Chapter 3: Demon Arena (1)
At that moment, all Tang Mobai could think about was the two weeks of brutal training he’d just endured. If he’d known this was going to be the result, he should’ve just enjoyed himself for those two weeks! Why the hell did he bother training? Now he’d gone and ruined what might’ve been the last days of his life with miserable memories. He felt guilty toward the instructor team, toward Wang Zhiyuan and the others—but well, all that money they burned on him was basically flushed down the drain.
Tang Mobai closed his eyes and waited for the end to come. But… there was no pain. Instead, a strange feeling of weightlessness spread through his body.
A flash of white reflected off his eyelids. Tang Mobai blinked in confusion—and found himself in an unfamiliar place.
He patted his body. “Huh? Nothing wrong with me?”
[Processing result: Erased (Just kidding)]
[Correction: Trial failed, explorer status revoked—revival match begins!]
Question marks popped up over Tang Mobai’s head. Lost Paradise… you’re kidding me, right? There’s even a revival match?!
He lifted his head to look around. They were in what looked like a medieval dungeon. Iron bars sealed off the chamber from the outside. The room was dim, windowless, and reeked of damp metal. He wasn’t alone—there were several other living people, all wearing the same expression of disbelief and relief at having survived. Some even burst into tears.
“I’m alive! I’m still alive!”
“I thought I was dead for sure!”
“There’s a revival match?! Thank god, there’s still a chance!”
“So failing the trial doesn’t kill us? Damn it, Lost Paradise scammed us!”
[Heh. True, you won’t die—but you’ll wish you had.]
[Oh yes! My favorite show is starting!]
[This is the best part after every exploration!]
[This batch looks weak. Boring. I want blood!]
Show?
This wasn’t Tang Mobai’s first time in a “dungeon,” so he immediately recognized the familiar pop-up comments and live chat window. But unlike before—when his performance hadn’t been great and viewership was low—this time, the audience count was skyrocketing the moment he entered. Even though he hadn’t done anything yet.
Something was off. And when something’s off, something’s wrong.
He glanced at the others—most of them were smiling in excitement, clearly noticing their rising audience numbers too. One burly man, nearly two meters tall, even turned to the viewers, blushing and shouting thanks, begging for gifts.
But no matter how hard he tried, the audience ignored him.
Comments kept flooding in, and the viewer count climbed higher and higher.
Normally, audience numbers and comments were tied to a streamer’s points. Those points could be exchanged for items, gear, or spells in the “Demon Shop.” The more popular you were, the stronger you could grow—simple cause and effect.
But when Tang Mobai opened his panel, his point total stayed stubbornly at zero.
[Hahaha, noticed it yet? In the revival match, you can’t earn points the same way.]
Someone must’ve seen the look on his face—because the comments poured in even faster.
[All your points have been reset to zero. You’ve had your ‘Explorer’ status revoked. In other words, you’re no longer recognized by Lost Paradise. You’re garbage. Trash. Worms anyone can step on. Your only remaining value is to entertain us with blood and suffering.]
[Do your best, little defective products~]
The malice in the comments was suffocating—waves of insults and twisted humor, pouring in from countless languages Tang Mobai couldn’t even identify. The previous live chats had been toxic, sure, but this was on a whole different level. It felt like every rotten emotion in the human heart was being dumped on them all at once.
“…Tang?”
A trembling voice called his name. Tang Mobai turned around and blinked. “Xiu Weiyi?”
It was a guy around his age, dark-skinned and ordinary-looking. Seeing Tang Mobai seemed to calm him; he squeezed through the crowd with a shaky smile.
“Thank god, you’re here too—uh, I mean, at least there’s a familiar face.”
“Yeah. Same,” Tang Mobai replied.
Xiu Weiyi was someone he’d met in the previous dungeon—an acquaintance, not quite a friend. He’d barely survived his own trial too. Still, having even one familiar person here was oddly comforting.
Before they could say more, footsteps echoed outside. Several pairs of them—high heels, leather shoes, cloth soles—each with a different rhythm, all approaching.
Everyone turned toward the gate. A group of people in black robes and ghost masks appeared and stood before their cell.
