Chapter 97: What Can Kill a Civilization Must Be Civilization Itself

Inside the Court Faction’s sacrificial chamber.

Xing Tao and Guo Cai’er stood on the left side of the blood pool, meticulously inspecting their surroundings. Yet, they found no mechanisms, no clues.

The surrounding walls were cold and rigid, devoid of murals or inscriptions. Only a layer of greenish condensation clung to the surface, giving the eerie impression of mold and decay.

“Hisss~!”

From the cracks in the walls, a steady stream of crimson smoke continued to seep out. Whether it was psychological or the poison was truly taking effect, both Xing Tao and Guo Cai’er started to feel a tightness in their chests, their breathing labored. An unshakable sense of irritability crept into their minds…

At the center of the chamber’s ceiling, a flickering flame burned still, much like an eternal lamp. However, its light failed to reach the edges of the room, leaving them shrouded in darkness.

From Xing Tao’s position, he could vaguely make out the silhouettes of the Horsekeeper and the Scholar, but their facial expressions and subtle movements remained obscured.

In such an oppressively suffocating environment… under the merciless demand of a ritual requiring one sacrifice…

Xing Tao’s bloodshot eyes locked onto the Horsekeeper and the Scholar. His gaze, once controlled, became manic—his eyeballs bulging, reflecting a struggle between fear and desperation.

“Shhh…!”

At that moment, Guo Cai’er subtly bent down and plucked a short spike—about the length of a palm—from a corpse hidden in a shadowy corner.

The object was sharp at both ends, small enough to be concealed within a sleeve. Upon obtaining it, Guo Cai’er instinctively brushed a thumb against its edge, confirming it was still relatively sharp.

“Horsekeeper, come here for a second.” Xing Tao felt Guo Cai’er poke his back lightly. Almost immediately, he understood and called out in an unhurried tone, “Help me check something.”

On the right side of the chamber, the Horsekeeper clenched his fists, hesitation flickering across his face.

From the corner of his eye, he glanced at the Scholar, who stood motionless beside him, seemingly watching him as well.

Sweat trickled down the Horsekeeper’s temples.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed involuntarily.

In those few seconds of hesitation, the Scholar neither spoke nor displayed any discernible movement.

“…Don’t call me. I’m looking at something too.” Gritting his teeth, the Horsekeeper flatly refused Xing Tao’s straightforward “invitation.”

As his words fell, both Xing Tao and Guo Cai’er felt a jolt in their hearts. Their tension skyrocketed, their bodies trembling involuntarily.

It wasn’t excitement, not the kind one felt upon hearing good news.

It was fear. Extreme, unrelenting fear.

After a brief silence, Xing Tao strode toward the center of the blood pool, stepping into the flickering glow of the eternal flame. With a sidelong glance, he noted the second corpse beside him—an unfortunate soul with a rust-covered dagger embedded in his body.

“These damn walls… I doubt even an intercontinental missile could blast through them. What the hell are we still looking for?” Xing Tao snapped impatiently. “You two, come here. Let’s figure this out together.”

His words barely settled when the Scholar took a step forward, positioning himself beside the Horsekeeper, his body angled slightly yet his gaze fixed forward.

“We’ve been here at least six or seven minutes. Half our time is gone,” the Scholar remarked.

“Come on, let’s figure out a plan,” the Horsekeeper said, his tone equally steady, eyes still fixed ahead.

At this moment, their voices carried a semblance of calmness—perhaps a hint of urgency, but no trace of emotional collapse.

In such a suffocating scenario, such measured restraint was unnatural.

It meant that none of them were revealing their true emotions.

The Horsekeeper and the Scholar advanced until they were three steps away from Xing Tao.

“What’s your plan?” the Horsekeeper asked.

Guo Cai’er took a step forward, positioning herself at the intersection of shadow and firelight, her figure both indistinct and outlined.

“I think we should vote. It’s the fairest way.” Xing Tao leaned forward, speaking as he moved. “Let’s quickly vote one person out, then use whatever time we have left to find another way. That way, we can…”

“Hold on. Stay away from that dagger,” the Scholar interjected, his voice calm but firm.

“What do you mean? You’re overthinking it.” Xing Tao raised his hands in a show of innocence, his expression anxious. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that this trial—”

“Shh!”

Mid-sentence, his body suddenly lunged forward, right hand gripping the dagger’s hilt.

“Ugh!”

A sharp whistle tore through the air.

The Scholar, without warning, swung an iron rod from behind his back, aiming straight for Xing Tao’s skull.

“Thud!”

A dull impact echoed through the chamber. Pain flared in Xing Tao’s wrist, forcing him to recoil.

