Hell Game: Starting from Metropolis

"ah!"

She gasped softly, her face flushed.

Feeling the imperceptible dampness, the woman in the evening gown finally understood something.

She doesn't like women; she just likes beautiful women.

"Ok?"

The novelist snorted through his nose.

Chapter 219 Isn't this a novelist? He's gotten so sluggish after just a few days.

The woman in the evening gown immediately lowered her head.

Liu Zheng also withdrew his gaze.

"Senior, let's go in."

The novelist took the initiative to hold his tentacle.

"it is good."

Liu Zheng nodded and strode forward.

The novelist looked up at him, then suddenly turned back.

The driver's gaze met hers in mid-air, and after this invisible collision, his figure suddenly became illusory for a moment.

"What an amazing woman."

The driver looked away.

Young people are certainly lucky with women, but it's hard for them to handle it all.

He shook his head and started the engine.

"what happened?"

Sensing the novelist's sudden tremor, Liu Zheng looked down and asked.

"Nothing, Senior."

She shook her head.

"Ok."

Since she wouldn't say, Liu Zheng didn't press her further.

The two arrived at the club's entrance, where a waiter stopped them.

"Welcome to our two guests. Would you like to participate as Izanami or as a novelist?"

The waiter asked politely.

"Izanami?"

Liu Zheng looked at the novelist.

"That was my pen name, senior."

The novelist explained.

"Oh. What's the difference between those two identities?"

he asked.

"The Writers Association divides literary works into many fields. A writer's pen name can only correspond to one field, and he can enjoy the achievements and treatment in that field."

The waiter offered an explanation.

"I see."

Liu Zheng nodded.

He remained silent, leaving the choice to the novelist.

"I want to participate as a novelist."

After a moment of silence, the novelist gritted his teeth and said.

"Okay, here are your entry and exit passes. Please take them."

The waiter took out two gray quill pens and handed them to the two men.

The novelist clipped his quill pen to his chest, and Liu Zheng followed suit.

"please."

The waiter made way for the passage, and behind the door was a magnificent hall.

However, when Liu Zheng stepped through the gate, his hooves didn't land on a soft carpet, but on hard stones.

What he saw was not a banquet hall, but a huge circular building.

At the heart of the building is a large plaza, surrounded by tiered stands.

The stands are supported by three layers of concrete cylindrical arches, each layer with dozens of arches, forming three concentric rings of corridors at different heights, with the top layer being a solid wall tens of meters high.

This building is so magnificent and full of classical charm.

Liu Zheng happened to recognize this building; in reality, it's called the Colosseum in ancient Rome.

The gray quill pen suddenly stood up and pointed in one direction.

Liu Zheng guessed that this was probably leading them the way, so he led the novelist in the direction of the quill pen.

They quickly found their seats.

To be precise, it was a location, because they didn't have seats.

Similar to seating arrangements at modern concerts, in the ancient Roman Colosseum, the closer to the front row, the more prestigious the seating.

Liu Zhenghe, a novelist, occupies the top tier, which in ancient Rome was reserved for the lowest strata of society, such as women without status, slaves, and the poor.

He glanced at the novelist, whose face was expressionless.

But compared to her smiling face when they met, this expression already speaks volumes about her current mood.

"Why is there no one here? Did we arrive too early?"

Liu Zheng started the conversation.

"They've arrived, but we'll only be able to see them when the time comes."

The novelist shook his head and said.

"I see."

He glanced at his phone; there were still five minutes left.

"Oh, by the way, I have a gift for you."

He took out the "Editor's Notebook" from the system space and the keyboard pad from the takeout box.

"This is."

The novelist received the "Editor's Notes" book with delight in his eyes.

Even for someone of her stature, this was an extremely rare and valuable item.

To obtain it, power and money alone are not enough; extremely stringent conditions must also be met.

She had seen it once at an auction held within the Writers' Association, and the final price surprised even her.

Liu Zheng simply gave it to her, as casually as giving her a cup of coffee.

And this keyboard pad.

The novelist stroked the silky surface; it felt incredibly smooth.

The silk fabrics of the Weaver Spider Clan are considered high-end goods throughout the metropolis.

"Senior, do you know their value?"

The novelist asked.

"I don't know. Do you like it?"

Liu Zheng countered with a question.

"I love so much."

The novelist replied.

"Oh, that's enough."

He nodded.

"Ah."

The novelist looked up at him, his gaze gentle.

Such a kind senior, it seems a bit of a waste to just eat him.

"clang!"

Suddenly, a tremendous bell rang throughout the entire Colosseum.

As the bell rang, countless figures suddenly appeared in the previously empty stands.

Some of them are people, and some are not.

Some are humanoid, and some are not.

Some don't even have a complete body, just a hand or a mouth.

But they all have one thing in common: they all have a quill pen attached to them.

The quills in the front row are platinum, the quills in the second row are gold, the quills in the third row are green, the quills in the fourth row are red, and the quills in the fifth row are white.

All the way up to the top floor where Liu Zheng and the novelists stood, their quill pens were gray.

Contrary to Liu Zheng's expectations, the number of attendees at the top level was the smallest, with only a few dozen people.

Therefore, they became the most eye-catching presence in the Colosseum.

Liu Zheng noticed that at least a hundred eyes were scrutinizing the two of them, and the meaning behind those eyes was not very friendly.

"Why are there so few people on the top floor?"

he asked in a low voice.

"The entry requirements for these salon balls are quite high. Top-tier authors are not normally qualified to attend unless they receive a special invitation from the association."

The novelist explained.

"I see. The person who invited you had ulterior motives."

Liu Zheng said frankly.

For a truly unknown author, it's an opportunity, but for a novelist who once had success but then failed, it's a blatant humiliation.

"Yes, and I can't refuse. It's just that I'm dragging my senior into being humiliated along with me."

The novelist said apologetically.

"What does that mean?"

He waved his hand, indicating that he didn't care at all.

It was just standing as punishment; it wasn't humiliation, let alone targeting.

Back when he was eating shit in the sewers.

Hmm, forget it, I'd better not think about it.

"Welcome to this salon ball, everyone. I am your host, 'The Fool'."

A beam of light shone down from the void, illuminating a black cat dressed in a formal suit and wearing a top hat.

Its hind paws support its body, while its front paws hold the microphone, making it look both comical and adorable.

As soon as he finished speaking, enthusiastic applause erupted in the arena.

Liu Zheng also joined in the applause.