"The preseason is almost over."
Wang Shun stood beside the floating panel, relief written across his face. "You've been performing very well in the team competition. President Bai and Captain Tang have trained you well."
"Thank you for working so hard—training and competing every day at the same time."
Mu Sicheng collapsed against the back of his chair in despair. Liu Jiayi lay face down on the table, fast asleep. Even Mu Ke was yawning, propping his head up with his hands, his eyes half-closed as he fought to stay awake.
Wang Shun couldn't help laughing. "The earlier phase was the most exhausting. The next stage will be much easier. You've entered the upper circle of the preseason, so the match frequency has dropped. You'll only need to play three to four games a day."
"Next, I'll report everyone's popularity rankings."
"Bai Liu, 179."
"Liu Jiayi, 186."
"Tang Erda, 194."
"Mu Sicheng, 236."
"Mu Ke, 261."
Wang Shun tapped the system panel. "From now on, your rankings will rise very slowly, because we're already approaching the mid-season popularity circle."
"There are thirty-two teams in the mid-season tournament, each with only five main players. That means popularity is concentrated among the top 160 players. They hold an overwhelming advantage over preseason teams. It'll be very difficult for you to break into that tier."
"Especially this year. Quite a few newcomers have performed brilliantly and gained massive popularity. They've firmly secured top positions."
"The Clown I mentioned before is currently ranked seventy-ninth—already in the top one hundred. He's the highest-ranked newcomer."
"Next are Armand from Golden Dawn and Sister Phoebe from King's Crown—one is ninety-three, the other one hundred and two."
"These newcomers have their guilds backing them, so their popularity rises quickly. If they continue performing well, they won't fall unless something unexpected happens. That means they'll likely remain in the upper ranks. The competition this year will be fierce."
Wang Shun looked around. "Now I'll report the top five most popular players."
"Number one, unshakable as ever—Spades."
"Second, the Queen of Hearts."
"Third, Georgia."
"Fourth, the Reverse God."
"And fifth—the unknown Executioner, president of the Deer Hunters Guild, and the person I want to focus on today."
Wang Shun enlarged the information panel.
"This guild leader used to be a main attacker. After the Reverse God left last year, he switched to a tactician. This is his first year in the league in that role. Judging from his current ranking, he's doing extremely well."
"It's worth noting that last year he never entered the top fifty. His highest ranking was fifty-nine."
Mu Sicheng snapped out of his half-asleep state. "No way! He's the president of a major guild, and he's strong. How could his popularity have been that low?"
Wang Shun smiled. "Popularity rankings are linked to strength, but also to personal style, expressiveness, and appearance."
"Although the Deer Hunters' president is capable, his style isn't particularly appealing, he's not very expressive, and his appearance…"
Wang Shun hesitated, then played a short video. "See for yourselves."
In the video, the man forcefully shoved his hand into his right eye. His eye socket stretched grotesquely; his facial features distorted as if melting. He rummaged inside, then slowly pulled his hand out.
Throughout the entire process, his face was covered in blood and flesh, impossible to make out clearly.
Wang Shun paused the video. "As you can see, the way he summons his weapon is extremely bloody. Combined with his appearance, his popularity has always been limited."
"But this year, his popularity has skyrocketed—nearly rivaling the veteran tactician, the Reverse God."
Mu Sicheng frowned. "Why?"
Wang Shun paused. "I think the Reverse God's departure allowed him to rise."
"You can tell from the video that the Executioner's style is bloody, aggressive, and brutal. On the field, he's an extremely offensive main attacker, specializing in high-pressure tactics and lethal strikes."
"But the Reverse God was a moderate tactician who rarely killed. And since the Executioner was completely obedient to him, he often held back in matches. He couldn't display his full strength, nor show the side of himself that excites the audience."
"After the Reverse God left this year, the Executioner brought in the Clown—a newcomer more aligned with his style. The tactics he now formulates are far more extreme. In matches, he's fully unleashed all that suppressed aggression."
Wang Shun played another clip. "This is Deer Hunters versus the nineteenth-ranked team, Moon Serpent."
In the video, the Executioner, coat draped over his shoulders and face drenched in blood, gripped the neck of a massive twisting snake with skeletal, blood-slick hands. He knelt casually, almost leisurely, but the veins in his arms bulged as he slammed the snake into the ground.
The snake spasmed, then its body burst apart inch by inch. Blood sprayed everywhere. The snake's head reverted to human form, screaming, "It hurts! It hurts! I surrender! I surrender!"
Before he could press the surrender panel, he collapsed, unmoving. Tears seemed to drip from his wide, fixed eyes.
The Executioner rose slowly at the end-of-match notification. He tossed his blood-soaked coat over the man's head, took out a cigarette, lit it through a split opening in his twisted, bloody face, and exhaled.
"If you break the law and hurt others, you deserve to be tortured. Pain is only the simplest part of your punishment."
Wang Shun paused and zoomed in. "See this? The silver ring on his middle finger."
Mu Sicheng squinted. "I see it."
"That ring is his skill weapon—called the Death Ring."
Wang Shun explained, "It's said to have been given to executioners by Saint King Herod, a ruler described as fair, just, supreme, kind, and merciful."
