76. The Unspeakable Book of Curses

There were less than two days left before the preliminary round of the Grand Arena Tournament hosted by Radiation Bird Corporation, and their advertisements were plastered everywhere throughout the city. Even the digital billboard outside Uptown High School was looping their promotional video for the tournament:

“Ladies and gentlemen, transgender folks, intersex individuals, cyborgs, radiation mutants, and all other audiences of indeterminate definition! Welcome to the most popular and highest-rated entertainment talent show in all of Night Pivot City! I am your beloved host, Flowery Little Bloom, and I’ll be presiding over this entire competition!”

On the screen, the male host wore an enormous cartoonish flower mask, with a smiling face painted in the center of the blossom, creating a look both comical and bizarre.

“Many thanks to Radiation Bird Corporation for their generous sponsorship of this event! The Grand Arena Tournament is entering its sixty-sixth edition, and we’ve prepared even more spectacular segments and surprises you won’t see coming!”

“Blood! Combat! Carnage! Explosions! And, of course, everyone’s favorite—giant monsters!” Flowery shouted with manic energy, as if he’d just injected military-grade stimulants.

“Victory crowns the king, defeat returns you to dust! Don’t forget to tune in for the preliminaries—scan the QR code at the bottom of your screen to follow the latest updates in real time!”

...

After school, Chen Shang made his way alone to the old city, seeking out Master Pipe Man, intending to purchase something from the mechanical monk.

Upon entering the monk’s private room, Chen Shang found him live-streaming as expected.

On the screen, a 3D anime girl in a pink dress was rhythmically striking a wooden fish, her cute, soft voice reciting lengthy, cryptic Buddhist sutras.

For some unfathomable reason, Chen Shang felt his mind grow hazy as he listened, as if surfing the crest of a high. He imagined countless tentacles undulating before his eyes, the salty tang of sea air drifting to his nose.

Meanwhile, the screen was flooded with creepy comments:

“Ah Meng... hehe... Miss Ameng, I’ve attained enlightenment...”

“Miss Ameng... I feel like I’m ascending to heaven...”

“Tentacles... Miss Ameng’s tentacles are stirring my brain... it feels so good...”

“I see Saint Ameng beckoning to me... hehe, Ameng, my Ameng...”

Sensing something amiss, Chen Shang quickly injected himself with a stabilizing hormone, then strode forward and cut off the mechanical monk’s livestream.

“What are you doing, benefactor?” Master Pipe Man, clad in a motion-capture suit, swiveled his head, his tone shifting to that of a middle-aged man.

“What were you reciting to them?” Chen Shang asked bluntly.

Master Pipe Man closed a battered sheepskin book on the table and handed it to Chen Shang. “Just this—I found it in the junkyard.”

The cover was a deep, blood-purple, veins bulging across its surface, and in the center, a yellow gemstone shaped like an eye.

Chen Shang opened the book to the first page. The words “Death” and “Spirit” stood out amid mostly faded, indistinct text. At the same moment, a faint hallucination flickered before his eyes and a sharp pain pierced his skull, as if some sinister voice was whispering to him.

“What the hell is this?” Chen Shang hastily snapped the book shut. “Are you trying to drive your audience insane?”

“They seemed to enjoy it,” Master Pipe Man replied with utmost seriousness. “When I recited the sutra from this book, I felt as if I was about to ascend to enlightenment—a sensation even stronger than the ‘Great Prairie Series’ e-cigarettes.”

“Damn it, you’re playing with fire! I’m taking this book!” Chen Shang swore, stuffing the book deftly into his backpack.

This, after all, was one of the hidden Easter egg items the developers had tucked into the game—the Cursed Book. He hadn’t expected the monk to stumble across it by chance.

The book’s origins were unknown (the lore hadn’t been written), and its powers were connected with the arcane, though it wasn’t some kind of spellbook granting magical mastery. Its special property was this: whoever recited the sutras within could plunge their audience into a brief state of frenzied hallucination.

Master Pipe Man cleared his throat. “Three thousand credits.”

“You want three thousand for a book you picked up at the dump? Are you robbing me?” Chen Shang feigned outrage.

“If the book were worthless, why would you snatch it away, Benefactor Chen?” The lights on his face flickered.

“Fine, three thousand it is.” Chen Shang sighed, knowing he could never outwit this old fox.

Though just an Easter egg, the book’s effect was terrifying—three thousand credits was a bargain. If Chen Shang opened it and recited a few lines in a crowded place, it would be as effective as releasing a mass dose of hallucinogens.

“By the way, I need a few more things from you,” Chen Shang added. “Get me some body armor, blades, firearms, and throw in some potent painkillers and medical supplies.”

“No problem. What’s your budget?” Master Pipe Man pressed his palms together.

“Hundred thousand.” Chen Shang tossed over a Night Emblem.

...

The tournament’s preliminary round was held in the Tie Ridge District.

Once an ordinary residential area, it was forever changed when a hydrogen bomb detonated above the mountains, reshaping the landscape entirely.

On the day of the preliminaries, Chiyoko Yasougi, after a long absence, turned on her television and sat primly on the sofa to watch the live broadcast.

On screen, the mountains were split in two, the ruins from the explosion still visible, along with skeletons not yet reclaimed by wind and time.

To compete in such a hellscape tested not just the contestants’ combat skills, but their psychological endurance as well.

“Greetings, viewers! I’m your premier host, Flowery! The match for Group Ten is about to begin—let’s get hyped!”

Flowery still wore his ridiculous flower-head mask, ambling through the shattered ruins. He casually kicked aside obstructing bones, waving his microphone with manic energy.

“This round is a battle royale. Fifteen teams will be dropped into the arena to fight—no restrictions on weapons or gear... just don’t bring in nukes, okay?”

“In short: only the last surviving team advances to the finals. As for those who lose... hehehe, if you bought insurance, let’s hope your family gets a big payout!”

Flowery’s snide laughter, paired with his flower mask, oozed mockery.

Behind him, across the vast plain, three contestants dressed as mercenaries approached the camera, guided by staff.

The trio was fully armed but unremarkable: standard-issue helmets and dust masks, sturdy bulletproof vests, regulation submachine guns and knives, and uniforms that looked like they belonged to some security company.

“Gentlemen, may I ask your team’s name?” Flowery inquired with forced enthusiasm.

The lead mercenary replied in a flat tone, “We’re the Wild Wolf Squad.”

“Oho! How cool! Let’s give a warm round of applause for Wild Wolf Squad!” Flowery shouted in a monotone, barely disguising his boredom. “Contestants, please proceed to the arena and prepare yourselves!”

Flowery’s professionalism was undeniable. Had it been any other host, they would’ve treated these three with open disdain.

Just four or five days prior, the organizers received word that most of Group Ten’s contestants had either withdrawn or been mysteriously killed.

Of the two remaining teams, one was the Xu Corporation’s official squad; the other was an unknown wild card.

As the organizers debated moving them to another bracket, they suddenly received a flood of new registrations—just enough to fill the empty slots in Group Ten.

Anyone with half a brain could tell this wasn’t a coincidence. Still, the organizers had no proof of the Xu Corporation rigging the contest, nor could they find replacement contestants in time.

Thus, the Xu Corporation’s “actors” seamlessly filled Group Ten, allowing the show to go on as planned.

For a match with a predetermined outcome, Flowery felt no excitement—he was simply there to go through the motions.

He barely stifled a yawn, forcing energy into his voice:

“And now… let’s welcome the second team!”