Pretend to be crazy

Shen Yan stared at those two words on the screen for a long time.

His eyes stung a little before he finally lowered his gaze and rubbed them. Reluctantly, he turned off the terminal.

No guarantees.

He had no real abilities. He was just an ordinary, ridiculously handsome guy.

All he could do was try his best.

He stretched, looking around.

There were still over thirty minutes until the match. Contestants stood in small clusters, watching each other warily.

He had arrived relatively late. Entry had started two hours ago.

Because no one was clear on the match rules, alliances were risky. Most people were just exchanging information, trying to gauge one another.

That’s why the group of fifteen or sixteen standing silently against the north wall—clearly having already formed an alliance—stood out so much in this tense, distrustful atmosphere.

At the center of these muscle-bound and cybernetically enhanced warriors was a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy.

He was unnaturally pale, sickly so, with a slender frame. He stood there quietly, looking completely out of place in the smoky, chaotic room—like an out-of-season snowfall.

In the original novel, he had been briefly described from Ruan Zhixian’s perspective.

A noble’s discarded pet, thrown into the gladiator pit. Charismatic and skilled in manipulation, with strong decision-making abilities. Of the fifteen people who allied with him, twelve survived the elimination match—one-fifth of all survivors.

Beyond that, he wasn’t mentioned again. A disposable stepping stone to bring a minor villain before the protagonist.

The author was meticulous about world-building, often writing entire paragraphs of exposition about something as minor as a cobweb in the corner. But when it came to these one-off, seemingly formidable side characters, they were often abandoned after a brief appearance. Readers had long since stopped being surprised.

Shen Yan’s gaze lingered on the boy for too long.

Sensing it, the boy looked back.

His gray-blue eyes were devoid of emotion, cold and inorganic.

Beautiful.

He stared for a few seconds, then quickly looked away, face reddening.

For now, he had to keep up his “honest man” persona. Ruan Zhixian wasn’t dead yet. In a luxurious private box.

The room was tastefully furnished. A set of black leather sofas surrounded a low, smoky-glass coffee table, atop which sat several opened bottles of liquor. Under the dim, amber lighting, the glass glistened like molten crystal.

Seven people were present.

Two bodyguards stood by the door. Their bodies were 30% cybernetic, with enhanced hands and neural modifications that allowed them to melt an enemy’s brain in an instant.

On the sofa, a bald man poured himself a drink while complaining to the woman seated across from him: “Lost over a thousand during the day, thought bringing Ni Ni up here would turn my luck around, but she lost another six hundred in just three games.”

The woman exhaled smoke, lazily glancing at him. “The watch?”

The bald man smacked his thigh. “You’re sharp as ever, Liu Dan! The watch got stained with blood—bad luck. I remember you have a well-known exorcist under you. Can I borrow him?”

Liu Dan: “Five thousand.”

The bald man nodded eagerly, handing her a business card with a flattering smile. “Appreciate it, Liu Dan.”

A young man at the dining table, playing idly with a flower, suddenly laughed.

“Such generosity.”

His tone dripped with sarcasm.

The bald man, skilled in navigating the business world, was used to such mocking and maintained his smile.

“Ah, Young Master Shang, you’re joking. People like you and Sister Liu, of course, have talented subordinates. Those people are proud. I’m just a small businessman, they wouldn’t even look at me normally, but thanks to Sister Liu, I get to use their services. Five thousand is nothing for talents like that.”

Shang sneered lightly, uninterested, and continued to study the small flowers in front of him.

It seemed like the bald man had managed to deflect the topic.

He let out a sigh of relief.

Among the three, he had the lowest status. He had spent a lot of money and connections to be in this room. Even if that man asked him to dance the samba, he’d have to greet him with a smile and sway his hips.

As a shareholder of Daylight Technology, he had recently suffered major setbacks in internal company struggles, and his foundation was somewhat depleted, requiring replenishment. If it weren’t for that, he wouldn’t have accepted the invitation to board the ship.

