Chapter 33: Hungry Hell
Tang Mobai was silent for a few seconds. Yan Wuzhen watched him closely in the dark, waiting for his reaction. Then he heard Tang Mobai say, “Uh… is this a prank? Some kind of payback because I didn’t come to find you guys sooner?”
Yan Wuzhen let out a cold laugh. “You think I’d care about that? Can’t you see what’s in the room?”
Tang Mobai tried to look around—and saw a mess of dismembered limbs scattered everywhere. At first glance, it looked like a murder scene, but on closer inspection… they all seemed to belong to Seth. A round head was quietly rolling on the floor behind Yan Wuzhen.
Following Tang Mobai’s gaze, Yan Wuzhen realized the situation was exposed and snapped, irritated, “Didn’t I tell you not to move?”
“Sorry. Got bored,” Seth replied flatly.
Tang Mobai: “…What grade are you two in?”
Yan Wuzhen stepped back in frustration while Seth’s head rolled back toward his body, which automatically reassembled itself before standing up and calmly switching on the light. The room was completely empty—no ambush, no enemies. Just the three of them.
“How did you know?” Yan Wuzhen muttered, a little shaken. Had his skills really degraded so much that he couldn’t even fool someone like Tang Mobai? No—it must’ve been Seth’s fault.
“I just guessed. I wasn’t sure,” Tang Mobai admitted. “Honestly, when you wrapped those wires around me, I almost counterattacked. But if you really meant to betray me, you’d have gone for a fatal spot first.”
The wires had avoided his neck earlier—that was what tipped him off.
Yan Wuzhen snorted and said nothing, sitting back on the couch.
Tang Mobai turned to Seth. “How are you holding up?”
Seth averted his eyes. “About fifty percent repaired.”
“Oh… that’s good, I guess? But why are you here?”
The Seth he remembered from the revival match had looked like junk—almost ready to be scrapped. Now he was in better shape, though still worn-out. Tang Mobai hadn’t expected to see him again. Considering Tang Mobai was now a public enemy in Hungry Hell, most people would’ve run far away. Even though Seth’s command protocol was still linked to Tang Mobai, after the revival arena explosion, Tang Mobai hadn’t ordered him to follow. Seth could’ve simply stayed behind, hidden in another dungeon.
Yan Wuzhen’s presence wasn’t surprising, though—Tang Mobai knew he was also being hunted by the Secret Forest Guild.
But Seth’s next words did surprise him.
Seth said, “Actually, I’m being hunted too. My bounty’s smaller than yours, but it’s still two thousand points.”
For context, Yan Wuzhen’s bounty was five thousand—courtesy of the Secret Forest Guild.
So the three of them in this room were all wanted men.
Tang Mobai’s smile turned bitter. “Ah… so you’re here to huddle together for warmth? Welcome, welcome.”
“You were half right,” Yan Wuzhen rolled his eyes. “Do you know what we’ve been through this past week? Because we teamed up with you, the Jade Society added us to their wanted list too. We haven’t dared step outside.”
Something about this scene felt familiar to Tang Mobai. He blinked and said honestly, “But didn’t I leave you the Watchtower Guild token? You could’ve asked them for protection. Knowing their leader, even if they wouldn’t directly defy the Jade Society, they’d still shelter you a little.”
Seth glanced at Tang Mobai, then away, then back again. Finally, he betrayed Yan Wuzhen without hesitation: “Actually, this place is one of the Watchtower Guild’s safehouses. Just like you said, they’re the only faction that hasn’t come after us.”
Both of them turned to Yan Wuzhen.
Yan Wuzhen looked expressionless. “Fine, I talk too much. Occupational habit—cut me some slack.”
He patted Tang Mobai’s shoulder. “Anyway, you’re back now, so that must mean you’ve got a plan. Which guild’s backing you? You can tell us, right?”
This time, Tang Mobai fell silent.
Yan Wuzhen frowned. “Wait—don’t tell me…”
“There is someone,” Tang Mobai said carefully, “but I can’t say who. They can’t take direct action, either.”
