Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

Two minutes to prepare.

Gu Xidong knelt on one knee on the ice, his training pants stretched taut across the left leg.

My knee is swollen, swollen like a steamed bun, and the skin has an abnormal purplish-red hue in the low temperature.

Each heartbeat brings a throbbing, hammer-like pain.

Ling Wuwen squatted down in front of him, pressing and checking quickly and precisely with both hands.

"A grade 2 medial collateral ligament sprain, and signs of anterior cruciate ligament tear." Her voice was extremely low, but every word was like an ice pick. "There is at least 20 milliliters of fluid in the joint cavity. Gu Xidong, your knee is like a balloon filled with shards of glass right now."

She looked up, her eyes beneath the mask fixed on him.

You can't jump.

"What will happen if I don't jump?" Gu Xidong forced a smile, but the pain contorted his expression.

"Abstain? And then what? Do you think these people will let us leave this ship safely?"

His gaze swept across the first row of the audience.

Zhou Wentao was still sitting there, the black tea in his hand had gone cold, but he still held it as if he were holding some kind of ceremonial prop.

He was slightly tilting his head, talking quietly to a person wearing a white mask beside him, his gaze occasionally drifting towards the ice rink.

"Do you see that guy in the black suit standing behind Zhou Wentao?" Gu Xidong whispered.

"I'm missing a joint on my left ring finger. At the accident scene three years ago, a 'paramedic' was carrying Ling Wufeng's stretcher when I bumped into him, and his glove slipped off—I saw the joint, and his left ring finger was missing that one joint."

Ling Wuwen's body tensed instantly.

"So they didn't select people randomly," Gu Xidong continued, his voice as cold as ice.

"They came to see the show. To see if I'll make up for the 'accident' I didn't finish three years ago tonight."

He leaned on the railing and struggled to his feet.

My left leg is trembling violently and can barely bear weight.

"Abstaining means death," he said through gritted teeth.

"These people won't let anyone who knows the secret leave alive. The only way to survive is to finish the jump, win, and then—"

"Then, during their award ceremony, create chaos and escape," Ling Wuwen continued.

Gu Xidong was stunned for a moment.

Ling Wuwen had already stood up and took out two palm-sized metal pieces from his small waist pouch.

It is as thin as a cicada's wing, with tiny indicator lights on the edges.

"A miniature electromagnetic pulse jammer," she explained quickly.

"It's attached to the ice rink fence and, once activated, can disable all electronic devices within a ten-meter radius—including lighting controls, surveillance cameras, and those 'little toys' they might be hiding under the ice."

She looked into Gu Xidong's eyes.

"During the third free skate, I'll look for an opportunity to start. The moment the lights go out, we'll run towards the east exit—I've checked the structural plans, there are ventilation ducts there that lead directly to the deck."

Gu Xidong stared at the two metal pieces: "When did you prepare these?"

"Before boarding the ship," Ling Wuwen said calmly, "I never entrust my fate to others."

She put away the jammer, squatted down again, and began to adjust the bandage on Gu Xidong's left knee.

"Listen carefully. Your knees can't withstand a standard 4T impact, so we have to adjust the technical parameters."

She pulled a miniature tablet from the other side of her waist bag and quickly brought up a three-dimensional dynamic model.

"The standard 4T requires a takeoff height of 0.6 meters, a hang time of 0.85 seconds, and a landing impact force of about 8 times your body weight." Her finger slid across the screen. "Given your current injury, if you attempt a hard jump, the shear force your left knee experiences upon landing could completely rupture the ligaments—you'd be permanently disabled."

"so?"

"So we lower the altitude and increase the rotation speed." Ling Wuwen adjusted the new parameters.

"The takeoff height is reduced to 0.4 meters, and the hang time is shortened to 0.7 seconds. This means you need to complete four rotations in a shorter time—the rotation speed needs to be increased by 15%."

Gu Xidong's heart sank.

Reducing the altitude is already risky, let alone increasing the rotation speed? Under the dual interference of pain and low temperature, this is almost an impossible task.