The situation on this ship was more complicated than he had expected.

There were rumors that the 13th district had developed something extraordinary—one person could be as powerful as an entire army. The organizers thought it was interesting, bought it, and were planning to use it in this fight.

Everyone around was excited and curious about how powerful this “thing” was, but he was terrified, secretly thinking they were all reckless lunatics.

What if the creature lost control? Who would be the one to save them?

The bald man tried to lighten the atmosphere, but Liu Dan was only smoking while watching her terminal, occasionally teasing the little pet kneeling by her feet, seemingly uninterested; Shang stood near the one-way glass, studying the arena setup, with no intention of talking to him.

The bald man wisely stopped trying.

The room fell silent, and the little pet kept its head down, trembling and afraid to make a sound.

They were all capitalists who didn’t treat people as people. It was best not to provoke them.

Clink clink—

The few people who were busy with their own tasks all turned to look at the source of the sound.

To the left, against the wall, there was a small bar, with more bottles of alcohol on the wall. Standing at the island counter was a teenager, mixing drinks.

He shook the cocktail shaker up and down. The ice cubes made a loud clinking sound, and when he applied force, his shoulder and arm muscles tensed. One could vaguely feel the explosive power hidden beneath the fabric.

The dark red liquor, thick like blood, poured into the glass.

Liu Dan chuckled. “Not bad.”

The teenager glanced at her but didn’t respond, nodding slightly as a form of acknowledgment.

He wasn’t mixing drinks to drink. He left the glass untouched and opened his terminal, seemingly looking at something, like he was playing a game out of boredom or waiting for someone to drink.

Liu Dan passed the rope she was holding to the bald man and walked over to the small bar. She sat down, accepting his subtle invitation.

“Whose person is this?”

The teenager replied, “Kato.”

Liu Dan raised an eyebrow. The bald man, Kato, hurried over to introduce himself. “This is my friend’s brother, Ruan Zhixian.” Then he looked at Ruan Zhixian, giving a sly wink, signaling him to read the atmosphere. “Ruan Zhixian, this is Liu Dan. You can just call her Sister Liu. You must have seen her on TV.”

Liu Dan was the secretary of the Star Minister of the Seventh District’s Environmental and Health Department, frequently seen alongside the minister at official events. Wherever she appeared, she was always by the minister’s side.

Because the two women looked quite similar, netizens had jokingly called them the “Twin Flowers of the Seventh District,” one cold and fiery, the other gentle and watery.

On the forums of the former, there were many dogs (fans), while the latter was filled with “Awww, Mom’s voice sounds so nice, I love how she smiles.”

“This one is good. What else can you make?” Liu Dan asked.

Ruan Zhixian remained silent, quietly grabbing a few more bottles of alcohol and continuing his work.

Liu Dan wasn’t bothered by his indifference. Watching him mix the drinks, she looked much happier than when she was smoking earlier.

The bald man saw the atmosphere improving and quietly withdrew, not wanting to interfere.

Ruan Zhixian worked for a hacker group, and in return for the group’s help, apart from paying a hefty sum, he also had to bring someone aboard the ship.

Many prominent figures had gathered for this event, and the hacker group, sensing an opportunity, had sent him as a representative.

He was just a bartender at a small bar in District 13.

At first, the bald man thought there was something exceptional about him, so he kept an eye on him. But he was soon confused by the boy’s odd behavior. He didn’t gamble, didn’t socialize, and didn’t play any games. He was just a cool guy in a uniform, serving drinks to anyone who came by.

It left him puzzled.

Could it be that a waiter with a monthly salary of three thousand had a habit?

What made it more confusing was that nobody was even paying him on the ship.

He was serving drinks in the morning, then disappearing in the afternoon. The bald man thought it was all just an act, but finally, Ruan Zhixian did something. He had hooked up with the boss’s little pet and went off to bed with him!

After playing around for the whole afternoon, he showed up just before the start!

