Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

At midnight, at Pier 3 in Beigang, the fog was so thick it resembled unmelting corpse oil.

The refrigerated ship "Polaris" resembled a stranded steel behemoth, its rusted hull gleaming with a dark red luster under the moonlight, like congealed blood.

The once vibrant paint on the ship's hull has peeled away completely, revealing the steel plates underneath, corroded by seawater and riddled with honeycomb-like holes.

The only thing intact was the huge, fluorescently painted broken ice blade emblem on the side of the hull.

It glowed a faint green light in the darkness, like a watchful eye.

Gu Xidong and Ling Wuwen mingled among a group of equally silent contestants and climbed onto the deck via a makeshift gangway.

The temperature dropped sharply the moment we boarded the ship.

It wasn't just psychological—Gu Xidong saw his breath quickly condense into ice crystals in the air.

The thermometer reads: -15℃. This is the normal temperature in the cargo hold of a refrigerated ship, but now the entire hold has been converted into an ice rink.

"Stay close to me," Ling Wuwen whispered.

She had changed into a black training outfit, her face was no longer painted, but she was wearing a black half-face mask—

This is a requirement of the competition organizers; all contestants must cover their facial features.

Gu Xidong was also wearing the same mask. His left knee was wrapped in a thick elastic bandage with a pain-relieving patch specially made by Ling Wuwen inside.

The drug is very potent, enough to make him temporarily forget the pain, but the cost is that his reaction speed will decrease by 15%.

He needs pain.

But the competition still needs to be completed.

At the end of the gangway was a heavy-duty refrigeration compartment door.

A man dressed in a white winter coat and wearing an ice sculpture mask stood by the door, the icicles on the mask reflecting an eerie light in the dim light.

He held a metal detector and scanned each person entering the venue one by one.

"Weapons, communication equipment, and audio/video recording equipment are all prohibited from being brought in."

The man's voice came through the mask, carrying a metallic, distorted quality, "Those who violate this rule... will bear the consequences."

When it was Gu Xidong's turn, the detector beeped at his left knee.

The man raised his head, his eyes beneath the ice sculpture mask revealing no emotion.

"Medical implants," Gu Xidong said calmly, "titanium alloy knee braces."

The man didn't say anything, but simply scanned the area again with the detector, then waved for them to pass.

Ling Wuwen followed closely behind, but the detector did not sound.

The freezer door slammed shut behind them.

2

Inside the door lies another world.

Gu Xidong's first impression was: cold.

A chill that seeped into my bones, as if even my blood was freezing. The second sensation was: stench. A strong, metallic smell mixed with a cloying, stale, bloody odor, and something else…

The stench of decay was so strong that even disinfectant couldn't mask it.

They were standing on the second floor of a huge cargo hold that had been converted into a spectator stand.

Beneath my feet was a steel mesh floor, and through the mesh I could see twenty meters below, illuminated by a spotlight—

Ice rink.

If you can still call that an ice rink.

It was a circular ice surface about thirty meters in diameter, roughly poured into the bottom of the cargo hold.

The ice was cloudy and yellowish, with crisscrossing cracks and repair marks on its surface. Some areas were filled with a dark red, gelatinous substance, which looked like hideous wounds under the light.

Rusty containers and abandoned refrigeration equipment were piled up at the edge of the ice rink, some of which were still running, emitting a low and continuous hum.

What made Gu Xidong even more uneasy was the audience seating area.

There are approximately two hundred seats arranged in a circle around the ice rink.

There were people sitting in every seat—but their faces were obscured. Everyone wore a uniform white mask with no facial features, only two black eye sockets.

They were dressed in heavy, warm clothing, eerily quiet, no one spoke, no one moved, like two hundred frozen wax figures.

The only light source came from the huge spotlight in the very center of the ice rink.

The lampposts pierced the darkness, illuminating the ice surface in a stark white light, while everything around them was shrouded in thick shadows.

The boundary between light and darkness was so distinct that it seemed as if stepping out of the pillar of light would plunge one into an abyss of no return.

"welcome."

A voice suddenly rang out, echoing through a loudspeaker hidden in the cabin.

The voice was hoarse and aged, yet it carried an unsettling, slippery quality, like a venomous snake gliding across ice.

The spotlight beam moved slowly.

The final image was taken on a high platform opposite the ice rink.

There was a person standing there.

3

He was dressed in an extravagant, pure white tuxedo-like suit, and his face was covered by an intricately sculpted ice mask.

The mask is shaped like a distorted, pained face, with tears carved into the shape of icicles and hanging on both sides of the cheeks.

A real ice blade shard was embedded in the forehead of the mask, gleaming coldly under the light.

"I am the host tonight," the man said with a slight bow. "You can call me... Ice Ghost."

His voice carried throughout the cabin through the loudspeaker, each word like an icicle striking a steel plate.

