchen still held the flint, dazed: “I didn’t even—”

“Get out of here!”

Chunqiu’s shout snapped everyone out of their stupor. They all fled. Tianya, the fastest, couldn’t resist glancing back.

“Holy mother—”

A red tentacle as big as a freight train came barreling toward them, crushing walls and floors in its path. Tianya was terrified—he leaped out the window in one bound; the staircase had already collapsed under the giant tentacle. The others followed, jumping out after him.

With a crash, the window shattered under the tentacle’s pressure. Sha Polang, a split second slower, would have been smeared against the wall like a fly.

She rolled on the grass, patting her chest in relief. Thank goodness she had boots that halved fall damage—four stories up would have been a problem. The other four, being higher level, had their own methods of survival. So the group crouched or stood on the hospital’s inner courtyard lawn, staring up in stunned silence.

Half the fourth floor had collapsed. Amid drifting lime dust, a giant heart-shaped, pinkish-white sphere was embedded in the open floor. Several hideous tentacles lay limply against the walls, soaking lazily in the sunlight.

Tianya stammered: “C-Castle-rank…?”

What shocked them more came next.

“What’s that on its core?”

Shan Ziwei—nearly suffocated when the bell suddenly expanded around him, then violently expelled—was sprawled on top of the giant sphere, dazed. He tried to get up, but a shadow fell over him. Something pressed down on his back, and he was pinned to the sphere—his eyes meeting those below him.

Chunqiu and his party, watching the monster use a tentacle tip to pin the white-haired youth: …

Shan Ziwei, happily sat upon by the monster: …

I want out! (..)