"Legend says that when an executioner feared hanging a powerful enemy king, King Herod removed his ring and gave it to him, saying he was merely executing a sinner and had nothing to fear."
"From then on, the king granted him the authority to execute any criminal—even royalty. That ring became the Ring of Death."
"The exact mechanics are unclear. But it's said that anyone touched by the ring experiences unbearable pain, as though tortured countless times, until they die from it."
"I've gathered information on players he's touched. Generally, the more severe the pain, the more serious the crimes they've committed in real life."
"But not always. Some sanctioned players hadn't yet committed crimes—but seemed likely to. They still suffered intense pain."
"If the Reverse God hadn't repeatedly intervened, some of them would've been tortured to death."
"So my personal conclusion is that the Executioner's judgment may be subjective. The severity of torture depends on how guilty he believes you are."
"The Reverse God's departure has effectively removed his restraints," Wang Shun said solemnly. "That's bad news for us. He can now dominate the arena without hesitation—and he won't show mercy when facing us either."
"Let's just hope he has a favorable impression of all of you."
"Finally, about tomorrow's match." Wang Shun gave a bitter smile. "I talked so long because I didn't want to announce this."
"We only have one match tomorrow."
"Our opponent is—"
He took a deep breath.
"Fanatic Lambs."
—————————————————
In the viewing hall, Bai Liu had just exited when someone began tailing him.
The man held a fist-sized camera and blended into the dense crowd, adjusting angles carefully—like a seasoned paparazzo.
Bai Liu appeared unaware, chatting naturally.
The paparazzo smirked, pressed the shutter, and the camera spat out a photo with a faint squeak.
He glanced at it, grinned, opened his system panel, and sent a message:
[Got it. Take action.]
In the photo, Du Sanying sat opposite Bai Liu, slurping noodles blankly. Beneath him was a clear string of ten-digit real-world coordinates.
—————————————————
In the Real World
Du Sanying finished the beef noodles Bai Liu had brought home and curiously watched Bai Liu lounging on the sofa, watching TV.
Normally, Bai Liu would've showered and gone to bed by now. But tonight he was still watching television.
On screen played "In the Night Garden."
Does Mr. Bai Liu like this?
Actually, Bai Liu didn't—but he hadn't paid the premium channel subscription, so only basic channels were available. He'd eventually settled on the children's channel.
"Mr. Bai Liu," Du Sanying asked, "aren't you going to shower and rest? Tomorrow's match is important."
"Not yet," Bai Liu replied calmly. "Someone will be coming soon. I'm taking you out for a while."
Du Sanying suddenly understood. "That's why you left Mu's motorcycle downstairs? Are we going out on it?"
He scratched his head shyly. "It looks so cool. I can't ride, but it'd be nice just to sit on it."
Bai Liu hummed. "I can't ride either."
Du Sanying laughed in relief—then froze.
"Wait—if neither of us can ride, who's driving?!"
Motorcycles roared beneath the window. Engines howled. Blinding high beams flooded the room.
Bai Liu smiled faintly. "They're here."
"What's here?!"
Bai Liu turned off the TV, unbuttoned his shirt collar for easier movement, rolled up his sleeves twice, and looked at Du Sanying.
"The biker gang ambushing us. Let's go downstairs and ride."
"But neither of us can drive!"
"It's fine. I just need you."
Bai Liu tossed Du Sanying a helmet, put on his own, then pulled a rusty baseball bat from the shoe cabinet, testing its weight.
"Ready?"
Du Sanying fastened his helmet frantically. "Ready!"
"Come here."
Du Sanying stared at Bai Liu's outstretched hand, clenched his fists, and grabbed it.
Metal clanged outside. Footsteps stopped at their door.
"When I open it," Bai Liu said softly, "close your eyes."
The door slammed.
"Bai Liu, get out!"
"You dare offend Brother Kong? We'll break your legs!"
Bai Liu opened the door calmly. "Close your eyes."
Du Sanying obeyed.
Weapons swung toward them.
At that instant, the door collapsed outward, knocking the attackers off balance.
Bai Liu struck twice without hesitation.
Blood splattered across his face.
He pulled Du Sanying forward.
More rushed up the stairs.
"I'm fine," Bai Liu said evenly. "Whatever happens next, don't open your eyes."
He pushed Du Sanying down the stairwell.
The iron railing suddenly gave way.
Attackers toppled, stabbing themselves in the chaos.
Screams erupted.
Bai Liu landed lightly beside Du Sanying.
"Can I open my eyes?" Du Sanying trembled.
Bai Liu glanced at a man attempting to rise.
He brought the bat down.
"You can open them now."
Du Sanying opened his eyes—and screamed.
The stairwell was filled with groaning thugs, tangled beneath collapsed railings, blood pooling across the concrete.
A streak of blood marked Bai Liu's cheek.
"Did you… handle all of them?" Du Sanying stammered.
Bai Liu glanced at him. "No. I just assisted you."
"...???"
"Did I do this?!" Du Sanying nearly collapsed. "Did I break the law?!"
"No," Bai Liu said calmly. "I checked. It's legitimate self-defense."