Luckily, the boy hadn’t forgotten his mission. Despite playing, when it was time to act, he was right on target—he was the secretary to the Minister.

He would probably benefit from being the intermediary.

Shang, with one hand in his pocket, looked at his reflection in the glass. He raised his hand and tapped it a few times.

The system activated, and a bluish light bathed his face. The quiet room was soon filled with the host’s passionate commentary and music, with screens displaying different views of the arena surrounding him.

He squinted his eyes, pleased. “Finally, it’s starting.”

The atmosphere in the arena was electric. A star from the Seventh District stood in the center of the arena, with floating simulated starlight surrounding her.

The rhythm of the drums grew more intense, and she tore off her long skirt, revealing her long legs, dancing wildly with the backup dancers.

Fifty-two numbered screens were projected around the audience, and bee-sized cameras flew around the arena, capturing every angle of the performance for the audience to enjoy.

Fei Shen had heard of this singer, and after finding his position with a friend, he opened his terminal and followed the instructions provided by the staff to connect to the cameras in the arena.

Lu Jia, not interested in the woman, adjusted the terminal screen to focus on one of the male backup dancers, whose sweat-soaked chest was deliberately exposed. He turned to Fei Shen and asked, “Fei, after you’re done with Shen Yan, can you give him to me?”

Fei Shen, who was currently annoyed, did not look up, “Why are you always thinking about him?”

Harris, with a neutral expression replied, said, “Of course I think about something I can’t have. If you give him to us to play with, I won’t think about him anymore.” He paused and added meaningfully, “I don’t think I’ve seen you care about anyone like this before. You just gave him away without a second thought.”

They all hung out together and knew each other’s personalities. Fei Shen couldn’t stand teasing, so Lu Jia played along with Harris, joking, “If this little thing really is Fei’s true love, then I’ll pluck his eyeballs out the next time I see him. What do you think?”

Fei Shen snorted, “How much are your crappy eyeballs worth?”

Lu Jia sensed the shift in Fei Shen’s tone and asked, “By the way, how do you plan to deal with him?”

No man could tolerate being cuckolded, and Fei Shen, being the traditional kind, was no exception.

When his ex-girlfriend had been caught cheating, he buried the man and sent her for a sex change, so now she was a man.

Before Shen Yan faced revenge, Fei Shen had to have a taste of it, or he would feel itchy all over.

But to everyone’s surprise, he tapped his terminal without much care and said, “I sent him here.”

Lu Jia was surprised. “Huh? I thought the participants were fixed. If I’d known, I’d have signed up Harris. That way, he could release all his pent-up strength.”

Harris laughed and cursed, “Get lost.”

The two of them then tacitly stopped mentioning Shen Yan and instead focused on their terminals, watching the broadcast from the two prep rooms, searching for Shen Yan’s figure.

The arena was something they had only learned about after boarding the ship. Their understanding of it was limited to watching, but Fei Shen clearly had access to an insider channel that allowed him to open the registration for Shen Yan.

The main organizers and investors of the entire event were big shots from Districts 13 to 7, and the participants, as well as the modified creatures, were provided by them. These big names were still out of reach for the likes of these rich second-generation young masters.

Fei Shen… had something up his sleeve.

In the eyes of his friends, he had become somewhat mysterious because of this event, but at that moment, he was too focused on worrying.

He found Shen Yan.

A small dot in the screen, he zoomed in, and without surprise, noticed that while other contestants were preparing for the battle, stretching, and adjusting their body gear, he was hiding in a corner, completely withdrawn.

Shen Yan was about 1.8 meters tall, crouching in the corner with his arms wrapped around his knees, trembling uncontrollably. He slowly lifted his eyes from his arms, glancing nervously at the strange, modified people around him.

Fei Shen closed his eyes.

An aura of cannon fodder, with a future so bleak it was almost tangible.

