Pretend to be crazy

From a distance, the luxurious cruise ship docked at the port was already visible. As they approached, its immense size became even more apparent.

At 80 meters high and 400 meters long, the ship was practically a moving beast of the sea. Standing before it, humans seemed as insignificant as ants.

The interior was even more extravagant. The attendants assigned to guide them sent a map of the cruise ship to their terminals and enthusiastically introduced its layout:

“The cruise ship is divided into five levels. The top three are above the deck. The highest level is for VIP guests on this voyage and requires a special access card to enter. The second level is the rest area for our esteemed guests. We’ve already registered your facial data into the system, so you can enter your rooms simply by scanning your face.”

“The first level is our entertainment area. In addition to the latest gaming equipment under the Eternal brand, we also have a casino, amusement park, bar, and two restaurants. The auction on the third day will also be held here.”

“The two levels below the deck are for our crew members and for storing essential supplies. If you’d like to visit, you can submit a request to the cruise supervisor. Once approved, a staff member will guide you through the area.”

The attendant then leaned in and whispered respectfully to Fei Shen, “There will be a special performance tonight. If you’re interested, you can visit the darkroom on the first level. The organizers have allocated a total of 500 invitations, and you are one of them.”

Fei Shen responded indifferently, “Got it.”

The attendant then opened the grand doors for him, revealing an opulent interior. The moment they boarded, the excitement of the guests already on board was palpable. The place was lively and buzzing with energy.

“Welcome to Pearl No. 8. We wish you a pleasant journey.”

Fei Shen deliberately glanced at Shen Yan’s expression, expecting to see him gawking in awe like a clueless country bumpkin.

To his surprise, he did not show such an expression.

Clothes make the man, just as a saddle defines a horse.

Shen Yan was already good-looking, and before the trip, Fei Shen had taken the time to give him a makeover—dressing him in high-class attire and providing him with emergency etiquette training.

With this full package of refinements, the once timid and deferential young man now exuded a presence that, in some ways, even overshadowed Fei Shen himself.

As soon as they stepped in, Fei Shen’s friends swarmed around them.

They were nothing but a gang of troublemakers, and the teasing started immediately.

They laughed about how his tastes had changed—why had he suddenly developed a liking for men? Someone even commented that Shen Yan looked quite “enduring.”

One of Fei Shen’s friends, who usually played the submissive role, couldn’t take his eyes off Shen Yan, especially fixating on his chest and hips. If Fei Shen hadn’t held him back, he might have even reached out to grope him.

Shen Yan’s face remained cold and silent.

But when their taunts pushed him to the edge of his patience, he turned to Fei Shen, signaling him to handle the situation—just as they had agreed beforehand.

Fei Shen believed in his inexplicable luck that had saved their lives once before.

Of all the people he could have brought on board, he chose him—officially under the pretense of being his friend, though their circle of acquaintances would never believe that.

Yet as a so-called partner, Shen Yan was undeniably lacking.

Even dressed to perfection, the moment he opened his mouth, that unbearable air of cowardice leaked out uncontrollably.

Fei Shen had no intention of being ridiculed for bringing along someone so weak. He didn’t want people to sneer, “How could you bring such a thing? Your taste is awful.”

So he took a step back and let him act aloof.

Talk less.

Keep a straight face.

No matter what people asked him to do, he shouldn’t comply.

He needed to play the role of an arrogant, domineering cool guy who relied on Fei Shen’s status.

As long as he didn’t speak, his appearance alone was enough to intimidate people.

Shen Yan had already escaped the status of a fifth-class citizen and was now a fourth-class citizen.

But there was still a long way to go before he could reach third class.

He sighed and repeated those four words to himself.

Pearl No. 8.

It couldn’t be, right?

Could this really be the exact same ship that, in the novel’s plot, was bombed and destroyed by the protagonist alongside the scammer Falson and the murderous Warren?

Just to test the waters, he connected to his AI assistant and asked, “My master asked me to sign up for tonight’s competition. Do I register with you directly?”

“Transferring to a live agent…”

“Hello, please fill out the registration form and sign the death waiver. Once submitted, a staff member will guide you through the preparation area.”

Shen Yan’s vision went dark for a moment. It took him a long time to slowly reply:

“Thank you, I understand.”

In the original novel, what happened on this ship could no longer be described as simply brutal and bloody.