"First of all, welcome to our players."

The spotlight split into four thinner beams, which shone on the four entrances of the ice rink.

Gu Xidong and Ling Wuwen stood at the east entrance.

At the west entrance, there was a man leaning on a metal cane—

His right leg was amputated below the knee and replaced with a metal prosthesis shaped like an ice skate.

Gu Xidong recognized him: a national team player surnamed Zhao who retired three years ago due to a training accident.

At the south entrance, there is a woman wearing an eye patch.

Her left eye was a deep, dark hole, while her right eye was unusually bright, fixed intently on the ice. Gu Xidong also remembered her:

The ice dancer surnamed Li was hit in the eye by a shard of an opponent's skate at the World Championships four years ago.

At the north entrance, there is a man sitting in a specially made wheelchair.

His neck was immobilized by a metal brace, and his entire upper body was almost unable to move.

Gu Xidong's heart skipped a beat—

That was a male pairs skater surnamed Wang who broke his cervical spine in an exhibition match five years ago. Doctors had predicted that he would never be able to stand up again.

They were all disabled retired athletes.

They were all... people destroyed by the ice.

"As you can see," the Ice Demon's voice rang out again, tinged with a mocking laugh.

"Tonight's match is open only to those who truly understand the 'price of ice'."

His gaze—which could be felt even through the mask—slowly swept over the four groups of contestants.

Finally, it stopped on Gu Xidong.

There was a three-second pause.

Then move it away.

But Gu Xidong's attention had already been drawn to the audience.

In the very center of the first row sat a man who was not wearing the uniform mask.

He wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a gentle, scholarly smile on his face.

He was dressed in a well-tailored dark gray suit, holding a steaming cup of black tea, which seemed out of place in the cold and eerie environment around him.

Gu Xidong's breath caught in his throat at that moment.

He recognized that face.

Zhou Wentao.

He is the vice chairman of the International Skating Union's Referee Committee, an honorary advisor to the Chinese Figure Skating Association, and one of the referees on duty during the "black swan event" three years ago.

In the official investigation report, Zhou Wentao was the first person to stand up and "speak" for Gu Xidong.

He said, "This is just a tragic accident," that "Gu Xidong is an excellent athlete," and that "I hope everyone will give him a chance to make amends."

But now, he's sitting here.

I sat in the first row of this underground ice rink where you risk your life.

Holding a cup of black tea.

Smiling.

4

"The competition consists of three rounds."

The Ice Demon began announcing the rules, his voice echoing through the cold cabin.

"Round 1: Synchronized Spin. Each group of contestants will perform a crouching spin simultaneously, with a rotation speed of no less than 200 revolutions per minute. After one minute, the group with the lowest rotation speed—" He paused, "is eliminated."

"Round Two: Designated Jump. I will announce a jump move, and each group of contestants will attempt it in turn. Losers—"

He paused again, then said, "He left the field with a broken leg."

For the first time, a commotion arose in the audience—not a sound, but the change in airflow caused by the simultaneous slight forward lean of two hundred people.

The eyes beneath those white masks gleamed with excitement in the darkness.

"Round Three: Free Play. Contestants can choose their own moves, and the audience will vote to determine the champion."

The Ice Demon's lips slowly parted beneath his ice mask. "The one with the most votes wins a prize of five hundred thousand dollars."

He raised his hand and added:

"Of course, there's also a hidden rule."

The spotlight suddenly became brighter, almost blinding.

"Any contestant may, at any time, bet on performing an 'extremely difficult move'—designated by me on the spot. If successful, the prize money doubles. If unsuccessful…"

He didn't continue.

But everyone understands.

"Now," the Ice Demon said, opening his arms, "round one, begin!"

Four spotlights shone simultaneously on the four groups of contestants.

Ling Wuwen immediately squatted down and began to inspect the ice surface.

Her fingers traced the cracks and patches, her expression growing increasingly grim.

"The ice is extremely uneven," she whispered to Gu Xidong.

"The temperature at the crack is at least five degrees lower than the surrounding area, which causes a sudden change in blade resistance. That red filler... is some kind of high-viscosity colloid that sticks to the ice skate."

Gu Xidong nodded and moved his left knee.

The pain relief patch becomes less effective at low temperatures, and the pain feels like tiny needles, starting to pierce through the bones.

"How many turns can we make?" he asked.

"On a normal ice surface, we can reach a maximum speed of 320 during training."

Ling Wuwen calmly said, "On this kind of ice... a conservative estimate is 260. But for the other groups—"

She looked at the three groups of injured athletes.

Zhao's metal prosthetic leg rubbed against the ice, making a piercing noise.

Li's blindfold inevitably distorted her judgment of the axis of rotation. Wang's wheelchair... he couldn't even stand up.

"They won't last past 220," Ling Wuwen judged. "As long as we hold our ground, we can win."