They didn’t explain who they were or what was happening. They just glanced at the crowd and began to talk among themselves.
“Who picks first?”
“019 went first last time. My turn now.”
“Wait, there’s a girl in there. Don’t fight me for her.”
“Fine. I just want a strong one.”
After a quick discussion, one of the robed figures stepped forward and pointed at the tall, burly man from before.
“You. Come out.”
The man pointed at himself. Everyone else immediately backed away. No one here was new to this—each had survived at least one dungeon before. No one asked stupid questions. Everyone just wanted to stay out of danger’s reach.
“Uh… why? Who even are you people?” the man asked hesitantly.
“Sigh. Always the same question,” one of the robed figures said, shaking his wrist slightly.
The next moment, a black iron collar snapped around the man’s neck, a chain leading into the robed figure’s hand—the other end disappearing into thin air.
“Aghhh!”
The man was yanked off his feet and slammed to the ground, twitching violently. His body convulsed like he was being electrocuted, eyes rolling back.
“You should’ve already heard the announcement,” the robed man said calmly.
“Your explorer status is gone. You’re trash now. And the only value trash like you has is to entertain the other demons watching this stream.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“So… tell me. What’s one of humanity’s oldest forms of entertainment?”
Tang Mobai blurted out before thinking, “Uh… sex?”
The robed man froze, then sighed.
“Good answer. You’re first in line when we open the orgy.”
“…Apart from that,” he continued with a smirk, “the second-oldest, most thrilling form of entertainment—and your only path back to being explorers—”
He spread his arms wide.
“—is combat.”
[Revival Match: Demon Arena — Activated!]
Please read the following rules carefully:
Rule #1: Points system disabled. Live chat available from 5 AM – 12 AM. Tipping disabled. Enjoy the show.
Rule #2: The Demon Shop is closed; only limited items are available inside the Arena using Soul Coins.
Rule #3: 100 Soul Coins = 1 Qualification Trial.
Rule #4: Pass with 60% of the votes to regain Explorer status. Only one trial per day, one participant per trial.
Rule#5: Only the living present on-site have the right to vote.
Rule#6: Lamps must be lit at night. Darkness is dangerous.
Rule#7: Only slaves may fight. Masters must protect their property.
Rule#8: Newcomer protection lasts three days; veterans may not challenge new players during that time.
Rule#9: Fights end only upon death or total unconsciousness.
“Welcome, welcome—to the Demon Arena, my freshly minted piles of garbage.”
His face was mostly hidden by the ghost mask, only his blood-red eyes gleaming with mockery.
“From now on, forget whatever glory you once had. The moment you stepped on this soil, you lost your right to be human.”
“You are slaves.”
“Understood, understood, should’ve said so earlier!” the burly man instantly changed from defiant to sycophantic, his tone flipping faster than a coin.
“My forehead’s kinda bony—hurts your feet? Want me to use my belly instead? I’ll relax my abs, it’ll be real comfy to step on!”
Everyone stared in stunned silence. Tang Mobai once again witnessed the clear difference between newcomers and veterans—this guy had zero shame.
The robed man ignored him, announcing evenly, “Now then, those I pointed out—come meet your new masters.”
“You.”
“And you.”
“That cute little one over there, come on~”
One by one, the prisoners were chosen and led out. Eventually, only Tang Mobai and Xiu Weiyi were left at the back.
The first robed figure glanced at them impatiently and finally pointed.
“You.”
A cold metal collar appeared around Tang Mobai’s neck. He obediently followed behind his new master.
“Knew it. They always leave the leftovers for me,” another figure grumbled, pointing lazily at Xiu Weiyi. “You—move.”
Xiu Weiyi flinched and quickly obeyed, keeping his head low.
The selection ended. No one resisted—everyone here had been through at least one trial before. No one was stupid enough to play hero now.
Shackles appeared around their wrists and ankles, chains clinking together as they were herded forward like livestock. Only the cold, metallic sound of those chains filled the dark corridor.
Tang Mobai’s gaze stayed fixed on the live-stream barrage, intentionally or unintentionally noting the user IDs flashing by — but unfortunately, he still hadn’t spotted the one that matched the ID the government had told him to watch for. Because there was a limit on how many times they could send messages, his handler would only post when something critical happened.