It was outright inhumane.

Ruan Zhixian had signed up for the arena matches, quickly gaining fame with a string of victories. His worth skyrocketed overnight, and countless people lined up with stacks of cash just for a chance to have dinner with him.

His temporary agent accepted an invitation from the highest bidder.

That night, he killed the man, took his clearance codes, and entered the lower decks of the ship. There, he struck a deal with the laboratory’s monstrous experiments—thus beginning his game.

The audience, who had previously cheered over the gruesome deaths of the fighters, soon found themselves at the mercy of those same monsters—tortured, played with, and ultimately slaughtered.

But that wasn’t all.

This wasn’t just a game for the wealthy.

It was a game where everyone was equal.

Ordinary third- and fourth-class citizens were also forced to participate.

Under Ruan Zhixian’s designs, the true nature of humanity was laid bare for all to see.

Those who survived the battles didn’t win their freedom. Instead, they were manipulated into committing suicide.

In the end, he blew up the ship.

Of the 6,300 people on board, only a little over a hundred survived.

Some were simply lucky.

Some sensed something was wrong early on and managed to send a message out. They were later rescued by a professional investigation team.

As for the rest, they all perished in this senseless disaster.

The author never explained Ruan Zhixian’s logic.

He killed when he felt like it.

He played games whenever he wanted.

If he was in the mood, he might even kill his own allies.

After spending a few days around him, Shen Yan found that he wasn’t as insane as the novel depicted—but probably not far from it.

He was just good at hiding it.

He completed the registration form and submitted it. A response came quickly.

[Assistant]: Registration successful. Matching you with opponents… Matching complete.

[Assistant]: You have two matches scheduled for tonight. A staff member will escort you to the preparation room shortly. Please wait.

Shen Yan sent the registration form to Fei Shen, informing him that he had signed up.

Fei Shen was probably busy, as it took a while before he simply responded with:

[Fei Shen]: What the hell? Who told you to sign up?

Shen Yan immediately shifted the blame onto Fei Shen’s friends.

Fei Shen didn’t reply after that.

Not knowing when the staff would arrive, Shen Yan used the time to contact Blaze.

He had accepted Fei Shen’s invitation with the original plan of using the ship as an opportunity to escape from Ruan Zhixian.

But the momentum of the plot was too strong.

Not only had he failed to find a chance, but his life was now in danger.

So he decided to take Ruan Zhixian’s path—and cut him off before he could start.

If he was going to die anyway, he might as well try.

The ship had already set sail, and a few tents were propped up on the deck. The sea breeze was strong. Shen Yan leaned against the railing, turned on his terminal’s camera, took a few photos, cropped out his face, and sent them to Blaze, whom he hadn’t contacted in two days.

His outfit was actually quite simple: a black turtleneck sweater under a camel-colored casual blazer, paired with an old silver snake-shaped necklace.

One side of his gold-rimmed glasses had a dangling gold chain. He held the glasses in his hand, rested his arm loosely on the railing, and closed his eyes as the wind tousled his hair.

Out of boredom, he had done all sorts of things. He had even modeled for his sister’s company before. His posing skills were excellent, and when the photos were posted online, three trending topics exploded instantly.

So now, he was effortlessly at ease.

【Blaze’s Dog】: If I die, please keep these photos in your album.

【Blaze】: ?

【Blaze’s Dog】: This is the version of myself I’m most satisfied with. What do you think?

Blaze’s side showed “Typing…” several times before finally sending a seemingly unrelated message.

【Blaze】: The Pearl No. 8, a ship from three years ago, ranks among the top in security measures in Zone 13. It has set sail 32 times without a single accident.

【Blaze’s Dog】: Thanks for the reassurance. I’ll make sure to survive.

【Blaze’s Dog】: At least until the day I meet you. 😀

【Blaze】: Frivolous.

【Blaze】: Foolish.

【Blaze】: Boring.

【Blaze】: Do you say things like this to every stranger?

Shen Yan typed “crying” in the chat box.

Just then, a staff member approached.

“Contestant No. 005, hello. I am a staff member from the Dark Room. Please come with me.”

Shen Yan thought for a moment, then deleted the message, exited the chat, and said to the staff, “Alright, I’m ready.”

The “Dark Room” arena was hidden at the end of the first floor behind an elaborate mural, accessible only by entering a command.

