Chapter 70: Kalolin, Who Sees Through Everything

Beep beep!

Goen suddenly blew the whistle hanging around his neck with a sharp blast, then pointed at Kalolin. “Red Team contestant—during the match, please refrain from speaking about anything unrelated to the game. Otherwise, I’ll issue you a Yellow Card warning.”

As a lifelong bachelor, Goen’s greatest personal hatred was watching others flirt openly in front of him—especially when it came to lovey-dovey moments.

What’s the deal?

You people just love torturing single guys, huh?

What did we ever do to you? Why must you torment us like this?

But everyone present—Chen Xing, Kalolin, and even the audience watching through the Dimensional Screen—knew full well that Goen was bluffing. There was no such rule.

Only the densest soul failed to catch on.

Staring blankly, he muttered, “No talking off the field? But there was no such rule listed in your official game rules just now…”

Goen turned to Chen Kong, eyeing him like a fool.

“Are you the Referee, or am I the Referee? Keep talking, and I’ll slap that Yellow Card on you right now.”

“Uh…”

Faced with Goen’s furious threat, Chen Kong froze.

He wanted to argue—but feared the real consequence of a Yellow Card.

After weighing the risks, he chose silence.

Sure, he could use the effect of his Void Pattern to nullify the card’s impact.

But given the massive gap in their ranks, erasing a Yellow Card might cost him half—or even all—of his Stellar Energy.

Not worth the risk.

Besides, it felt far wiser to focus on a better plan: find a chance to remove Isabelle’s “Audience” status and pull her out of this strange Subspace.

The thought flared in his mind, and instinctively, Chen Kong turned his gaze toward where Isabelle stood.

But Goen caught the movement instantly—and mocked him.

“Don’t even look. You think I don’t know what you’re thinking?”

“Because if you dare use that special ability of yours—your ability to erase a Stellar Source effect—you’ll be instantly pulled into an unknown time-Kong rift. Not back to Reality. Gone.”

“So if I were you? I’d just stay put, keep quiet, and prepare for the next round.”

Was he… telling the truth?

For a moment, Chen Kong’s mind went fuzzy.

He’s right, Kong. Because this Subspace is like a small boat adrift on the ocean. If you can’t swim back to shore on your own, don’t recklessly use that ability.

And if I’m not mistaken, this Subspace isn’t Goen’s Stellar Source—it’s a Stellar Artifact.

Otherwise, a mere Second-Rank Stellar Envoy wouldn’t have the power to carve out a Subspace alone.

Kalolin’s voice cut in again—yet another layer of trouble.

Goen snapped.

“No way! I didn’t guess wrong! Not again! What’s with this cat-girl? She never misses! Never! Can’t you just stop doing this?!”

“You’re so good at guessing—why not predict today’s lottery jackpot? Why waste your talent on me?”

Goen was broken. Truly and utterly broken.

Because every time Kalolin spoke, she hit the mark—accurately, mercilessly.

It wasn’t guessing.

It was like she was reading from a script—her own notes.

And she was right.

The truth was, this Subspace wasn’t Goen’s Stellar Source.

It was a Stellar Artifact—its name: Crack Prism.

> Name: Crack Prism

> Effect: Upon rotating the prism’s facets, localized spatial shifts occur—projecting a one-to-one replica of a specific area from Reality into the liminal space between Reality and illusion, creating a sealed, isolated Subspace.

Though Kalolin had already exposed most of its mechanics, Goen remained calm.

After all, in the face of overwhelming power, tactics were just noise.

He had the advantage.

This round was his.

“Enough chitchat,” Goen said, stepping into the center of the arena and raising his right hand.

In an instant, a lead ball the size of a basketball appeared, slamming hard into his palm.

Chen Kong’s eyes widened.

Wait—Dodgeball uses lead balls? And this one’s huge?!

That thing would crush a person just by landing on them.

To catch it? Impossible.

To dodge it? Only if you were lucky.

