Within the gaming world, a colossal sea monster had come ashore on the coast of Dongying Island. It glared furiously at the helicopters circling above, letting out an earth-shaking roar. Dozens of its tentacles swept lightly, snapping the huge sewage pipes, before it slowly moved further inland.

As the creature advanced, it destroyed the nuclear power plant and surged rapidly toward the distant city. Nearly half of the buildings in Jingdong, the island nation’s capital, were reduced to ruin. Casualties mounted, and even when the military was deployed, they proved no match. In desperation, the islanders could only beg for help from the Great Eagle Nation, thousands of miles away.

The sea monster’s existence was exposed for all the world to see. The truth behind the pollution source was also laid bare. International organizations condemned Dongying, but the country’s leaders clung stubbornly to the belief that their pollution was harmless to the azure planet.

…

[Second round of the game completed. Congratulations to surviving players. Rewards have been distributed. The third round will begin in two days. Prepare yourselves!] [Players who failed to clear the game, eradicated!] [Countdown: 10s, 9s... 3s, 2s, 1s.] [Eradication complete.]

This time, everyone on Blue Star could clearly hear the mechanical voice of the game system echoing within their minds. Some, walking along the street, saw nearby passersby suddenly swell like balloons, only to explode into a bloody mist a heartbeat later—so quickly that not even a scream could escape before utter death.

In Huaxia, such scenes played out everywhere. The peace-loving people, for the first time witnessing death up-close, quaked in fear. Some broke into violent tremors; others collapsed on the spot. They had believed… this damned survival game would only occur once, or twice at most.

Now, the worst had come true—a third round was coming. Which meant there would be a fourth, a fifth, a sixth… Humanity would perish within this game.

On the streets, some clutched their heads and wept, others grinned with wild excitement, and some, their spirits shattered, leapt from tall buildings. Order dissolved in the chaos. Fortunately, Huaxia had been prepared. High-ranking officials began live national broadcasts to comfort the populace. They invited cleared players to teach ordinary people how to handle the games. The masses accepted this, and only a handful of radicals attempted to disrupt the peace—quickly stamped out by the military.

In Sakura Nation, public grievance swelled. Prime Minister Honda Jiantai was overwhelmed, unable to placate the citizens. As a result, brawls, thefts, and assaults broke out continually across the country, and soon, chaos reigned.

The neighboring Glamorous Nation reacted to the mass hysteria by deploying the military to suppress dissent. The results were immediate—after several were killed, few dared cause further trouble.

…

After the last game, it had become impossible for any government to hide the truth. Grim numbers were disclosed: in the first survival game, only one hundred ninety-nine of a million survived. Terror beyond imagination! To be selected for the game was a 99.9% chance of death.

Ye Shu felt dazed, her gaze falling on the spotlessly clean room around her. Her phone showed the date—June 17, 3025, 16:38. Twenty days had passed in the game, yet in real life, only seconds—perhaps not even that—had elapsed.

She summoned her status screen with a thought:

[Player: Ye Shu] [Age: 20] [Game ID: 10096] [Physique: 28] (No sickness nor pain, eating well) [Agility: 25] (Not far behind a working leopard, but endurance far surpasses) [Strength: 30] (One punch could kill a tiger) [Game Points: 2340] [Skill Talent: SSS-level Rewind (Upgradeable, current level 1. On death, rewind to 30 minutes prior. CD: Once every two days. Note: Cannot drop or be stolen)] [Skill Talent: SSS-level Optimization (Upgradeable, current level 1. Can optimize items, dead objects only)] [Item: SS-grade Exorcism Peachwood Sword, 100% durability (Kills evil spirits, chance to drop points. Bound item, cannot drop)]

Ye Shu stared at her own fist, ran through a set of Wing Chun—her palms sliced through the air, then, with one strike, she shattered the solid wooden table. Her hand, white and delicate, bore not a single scratch. Only then was she satisfied, putting her fist away.

Of course, this was hotel property… for which she received a hefty penalty.

As for Lin Qingyue—the one she’d met in the previous game—Ye Shu was almost certain it was him, the one who had hunted her across the bizarre subgames. But could even the greatest NPC transcend between instances? Or was he, in truth, an impostor among players posing as a horror?

Killed by his hand four times in succession, Ye Shu outwardly seemed calm, but inside, she was unraveling. Surviving in body, yet dead in spirit. If not for her overpowered rewind, she’d have likely died the moment the game began.

And then, the sea monster—it had chased only her, through life and death. Who would not lose their mind?

She wanted to complain about… this cursed game.

It was personal.

Ye Shu scoured her interface, finally spotting—at the very bottom, in minuscule font—a suggestion email. She immediately composed a thousand-word complaint.

[Ding! Player Ye Shu’s feedback has been submitted!]

Less than a second later, a mechanical voice responded, while Ye Shu—pleased at the system’s apparent efficiency—awaited the reply.

[Ding! Player Ye Shu’s feedback has been rejected. No evidence of the game deliberately targeting players has been found. Application denied. We look forward to hearing from you again.]

Ye Shu, fuming, offered the system a one-finger salute: “Screw you! Trash game! Not human!”

It was obvious the sea monster targeted her alone—she had seen it from the helicopter. Other players had been unscathed. That monster turning over the cruise ship was more than suspicious; animals didn’t act like that.

[Ding! Player Ye Shu’s second request has been accepted!] [In consideration of player mental health, the Survival Game will introduce a new policy: Individuals aged 9 to under 60 may now refrain from participation. The Survival Game Mall will offer a new item—the Quit Card—which allows holders to avoid game selection!] The next mechanical announcement boomed in the ears of everyone on Blue Star, like thunder in clear skies.

In a sudden turn, Ye Shu silently retracted her gesture. Perhaps the game wasn’t entirely without conscience. How “considerate” and “humane” this system was… Not likely.

This new rule was a lifeline, a stabilizing shot for the masses. Everyone had family somewhere; the Quit Card was the hope they clung to.

In the Huaxia capital, several venerable officials listened to this proclamation with ragged breath. The Quit Card was a safe haven—a guarantee that they’d no longer face mortal peril. Yet, it could only be bought from the game shop and, based on survivor accounts, its price would be steep.

For all its trappings, a game remains a game. Its true face is blood-soaked and brutal. There is no such thing as a free miracle in this world. The only good news was that, for now, the old, the young, and the weak could be spared from the game’s disaster.