Chapter 20: Demon Arena (18)
While most people’s attention was focused on the gladiator arena, Qiong—who had left early—quietly entered a stall in the women’s restroom.
Less than five minutes later, the bearded man who had been watching from the stands looked up at the restroom sign, hesitated, then gritted his teeth and walked in. He stopped precisely outside her stall—far enough to stay out of the livestream camera’s view—and the two of them began to speak through the thin door.
“So? You’ve tried everything you could. Time to face reality, isn’t it?”
There was a long silence inside the stall before Qiong finally let out a deep sigh, “Maybe… we were never meant to be saved.”
“Then let’s go with Plan B. Tonight. I can’t wait any longer. The president and the others are waiting for me outside. You’re good with that, right?”
“Of course,” said the bearded man immediately. “Should’ve done it long ago. If I were you, I wouldn’t have even given them that bag of coins.”
“That’s nothing. I can’t take them out anyway. If I succeed, that bag of coins will be my gift of gratitude,” Qiong said softly. “If I don’t… then they’ll serve as a burial offering.”
“It’s time for this Demon Arena to become history.”
*
When Yan Wuzhen jolted awake from his nightmare, he found himself somehow back in his own room instead of the infirmary. He stared blankly at the white ceiling, dazed for a good ten minutes before slowly sitting up. His expression was still empty—like his soul hadn’t yet returned to his body.
His room was nothing like Tang Mobai’s. Not only was it a single, private room—it was bright, clean, and fully furnished: toilet, bed, window, wardrobe, everything. Of course, the daily cost was astronomical, but to Yan Wuzhen, it was a necessary expense.
After sitting on the bed for a while, he spent another twenty minutes washing his face. Then, like a ghost, he sat down on the toilet, pants pulled down, making sure the livestream was turned off. He picked up a bundle of yarn and needles and began to knit.
The yarn danced obediently between his fingers. Layer upon layer of fabric took shape—no loose ends, no uneven stitches. With every mechanical motion, his tangled thoughts began to smooth out, his immense pressure slowly easing. It was as if his soul finally slipped back into his body.
Click, click…
Tears slid silently down Yan Wuzhen’s blank face. He knew crying was useless, humiliating even, but he couldn’t stop.
It wasn’t that he wanted to cry—the fault lay with the item’s side effects.
He’d spent nearly two months setting up this scheme, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Not every newcomer drew the livestream’s attention, nor happened to be so naive and easy to manipulate. And even fewer plans ever went this smoothly.
He’d gambled everything—funds for hiring “actors” early on, and cash reserves ready to deploy as the situation changed. Maintaining his current standard of living was already expensive; one break in the financial chain would mean ruin. And this wasn’t just about money—it was the key test for his promotion to Path Level 6.
Only a few demons in Lost Paradise understood: Desire isn’t meant to be fulfilled too easily.
For instance, his previous advancement condition had been simple—defeat Tang Mobai. But if he advanced that way, his current “Original Sin” buff would become useless, and the awakened Id form wouldn’t gain a powerful talent.
Desire was the nature of demons, but there’s a difference between a demon who just wants to kill his neighbor and one who wants to upend the entire world. The stronger and grander the desire, the stronger the awakened Id would be.
Of course, desire is honest—even when demons knew this truth, the small-minded ones couldn’t suddenly develop a grand ambition. Weak ones were already exhausting themselves just trying to survive. Their desires were limited to beating rivals or grabbing rare items—like a man who’s just eaten his fill couldn’t dream of being emperor.
By coincidence, however, Yan Wuzhen’s desire this time happened to be the boldest, most arrogant ambition he could possibly achieve at his stage—
To manipulate the demons’ own game while still a slave within it.
To jump out of the board and become the hand that moves the pieces. If he achieved it perfectly, the intel from Lost Paradise suggested he might gain an Id talent like “Gambler” or “Manipulator.”
But now, at the most critical moment, he’d failed completely. How could he possibly accept that?
What infuriated him most was that he still couldn’t figure out how he lost.
That final punch—Tang Mobai’s reflexes had clearly been faster than ever before, like someone moving at 1.25x speed instead of 1.0. And it wasn’t that he’d underestimated him—he’d simply been too drained, too slow to react before blacking out.
It was obvious Tang Mobai must have awakened his desire, triggering a boost from the Original Sin. But how? His Satan’s Eye had been fully active—every emotion from Tang Mobai should have been converted! So how had he bypassed it?
Yan Wuzhen knitted and unraveled, knitted and unraveled again as he pondered.
