Infinite flow, but I submit myself

The bullets it used were also specially made by the company, with a caliber of only 2.34mm. The bullet’s flight speed was 121.92 meters per second, and its impact force could release 0.96 joules of energy. However, at least 1.35 joules of energy were required to penetrate a wound, meaning that to cause harm, it had to be fired from an extremely close range, even pressed directly against the skin.

Tang Mo Bai’s gun had been modified—practically custom-made. It was about half the size of a palm; too small to shoot well. It could be dismantled into ten pieces and, along with the specially made bullets, took up only the space of two capsules.

Its power had also been enhanced, capable of inflicting significant damage within a five-meter range. However, to ensure a fatal strike, he had taken the risk of exchanging injury for victory.

Yesterday, during the banquet in the cafeteria, the expert team had sent an encrypted message, hinting that Xiu Wei Yi was problematic. Last night, Tang Mo Bai had tried to keep him back, hoping to salvage something, but it turned out that someone who had made up their mind could not be persuaded.

That was why, when he left home this morning, he had hidden the gun in his sleeve.

This was also his first time killing someone.

He gently pushed aside Xiu Wei yi’s hand. The dagger was still embedded in his abdomen, and his body slumped down, once again proving that in this world, normal people were no match for lunatics, and lunatics were no match for firearms.

Death matches allowed the use of all means. His actions did not violate the rules, except for the fact that he had smuggled a gun inside.

Even the audience fell into an eerie silence at that moment—perhaps because they hadn’t yet processed how suddenly the fight had ended.

The exchange list did not include firearms. Even if someone had redeemed one in advance, all item slots would be locked upon entering the revival match, preventing anything from being brought in—not even clothes with special attributes, as it would affect the spectacle of the fight. The demons had not seen someone use a firearm in the arena for a long time.

For a moment, even the live stream chat was completely blank.

Then, in the midst of this silence, Tang Mo Bai looked into Xiu Wei Yi’s eyes, where remnants of his final emotions remained—cruelty, cunning, and joy, as if he had already envisioned the bright future ahead.

During his previous rookie trial, Tang Mo Bai had nearly been tricked into being fed to a vengeful ghost. At that time, the one who had extended a helping hand was Xiu Wei Yi. In his memory, Xiu Wei Yi was an unremarkable but seemingly decent person—someone with his own schemes but who still adhered to basic moral boundaries.

But now, looking at this face, twisted by desire, it hardly matched the one in his memories.

Had he simply hidden his true nature too well? Or did this place have some sinister force that corrupted people into monsters?

A mix of cheers and even louder boos erupted throughout the arena. Tang Mo Bai looked up and saw the audience shouting in a frenzy—some angrily accusing him of cheating, others cheering for his unexpected victory. Even the live stream chat had split into two opposing sides.

【What the hell, it’s over just like that???】
【That was so abrupt… People around me were making bets about the outcome—either Xiu Wei Yi would crush Tang Mo Bai, or Tang Mo Bai would pull off a desperate comeback… but no one expected it to end like this.】
【Tch, this is why I hate firearms—there’s no thrill! Why hasn’t the arena banned firearms yet?!】
【This has to be cheating, right? How did he get a gun? Paradise Lost, check this guy’s inventory!】
【I just checked the revival match rules carefully—there’s no explicit ban on firearms. It’s just that all item slots are locked upon entry, and guns or accessories can’t be redeemed inside, so no one has used them before. It’s not outright forbidden. Besides, death matches allow all methods!】
【So Tang Mo Bai found a loophole in the rules? Exploited a bug? Is that fair to everyone else?】
【Of course it’s not fair, but do you even know where you are? Even my kindergarten-aged brother knows that the moment you crawl out of your mother’s womb, unfair competition begins!】
【Who cares about fairness? I only care that Xiu Wei Yi’s death was boring!】
【Exactly! The arena bans firearms for entertainment value—I want to see the fighters struggle to the death, like wild beasts tearing each other apart! Otherwise, why am I even subscribed to this channel…? Damn it, Paradise Lost, refund me!】
【Refund +10086】

The chat was flooded with “boring” and “refund” messages, making the accusations of cheating seem almost humane in comparison.