Both Lu Jia and Harris stared at the screen for a long while before they confirmed that the trembling mushroom-like figure was indeed Shen Yan.

So beneath the cold and elite exterior, there was only grass inside.

Lu Jia awkwardly smiled, glancing at Fei Shen, who was looking quite grim, and suddenly felt a sense of empathy. He was about to offer some comforting words, something human and warm, when a loud explosion interrupted them.

Everyone’s attention shifted to the arena.

A glittering electronic smoke rose slowly in the center of the arena. The fragmented mist shifted and finally formed the face of a gorgeous man, painted with heavy makeup.

“Welcome to Pearl No. 8! The exciting and intense competition is about to begin!”

“Will humanity triumph, or will technology shine? Will courage prevail, or will cowardice hide? Under the surge of beastly forces, how many survivors will remain? The struggle of humanity and the cries of life are all here! The infinite thrill awaits!”

“A one-minute countdown, start—”

The large face disappeared and turned into a countdown timer, the numbers changing rapidly, creating a sense of urgency.

“The rules for this round of elimination have been sent to everyone’s terminals. To increase the fun of the competition, the organizers have introduced an entertainment betting feature. Please log into the Pearl No. 8 app to participate!”

The man’s voice was irresistibly tempting.

“The prize pool is fifty billion! If you’re interested, place your bets!”

Opening the app revealed the profiles of all 432 contestants, ranked according to a combined score based on their physical abilities, intelligence, and modification levels.

The top 49 and the last contestant had a small camera icon in the upper-right corner of their profiles.

“All technology provided by Eternal Technology. Cameras will follow the top 49 contestants and the last contestant, with two global cameras offering different perspectives for your reference!”

“After ten minutes, the entertainment betting feature will officially begin. Please focus your attention on the arena; our contestants will soon enter!”

Fei Shen’s emotions were stirred as the remaining contestants were finishing their preparations, their eyes burning with anticipation for the entrance.

Shen Yan slowly stood up, stomped his feet, and sighed deeply, appearing resigned to his fate.

The host’s enthusiastic voice filled the air: “Let’s start the countdown together—”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

“Please welcome our main contestants to the stage!”

The arena was circular, with spectator and VIP seats on the sides. The entrance was at the top, while the monsters were released from the bottom.

Over five hundred monsters had already been released by the staff, and though the large doors were shut, their chilling screams could still be heard.

Several tall columns stood in the field, many of which had randomly dropped items every fifteen minutes, with volunteers contributing additional tools to be parachuted in.

The entrance doors to the prep room opened, and the contestants rushed onto the field to grab territory.

At the same time, bees and cameras followed their movements, and fifty faces appeared on the large screen.

The first was a man over two meters tall, bald, his skin covered in intricate tattoos that were now glowing red. He immediately laughed loudly, tearing apart his upper body clothes to reveal a mechanical chest.

“Wow, full-body modification? He must be rich—no, his master must be really rich.”

“He’s so cute, I’d like to keep him.”

“Haha, look at the last one. A healthy person? Did he offend the captain and end up here to be monster food?”

“So sad, so beautiful. His master must really be willing to let him go.”

The fifty screens aligned, and the one in the lower-right corner stood out, showing the face of a person clearly terrified and desperate, unable to hide their fear.

Just hearing the monstrous roars was enough to scare anyone out of their wits.

After a while, the audience’s attention shifted back to the main event, and most of them moved their gaze away from the camera focused on Shen Yan.

Eventually, only one remained focused on him.

The side doors to the monster’s cage opened, and the famished creatures rushed in, shaking the ground with their impact.

There were spiders as large as fists, moving at incredible speed, and massive pythons whose jaws were modified to devour a person’s head in a single bite. The arena was filled with various bio-engineered creatures, rampaging with wild strength and ferocity. Within mere seconds, the number of survivors dropped to fewer than three hundred.

Shen Yan immediately dashed toward one of the columns, unable to see the top. Many contestants were climbing to reach the items on top, but Shen Yan only managed to climb a few steps before slipping back down.