Outside, there were two additional security checkpoints to prevent unauthorized individuals from entering.

“This is your battleground for today. The match starts at 9:30 p.m. There are five maps in total. Would you like to familiarize yourself with them?”

Before him was an artificial pit, designed in a deliberate imitation of ancient Roman architecture, with spectator stands encircling the outside.

Shen Yan took the elevator down into the pit and looked around. The walls were embedded with red-glowing devices that resembled tiny eyes.

The staff explained, “These are our VIP seating areas. The devices serve as emergency protection. If someone breaks through the walls and poses a threat to the audience, these devices will activate and eliminate the intruder.”

The staff hesitated before continuing, “Of course, the chances of breaking through are extremely low, and the threat assessment is highly precise. You don’t need to worry too much.”

Shen Yan nodded.

The exit led to a narrow passage, only wide enough for two people to walk side by side. A single dim white light hung overhead.

“The prize money for a match averages around 500,000. The more you win, the more you earn. If you make it to the final battle on the last day, your accumulated prize money could reach five million.”

Five million—a sum that could completely change the fate of a fourth-class citizen, potentially even elevate them to a third-class ranking.

The staff member observed Shen Yan’s expression through his augmented eye, but Shen Yan’s sharply defined, handsome face remained indifferent under the cold light.

The staff knew he shouldn’t say more, but he couldn’t help himself.

Shen Yan couldn’t clearly see what was inside, but judging by the sharp claws pressed against the glass, whatever it was could tear people apart as effortlessly as he cut steak.

In the center were some living creatures—mutant animals like tigers, lions, and monkeys, all grotesquely fused together. Genetic modifications had further amplified their size and aggression.

He even saw a creature three times his size—six wings, each covered in eyes—resembling some nightmarish, monstrous chicken.

The creatures on the left were too obscure to make out, sparing him some discomfort. The ones in the middle were hideous enough to make someone lose their sanity. So he turned to the far right, where a coffin-like object was tightly sealed by metal plates.

The staff provided a timely explanation. “This is a special challenge. Anyone who wins three matches in a row can choose to challenge him. The boss hasn’t told us his exact nature, only that his creator designated him as male.”

Shen Yan remained silent but nodded to show he understood.

This was probably where they kept Warren, the monster that had dealings with Ruan Zhixian.

Recalling his dreams from the past few days, his heart skipped a beat.

For the first time, his previously calm mindset wavered, replaced by a strange sense of unease.

If he survived, if he followed his chosen path, carefully hiding under his alias, would he eventually end up like the person in his dreams?

One second: pretending to be an insane lunatic.

The next second: going public as an underground fighter—“I’m in the ring now, everyone, please support me!”

…No way.

The staff didn’t notice his brief lapse.

After finishing the introduction, the staff let out a sigh of relief and proceeded to take him for a medical examination.

When the results showed that he was a completely unmodified human—with not a single enhancement, not even an implanted chip—the staff was so shocked they stammered.

“Wait, sir, you…” The staff repeatedly checked the report, glancing back and forth between it and him in disbelief.

Shen Yan raised an eyebrow. “What? Am I disqualified from competing?”

The staff hesitated before saying, “Not exactly, it’s just that…”

Shen Yan smirked. “A pure human without modifications is too weak? The moment I step into the ring, I’ll be instantly crushed—no entertainment value?”

“There is some truth to that,” the staff member thought for a moment before adding, “This time, a large portion of our beast battles incorporate biological transfer technology. If you make it past the first elimination round, in subsequent matches, you’ll be able to connect with the biological entities we provide for combat.”

“Your body is in excellent health, and all your indicators are great, but compared to machines, you’re still…”

The way the staff looked at him was as if they were already staring at a dead man.

Shen Yan was sent back to the deck.

Everything he saw along the way had been described in the author’s book.

The author was a detail fanatic—not only did they write ultra-detailed battle scenes of Ruan Zhixian fighting monsters, but they also depicted the battles of others.

So Shen Yan was much more familiar with those monsters than anyone else.

But there was still a gap between written descriptions and witnessing them firsthand.

He touched his chest, feeling his slightly accelerated heartbeat, then curled his lips into a smile.

Interesting.

