Honest, ordinary Zhu Wu never expected that after dying, he'd have to enter the strange world of Nightmare Party.
Nightmare Party: A grand banquet where people desperate to survive hang like carrots on a string.
Zhu Wu, who'd finally died only to have to live all over again: "..."
Fine, time to go crazy.
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New players poured into Nightmare Party every day. The veterans were used to it, silently watching the newcomers die in all kinds of ways.
One day, they saw an especially languid and alluring young man in a livestream. His eyes were lowered, his expression listless, yet he couldn't hide the frosty, captivating charm of a snowflake.
A pretty face with nothing behind it.
Many viewers reached the same conclusion, only to have their assumptions shattered again and again by his actions and words. Their eyes widened in disbelief.
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Zhu Wu sat in a wheelbarrow loaded with building materials. A burly man in front of it strained to haul the cart along. Zhu Wu raised his middle finger over his shoulder. "Come on! Come kill me! If you don't, you're a worthless piece of trash!!!"
The dismemberment fiend chasing them had been slowing down in secret, exhausted, but at once it broke into a frenzied sprint like a rabid dog.
The man running for his life: "...Son of a bitch."
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"Help me!" Once again surrounded by evil spirits and seemingly cornered with nowhere to run, Zhu Wu begged his livestream for help, shouting himself hoarse.
Comments surged across the screen. The indifferent watched, the vicious jeered, and the softhearted worried. But in the end, even his fans resigned themselves to opening the tipping page. Zhu Wu promptly muted them all and spoke calmly.
"I forgot. You're pretty useless too. How could you help?"
Is something wrong with him?! His fans got furious, then got even more furious.
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Nightmare Party was extremely strict when auditing dungeon points, and Zhu Wu was often so short on points that he couldn't afford food, leaving him in despair.
At last, he had a flash of inspiration and started trading points inside the dungeon.
"Need a lackey? Fifty points, clearance sale."
"Son for sale, price slashed! Want a son? One point per 'Dad!'"
"Short on lives? For a hundred points, I'll give you mine."
The other players in the dungeon talked tough and mocked him, rubbed their hands eagerly, then snuck off to make deals.
When they realized the goods weren't as advertised: "..."
-
His trading business thrived, and points came rolling in, so he was no longer short on them. Yet Zhu Wu never lost his enthusiasm for making money.
After dealing several times with a dungeon inspector rumored to be cold and destined to die alone, he habitually asked, "Want a partner? Ten billion points..."
Before he could finish, the other man immediately agreed. "Then I'll gladly accept."
Zhu Wu: "...!!!!"
[2024.3.17]
Theme: Searching for what is real.