Almost simultaneously, the Horsekeeper, his muscles taut with tension, launched himself at Xing Tao like a cannonball.

His desperation for a decisive kill led him to overexert. The force of the collision sent both men hurtling backward, tumbling three or four meters before crashing onto the ground.

“Smack!”

The sound of fists landing on flesh rang out as the Horsekeeper immediately flipped over, pinning Xing Tao down and swinging two heavy punches at him.

At the same time, Xing Tao raised both arms and tightly grasped the Horsekeeper’s throat, his face twisted with rage as he roared, “Are you fucking stupid?! Only one person needs to be sacrificed! With the three of us, we were guaranteed to win—why take this risk, huh?!”

Pressing down on Xing Tao’s body, the Horsekeeper strained against him, his face flushing red as he retorted, “Right now, it’s two against two—two men against a man and a woman. We’ve got a high chance of winning. But if the Scholar dies, then I’ll be the only outsider left in the Court Faction! This damn place doesn’t follow any rules, and we don’t know how much farther we have to go. There’s no way I’m leaving my life in someone else’s hands. Sorry, but that woman is too weak—she has to be sacrificed.”

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Ahh!”

With a furious roar, Xing Tao used his size and strength advantage to drive his knee hard into the Horsekeeper’s back.

“Thud!”

The Horsekeeper lurched forward, and the two briefly separated.

Without a second thought, Xing Tao scrambled up, reaching for his short blade, ready to take out the Scholar. But before he could take more than two or three steps, the Horsekeeper clung to his legs like a leech, dragging him down.

Not far away, the Scholar showed no hesitation or mercy—raising an iron rod, he swung it viciously at Guo Cai’er’s head.

Unexpectedly, Guo Cai’er only dodged sideways without retreating.

As the distance between them closed, she stealthily drew a sharp stiletto from her sleeve, aiming to stab the Scholar’s abdomen.

“Swish!”

But the Scholar had only feigned his attack—at the last second, he abruptly stepped back. Under the dim light of the ever-burning lantern, his sharp eyes instantly locked onto the weapon in Guo Cai’er’s hand.

“So you were armed too. But who’s the real idiot here, huh?!”

His eyes were void of any human emotion—only ferocity and desperation remained. With a forceful swing, the iron rod came crashing down.

With its superior reach, the rod gave the Scholar an undeniable advantage. Guo Cai’er had nowhere to evade, and her stiletto was too short to reach him.

“Whoosh!”

“Bang!”

The rod struck Guo Cai’er’s neck, sending her small frame staggering sideways.

“No. 11 didn’t die for nothing—I have to win!” the Scholar gritted his teeth and swung for her skull once more.

…

Prince Huai’s Faction—Secret Chamber.

A desiccated corpse was dragged to the blood pool by Tang Feng and Li Yan before being thrown in.

“Glug, glug, glug!”

The moment the corpse touched the eerily still surface, the pool erupted into a boiling frenzy.

The two men stared intently at the pool. Within mere seconds, the corpse dissolved completely—without even a trace of bone left behind.

Naturally, neither Li Yan nor Tang Feng was naïve enough to think they could trick Star Gate by sacrificing a corpse to pass the trial. The rules had been made clear—only a living player could be sacrificed. Their test was to see if the Star Gate was merely using the blood pool as a psychological tactic to manipulate them.

But the results were undeniable—some mysterious power resided within the pool, capable of dissolving flesh and bone in an instant.

In the center of the dimly lit chamber, Ren Ye sat motionless on the ground, his expression vacant, lost in thought.

Meanwhile, Imperial Inspector Liu picked up a rusty trowel and swiftly circled the blood pool, repeatedly stabbing the tool into the liquid and pulling it out again.

In just a few seconds, he determined that the pool was at most one meter deep and had no hidden passages below.

In other words, escape was impossible—there was no alternative route through.

After exhausting all their options, Tang Feng slumped back in place and murmured with chilling precision, “Five minutes left.”

Li Yan’s face darkened. Sitting cross-legged, he broke four small bone fragments off the corpse and clenched them in his right hand, leaving only the faintest edges visible.

“No more wasting time—draw lots.” The ever-composed and rational Li Yan’s voice trembled as he spoke.

“Four and a half minutes,” Tang Feng’s eyes were dull and lifeless.

Fifteen minutes—the countdown had given them no time to think, no space for deliberation. Only the suffocating weight of urgency remained.

The crimson toxic gas seeping from the walls grew denser. When Imperial Inspector Liu glanced at his teammates, he noticed their faces had taken on an eerie reddish hue, as if shrouded in a deathly pallor.