"Your landing posture also needs to be changed," Ling Wuwen continued. "The standard landing is for both feet to land simultaneously, with the center of gravity evenly distributed. But your left knee can't bear weight right now, so I want you to land on your right leg first, absorbing 70% of the impact, while your left leg just lightly touches the ice to help with balance."

She raised her head, her eyes sharp as knives.

"This means that if you don't rotate enough or your landing angle deviates by even 5 degrees, the muscles and Achilles tendon in your right leg will be overloaded, resulting in anything from a strain to—"

"Break it off," Gu Xidong said for her.

"Yes." Ling Wuwen closed the tablet.

"So this isn't a jump, it's a gamble with your life. You're betting on the precision of your control, on the accuracy of my calculations, and on the fact that this broken ice surface won't suddenly collapse."

She stood up and gave Gu Xidong's ice skates one last check.

"Tell me now, Gu Xidong."

Her voice was soft, but every word carried immense weight.

"Do you want to bet?"

A countdown began above the ice rink.

"Thirty seconds to get ready!"

The spotlight shone blindingly on them.

In the audience, two hundred white masks silently turned around.

In the first row, Zhou Wentao put down his cooled black tea, placed his hands folded on his knees, and looked like a gentleman waiting for the show to begin.

Gu Xidong looked into Ling Wuwen's eyes beneath the mask.

Looking into those eyes, I saw a rare, undisguised worry.

Looking into those eyes that had been cold, wary, and unfathomable for the past three years, I saw myself reflected there now—disheveled, in pain, yet with a burning gaze.

"bet."

He said.

2

Zhao jumped first.

The man with the prosthetic ice skate skated to the center of the rink, took a deep breath, and accelerated—

The metal prosthetic limb shattered the moment it was ignited.

It wasn't just loosening; it was a true rupture—a burst of sparks erupted from the titanium alloy joint, and the entire prosthetic limb detached from the knee joint, flying off like a broken tree branch. The man lost his balance, his body twisting half a circle in the air before crashing heavily to the side onto the ice.

"Bang!"

The impact sounded muffled, like a sandbag hitting the ground.

The man lay motionless on the ice.

His companion rushed over and helped him up when two security personnel in black winter suits appeared.

They dragged the man toward the dark exit like a corpse.

A long, dark red drag mark was left on the ice.

There was no emergency medical assistance.

No questions were asked.

It's like dealing with a damaged item.

The audience was deathly silent.

The white masks watched all this silently, their gazes behind their eye sockets cold and numb.

Li's group is second.

The blind female athlete slid down to the starting point with the guidance of her teammate.

She removed the blindfold, revealing the empty socket of her left eye—

There was no prosthetic eye inside; it was just a black hole, bottomless. Her right eye was wide open, staring intently at the ice surface, even though she couldn't actually see anything.

Take off.

The height is good, and the rotation is sufficient.

But the instant she landed on the ice—her right ice skate got stuck in a crevice.

"Snap!"

A piercing cracking sound.

It's not an ice crack, it's bone.

The woman's body fell forward like a broken doll, her right leg twisted at an odd angle.

She let out a short, abrupt scream before losing consciousness.

Security personnel reappeared.

Drag it away.

The second drag mark.

Now, only Gu Xidong's group and another group remain—that group consists of a man and a woman; the man has a missing left arm, and the woman has severe burn scars on her face.

They had retreated to the fence, talking in hushed tones, their faces pale.

"Team Leader Gu, prepare!"

The Ice Demon's voice rang out.

Gu Xidong skated toward the center of the ice rink.

With each step I took, it felt like a knife was twisting in my left knee.

He forced himself to ignore the pain, his brain rapidly calculating the takeoff point, angle, and force distribution—

Ling Wuwen followed half a meter to his side.

She has to do the same jump.

These are the rules: both people must complete the task simultaneously.

She whispered the countdown from beneath her mask: "The take-off point is three steps ahead; the ice surface is relatively flat. Watch out for the crack on your right; avoid it."

Gu Xidong nodded.

The two glided to their designated positions, back to back, ready to jump.

Gu Xidong closed his eyes.