Tang Mo Bai knelt on the ground, holding Xiu Wei Yi’s lifeless body in his arms. The red moonlight cast over them, distorting his vision, almost as if he was about to be swallowed by the flood of boos and comments.

These people weren’t moral spectators, nor was their outrage directed at Tang Mo Bai—at most, a fraction of it was. Their dissatisfaction stemmed from one thing only: this sudden and unexciting death scene.

Xiu Wei Yi had indeed achieved the attention he wanted—just after his death, though even then, most of the comments criticized his underwhelming final act.

The fight was over. But Tang Mo Bai remained motionless for a long time.

Then, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Turning his head, he saw the figure of 009.

“The match is over. We need to clear the field.”

“Oh… oh.” he hesitated for a moment, then looked at Xiu Wei Yi’s corpse. He originally intended to lift him in his arms, but then he noticed something—blue crystals beginning to form in the pool of blood beneath the body.

What… was this?

009 casually scooped up a blue crystal and stuffed it into Tang Mo Bai’s pocket. “Time to go.”

Tang Mo Bai snapped back to reality and tried again to pick up Xiu Wei Yi’s body. But his injuries and exhaustion had drained his strength, and instead of lifting the corpse, he nearly collapsed himself.

009 steadied him. “Just leave the body. The field will automatically clean it up later.”

“…Alright.”

Tang Mo Bai remained silent for a while before finally placing Xiu Wei Yi’s corpse on the ground and following 009 out of the gladiator arena.

The audience also fell back into silence, their once animated expressions now turning blank, as if they were some sort of artificial intelligence designed solely to set the atmosphere when the gladiator match was in progress.

Xiu Wei Yi’s body remained on the battlefield. Perhaps it was just an illusion, but under the red moonlight, Tang Mo Bai seemed to see faint patterns of the same hue flash around the corpse for a brief moment—before it disappeared completely.

…What was that?

He rubbed his eyes, unsure whether it was a hallucination caused by his injuries. Then he heard 009’s voice: “Are you mourning his death? Or is it just the fox grieving for the rabbit?”

He froze for a moment and turned to look at 009, unable to respond immediately. 009 continued, “If I remember correctly, he betrayed you, didn’t he? You don’t have to laugh about it, but right now, your expression looks like you just accidentally killed a long-lost blood relative.”

“…We all come from different worlds. No matter what, he and I couldn’t have had any blood ties,” Tang Mo Bai retorted. “He did save me in the last trial, but I also saved him here. Strictly speaking, we’re even. He certainly didn’t hold back in the fight just now, and I didn’t hesitate when I pulled the trigger.”

009 asked, “So, it’s the fox grieving for the rabbit?”

“…Something like that,” Tang Mo Bai ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “Even when facing a mortal enemy, if you don’t grant them dignity in death, you won’t receive any in return when your time comes.”

“Unfortunately, this place lacks exactly those two things—freedom in life and dignity in death.”

A voice rang out behind them.

Tang Mo Bai’s expression immediately darkened.

From the shadows stepped Yan Wuzhen, still wearing that ever-present smirk. His glasses reflected the eerie red moonlight, making him look like a demon.

“All must bow to original sin. All must bow to the demons. Only the despicable are noble, only the shameless are glorious, and only desire is pure.”

He walked up to Tang Mo Bai, leaned in close, and whispered in a light, ethereal tone, “Tang Mo Bai… Welcome to the Fallen Paradise.”

009 quietly slipped away. Tang Mo Bai leaned back, pulling away with a disgusted expression. “I have no interest in being that close to another man.”

Yan Wuzhen shrugged and stepped back to a normal social distance, then pointed at the blue crystal in Tang Mo Bai’s pocket. “Aren’t you going to try it? Even if it’s not the same path as yours, tasting a man’s jealousy with your own mouth is quite the experience.”

Tang Mo Bai pulled out the blue crystal. “What is this?”

“Sometimes, I really wonder if you’re just pretending to be ignorant,” Yan Wuzhen sighed lazily. “That’s a crystallized desire from a demon’s death—it contains all of their desires. The simplest way to use it is to consume it, which lets you experience that desire firsthand.”

Tang Mo Bai almost reflexively wanted to ask, “What’s the point of that?” but he quickly realized the significance in the Fallen Paradise, where strength was built upon desires and original sin. These crystals were incredibly valuable. The most direct application? Awakening one’s own desire.