At that moment, a messy rhythm of footsteps came from the opposite side. Tang Mobai lifted his head to see another group walking toward them. The person leading wore a black robe and a ghost mask, followed by a line of slaves in iron collars — almost identical to their group in setup.
Only… their numbers were smaller.
But—Tang Mobai’s back straightened, and a flicker of wariness crossed his eyes.
Their eyes — those were the eyes of killers.
In the two weeks of special training, combat hadn’t even been the main focus. What mattered more were his stamina for running, the ability to judge whether someone could be provoked, and the calm needed in life-and-death moments. The state’s goal for him had never been to make him a strong fighter quickly, but rather to ensure he could survive any situation. As long as he lived, there would always be a chance — and with the government behind him, Tang Mobai never lacked potential to grow stronger. The real problem was whether he could survive his weakest period.
And these people — the faint malice and greed hidden behind their expressions — made his skin crawl and his nerves tighten like wire.
Soon, the two teams brushed past one another. The two black-robed figures didn’t speak, but just as one of them passed directly in front of Tang Mobai, his body suddenly swayed, his foot slipped, and he looked about to fall straight into Tang Mobai.
[Don’t let him hit you! Don’t let him fall to the ground!]
At that critical instant, among all the barrage of mocking comments, Tang Mobai caught that one out-of-place line — and that familiar default user ID: 92673. Just a meaningless string of numbers, but one Tang Mobai had memorized before entering the dungeon. And now, his heart exploded like fireworks.
Before he even had time to think, his body had already reacted to the command.
During those two weeks of training, Tang Mobai had learned some close-combat techniques. The instant the man lost balance on purpose, Tang Mobai stepped forward, turned slightly sideways, and caught the man’s falling body with his arm. The man hadn’t expected Tang Mobai to move suddenly. He froze for a second, then deliberately pressed his weight forward, trying to fall to the ground no matter what.
Trap? That thought flashed through Tang Mobai’s mind. Then, without hesitation, he kicked the back of the man’s knee, making him buckle — and in one smooth motion, he scooped the man up horizontally.
Yes. It was… a princess carry.
Hmm… technically, he did follow the barrage’s instruction perfectly.
For a moment, even the scrolling comments slowed down.
[Huh?]
[Bro… my eyes… they burn.]
[Bro, you smell amazing—]
Indeed — as the barrage said, a princess carry would be charming if it were between a handsome man and a beautiful woman. The issue was, while Tang Mobai was handsome, the man in his arms — a burly, thickset brute with a face full of flesh — was not exactly a beauty.
Even the slaves in the other team seemed to slow their steps to watch, curious glances turning their way. One of them, recognizing the man Tang Mobai was holding, immediately burst out laughing:
“Hahaha! Manster! How’s it feel in the arms of a pretty boy? You look so comfy you can’t get down!”
Manster snapped out of it, shoved Tang Mobai away, and even forgot whatever his original goal was. His fists clenched tight.
Tang Mobai tensed, ready for a fight — but the expected conflict didn’t happen. Though Manster looked like he wanted to kill him on the spot, chest heaving with fury, he finally just scowled and stormed back to his team, glaring daggers.
“Kid. You’d better survive the night.”
The night? What’s happening tonight? The question flashed through Tang Mobai’s head, but before he could think further, Xu Weiyi spoke beside him in shock:
“ Tang — your reflexes… that move just now—?”
Tang Mobai turned his head, seeing Xu Weiyi’s openly astonished face. And it wasn’t just him — people nearby were watching too, whispering under their breath.
None of them were true newbies anymore. It was obvious that little “accident” hadn’t been accidental. These new gladiators were all observing the veterans’ behavior, and Tang Mobai’s reaction had caught their attention. Those who knew a bit about combat could already tell from his movements — Tang Mobai had received training.
But for Xu Weiyi, the shock went even deeper. In their last dungeon, Tang Mobai hadn’t been like this at all.
Even when they first met again here, Xu Weiyi had felt something different about him — though he couldn’t quite put it into words. Now, that smooth, decisive counter just confirmed it.
What happened in such a short time… to change him this much?