Then came a knock at the door.
In this hellhole, he had no visitors—no friends who’d ever show up at his door. And under the influence of his negative emotions, he had zero desire to see anyone. So he ignored it.
But the knocking persisted. Constant. Relentless.
“Stop knocking! I’m coming!” Yan Wuzhen snapped, tossing down his half-finished sweater and stalking to the door.
He yanked it open—only to be met with Tang Mobai’s radiant grin.
Yan Wuzhen immediately stepped back and slammed the door—unsuccessfully.
“Hey, hey, wait!” Tang Mobai caught the door, forcing it open. “Don’t be so hostile. Just listen first!”
“Not listening. Not interested. Go away.”
Tang Mobai hurriedly said, “Even though I used that trick to win, I don’t regret it—”
“I’m closing the door.”
“—Because you’re strong. And the only way I could win… was by doing that.”
“Oh, I get it. Great. You can leave now.” Yan Wuzhen’s voice was utterly flat as he pushed harder on the door.
Tang Mobai wedged his foot in the gap. “At least let me finish! If you don’t, I’ll just keep bothering you later. I just moved in—right across the hall!”
Yan Wuzhen abruptly released the door. Tang Mobai, caught off guard, stumbled and fell backward.
Looking down at him, Yan Wuzhen said coldly, “So? What do you want to say? Come to gloat? Sure, you won. You took everything from me. You awakened your desire, got the Original Sin boost, and now your strength rivals the veterans. In three days, when they come at you in that rotation battle, you’ll be fine—they’ll just be donating coins to you. Anything else?”
“I want to work with you to escape this place,” Tang Mobai said, brushing dust off his knees as he stood.
“Escape?” Yan Wuzhen sneered. “Every newcomer dreams of that. Even the old-timers still do. Why come to me? Go join that demon with the guild backing—she’ll be thrilled to team up. I’m not interested.”
“It’s different.”
“Oh? How?”
“They all want to leave but can’t. That’s a matter of ability. You can leave but never tried. That’s a matter of mindset,” Tang Mobai said. “And you’re an information broker. Even if you’ve never thought of escaping, you’ve gathered all the intel about the revival matches. You’re the one who understands this place best.”
“In short, getting you on board will greatly increase my chances of getting out.”
Yan Wuzhen looked at him with a mocking smile. “Is that your idea… or the idea of the one pulling your strings?”
Tang Mobai froze.
Yan Wuzhen took a step closer, pressing a finger against his chest, “Just as I thought. It’s their idea. Too rational, too efficient.”
Tang Mobai instinctively stepped back, but Yan Wuzhen pressed forward, his eyes glinting with cruel delight—like a predator peeling away his prey’s calm façade.
“Tell me—can you really work with the person who just beat you bloody and manipulated you? My guess is your awakened desire is probably wrath. You’re just forcing yourself to stay calm right now, aren’t you?”
Tang Mobai stepped back again; Yan Wuzhen followed, eyes bright with a malicious spark.
“In the same space, there’s only room for one calm person,” he said quietly.
“Can you really stomach working with me… instead of doing it because they told you to?”
“Yeah.” Tang Mobai caught his finger, met his eyes, and said, “Because it was my idea first.”
Yan Wuzhen’s expression twitched—he didn’t believe it.
“I’m angry, sure,” Tang Mobai continued. “But in the end, I’m the one who benefited, so I can live with it. You said before that everything here bows to the demons’ desires. My desire is to destroy this place—to leave it. So every obstacle, even my resentment toward you, must give way to that desire.
Does that reason satisfy you?”
At the mention of “desire,” Yan Wuzhen finally calmed down. He stared deeply into Tang Mobai’s eyes—and for the first time, he saw something familiar. But it wasn’t what he wanted.
It was as if a lamb had peeled back its fleece to reveal the wolf beneath.
Desire is the one thing demons can’t lie about—like a cough, or love.
At that moment, Tang Mobai finally looked like a real demon.
Yan Wuzhen folded his arms. “You said it yourself—it’s a mindset problem. Since I don’t want to leave, what makes you think you can change my mind?”
This time, Tang Mobai didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted past Yan Wuzhen into the room.
“I asked 009,” he said suddenly. “A night here costs five soul coins. Add the lamp oil, and that’s ten a day. Even with a hundred coins, you wouldn’t last ten days.
A lower-tier room costs two coins a night but has no bath. Yet you keep yourself spotless. And when we ate together last time, even forcing yourself, you only managed to swallow half of that slime meal.”
Yan Wuzhen’s eyes grew colder with each word.