Yan Wuzhen grabbed him by the collar, teeth clenched. “We’re in this deep and they still won’t act? What kind of monster are you working for—don’t tell me they’ve already thrown you away?”
Tang Mobai shook his head. “No, nothing like that. They’ll give us support—but they can’t intervene, and no one can know their name.”
He felt a little nervous repeating the “expert team’s” script, but… hopefully it worked.
To his surprise, Yan Wuzhen didn’t immediately question him. His expression shifted—calculating.
In Lost Paradise, besides massive guilds like the Jade Society, there were also elite small guilds and secret societies—shadowy organizations that stayed hidden in the higher layers of Hell. Their members were few but powerful, and though they couldn’t easily descend to lower levels, their influence in the upper realms was immense.
Could Tang Mobai’s mysterious backer be one of those secret groups?
Secret societies were infamous for their secrecy and the scale of their operations—often behind world-shaking events like “Ragnarök” and the “Collapse of Civilization.” Monsters among monsters.
But how had Tang Mobai gotten tangled up with one of them?
Yan Wuzhen suddenly asked, “You’ve met this person in real life, haven’t you?”
“Uh…”
That hesitation was enough.
Yan Wuzhen sighed, unsure whether to call Tang Mobai lucky or doomed—sharing a fate with that kind of devil.
Still, a faraway power couldn’t help them now. If anything, it was useless comfort. Maybe it’d be easier to just sell this kid off.
Tang Mobai suddenly shivered, sensing danger. “But they did help us with something,” he added quickly.
He stripped off his muscle disguise, and small pouches tumbled out.
“What’s this?” Yan Wuzhen picked one up.
[Item: Healing Potion
Grade: Standard
Effect: Stops bleeding rapidly; heals wounds up to 7 cm within minutes; minor limb regeneration possible; induces fatigue after use.]
Yan Wuzhen examined it, then drew a knife and cut his arm. The bleeding stopped in seconds after applying the potion.
Its recovery speed was far beyond normal red potions—and red potions never regenerated limbs.
Still, he frowned. “It’s impressive, but… not unheard of. The Secret Forest Guild has stronger ones.”
Then he noticed Tang Mobai’s smug grin—and froze.
“…Don’t tell me… you made this?”
“Heh, yeah,” Tang Mobai said proudly. Well, technically, it was developed by Academician Li, but I helped. I can make them now too.
The truth was, he’d learned alchemy under Academician Li’s team—one of his key missions here was to test the potion’s market value in Hungry Hell and map local trade networks.
Yan Wuzhen was dumbstruck.
So this idiot… had actually inherited alchemy?
From the revival match??
From that Tang Mobai??
He thought of the arrogant Jade Society alchemists who acted like gods—and now this clueless kid had become one of them.
Was this the ultimate reward for being a simp?
“You mean you spent this whole week learning alchemy?”
“Yep,” Tang Mobai said cheerfully.
Yan Wuzhen felt something inside him break. Weren’t alchemists supposed to need months of training? Even Jade Society prodigies took at least one month. Yet this guy had learned it in under a week—and even upgraded the standard red potion?
No, maybe it really was that mysterious group’s doing. Reports from the livestream had hinted they’d been gathering alchemy knowledge for a while…
Tang Mobai blinked at him. “You okay?”
Yan Wuzhen exhaled deeply. “Yeah… just processing.”
No matter how you looked at it, Tang Mobai’s backers were terrifying. His existence alone broke the Jade Society’s monopoly on alchemy. Even high-level guilds rarely had alchemists, and every faction was desperate to recruit or steal from the Jade Society’s archives.
The Jade Society’s bounty on Tang Mobai wasn’t because they knew he’d mastered alchemy—it was because someone in his livestream had leaked alchemy knowledge.
That was unforgivable to them.
Now Tang Mobai was one of the very few outside their guild who possessed it—and whether he liked it or not, that made him extremely valuable.
Yan Wuzhen finally calmed down, ran a hand through his messy hair, and sighed.
“Fine… But we’re still screwed. We’re on the Jade Society’s wanted list. You have no idea how deep their power runs here. Basically…”
He leaned back, expression grim.
“…we’re like rats in the street until the day we escape Hungry Hell.”
