Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

"Don't rush. Before you enjoy the eternal torment after death, I still have at least two hundred more shots to take care of with you."

---

P.S.: I originally wanted to add a knight demon (based on that soldier guy), but this guy still has an account on Bilibili, so I decided against it, afraid he might see it. But this guy's story is truly romantic: a fully armored knight storms a villain's fortress to rescue his partner and fight his way out of hell—it's practically a knight-errant novel come to life.

880

599. The Crimson King's Civilization Destruction Game

"This shot was fired from the meditation room, this shot was fired from the psychological counseling room, this shot was fired from everyone you've ever pulled down..."

Instructor Ma lay motionless on the ground. His body was riddled with holes, bones shattered, brain matter splattered, and his heart had stopped beating, but he was still alive. Still alive.

The effects of what happened after his death will affect him. As long as Chen Yu, the victim, does not determine that he is dead, he will remain in this vibrant state!

Of course, even in death, one will still be subject to eternal torment from which there is no escape.

He fired countless shots, and finally, seemingly satisfied, he fell silent. Instructor Ma's body jerked, then remained still. A large patch of dark red blood slowly seeped onto the ground.

But his consciousness still screamed and cried out in endless pain, pleading for release amidst the ever-spreading agony and torment.

But liberation is destined never to come; he will be consumed by endless suffering, and then continue to suffer.

The courtyard was quiet. The sound of the wind whistling through the barbed wire on the wall could be heard. The dozens of students stood motionless, like a row of statues. No one screamed. No one ran. They just watched. Watched the boy who had once knelt where they had knelt, use his hands, now transformed into guns, to blast open the gates of hell from the inside.

"Let's go!" Chen Yu said softly, pointing to the blasted-open gate.

"No one will stop you now. Take what you're entitled to, go home, and do what you're supposed to do!"

The students looked at each other in dismay, and soon, following the first person to leave, the second, and the third, they quickly escaped this hell!

As for what they will do after escaping from hell, only they and God know.

The other instructors started screaming and running away. Some ran towards the dormitory building, some towards the canteen, and some towards the counseling room, perhaps to get something or to leave through the back door.

Chen Yu walked forward unhurriedly. He raised his left and right hands alternately, and with each raise, a person fell. Bullets flew through the courtyard, making unbelievable turns, bypassing the heads of fleeing people, slipping through door cracks, and passing through broken window holes.

The female instructor in charge of logistics—the same woman who went through his phone's photo album and read his chat history aloud in front of everyone—was hiding behind a cabinet in the cafeteria. Chen Yu's bullet bypassed the metal plate of the cabinet, curving in from the side and striking her temple. She didn't even have time to close the cabinet door.

The tall, thin guy who had kicked him when he was locked in the meditation room tried to climb over the back wall. He climbed onto the top of the wall, one leg already over the edge. Chen Yu's M4 bullet, fired from a hundred meters away, pierced precisely through the back of his head. His body hung on the barbed wire, the barbs catching his clothes, leaving him dangling there, swaying like a flag.

There was another instructor, whose name Chen Yu didn't know. He only remembered that his favorite thing to do was to grab a few girls and take them to his office to "help" him. He was running in the dormitory corridor, and when he reached the end, he found there was no way out. When he turned around, his face was no longer strong—because it was covered with his own blood and bits of flesh.

Gunfire continued. Left hand fired, then right hand fired, then left hand fired. Scrap shells fell to the ground, clattering and piling up quickly at his feet.

He discovered for the first time that AK cartridge cases were brass-colored, while M4 cartridge cases were steel-gray. The two types of cartridge cases were mixed together, covering the cement ground of the yard.

He eventually returned to his dormitory, where the bed was still made the way he had left it. His blankets were unmade; he stood by his bed for a while, then smashed them to pieces.

The gunfire stopped—yes, everyone was dead. Every instructor, every teacher, every person in camouflage or carrying a baton and stun gun in the school lay on the concrete ground they had once walked on.

As time goes by, they will be stuffed into crematoriums, screaming silently in the excruciating pain of being burned alive, and then, as their ashes are rubbed together, they will continue their eternal suffering in eternal darkness.

This is their fate, this is the fate that this cursed world imposes on every sinner deemed deserving of death.

There is no compassion, no mercy, only suffering!

Chen Yu stepped out of the iron gate. The sirens of police cars were already blaring. He quickened his pace. He had to go home. He had to get home as soon as possible!

The thought of what he was going to do made him tremble with excitement!

So he started running, which was surprisingly quick and easy, as if he had been liberated from something, and he felt like he had become a different person.

Soon, he returned home. As he went upstairs, his bloody handprint remained on the security door from his previous visit. He struck it with the muzzle of his AK-47 in his right hand. Thump, thump, thump. The metal door resonated with a dull thud.

880 >>

Someone inside asked who it was, and after a while, the door opened.

His mother stood in the doorway. She had just come from the kitchen, still holding a spatula covered in grains of fried rice. When she saw Chen Yu's face, her expression one of anger and disappointment, her first reaction was to scold him for coming home again.

Then her gaze shifted downwards and she saw his hands. Not hands. Two guns.

That angry expression underwent the most complex changes he had ever witnessed in his life over the next few seconds. Anger turned to confusion, confusion to shock, shock to fear, and her face resembled a crumpled piece of paper, with all her expressions shattered on it.

"Xiao...Xiaoyu?"

Her voice trembled, stammering. The shovel fell from her hand, the metal hitting the floor tiles. Her father walked out of the living room, still holding the remote control, wearing slippers, his face etched with impatience.