In the air, mutated chickens with arms as thick as a human’s lunged, capable of tearing through a shoulder with one bite.

Shen Yan picked up a discarded limb from the ground—someone had installed a laser knife, but they were already devoured by a swarm of black insects before they could use it.

Fortunately, the insects were quickly dealt with by another contestant’s flame thrower.

At the time, Shen Yan happened to be near the flame-throwing contestant, who unknowingly shielded him for a moment.

After the flame-thrower died, he became a headless fly, running around aimlessly.

Every time he was on the verge of being killed, another contestant would accidentally intervene and rescue him.

Shen Yan, who felt guilty, sincerely thanked them each time but was quickly shooed away with a frown.

He immediately left, obedient as ever.

Now, ten minutes had passed, and the arena had stabilized. The first wave of contestants who were unable to adapt had perished. The survivors were, for the most part, more competent.

And the most unexpected of them all was Shen Yan, who had ranked at the very bottom.

Due to so many deaths, Shen Yan, who was originally number 432, had now jumped to 282.

Curiosity surged, and people started flooding back into the discussion rooms.

The official discussion room was bustling with activity.

【282 hasn’t died yet? … Now he’s 273.】

【If I had half his luck, I wouldn’t have ended up crippled by my wife’s ex-husband.】

【This guy seems to have some luck on his side. Does anyone know who brought him here? Anyone recognize him? Wanna go gamble tomorrow?】

【I bet fifty cents, he’ll make it to the end.】

【Fifty cents is nothing. I’m betting a million that he won’t last.】

The betting had begun, and the stakes were varied. The organizers knew exactly what these people were thinking and quickly set up a special focus on Shen Yan.

【Former contestant #432: Will he survive until the end?】

【Yes / 52; No / 989,372】

Shen Yan knew that many people were watching him.

He tried to act like he was “pale with trembling lips,” but that was really difficult to pull off.

Running around the arena had activated his body’s functions, and instead of feeling fear, he felt excited.

His complexion was rosy, his eyes sparkling with energy. He even found himself running faster and, by chance, helping an opponent who had fallen and nearly been eaten by a giant wolf back onto his feet.

He even felt like laughing.

Despite the bloody scene on the field, the stench of death in the air, he couldn’t help but think of his once-happy, peaceful life—living in a harmonious family with dogs, cats, plants, and the occasional leisure trips.

Now, though, he was reduced to a fourth-class citizen, running for his life in a gladiator arena, seeing more bodies in a single day than he had in his entire life. And to top it all off, there were hundreds of eyes watching and betting on his life or death—

And all of this was his own doing.

How fun! Hahaha!

(There’s no sense of a breakdown here.)

It was as if he had split into two people: one controlling his expressions and body, pretending to be the meek and obedient man, while secretly enjoying the chaos; the other was a rational part of him, floating in the air, calmly devising his next move.

Running around like this wasn’t a long-term plan.

The competition would last three hours, and the monsters released so far were just appetizers, mainly intended to weed out the weaklings—those who lacked physical strength, reflexes, or luck.

Once the chaos stabilized and humans started to take control, about a hundred contestants would remain.

But this wasn’t the outcome the organizers were hoping for.

They wanted to see only about fifty left by the end.

There were still too many people now.

In the last half hour, they would release more monsters originally intended for the upcoming rounds, and if you didn’t have the ability to fight, didn’t know how to fight, or couldn’t get key items, you’d be dead for sure.

Setting aside whether he could survive until then, if he kept running at his current pace, he’d be exhausted in just another hour.

He had to do something, but he couldn’t be too obvious.

Ruan Zhixian was definitely watching.

What should he do?

His eyes fell on a nearby supply drop, one of the items sent in by the audience.

He walked over and picked it up.

It was a large yellow plastic bag, with bold, oversized writing on it that clearly read:

“Me Me Shrimp Chips.”