The world has turned into Hell's Game, why should I stay human?
Chapter 459 - 376: What’s the Current Level of Hell’s Game?

Chapter 459: Chapter 376: What’s the Current Level of Hell’s Game?

Liu Zheng approached the central elevator and scrutinized the mask on the elevator door carefully.

The mask showed no reaction to his unabashed gaze, appearing just like a real inanimate object.

"The 7th floor, right?"

He then pressed the button to go up.

Under Liu Zheng’s "just as I expected" gaze, the angry man’s mask opened its mouth.

It opened wider and wider until it swallowed the wall around the elevator door as well, revealing a pitch-black hole.

If one didn’t know it was an elevator, they might mistake it for some kind of secret passage.

Liu Zheng glanced over, only to see that Thirteen Tiles had already taken the elevator and left.

He surely knew that he had left before Liu Zheng, yet he directly told Liu Zheng to wait for him at the elevator.

Either Thirteen Tiles could control the speed of the elevator, or the two elevators operated at intrinsic different speeds.

Putting aside his speculations, he walked into the mouth of the masked man.

The ground felt solid underfoot, which was somewhat unexpected for Liu Zheng.

He thought it would feel similar to the tactile sensation of flesh, like that of the food delivery passages.

As he walked forward, he reached out his hands to grope around him but did not touch anything.

This was within Liu Zheng’s expectations, as structures in Metropolis seemed to mostly have the function of spatial folding.

It was uncertain whether such technology was commonplace in the Metropolis or if it was an inherent attribute of its architecture.

"Since you’ve invited me in, why hide anything? If there’s something to discuss, just say it outright," Liu Zheng suddenly spoke out.

For these odd, ancillary buildings, he treated them all as if they were sentient.

Since they were sentient, the first step was to attempt communication.

If communication failed, then he would try to decipher the rules or the physics.

Moreover, Liu Zheng had an ace up his sleeve—the Life-taking Courier receipt.

With this receipt, things like secret rooms and cells were not worth mentioning.

Even in the real world, deliveries could find their way to tiny remote villages; the Metropolis’s delivery services could only be superior in this respect.

"Does life carry regrets?"

After a moment of silence, a deafening roar echoed through the dark space.

"Yes."

He replied without hesitation.

Everyone has regrets, after all.

Even those born with a silver spoon might regret having everything.

"Does life carry grudges?"

The roaring voice resounded again.

"Yes."

Liu Zheng replied promptly again.

He was certainly no saint; life was not smooth, so naturally, he held grudges.

Especially when he was first diagnosed with ALS, he was almost consumed with resentment.

"Does life carry hatred?"

The roar surged forward.

"Yes."

Liu Zheng gave the same answer.

Hatred of others is present, but not of oneself.

With his difficult start in life, if not for social welfare and innate talent, he would have merely been a beast of burden all his life.

Even after he made it to university and found a decent job, happiness was still far beyond his reach.

After all, how could a decade of hard study compare with the struggle of generations?

"Then why are you not enraged?!"

"Then why are you not enraged?!!"

"Then why are you not enraged?!!!"

The roaring became louder and closer, eventually turning into a tempest that swept towards Liu Zheng.

"Because I’m numb to it."

He replied indifferently.

He had planned to diligently lead a life as a beast of burden, saving for a decade or so for a down payment and then shouldering a thirty-year mortgage, living out a mediocre existence in his small two-bedroom apartment.

Instead, he was struck with a diagnosis of ALS and could only afford a compact graveyard plot.

If that were all, so be it.

Besides, there had always been a fury lurking in Liu Zheng’s heart, shackled by societal constraints and the instinct to survive.

Now that he was nearing death, it was time to let loose.

For instance, beating up that stupid editor felt incredibly satisfying, and he had an even more exhilarating plan.

But just as Liu Zheng was about to achieve his goal of trending on today’s headlines, he was chosen by Hell’s Game.

The bad news was that this rotten game would end him quicker than ALS could.

The good news, however, was that this rotten game might actually cure his ALS.

If that were all, so be it.

Liu Zheng had read plenty of infinite stream novels and was even quite addicted to them at one point, cheekily adopting the adolescent tagline, "Do you truly yearn to live?"

To carve out a path of survival amidst life and death, and then to transcend oneself and break free from constraints, was a kind of romantic pursuit for a man.

Yet, his very first instance was a heavyweight one.

Liu Zheng had grounds for complaint; others were dealing with what, newbie instances like Animal Prisons?

What instance was he dealing with? The Bloody Restaurant.

What’s the level of Hell’s Game now?

With just a few newbies around, one of them with ALS and all, still making deliveries, can he make those deliveries?

He can’t, lacking the ability; you know that, right?

If he continues, he’ll run overtime, then deliver to wrong person, get rejected, and next, he’ll be the one delivered.

Games like Hell’s Game lacking a solid foundation, how can you assure victory during critical battles in Main God Space?

Be realistic, I’d advise the system to understand its own criteria and the concept of instances first.

The principle of gradual progress is quite good; why trade it away, tell me?

Now, a new player like him is expected to become a Big City Charm Demon; how do you explain that?

To lose face completely.

If such higher beings can lose face, then he, a mere mortal, might as well become numb to it too.