Memories from three years ago flooded back like a tide—the stadium, the lights, the cheers, and… Ling Wufeng’s last words to him:

"Brother, shift your weight forward a little when you land; you've been leaning a bit too far back lately."

At that time, he thought his younger brother was too talkative.

Now, he's willing to give anything to get that voice back.

"Three, two, one—"

Take off.

Gu Xidong's right ice skate slammed into the ice, unleashing a burst of power—

The height is clearly insufficient.

A low hiss came from the audience.

But Gu Xidong didn't care. He tightened his body in mid-air, crossed his arms over his chest, and began to spin wildly—

A week.

The pain caused his core strength to go out of control, and his axis of rotation shifted slightly.

Two weeks.

Low temperatures stiffen muscles, causing rotation speed to decrease.

Three weeks.

He bit the tip of his tongue, using the intense pain to trigger an adrenaline surge—

All around!

The rotation is complete.

But there wasn't enough time—his hang time was too short; he had to complete all his movements within 0.78 seconds, 0.07 seconds faster than the standard. That 0.07 seconds was the difference between life and death.

Ice falling.

The right leg lands first.

The moment the ice skate touched the ice, Gu Xidong felt as if the muscles in his entire leg were being torn apart—following Ling Wuwen's plan, he used his right leg to bear 70% of the impact.

The impact traveled through his bones to his spine, making his vision go black.

He then lightly touched the ice with his left leg.

It's just a "point," I dare not bear any weight.

But it was this very "point" that allowed the swollen knee to bear the last bit of pressure—

"Clatter!"

A crisp sound, which only he could hear.

It was as if something had cracked open.

The excruciating pain overwhelmed him like a tsunami.

His body lurched forward uncontrollably, the ice skates scraping across the ice with a long, piercing sound, and he slid for a full ten meters before finally managing to regain his footing.

The moment he stopped, his right leg buckled, and he knelt on one knee, clutching his left knee tightly with his left hand, letting out a suppressed, beast-like growl.

Cold sweat instantly soaked through his training clothes.

Everything in front of me was blurry.

But he... stopped.

I didn't fall.

It did not crash into the fence.

finished.

3

A brief silence.

Then, the audience erupted in their first real cheer of the night—not applause, but a deep, guttural roar that seemed to come from the depths of their chests.

The white-masked men stood up, some even waving their arms like a pack of hyenas seeing blood.

Gu Xidong knelt on the ice, panting heavily.

The muscles in his right leg were spasming violently, and the pain in his left knee was beyond what he could describe.

He felt warm liquid flowing down his calves and seeping into his skates—it could be blood, it could be tissue fluid, he didn't know.

Ling Wuwen slid to his side.

Her jump was completed relatively smoothly—her knee was not injured, and the ice did not make things difficult for her.

She crouched down and quickly checked Gu Xidong's injuries.

"Right calf muscle grade II strain, left knee..." She pressed her hand on the bandage, her face suddenly turning pale. "The joint capsule may be ruptured. You can't move it anymore, Gu Xidong, if you move your leg again, it'll—"

"The last group!" Ice Demon's voice interrupted her.

The injured duo took to the court.

The male skater skated to the center of the ice rink, his missing left arm maintaining his balance in the air.

The female athlete followed behind him, her burned face expressionless.

They jumped.

It's very low, so rotation is difficult.

As the male skater landed, his skate got stuck in the same crevice—the same crevice that had just caused the blind female skater to break her leg.

"Snap!"

Another crisp sound.

The male athlete screamed and fell onto the ice, his right shinbone piercing through his skin, revealing its white flesh.

Security personnel reappeared.

Drag it away.

The third drag mark.

Now, only Gu Xidong and Ling Wuwen remain on the ice rink.

There were also three dark red streaks of blood on the ice, gradually freezing.

"Round two is over!" Ice Ghost's voice was filled with obvious excitement. "Congratulations to Gu's team for advancing to the finals!"

The spotlight shone on them.

With Ling Wuwen's help, Gu Xidong managed to stand up. His left leg was no longer flexible, and he could only drag himself along.