“What the hell are we waiting for? Draw the damn lots—let fate decide.” Li Yan urged again, shifting closer to Ren Ye. “I chose the lots, so I’ll draw last. The one who picks the smallest bone fragment… will be the sacrifice.”

Sweat beaded on Ren Ye’s forehead as he stared at the fragments in Li Yan’s hand. Without thinking, he pointed at one.

Li Yan turned and barked at Imperial Inspector Liu, “You!”

“This damn… I…!” Imperial Inspector Liu’s throat was parched, his entire body trembling. His life may have been bleak, but that didn’t mean he had no attachment to the world.

How wonderful the world was, how thrilling the Star Gate was.

He was already a player—his life had changed, and he now had unimaginable possibilities ahead of him.

How could he possibly be willing to die now?!

“Swish!”

Right in front of everyone, Li Yan was the first to draw the bone shard that Ren Ye had chosen.

It was half a finger long, relatively large in size.

Ren Ye showed no sign of relief; he just stared blankly at the bone shard, his expression heavy, sweat streaming down his face.

“Choose, you choose.” Li Yan urged Imperial Inspector Liu again, his voice pressing. “It’s fair—whoever draws the shortest one… it’s just bad luck, just fate.”

Imperial Inspector Liu was being pushed relentlessly, his chest tight with anxiety. He felt as though the toxic gas he had inhaled could stop his breathing at any moment.

“This… this one.” He hesitated briefly before picking a bone shard on the left, one that seemed large in size.

“Snap!”

Li Yan, in front of everyone, slowly drew out the bone fragment Imperial Inspector Liu had chosen, but to prevent the others from seeing its size, he pulled it out vertically.

It was about the length of a fingertip—medium-sized among the fragments. Not entirely safe, but at least Ren Ye was now secure since Imperial Inspector Liu had taken the fall.

“Let… let her draw.” Imperial Inspector Liu swallowed repeatedly, pointing at Tang Feng, who was sitting in a daze.

At that moment, Li Yan’s expression stiffened, a flicker of struggle flashing in his eyes.

He had chosen the bones himself—of course, he knew which one was the smallest.

With Ren Ye and Imperial Inspector Liu safe, the smallest fragment was still in his hand, meaning that either he or Tang Feng would have to draw it.

“This… this one.” Tang Feng raised his arm and pointed at a piece tightly clenched in Li Yan’s hand.

“Open it,” Imperial Inspector Liu said, pupils contracting as he stared at Li Yan’s hand.

Li Yan turned to look at Ren Ye, but the latter gave him no response.

“Three… about three minutes and ten seconds left,” Tang Feng whispered, eyes closed, his voice trembling. “No time left. Just open it.”

“Open it?!”

Suddenly, Li Yan roared, his body lunging forward.

“Bang!”

Caught off guard, Imperial Inspector Liu was knocked down, both of them crashing to the ground.

The sudden move made Ren Ye’s vacant expression snap into focus.

Tang Feng, too, was momentarily stunned before he quickly reacted.

“Swish!”

Li Yan, having succeeded in his ambush, pinned Imperial Inspector Liu down and pulled a dagger from the back of his belt.

Imperial Inspector Liu had a throwing knife hidden on him as well—something he had scavenged from a corpse’s decayed clothing. Initially, he had wanted to use it immediately, but seeing that Li Yan was faster, he instead reached out and grabbed his opponent’s wrist.

“You think you can take me out?!” Imperial Inspector Liu shouted, face flushed red from exertion. “I was forced to join you! I did everything you told me to do! And this is how you treat me?! Are you even human?!”

Li Yan gritted his teeth, forcing the dagger down with all his strength, refusing to respond to Imperial Inspector Liu’s words. Instead, he roared, “This is the optimal solution! What the hell are you hesitating for?!”

A brief pause.

Then, Tang Feng suddenly rushed forward, placing his hands on Li Yan’s arms, adding his strength to his as they pushed the dagger toward Imperial Inspector Liu’s throat.

Only Ren Ye remained still—or rather, his body had briefly lifted off the ground, but he had ultimately chosen to sit back down.

Tang Feng pressed down on Li Yan’s arms, not daring to look into Imperial Inspector Liu’s eyes or his expression. His own eyes shimmered with tears.

With two against one, Imperial Inspector Liu had no chance to resist. He didn’t even dare to let go of Li Yan’s wrist to dodge—if he did, the dagger would plunge into his throat instantly.