"What are you doing! What are you doing! He's back again? I'm going to fucking kill him..."

Then he saw his son's face. The remote control slipped from his hand, hit the side of the coffee table, bounced twice on the floor, and rolled under the sofa.

Do you know what that school is like?

Chen Yu's voice was very soft, so soft it was almost like he was talking to himself. There was no anger, no sobbing, no more of his previous pleading.

“They beat people with sticks,” he said. “They use electricity. Then they lock us in a dark room, and after we’ve finally tamed them, they’ll take off our pants. You know what that means.”

A long silence filled the living room. His mother's hands trembled, her mouth opened and closed, tears rolling down her cheeks. Those tears were real. But Chen Yu watched them, feeling nothing.

“I don’t know…we really didn’t know this would happen—” His voice broke in his throat.

"No, you know, I've said it more than once," Chen Yu said calmly.

“You chose the school, you gave the money, and I begged you to let me go home, but you still won’t let me come back.”

"We're doing this for your own good—"

His father finally regained his voice, but it sounded strained and thin, as if it were being forced out of his throat.

“You don’t even know his name.” Chen Yu looked at his father. “That instructor’s surname is Ma. The guy who said ‘thank you for your help’ when you shook hands with him was the one who took off your son’s pants in the counseling room.”

His father's face flushed red. But did he truly regret it? Welcome to the boundless fantasy continent... No, Chen Yu didn't believe it.

"Xiaoyu".

His mother took a step forward. Her hand was trembling as she reached out to touch his face, pleading.

"It's Mom's fault. It's all Mom's fault. It's good that you're back. Put that thing down. Okay? Come home, Mom will buy you whatever you want, and Mom will never send you there again. Mom—"

"I killed all the instructors in that school," Chen Yu interrupted her calmly.

"There were thirty-six people in total, and not one of them was left. I killed them all."

His mother collapsed to the ground in fear, while his father's face turned deathly pale.

"Chen Yu," his father said. He used a consultative tone; this was the first time this man had called his name in a tone that wasn't commanding.

"Listen to Dad—"

"I won't listen," Chen Yu said casually.

"If you won't listen to me, I don't want to listen to you either."

Chen Yu glanced at the wall clock; he was too tired to speak anymore. He raised his right hand, pointed the AK-47 at his father, and revealed a happy smile.

"You're right, Dad, I'm addicted to games, I love games to death!"

"Chen Yu, how dare you—" His father's voice finally broke through, filled with fear and incredulous anger.

The gun went off, and he fell into a pool of blood, his face filled with disbelief.

"Head, shot!" he chuckled, speaking in the game's voice line.

The M4A1 was pointed at his mother.

"Xiaoyu—Xiaoyu's mom was wrong—"

She screamed and begged for mercy, but Chen Yu tilted his head and answered his mother's apology with that classic line.

"No, you don't know you're wrong, you just know you're going to die."

A shot rang out.

"Double Killer!"

She lay on the floor she had just mopped, blood everywhere, her eyes wide open in death.

Chen Yu took a deep breath, looked up, and saw a ten-year-old Chen Yu smiling in the family photo on the wall, carrying a schoolbag and being led by the hand by his parents. Outside the photo, however, he was standing in front of his parents' corpses.

He bent down and touched the fried rice on the table with the muzzle of the gun. Rice grains stuck to the barrel. He stood up and brought the barrel to his mouth. He touched the rice grains with his lips. It was fried rice his mother made. It had diced ham and corn kernels in it.

He chewed twice. The rice was cold. The egg was cold too. There wasn't enough of anything. But he still swallowed it.

He walked over and sat down on the sofa. The television was still on. The morning news had finished, and now it was the weather forecast. It was going to rain tomorrow.

He closed his eyes, trying not to think about anything.

Soon, the door was kicked open, and people surrounded him, shouting at him to drop his weapon. He sat on the sofa without raising his head, lazily letting them arrest him.

Let it be, all he wants now is to get some sleep.

......

Killing dozens of people would warrant the maximum punishment in any country.

880>>>>

The police officers who arrested him argued fiercely about it.

"He killed so many people! Why isn't he sent to prison? He should be shot at!"

"How should we detain him? Send him to prison? He's a minor, and don't forget how chaotic the world has become since that day!"

"Don't you know how much of a destabilizing factor these people, especially those who have suffered injustice and abuse, are now! Let alone using guns, in our province alone, there have been no fewer than a dozen cases of people turning into monsters and going on a killing spree because of similar experiences!"

"Have you forgotten that worker from a while back who couldn't afford medical treatment because his boss was withholding wages, and his daughter ended up dying? He turned into those 'things' right in front of his boss's house!"

"None of the boss's seventeen family members survived, and not only that, he even caused a scene..."

"In short, it's enough that he surrendered and only became a 'demon'! If he became a 'demon,' we'd all die!"

The police station was quiet. Everyone felt frustrated, helpless, and had very complicated feelings.

Since that great demon was born, which destroyed the world's nuclear weapons and successfully intimidated everyone in the world—nothing seems to have changed much.

They merely announced their existence before vanishing into thin air, the darkness that had sealed off the island nation was lifted, and the people inside fled like madmen.

But the fleet wreckage floating at sea doesn't lie; the livestream of killing hundreds or thousands of criminals at fixed times every day has never stopped.

But the more subtle and terrifying changes happened in a truly silent way.

Society is both a collective where the strong care for the weak and one built upon the exploitation of the weak by the strong—this is an objective fact. No matter where you are, the reality of the Matthew effect overrides everything else.

But with the arrival of the Crimson King, all of that changed.

As they argue, society around the world has now gone completely mad.