Meanwhile, his livestream chat was laughing at his expense.
[Yeah, little Zhen really knows how to spend—though he’s good at earning too.]
[He lost big this time though. No new rookies coming in soon. In two days he’ll probably have to downgrade his room.]
[Poor thing. But I kinda wanna see it.]
[+1! Wanna watch the clean freak curled up in straw, miserable and pissed!]
A vein pulsed on Yan Wuzhen’s forehead.
“No doubt about it—you care about your quality of life. And after everything you spent on that contract and setup, you’re probably nearly out of coins, aren’t you?”
“So what? You planning to give them back?”
“Nope!” Tang Mobai said righteously. “I earned them myself. Why would I?”
“So you’re just here to insult me?”
“No. I’m here to work with you,” Tang Mobai said, locking eyes with him. “And besides paying you… I’m offering a better deal—a clean, permanent solution.”
He took a breath.
“Come with me—and leave this place.”
Yan Wuzhen laughed quietly.
“Heh. With persuasion like that… you’ll have to do better than that.”
Tang Mobai said, “Yan Wuzhen, you once told me that every demon here lives by their desires. Then what about you? What’s your desire? What made you take such a huge risk to come find me? What made you willing to risk everything you have to do all of this?”
The answer was obvious — pride.
If one of the seven deadly sins could be said to fit Yan Wuzhen best, Tang Mobai didn’t even need to ask for the analysts’ opinion — the word “pride” immediately surfaced in his mind.
The most distinct feature of the Demon Arena was its contempt for human dignity — shown in every possible way. The awful food and sleeping conditions, the way gladiators were treated as betting chips and comic relief, the ever-present collars around their necks — all of it screamed one thing: they were the bottom rung of Lost Paradise, trash to be trampled on by any demon at will.
And it was precisely because of that that Yan Wuzhen had to live like a real person here — his pride could not bear being lumped in with the worthless around him.
Yan Wuzhen’s pupils shrank slightly, his expression changing as he looked at Tang Mobai. “You’ve been analyzing me?”
Tang Mobai merely curved his lips — neither denying nor admitting it. Because it was only natural.
“To stay human here costs too much. To be a slave costs too little. So which side will you choose?”
“Will you stay and sink to the bottom, or take a gamble and work with me to destroy this place?”
Yan Wuzhen stared deeply into Tang Mobai’s eyes. This moment mirrored that earlier one. Perhaps Tang Mobai had done it on purpose — no, he must have — but their positions were now completely reversed.
Back then, it was Yan Wuzhen who invited Tang Mobai into his game of wagers. Now, it was Tang Mobai who was offering an enticing deal in return.
After saying this, Tang Mobai took a step back. On the surface, he seemed calm, but inside he was uneasy. He tried hard not to glance at the screen.
To destroy this Demon Arena arena, he obviously needed allies.
They’d had a whole team analyzing Yan Wuzhen from the moment they made contact. Compared to the others, Yan Wuzhen was the most “transparent.” Not because he was simple, but because he’d spent the most time interacting with Tang Mobai lately.
The more time spent, the more data collected — and no one can remain mysterious forever. His tone, his glances, his habits — everything revealed something. The more they grasped, the more predictable his behavior became.
And after that match, Yan Wuzhen had already exposed far too much — not just his sin and fate path, but even his combat capabilities had been mostly mapped out by the experts.
Compared to unknown factors like Qiong or those with real guild backers, Yan Wuzhen — a “known variable” — was the easier one to predict.
Of course, analyzing was one thing; convincing him in person was another.
Yan Wuzhen fell silent for a long time before finally saying, “I won’t decide right away. Come back in three hours.”
“Alright.” Tang Mobai exhaled in relief. As long as it wasn’t an outright rejection, it was good enough.
Yan Wuzhen closed the door and placed a hand on his chest. Tch. To think I’d actually waver because of words like that.
Even if he was shaken, he wouldn’t agree so easily. His life had taught him one rule — never make decisions while emotional.
Still under the side effects of the item, he didn’t want to see Tang Mobai’s face at all. The fact that he hadn’t punched him was already restraint.
Leaning against the door, he sat on the floor and tried to purge the negative emotions. But the harder he tried to ignore them, the stronger the sadness and frustration became.
No, no… my eyes are tearing up again. Damn side effects. I have to get to the bathroom fast—
Then he noticed the footsteps outside hadn’t moved.
Wait — was Tang Mobai planning to take advantage of his weakened state? Forcing him to sign an unequal contract? Or setting traps around his room? Poison, maybe? Or — worse — was he going to force a fight if Yan refused, only to later “offer help” once he was broken?