Tang Mobai was surprised. “Will it be much better if we leave the Hunger Hell and go to the upper hells?”
“Mm. I should’ve told you before—Lost Paradise has six layers in total, from six to one: Hunger, Crisis, Island, Dignity, and Ideal. Among them, Hunger Hell’s mechanisms are the least harmful. Crisis Hell is the most dangerous, but also the layer where large guilds have the weakest influence. Since the people backing you can’t help us in Hunger Hell, we have to move up to Crisis Hell as soon as possible.”
(TN: It’s not a translation error. The original text only listed five layers of Hell. But I am guessing the Revival Match is consider one layer (?) )
The conditions for leaving Hunger Hell had already been explained to Tang Mobai by Yan Wuzhen earlier: 5,000 points plus five C-grade mission ratings, or three B-grades, or one A-grade.
It sounded simple enough—though Tang Mobai currently had none of those ratings and only about 500 points.
Then a rumbling sound echoed through the room. Yan Wuzhen looked at him. Tang Mobai rubbed his stomach awkwardly. “Weird… I just ate not long ago.”
Yan Wuzhen looked away. “That’s normal. The mechanism of Hunger Hell makes you get hungry easily. If you don’t eat in time, you’ll only grow hungrier.”
Tang Mobai froze. Wasn’t that just how real life worked? How could this count as a “special mechanic”? Hunger Hell really was a newbie’s starting zone—it even felt friendly.
“Got any food left?”
“Unfortunately, none. You came too late.” Yan Wuzhen opened the room’s only fridge. Inside were just some food bags and containers of motor oil. Tang Mobai glanced at Seth, and suddenly understood what the oil was for.
But now that they were back in Hunger Hell, why did Seth still refuse to look at them?
Actually, his eyes had been like that since the revival match. He usually avoided eye contact with them. At first Tang Mobai thought it was discomfort from the new eyes, but after all this time, it hadn’t changed.
Tang Mobai couldn’t figure it out. Since Seth didn’t want to talk, he didn’t press. “So, shall we go shopping? I’d like to check the current market in Hunger Hell.”
That was one of Tang Mobai’s main missions in Lost Paradise.
As for why he didn’t just use the Demon Mall—which could be opened at any time—the reason was simple: the mall only worked in dungeon worlds, and everything there was far more expensive than in Lost Paradise’s internal market. It specialized in “emergency convenience”—take it or die.
So unless it was a true life-or-death situation, most demons bought supplies in Lost Paradise with stored points and kept only a small reserve for emergencies.
Hence, prices in the Demon Mall weren’t very representative, nor did it display details like sales volume.
Yan Wuzhen sighed and stood. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t really want to stir up trouble right now. He had originally hoped to use Tang Mobai’s backers as a shield from pursuit, but that hope was gone. Reality had given him another lesson: never rely on others.
Seth stayed behind to guard their place. Since the three of them had been seen together in the live broadcast during the revival match, it wasn’t wise for all three to go out again.
Tang Mobai and Yan Wuzhen walked side by side out the door. Yan Wuzhen, too, hadn’t bought a disguise from the Demon Mall—just wore something like a human-skin mask, turning his face into that of a completely different doll-faced young man.
They’d gone only a few hundred meters when Tang Mobai spotted the same beggar he’d seen earlier crouched in a corner—and this time, his eyes widened in shock.
The man was eating himself.
Like he’d gone mad, he was biting into his own arm—chewing until the flesh was torn and bloody, gnawing all the way down to white bone, red threads of blood glistening between his teeth.
Tang Mobai instinctively took a step back.
Yan Wuzhen glanced down at the man and said calmly, “Looks like his points hit zero. He’s gone more than two days without food—lost his mind.”
Tang Mobai came to himself. “Just two days without food?”
What the hell? In the real world, even a week without eating wouldn’t drive someone to this! What kind of person would eat their own flesh just to stave off hunger?!
“That’s the Hunger Hell’s mechanism,” Yan Wuzhen explained. “Here, food consumption is extremely fast—you have to eat every three hours. If you don’t, the hunger grows stronger until it drives you mad. See? That’s the result.”