"Winning isn't enough." Gu Xidong stared at Zhou Wentao in the first row of the audience. "We need to make them remember."

The Ice Demon's countdown began: "Ten, nine, eight..."

Gu Xidong and Ling Wuwen stood in the center of the ice rink, back to back, ready to take off.

"Three, two, one—Go!"

5

All four groups of contestants started spinning at the same time.

Gu Xidong immediately sensed something was wrong—the resistance fluctuated wildly the moment the ice skate cut into the ice, just like sliding on rough sandpaper.

He had to use 30 percent more leg strength than usual to maintain the rotation speed.

Ling Wuwen was behind him, and the two of them were in amazing sync with each other's rotation axes.

a circle.

Two laps.

The tachometer started jumping: 180, 200, 220...

The audience remained quiet, but Gu Xidong could sense that the eyes behind those masks were fixed intently on the tachometer display.

The situation in the other three groups was significantly worse.

Zhao's metal prosthetic leg slipped on the ice, his body was shaking violently, and his rotation speed was stuck at 190.

Li's blindfold prevented her from accurately judging the center of rotation; her trajectory was an ever-expanding spiral, rotating at 210 RPM, but with extremely poor stability.

The king's wheelchair... His companions tried to push him around, but the wheelchair couldn't turn at all on the ice, only managing a pitiful 150.

"250!" Ice Demon's voice rang out, "Thirty seconds left!"

Gu Xidong gritted his teeth.

His left knee began to make a faint, but audible, creaking sound—

That was the sound of metal fatigue from the titanium alloy support under overload operation.

The pain surged up like a tide, crashing against the dam built by the pain relief patch.

"Gu Xidong," Ling Wuwen's voice came from behind, tinged with urgency, "your left leg—"

"It's nothing," Gu Xidong squeezed out through gritted teeth.

He exerted his strength suddenly!

Tighten your core, push off with your right leg, and keep your left leg firmly planted on the ice as the axis of rotation.

The tachometer was jumping wildly: 260, 270, 280!

For the first time, a sound rang out around the ice rink—not applause, not cheers, but a low, muffled hum that seemed to come from deep within a throat.

The audience members behind the white masks were shocked by this number.

280 RPM.

On such a treacherous ice surface.

It was completed by a retired athlete who had suffered a serious injury to his left leg.

This has gone beyond the scope of a "competition".

This is defying the laws of physics.

"Time's up!"

All four spotlights went out at the same time.

Only one lamp remained in the center, slowly moving to illuminate the four groups of contestants.

Gu Xidong and Ling Wuwen slowly stopped spinning.

Gu Xidong's left leg was trembling violently, but he forced himself to stand up straight.

Ling Wuwen immediately supported his arm and pressed his finger on his elbow joint—that was their agreed-upon signal: "Hold on."

Ice Ghost walked to the center of the ice rink, holding a tablet computer in his hand.

"First round results."

He looked up, his eyes beneath the ice mask sweeping over the four groups of contestants.

Fourth place: Wang Group, 152 turns.

Third place: Zhao Group, 193 turns.

Second place: Li's team, 215 turns.

"First place—"

He paused, his gaze falling on Gu Xidong.

"Gu Group, 280 RPM."

The buzzing from the audience grew even louder.

"According to the rules," Ice Ghost's voice rose, "the King's Group is eliminated."

The spotlight shone on Wang and his companion. The man in the wheelchair looked up, his face beneath the metal braces eerily calm.

His companion—a woman who was also disabled—pushed a wheelchair slowly toward the exit.

There were no protests.

There was no pleading.

It was as if we already knew this ending.

As Wang passed Gu Xidong, he suddenly turned his head and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear:

Don't believe anything they say.

Then, he and his wheelchair disappeared into the dark exit.

Gu Xidong's heart suddenly tightened.

6

Congratulations to the remaining three groups of contestants.

The Ice Demon's voice pulled Gu Xidong back to reality.

"Now, let's announce the second round of actions."

The spotlight was back on him.

He slowly raised his right hand, extending four fingers.

"Round Two, Designated Jump—"

His voice echoed in the cold cabin, each word striking Gu Xidong's nerves.

"Quadruple toe loop".

"4T".

Gu Xidong's body froze instantly.

It's not because the movement is too difficult—for him, 4T was as natural as breathing three years ago.

Rather, it's because of...the timing.

After his left leg was still recovering from a serious injury, the ice surface was in extremely poor condition, and he had just completed a high-intensity spin—

He was asked to do a quadruple jump immediately.

This is not a competition.

This is murder.

"Rule additions," the Ice Demon continued, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Both contestants in each group must complete the task. If one contestant fails, the entire group is eliminated."

He paused, then looked at Gu Xidong.

"And the losers—"

Beneath the ice mask, his mouth stretched into a wide grin that reached his ears.

"He left the field with a broken leg."