Lying on the cold ground, Imperial Inspector Liu screamed, almost frantically, “No. 5! No. 5! What did you say to me?! I’m asking you, what did you tell me?! The past is behind us, right?! We were supposed to move forward together, right?! I believed you! I trusted you…!”

The thick, crimson toxic gas seemed to relentlessly stir the darkest depths of their souls, dragging forth the worst in human nature.

As Imperial Inspector Liu watched the dagger’s edge inch closer and closer to his throat, despair flooded his eyes.

Yes, before stepping through that door, none of them had known each other—they were just strangers.

Yes, before he joined, the members of the Prince Huai faction had already been decided.

Yes, so-called alliances and team bonds were incredibly fragile…

If I were in their position, I’d probably choose to sacrifice the one with the weakest emotional ties too.

Imperial Inspector Liu could feel death approaching firsthand. His body trembled uncontrollably, yet his voice quivered as he spoke:

“I… my name is Li Biao… I’m from the Northeast, from Hefu Village in Hongzheng Township, Harbin… When my parents died, I was in trouble with the law and didn’t dare go back… After they were gone, I was too ashamed to return… If… if you make it out of here, please help me fix their graves… build them a new house. In the countryside where I’m from, face means everything… Don’t… don’t let the neighbors look down on my parents… for having no son.”

After speaking, his arms gradually slackened, bit by bit… He was about to give up resisting.

Li Yan’s eyes were bloodshot as he turned his head away.

Unlike Ren Ye and Tang Feng, he had been a player for far longer. He had traveled through countless Star Gates, and over time, he had become increasingly adept—his strategies had grown ruthless, his heart hardened.

If only one player were to survive in the end, it would undoubtedly be him.

“As long as I make it out… I’ll do it,” Li Yan murmured inwardly.

“Swish!”

The dagger fell, aiming straight for Imperial Inspector Liu’s throat.

“Smack!”
“Smack!”

At that very moment, two hands simultaneously grabbed the dagger’s blade, stopping it from piercing Imperial Inspector Liu’s neck.

Li Yan, feeling the downward force halt, abruptly turned his head—he saw both Tang Feng and Ren Ye clutching the blade.

Their skin split open, and hot blood instantly gushed out, streaming down onto Imperial Inspector Liu’s face.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Li Yan roared furiously.

“I’m a Vigil Keeper,” Tang Feng stared at him and enunciated every word: “My actions just now have already violated the oath I swore before the Wordless Stele. That oath is our pride. The existence of the Vigil Keepers isn’t meant to slaughter our own kind. We are meant… to stand in front of them when necessary.”

“If he doesn’t die, then what? I’m asking you—what then?!” Li Yan’s composure crumbled. “No. 5 can’t die, or we won’t be able to open the final act. You can’t die either—because the Vigil Keepers sent you, which means you must serve some purpose. So who should die?!”

Silence.

Imperial Inspector Liu opened his eyes and looked at the three of them. He no longer struggled—he simply stared in a daze.

“…We can’t kill him.” Ren Ye looked at Li Yan and said, “Back in prison… I ate, drank, and lived with criminals just like them. But the one thing that made me different was that I still had my own bottom line. I still damn well remember—I used to be a cop!”

“So I’m the bad guy, huh?! I’m the heartless bastard?!”

Li Yan stood up, losing control for the first time as he yelled, “I risked being erased from existence when I left the Star Gate in the first act and returned to the real world just to carefully set things in motion! I made sure the Court Faction lost members right from the start! I gave up Old Liu early so you could use him as bait later! Haven’t I done enough?! Have I not sacrificed enough to get us this far?!”

No one spoke.

“I can’t afford to lose. I won’t lose.” Li Yan pointed at the ground, emphasizing every word: “I’m in a soul state. My real body has been left here for years. If we don’t open the final level of the tomb, I will die. And that will change everything—you get that?! No matter what, I must return to the high-tier Star Gate. That is something no one can change!”

“You won’t lose,” Tang Feng murmured, his vacant gaze hollow, his voice hoarse. “Because I’ve already made my decision.”

Li Yan froze.

Imperial Inspector Liu’s face was filled with disbelief—he had already resigned himself to death.

“Swish!”

Tang Feng suddenly stood up. His expression was unusually solemn and resolute as he stepped onto the edge of the blood pool and turned to look at Ren Ye.

“…Keep going. You have to win. Because before you, during the struggle for the Star Gate, including myself, five Vigil Keepers have already laid down their lives for this.”

After speaking, he smiled. Then he raised his right arm and whispered toward the blood pool,

“You… you want blood and life, don’t you? I’ll give you mine….”

Drip. Drip…

Blood from his wounded palm trickled down lightly into the pool.