He gave a short laugh. “That’s why, if someone hasn’t awakened their desire during the newbie trials, this is where they’re most likely to awaken Gluttony. But… without enough points, they’ll die miserably. And since we can’t hurt each other here, even when starving like that, all they can do is eat garbage—or themselves.”
Then Yan Wuzhen walked right past the crazed man as if it were nothing. Tang Mobai lingered for a moment, sighed, and followed. A chill sat heavy in his chest.
Thank god his newbie trial had failed and sent him back to reality. Otherwise, that starving beggar might’ve been him.
Wait—
“If he’s that hungry, why doesn’t he just leave Lost Paradise and go back to his world?”
“You think everyone has a nice world to go back to, like you?” Yan Wuzhen said, hands in pockets, tone flat. “Lost Paradise recruits from many worlds—some are apocalyptic, some are barely stable, and some… no longer exist at all.”
“If leaving meant you could eat again, of course everyone would want to. But some can’t go back, some don’t want to, and some are forbidden to. If you can’t return and have no points, your only option is to keep entering dungeons and taking missions.”
By now, they’d reached the shopping district. It looked surprisingly similar to a normal commercial area—multi-story shops selling all kinds of goods, mostly restaurants. For a moment, Tang Mobai almost thought he was back in reality.
Then he stepped into one at random, looked at the menu—and froze. Then quietly walked back out.
A single bowl of plain noodles: 5 points.
The same ridiculous prices as the Demon Arena—nightmarishly familiar.
“You’re kidding me. Everything here is that overpriced?”
Yan Wuzhen calmly pulled him back inside. “Yes. Exactly that overpriced.”
There was no waiter, only a shopkeeper. The man didn’t greet them, just overheard their conversation and said lazily, “First time in Hunger Hell?”
Tang Mobai nodded silently. The memory stabbed at him—he remembered someone saying that exact line when he’d first entered the arena.
“The food prices here are heavily inflated,” Yan Wuzhen said as he sat down and ordered. “No matter where you go, as long as it’s under the Merchant Alliance’s jurisdiction, it’s the same.”
“But why? Would a place like Lost Paradise really lack food?” Tang Mobai was baffled. Surely not—this place even had magic.
Plus, the Demon Mall sold advanced tech and rare materials—even gold and high-grade weapons. From what Tang Mobai had seen, Lost Paradise should’ve been overflowing with resources. Surely superpowered beings like demons wouldn’t be short on food?
“It’s not a shortage problem,” said Yan Wuzhen. “It’s a pricing problem. The Merchant Alliance controls it—and that alliance includes most of the major guilds. They manage the internal flow of resources.”
Tang Mobai froze halfway to a reply. The structure sounded eerily familiar—like something straight out of the real world. His expression grew complicated.
“It’s not that food is rare,” Yan Wuzhen continued. “It’s that Hunger Hell’s mechanics make food essential. The upper layers exploit the lower ones. They need food to be expensive.”
Their noodles arrived: thin, watery broth, and a reflection of Tang Mobai’s face rippling on the surface. In the real world he’d have turned his nose up at this, but here, it was as valuable as gold.
“If you want to eat freely, either go back to reality—or clear a dungeon,” Yan Wuzhen said, eating gracefully but without the restraint of someone raised on manners.
“Lost Paradise is a cruel breeding ground. Every mechanism exists to make us fight harder—no standing still. It’s not just Hunger Hell. Crisis Hell is the same. Anything tied to survival costs more. The higher demons exploit the lower ones; lower demons trample those in the revival matches.”
“If they don’t prove their superiority over the masses, how else will the elite feel noble?”
“It’s basically a giant demon arena,” Tang Mobai sighed. “I thought I’d escaped, but it’s all the same.”
“There’s one difference,” Yan Wuzhen said. “Now you get to laugh at the revival-match demons instead of being one of them.”
Tang Mobai couldn’t laugh.
“All that layered exploitation… what about the very top? You mentioned five layers before—what’s the first layer?”
“No idea. No one’s ever been there. The first layer’s never been opened,” Yan Wuzhen shrugged. “There’s a legend that whoever reaches it becomes the ruler of all Lost Paradise—the Demon King.”