“Kong,” Kalolin said calmly, “you’re up first.”

“What? Me?”

Before Chen Kong could process it, Kalolin’s voice had already cut through the air.

Chen Kong stared at her, stunned.

His little arms and legs? Going up against Goen?

It was like sending him to the slaughterhouse.

This was suicide.

But Chen Xing, understanding his brother’s limitations, stepped forward.

“Kalolin, how about I go first?”

Kalolin shook her head. “No. You already have a Yellow Card. In the absence of knowing what hidden rules Goen might’ve rigged, going first is the most reckless move.”

“But my brother—”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

“Because if I’m not mistaken, the core of this Referee’s Stellar Source is fairness.”

“To uphold fairness, Goen must strictly follow every public rule he stated.”

“But any hidden rules must also be subtly revealed—otherwise, they’d be unjust.”

She paused, then pointed at the clock hanging on the wall.

“What do you think that clock is for?”

Chen Xing froze, then slowly nodded.

Ah… now I get it.

But Chen Kong just blinked. “So… it’s so we can see the time?”

Kalolin stared.

…

You’re right.

But please, never say anything like that again. I can’t stand stupidity.

Thankfully, Chen Kong’s lack of wit didn’t extend to Chen Xing.

After a moment of thought, Chen Xing realized.

“You mean… this match has a strict time limit from the very start?”

“Otherwise, why would a timepiece even exist in a Subspace where time has no meaning?”

Kalolin nodded.

“Exactly. Goen’s been subtly manipulating us all along.”

“His flashy opening act, his leisurely rule explanation—they were designed to make us subconsciously believe he has all the time in the world.”

“Which increases our pressure… and makes us forget our sense of time.”

“So we miss the real rule.”

Then she added, voice cold:

“But he forgot one thing.”

“What?”

This time, it was Goen who spoke—his voice sharp, curious.

“The conditions for a Draw.”

“Any competition, no matter how rare, will eventually produce a draw if played enough times. Once such an event happens, it’s recorded—often becoming a formal rule.”

“Though a Draw in this best-of-three Dodgeball match is unlikely… I still calculated multiple rare scenarios in seconds.”

“Even a first-timer like me could spot the possibility.”

“So why didn’t Goen tell us?”

“Because if he did include the Draw conditions, he’d gain more advantage by revealing them. The more rules he shares, the more control he has.”

“And yet… he chose to hide them.”

“Which means only one thing.”

“What?” Chen Kong asked, dazed.

“That among all possible Draw conditions, there’s one we, despite our lower rank, actually can achieve.”

“And the only condition that fits our current situation?”

“Is a Draw that occurs when: same number of mini-game wins, same number of Dodgeball hits and catches, same number of penalty cards… and the match ends exactly when time runs out.”

Chen Kong opened his mouth—then froze.

Then, realization struck.

He slapped his forehead.

“Oh! Right! I forgot—I can remove Isabelle’s Yellow Card status!”

“Exactly.” Kalolin nodded. “So if you use your ability, she’s as good as never been carded.”

“Because a Yellow Card is just a Stellar Energy Spell—not a real rule.”

Kalolin turned to him.

“Which is why you should go first.”

“If your goal is a Draw, all you need to do is avoid attacks. No need to catch or return the ball.”

“And among us three, your evasion and concealment abilities are unmatched.”

“Got it, Kalolin! I’m on it!”

Chen Kong’s fear vanished. Confidence surged.

Sure, he wasn’t good at fighting.

But when it came to hiding and dodging?

With his Void Pattern, he was second only to Tian Dao Siming in the entire Stellar Plan’s 36 contestants.

For the first time, Chen Kong felt… essential.

Not a burden.

A key player.

Meanwhile, the audience in the 13th Station’s dimension gasped in realization.

They’d seen it all now.

"Referee’s own down—and still he rigged so many hidden rules? This guy’s evil."

> “So strong, yet so unfairly manipulative.”

