Chapter 21
Chapter 21
While heading toward the next room, Feng Bu Jue noticed something encouraging—his proficiency level under the 【mechanics】 category had been unlocked. It was now at F rank. Whether this resulted from fiddling with the Walkman or folding newspapers didn’t matter; the important thing was that it worked. If the clearance reward for this scenario included skills from the 【mechanics】 or 【universal】 categories, he could now learn them directly.
A few minutes later, he reached another red-marked door and pushed it open without hesitation.
The room wasn’t large. Two televisions sat against the walls, and a table stood in the center, holding a key. A vertical pipe rose about a meter from the floor in the right-hand corner, its diameter just wide enough to fit a tennis ball.
This time, the door shut behind him the moment he stepped in. One of the televisions flickered to life, displaying the pale-faced doll.
“Hello, Arthur,” the doll began. “Perhaps you think the game is nearing its end, or that you’ll soon escape this place alive. But ask yourself honestly—do you truly deserve that? Can a fleeting act of kindness and momentary suffering truly change your deceitful nature?
You and I both know you haven’t earned true redemption yet.”
Feng Bu Jue stayed silent. Something felt off. The “fleeting kindness” and “momentary suffering” likely referred to his choices in the previous rooms. This suggested the footage had been recorded mere minutes ago—or worse, was being broadcast live.
The second television suddenly lit up, revealing an astonishing sight: Wang Tan Zhi, trudging down a corridor. He appeared injured, bloodstained and limping awkwardly.
“Rolling in the mire of fame and fortune has surrounded you with sycophants,” the doll continued. “I’m sure they’d care little if you vanished or died. But Arthur… you still have one friend. A true friend.” The doll paused. “John is now playing his own game, but his path leads only to death. The key to his survival—and yours—lies on the table.
You can use it to open the final door… or drop it into the pipe to send it to John.
One key. One choice. If the despicable, hypocritical Arthur Sieger chooses death, the kind-hearted John may live.
Life or death—decide.”
Feng Bu Jue stared at the screen for two full minutes, puzzling over Wang Tan Zhi’s appearance. Was this just a fabricated illusion generated by his scenario, or was he genuinely witnessing Wang’s progress in a separate Singleplayer Survival Mode (Common) scenario? If the latter, the system’s capabilities were far more advanced than he’d imagined.
He mused that the answer would have to wait until the scenario ended. For now, speculation was all he could offer.
At this point, Feng couldn’t help but admire the scenario’s brilliance. The Arthur in this story was undeniably a scoundrel, and his earlier trials had barely scratched the surface of true change. But those were just setup—the real test lay in this final choice.
If Arthur chose self-preservation by sacrificing John, he’d spend the rest of his life haunted by guilt, his selfishness magnified endlessly, tormenting his mind until he swung to the opposite extreme: becoming a fanatical altruist, a true philanthropist, just to quiet his conscience.
This was the game’s definition of “redemption”—forcing players to respect and cherish life, to appreciate their remaining days.
The other path—Arthur choosing death to let John live—was a direct, sacrificial redemption.
Feng Bu Jue shrugged, picked up the key, glanced at the sealed door, and muttered, “Guess this scenario ends in failure then…” Without hesitation, he walked to the pipe and dropped the key inside.
The second TV screen went dark. The doll on the first screen spoke again: “A commendable choice, Arthur. Don’t fear—death is the soul’s ascension.” So this wasn’t pre-recorded after all.
“That door…” Feng turned toward it, pointing. “Leads to a dead end, right?”
The doll’s neck tilted slightly, silent.
“You phrased things cleverly—very carefully,” Feng remarked. “The item that can ‘save him’ is the same that lets me ‘leave here.’” He chuckled. “If I’d used the key to open the door, I’d die. Isn’t that right?”
The doll remained mute.
“You said, ‘You can open the final door,’ but never promised survival—only that I’d ‘leave,’” Feng pressed. “The critical clue was the line: ‘If the despicable, hypocritical Arthur Sieger dies, the kind-hearted John may live.’” He spread his hands. “It took me a few seconds to realize—it’s not contradictory. Now John has the key and survives, while the ‘despicable’ Arthur is dead.
But the Arthur Sieger standing here is someone who sacrificed himself for his friend, who passed the trial. A ‘commendable’ man whose ‘soul has ascended.’ Am I right?”
The doll finally replied: “Impressive. You’ve pierced the game’s rules. Yet this makes me question the trial’s outcome.”
Feng narrowed his eyes. “Are you truly just a scenario data set generated by the system? Or is my choice not a predetermined logical conclusion to you? Does it matter whether I passed through conscience or cunning?” He crouched before the TV, mimicking the doll’s tone. “The final choice here wasn’t between life and death. It was a game of id, ego, and superego.
If I’d embraced Arthur’s mindset—the id’s instinct—the despicable reporter would’ve chosen survival, using the key to open the door… and died.
If I’d approached it as a ‘player’—the ego’s logic—it’s just another scenario. For a Terrifying Paradise player, the choice is simple: win or game over. Again, I’d use the key… and die.
Only by merging objective analysis with subjective immersion—the superego—could I choose to drop the key. Not to ‘solve’ your trick, but to flawlessly interpret the scenario.
And that’s when you’d reveal the surprise ending… right?”
The screen abruptly went black, as if the doll had severed the connection. Feng’s ears were met with the familiar, emotionless system prompt:
【Scenario completed. Automatic teleportation in 60 seconds】
(End of Chapter)
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