Fei Shen had been looking for Shen Yan for most of the day. His temper flared, and he lashed out at everyone in his small circle. Now, with a cold expression, he was racing in a virtual reality game using a holographic helmet when Shen Yan strolled over unhurriedly.

Fei Shen hadn’t activated full-immersion mode, so he was still aware of his surroundings. He sped up, crashed straight into a wall, and died instantly. As the explosion and game result screen flashed, he pulled off his helmet.

With a grim face, he locked eyes with Shen Yan.

Under Fei Shen’s serious gaze, Shen Yan’s eyelashes trembled, and he shrank back into his “cowardly” mode, apologizing in a small voice, “S-Sorry, I really didn’t mean to.”

He pulled up his message inbox for Fei Shen to see. It was empty. Shen Yan froze, feeling a bit panicked.

“Huh? Where did the message go? It was just there. This person told me to sign up, I…”

Fei Shen, exasperated beyond belief, cut him off and poked his forehead. “You’ve got a smart face for nothing. How the hell did you survive this long? Do you even use your brain? Why do you think I had someone relay the message instead of telling you myself?”

Shen Yan’s face flushed red. He stammered, “I-I didn’t think it through. S-So what do I do now?”

Feigning cold indifference, Fei Shen looked away. “What else? Just wait for death.”

Shen Yan stayed silent, sitting beside him with an expression like the sky was falling.

Only then did Fei Shen continue, “I confirmed with the supervisor—if you survive the first match, you can withdraw. If you make it through, I’ll pull you out.”

Just as he finished speaking, a deep and pleasant male voice came from beside them.

“Your drink.”

Ruan Zhixian was dressed in a waiter’s uniform. With his broad shoulders and long legs, he was already a natural clothes hanger, and the specially tailored uniform only made his physique look even more impossibly perfect.

He bent slightly, placing the drink on a nearby table.

The moment Shen Yan met his gaze, he immediately turned his head away as if burned by fire, retracting his line of sight in a panic.

Fei Shen glanced at Ruan Zhixian, then at Shen Yan, and smirked meaningfully.

Alright, alright. A little lovers’ quarrel, huh?

Picking up his drink, he stood up and said to Ruan Zhixian, “Come here. Sit here.”

On this ship, the waiters didn’t just serve food and drinks—they could also serve as companions for guests.

Ruan Zhixian set his tray aside and sat down.

Fei Shen cheerfully patted Shen Yan’s shoulder. “Keep my little pet company for a while. You can leave when he lets you go, got it?”

Ruan Zhixian: “Understood.”

Satisfied, Fei Shen left with his drink, leaving behind a silent Shen Yan and an equally silent Ruan Zhixian.

After a long pause, Ruan Zhixian suddenly spoke. “Brother, you look very handsome today.”

Shen Yan lowered his head, fiddling with his helmet, without responding.

Ruan Zhixian continued, “I haven’t seen you since that day. Did you not miss me?”

Shen Yan adjusted the direction of his helmet, covering the label beneath it that read “Eternal Technology.”

Ruan Zhixian chuckled. “If you plan to ignore me for the rest of your life, just blink, and I’ll leave.”

After speaking, he fell silent, staring intently at Shen Yan’s face.

A person typically blinks 15 to 20 times per minute, roughly once every four seconds.

Ruan Zhixian waited for over ten seconds.

On the thirteenth second, Shen Yan blinked—just once—but immediately tensed up and looked nervously at him.

Seeing that Ruan Zhi Xian was merely smiling at him, his eyes reddened, his fingers clutched the helmet tightly, and he bit his lip, his voice filled with sorrow. “Zhixian, don’t treat me like this.”

Ruan Zhixian tilted his head. “What did I do?”

He took out a handkerchief, got up from his seat, walked over to Shen Yan, and leaned down slightly, tilting his chin up to gently wipe away the tear that had slipped from his eye.

“You cry more than before. Is it because of me?”

Shen Yan shoved him away, taking the handkerchief to wipe his own face. As if to steel himself, he stole a quick glance at him before taking a deep breath.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” he exhaled deeply and pulled the helmet over his head. “Who would ever like someone as awful as you?”

Though he denied it outright, he also knew that if he truly wanted Ruan Zhixian to leave, he could just order him to go. But he didn’t.

“Stay with me for a while,” his voice dropped to a whisper, as if he were terribly sad.

“My time… might be running out.”