> “No wonder he’s the pond killer. He’s already fishing in a full pond… and still uses electric nets and draining pumps? With that technique, how could he not catch fish?”

Silence.

Goen was utterly silenced.

He’d met many AI, but never one as sharp, as perceptive, as Kalolin.

Seriously… with that kind of power, why are you guarding Isabelle? Why not go solo?

But he still had a trump card.

He just needed to speed up the match—fast.

Before Kalolin uncovered more.

Seeing Chen Kong step into the arena, wearing the Red Team’s Dodgeball jersey, Goen snapped.

“Alright. I’ll flip a coin. Winner gets first attack. Heads or tails?”

Chen Kong thought. “I’ll take heads.”

“Fine.”

Goen flicked the silver coin into the air.

It spun, tumbled through the air, then landed with a soft clink.

Goen smiled. “Heads. Good luck.”

But while Chen Kong beamed, Kalolin narrowed her eyes—staring at Goen, still in his Referee uniform.

“Alright,” Goen said, tossing the heavy lead ball.

It arced through the air, and Chen Kong barely caught it—arms trembling.

Even just holding it left his arms aching.

If it had hit him?

He’d be broken.

Chen Kong swallowed hard. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

But then he thought:

This might be my only chance to attack.

Because if I’m aiming for a Draw, I’ll likely never get another shot at offense.

So if I can just land a hit…

Then I can focus only on survival for the rest of the match.

And if time runs out…

I’ll have secured a win for my team.

He prepared to throw the ball with everything he had.

But just as he did—Kalolin spoke.

“Wait. Kong. Don’t throw yet. Wait until he puts on his jersey.”

Chen Kong froze.

What?

He hadn’t even thought—

If he threw now, he’d be attacking the Referee.

That’s a direct violation—Yellow Card at minimum.

Possibly disqualification.

He stopped mid-motion, nearly stumbling back.

Goen saw his trap exposed—and rage flared.

That idiot would’ve fallen right into it!

If Kalolin hadn’t warned him…

He’d have lost the first match in seconds!

And now, that weakling gets a free pass?

Goen hated it.

“Damn it! Next time, I’m adding a rule: no one not in the game can speak!”

He glared at Kalolin beyond the arena, then stomped to the edge and yanked off his Referee suit.

And as the uniform fell away, the crowd saw it:

Goen’s body was sculpted like a living statue—rippling muscles, defined veins, every fiber honed by years of battle.

But he didn’t rush to put on the blue team jersey.

Instead, he struck a classic bodybuilder pose—chest out, arms flexed—showcasing his massive form.

And as his back arched, the intricate lines of his muscles twisted into a grotesque, demonic shape—the infamous “Devil Back.”

Satisfied, Goen finally slipped into the Blue Team’s Dodgeball jersey.

His voice dropped low.

“Kid. Don’t think just because someone’s helping you, you’re safe.”

“I’m a Trait Class. But I’ve personally fought in every match I’ve officiated.”

“My body—forged through thousands of battles—isn’t something your weak frame can compare to.”

“My purity… far exceeds yours.”

“Come on, kid. Show me your purity.”

Chen Kong took a deep breath.

His eyes hardened.

His stance shifted—suddenly, intimidating.

And for a split second… Goen flinched.

He dropped into a defensive stance, eyes wide, fully alert.

“Hah!”

Chen Kong roared, hurling the lead ball with all his might.

The throw was textbook-perfect—every motion precise, fluid.

But the ball…

It flew low.

Too low.

And before it even reached Goen—five meters away—it hit the ground.

Gurgle… gurgle…

It rolled slowly, aimlessly—until it came to a stop…

half a meter from Goen’s feet.

Chen Xing.

Kalolin.

Goen.

The audience:

…

Goen stared.

Then, after a long silence, he bent down, picked up the ball, and looked at Chen Kong—face blank.

Then, with a long, slow sigh, he said:

“Sorry. I… overestimated you.

Others might be faking it.

But you?

You’re just…

truly…

bad.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end