Dozens of possible manipulative tactics flashed through Yan’s mind. Gritting his teeth, he yanked open the door, his expression dark. “I said I’d give you an answer in three hours, you— you…”
He froze.
Tang Mobai was sitting right there at the doorway, empty-handed, looking up at him in confusion.
“…What are you doing?”
“Uh… just sitting here.” Tang Mobai scratched his head and glanced around awkwardly. “I thought the view here was kinda nice.”
Yan Wuzhen’s mouth twitched. What view? It’s the same damn corridor everywhere. What a lousy excuse…
Then he noticed Tang Mobai sneaking little glances his way — far too obvious to ignore.
And of course, the barrage revealed the truth.
[Emmm… is he looking at Yan Wuzhen’s eyes? They look a little red.]
[You’re right, they do look red!]
[No way, is he crying after losing? Pfft, that’s hilarious!]
Demons admired strength — any sign of weakness caught on camera would only earn ridicule and further humiliation. That’s why Yan Wuzhen always shut off his stream whenever he was feeling low.
Seeing his expression worsen, Tang Mobai hurriedly said, “I wasn’t looking down on you. It’s just… back home, whenever I was sad or angry, there’d always be a friend or family member nearby. Even if they didn’t say anything, just having someone there was… comforting.”
“You think I’m as weak as you? And isn’t this all your fault?” Yan Wuzhen snapped, irritation flaring uncontrollably — maybe the side effects had triggered anger this time. “You think I’ll feel grateful just because you offered cooperation after beating me down? That I’ll serve you loyally for a few sweet words after a punch in the face?”
Tang Mobai froze, then said quietly, “That’s not what I meant. I just… wanted to be there. Whether someone’s strong or weak, pain feels the same.”
“Maybe it sounds fake, but yeah — I do hope you’ll help me. Help yourself, too. If we do work together, I want to clear away the bad blood between us. I don’t want you to hold a grudge… You can take it as me trying to win you over.”
Tang Mobai shrugged slightly. “You’re the smartest person I’ve met here. If I were you, I probably couldn’t do what you’ve done.”
[Whoa, he’s going full honest mode. Bro, that’s a bold compliment — even I’m blushing here.]
[Why are you blushing? He’s not talking to you.]
[Heh, just sweet talk to win favor. Anyone who buys it is too naive.]
Whether it was just talk or not, the barrage couldn’t tell — but Yan Wuzhen could.
It wasn’t because his cold-reading was amazing — it was because Tang Mobai’s acting was terrible. Compared to his earlier rehearsed persuasion lines, this sincerity stood out starkly.
It made Yan Wuzhen wonder — what kind of sheltered ivory-tower world had raised someone this naive?
And yet, precisely because he could tell these weren’t his “handlers’” words, Yan Wuzhen felt something strange: hesitation.
“At the end of the fight…”
“Huh?”
“At the end of the fight — why did you awaken your desire? What were you thinking then?”
Tang Mobai scratched his hair, a bit embarrassed. “I think… I was thinking about wanting to go back and see them.”
“For that, I’ll win the Revival match — even if I have to destroy this place.”
Yan Wuzhen’s lips twitched. “…Disgusting.”
“Huh?? Why??”
“I can’t believe I lost to a lovesick idiot. Orz.”
He felt utterly drained — too tired even to insult him further. Turning around, Yan Wuzhen went back inside and shut the door. “Whatever. Stay as long as you want.”
Behind the closed door, he sat down, leaning against it. Outside, no footsteps retreated — instead, faint sounds came from the other side, as if someone else had sat down too.
Yan Wuzhen drew his knees up, burying his face in them to hide his twisted expression.
Love, of all things? Didn’t that make him the clownish villain in someone else’s story?
Even hatred would’ve been fine. How could anyone, in that situation, not hate the one who beat them — and instead think about love?
Is there something wrong with his brain?
…What was worse, still under emotional distortion, Yan Wuzhen realized — because that lovesick fool was sitting right outside the door — he actually felt a little bit at ease.
Author’s Note:
I know some people might be unhappy, but that’s just Tang Mobai’s personality. This is also my first attempt at writing a saintly father-type protagonist. Of course, l’m a writer who writes about good deeds being rewarded, so all the good deeds of the protagonist will be rewarded, so you don’t have to worry about that. Looking at the protagonist column, you can tell that Yan Wuzhen is definitely a teammate. The protagonist’s new external brain