As she passed the fence, Ling Wuwen slightly turned her body to the side—her left hand lightly touched the metal post of the fence, then quickly withdrew.

Gu Xidong saw it.

The miniature jammer has already been placed in the designated location.

The indicator light flashed a tiny green light in the darkness, then went out.

The first step of the plan is complete.

4

The two skated to the rest area at the edge of the ice rink.

It's called a rest area, but it's really just an open space enclosed by shipping containers with two old plastic chairs.

Ling Wuwen helped Gu Xidong sit down and immediately began to treat his injuries—she took out a syringe from her waist bag and drew out a tube of clear medicine.

"A local anesthetic," she whispered. "It'll get you through the third round. But once the effects wear off, the pain will be doubled."

The needle pierced the swollen skin around the knee.

Injecting cold liquid.

The pain began to slowly recede, replaced by a numb, unreal feeling of floating.

Gu Xidong knew this was not a good thing—anesthesia would mask the signs of injury, and he might unknowingly suffer permanent damage.

But at this moment, he had no choice.

"Round three, free skate," the Ice Demon's voice rang out again. "Skaters may choose their own music and routines. Audience votes will decide the winner. Now, skaters, please draw your music—"

A woman in a white dress and wearing the same ice mask pushed a cart onto the ice rink.

The small car has a crystal turntable with dozens of song titles engraved on it.

"According to the order of completion in the second round, Group Gu will draw first."

Ling Wuwen glanced at Gu Xidong, then slid towards the turntable.

She placed her hand on the edge of the turntable and gently flicked it—

The crystal turntable began to spin, refracting a mesmerizing light under the spotlight.

The rotation speed gradually decreased.

The pointer glides over the titles of songs: Carmen, Swan Lake, Bolero, Turandot...

At last.

stopped.

The spotlight is focused on the position indicated by the pointer.

The ice demon leaned closer, glanced at it, and then slowly raised its head.

For the first time, the eyes beneath the ice mask revealed an undisguised, cruel smile.

"The background music for Gu's group is—"

He paused, his voice echoing in the cold cabin, each word like a knife:

"The Black Swan".

"The song that made Gu Xidong famous when he won the championship three years ago."

The air froze.

The white-masked audience members all turned to Gu Xidong.

At this moment, the gazes behind those eye sockets were no longer numb, but... expectant. A morbid, bloodthirsty expectation.

Zhou Wentao finally put down the teacup he had been holding.

He leaned forward slightly, placing his hands clasped on his knees, like an audience member who had finally waited for the climax of the performance.

A slow smile crept onto his lips.

Gu Xidong sat on the plastic chair, his whole body ice-cold.

It's not cold in the sense of low temperature.

It's the kind of cold that seeps from deep within the bone marrow, freezing the blood.

Black Swan.

The piece of music that elevated him to godhood.

The piece he was skating on before the "accident" happened.

That tune that had played in every one of his nightmares for the past three years.

Now, it's back.

On this hellish ice rink.

At this moment, he was severely injured in his left leg, strained in his right leg, and covered in blood.

came back.

Ling Wuwen stood beside the turntable, his body as stiff as a stone.

Her fingers were still on the edge of the turntable.

Her eyes were fixed on the title of the song.

The face beneath the mask lost all color in that instant.

Gu Xidong slowly raised his head.

He looked at the Ice Demon's icy, smiling face.

Looking at Zhou Wentao's gentle smile.

Looking at the two hundred white, silent masks in the audience, waiting for him to break down.

Then he smiled.

It wasn't a bitter smile.

It wasn't a bitter laugh.

It was a cold, insane laugh mixed with the smell of blood.

"OK."

He said.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was transmitted throughout the entire cabin via microphones hidden around the ice rink.

"Then let's go with 'Black Swan'."

He held onto the railing, supported himself with his right leg, and slowly, he stood up.

The anesthetic in my left leg began to take effect, the pain subsided, and it was replaced by a dangerous, false sense of power.

He looked at the Ice Demon, at Zhou Wentao, and at this hellish place.

He said it word by word:

"The one I didn't finish dancing three years ago."

"Tonight, I'll finish dancing it."