Tang Mobai mused aloud. “In the real world, I’ve seen hierarchies flip before. Sometimes the lowest end up ruling the top.”
“Creative thought,” Yan Wuzhen said dryly.
“So there’s no Demon King now?”
“Not that anyone knows of. It’s all just legend—no proof. Though there are a few second-layer demons rumored to be closest to that position. The live-streams are obsessed with speculating who’ll become Lost Paradise’s true ruler. But so far, none of them have managed to dominate the others.”
Something made Tang Mobai think of Deville—the way he’d acted in his final moments. Revival matches were supposed to draw only the lowest-tier demons, yet Deville’s power hadn’t looked low-tier at all.
But if he was a famous high-ranker, surely the live-stream would’ve recognized him?
“Oh, right,” Yan Wuzhen added suddenly. “I think there was someone, long ago—widely recognized as the one closest to being Demon King.”
Tang Mobai’s eyes lit up. “Who?”
“Can’t remember,” Yan Wuzhen said.
Tang Mobai froze—stunned, since Yan Wuzhen could normally recite intelligence like a walking database.
“You’re thinking I’m joking, but no. I really can’t remember,” Yan Wuzhen continued. “And apparently, no one else who lived through that era can either. That demon’s face, name, and history were completely erased—for reasons unknown.”
“What? How’s that even possible?”
“No idea. Probably pissed off the wrong people.” Yan Wuzhen didn’t seem concerned—he’d just picked up his chopsticks when Tang Mobai slammed the table so hard his noodles fell back into the bowl.
“It’s Deville, isn’t it?!” Tang Mobai blurted. It fit perfectly—powerful, forgotten, even he himself couldn’t remember his own past!
“Who?” Yan Wuzhen blinked, genuinely puzzled.
“Deville! We saw him in the revival match!”
“Who the hell is Deville?” Yan Wuzhen frowned. “The only ones who escaped the Demon Arena were you, me, Seth, and Baal. There was no one named Deville.”
“He was… the bodyguard in our Quack Squad—” Tang Mobai stopped mid-sentence.
Because in Yan Wuzhen’s eyes, there was only blank confusion.
“…Never mind,” Tang Mobai muttered. “Guess I remembered wrong.”
The experts in the real world still remembered, so why had Yan Wuzhen and the others forgotten about Deville?
Yan Wuzhen didn’t think much of it. The name only lingered in his mind for less than a second before it vanished like smoke. Probably an unimportant piece of information, he thought.
“Are you done eating? If you are, hurry up—we still have to go check out the goods, don’t we?”
“Oh, right!” Tang Mobai snapped back to reality and quickly slurped down the last of his plain noodles, not even leaving a drop of soup behind.
*
Time rewinds to one week earlier—Ideal Hell, outside the Northernmost Secret Domain.
A woman wearing a black fishtail dress and a veil, holding a bouquet of black carnations, stepped into the secret slope. In an instant, she crossed from a place of normal temperature into a freezing hell. Before her eyes stretched an endless world of ice and snow—icicles and frozen spires rising everywhere. No sign of life could be seen, for almost no creature could survive in a place so close to absolute winter.
Yet the woman appeared entirely unaffected by the cold, her thin dress fluttering as she walked up a long stairway of ice. Finally, she stopped before a massive transparent glacier.
Inside the glacier was a man.
He wore a coat resembling a military uniform, originally white but now stained red and black with his own frozen blood. His black hair hung in disarray, and his body was pierced through by countless weapons—spears, swords, blades—leaving him barely human. But the woman knew he was still alive.
Though, his condition was far from optimistic.
She placed the black carnations on the ground, wondering idly if she should just bring chrysanthemums next time—it would at least feel more like a grave offering. Just then, the glacier trembled faintly, a few shards of ice falling away—proof there was still some life left in him.
The woman looked up in surprise, catching a fleeting flash of red light sinking from the void into the glacier. She murmured in confusion, “The first one to return is anger? That was supposed to be his weakest link, wasn’t it?”
“Ah, whatever,” she said, standing up. “Since the original sins have begun to return… the reckoning should begin as well.”
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