Right now, he hadn’t yet awakened his own path of desire and original sin. If he ate this, he might be able to understand Xiu Wei Yi’s emotions in his final moments and step onto the path of Envy.

But instead, he tucked the crystal away again, deciding to take it back to the real world for scientific analysis.

“Xiu Wei Yi fought me because of you, didn’t he?”

“Me?” Yan Wuzhen blinked innocently as if none of this had anything to do with him. Then he suddenly acted like he had an epiphany. “You don’t think I manipulated him into challenging you, do you?”

“Come on, am I some kind of omnipotent god? Could I make him go just because I said so? Did I plant envy in his heart? Can I control his thoughts? Or dictate his actions?”

“You’re not a god,” Tang Mo Bai said flatly. “You’re just a demon who lured him in. Now that I think about it, in the cafeteria earlier, you deliberately revealed information about the original sin paths to him, didn’t you? But what I don’t get is—what did he promise you in return?”

Yan Wuzhen smiled. “Three days from now, his first official gladiator match would have been against me, and it would have been a wager match.”

Wager matches forbade all weapons and required both sides to bet an equal stake.

“I see,” Tang Mo Bai scoffed. “A dagger costs three soul coins at the exchange. If he had won today, he would’ve ascended with the [Id] and become the new rising star of the gladiator arena. Then, once his newbie benefits expired, you could have used the wager match to strip him of everything he had. A risk-free investment.”

“And let me guess—he approached you first, didn’t he?”

“Correct,” Yan Wuzhen leaned back lazily against a railing. “I actually quite admired him. It’s a cliché story, but he had the courage to climb up from the depths of hell. Acknowledging desire isn’t shameful—this environment forces it upon us. Given time, he might have truly carved out his own path.”

“But unfortunately, he ran into you.” Yan Wuzhen tilted his head, his gaze shifting toward Tang Mo Bai’s sleeve. “Though, I never expected him to win against you in the first place.”

Tang Mo Bai raised an internal question mark. What? Was he really that strong? No one told him.

“The one backing you isn’t some lover. And definitely not a sugar daddy.”

“A typical demon wouldn’t bother exploiting loopholes in the rules like this, nor could they afford the consequences of breaking them—unless they had much bigger plans.”

Tang Mo Bai’s heart tensed.

“The one supporting you… is probably a guild.”

Tang Mo Bai’s heart relaxed slightly, but then another question surfaced in his mind.

Meanwhile, the livestream chat erupted in reaction to Yan Wuzhen’s words.

【Huh? A guild?】

【Hmm… actually, that makes sense.】

【Yeah, ever since I saw him smuggle a bunch of stuff in, I suspected something.】

【And he even studied the alchemy symbols on the tower outside the arena. Probably a mission from his backers.】

【Wait, no way. Would a guild demon really end up in the resurrection tournament?】

【Why not? If there’s enough profit, even demons on the verge of entering the second level of Hell wouldn’t mind starting over. And conveniently, there is enough profit here.】

【It’s alchemy, isn’t it? Alchemical products are monopolized by the Emerald Guild. That business is ridiculously lucrative—even high-ranking demons from the fourth level of Hell are envious.】

【Not just that—alchemy is crucial. It’s the only craft that bridges science and magic, and its potential is insane. It even touches on ‘resurrection’ and ‘soul’ concepts. I won’t say more, but those who know, know.】

【Oh damn. The guilds aren’t here for a romance plot—they’re after this world’s alchemy!】

【Makes sense. The Emerald Guild monopolized alchemy, and plenty of high-tier guilds tried to break into it by sending demons here. None have succeeded… until now?】

…Huh? What were they even talking about?

Tang Mo Bai stared at the chat in confusion. Alchemy? Guild?

Yan Wuzhen had been watching his reaction closely. After years in intelligence work, he had developed a sharp eye for reading people. He had dodged countless traps and exploited many bluffs.

Now, seeing Tang Mo Bai’s clear confusion…

He smirked, eyes gleaming like a predator that had just found its next meal.

Meanwhile, outside the screen, psychologist Gong Wen slowly exhaled and turned to Wang Yuan Zhi with a smile.

“The spider has taken the bait.”