Game of Deception Chapter 22: Who Exactly is the Boss?

Although it was difficult, Ming Po still decided to test it out himself.

In an incredibly awkward posture, he practically plastered himself against the slick wall of the pool, groping upward with his other hand.

His left hand could barely reach over the top of the pool, but he couldn't touch the key at all.

After trying two more tis, Ming Po decisively retracted his left hand.

There was no need to waste any more energy.

A 70-centiter chain, a 2.2-ter-high pool... This seed to be a height the other party had precisely calculated.

That person had intentionally placed the key in a position just out of reach based on his height!

If he wanted to retrieve that key, he would have to wait until the water level rose high enough.

And he couldn't use his hands; he had to rely on his feet—using the water's buoyancy to let his body float high enough. Then, he would have to sweep the key into the water with his legs, hold his breath, and sink into this dark red water to find it.

—This was an almost impossible task.

It was full of malice.

This was likely the scenario the person who designed this script had planned out.

"It seems you have already realized... You know what you have to do."

That distorted, synthesized voice let out a gleeful chuckle. "If you really wait for the water to rise, you will barely survive."

"But the great 'Lord of Death' has decided to grant you so rcy—"

"You have another way."

"As the saying goes, 'the one who tied the bell must untie it'. Before the water rises, take a look at what is different about the tile connected to the chain."

Ming Po realized sothing, so he crouched down and reached out his left hand to search.

The back of his right hand was already bleeding. The impact of that previous pull was significant; a large patch of his skin had been torn off. The only good news was that the low temperature was slowing the rate of blood loss.

After feeling around a few tis, Ming Po realized what that voice was making him look for—

It was a shattered piece of ceramic tile.

It was shaped like a shell. Using it to cut through the iron chain would be impossible.

But it had another use.

...That was to cut off his own thumb.

Although the tile fragnt was sharp, it wasn't hard enough. Using it to chop or slice off a thumb cleanly was impossible.

It would require grinding away little by little, sawing through the flesh and blood, or severing the tendons.

If he did that, he could also escape those shackles.

Should he choose a short, imdiate sacrifice, harming his own flesh and blood in exchange for a chance to cut his losses?

Or should he quietly await the approach of death, gambling that his stamina was still sufficient to hold out until the right mont arrived?

"...Heh."

Ming Po smiled mockingly.

He casually slipped the tile into his pocket and then crouched down.

"It seems that you couldn't bear to hurt yourself after all, and chose the path of a coward!"

The voice let out a gloating laugh. "You abandoned the short pain and chose the long suffering—but is it really possible for a person to crouch in freezing water for an hour, wait for the water level to slowly rise, and then float in the water for another two hours?"

"If you do this, there is no turning back! Or rather, perhaps that is the path of a brave warrior?"

"—Wait, what are you doing?"

Ming Po ignored him and directly tied his shoelaces together.

Imdiately after, he took the shoes off his feet.

Like swinging a flail, he held one shoe and swung the other.

With just a few attempts, he hooked the key down.

Before the key even hit the ground, Ming Po had already caught it in mid-air.

He raised his wrist and used the key to unlock the shackle on his wrist.

Then, he stood up straight and flipped a middle finger at the high ceiling.

"—Idiot."

Ming Po mocked him bluntly.

He laughed sarcastically. "What a clumsy imitation."

Saying so, he thodically put his shoes back on.

At this mont, the water hadn't even risen to his ankles.

The person behind the speaker seed to have been infuriated to death by Ming Po.

Until Ming Po left the pool, poured the water out of his shoes outside, and took off his water-soaked sweater, he didn't hear it say another word.

And it was only now that Ming Po finally got a clear look at the entire layout of this space—

This looked like an underground research facility.

Besides that massive "water prison" that looked like a swimming pool, there was a strange, giant "steel wool ball" placed in front.

Ming Po slowly paced forward and leaned in to observe it.

It was a massive ball of steel wire, roughly half the height of a person in diater.

Every single iron wire was densely covered with sharp spikes. They looked just like thorns. It was sowhat like the anti-theft barbed wire installed in the past to prevent people from climbing over walls.

And right in the very center of the wire hung a key.

Illuminated by an abundance of deep red light, that iron wire looked as if it were drenched in fresh blood.

"Hmph..."

It seed to have recovered.

The voice sounded from the speaker once again. "Don't be so smug, cheater. Your little tricks got you through the first level, but this is far from the end."

"Hold on a second. How did I cheat? Explain yourself clearly."

Ming Po responded unceremoniously. "So not following your solution is cheating, right? What kind of designer are you, trying to teach players how to play the ga?"

"Didn't you place the key so close yourself? It's your own fault for not testing it properly. Did the key have to be placed by the edge of the pool? Why couldn't you just make a tir chanism?"

"What if I refused that tile knife? Would this design be useless? Or did you plan to introduce a new chanic later to force to mutilate myself?"

Like a ntor criticizing a graduation project, Ming Po pointed out the flaws in the chanism's design. "The tile knife shouldn't be given at a ti like this, when the water has only just reached my ankles. The fear in my heart isn't strong enough yet."

Looking at this ssy, hollow structure made of barbed wire, Ming Po narrowed his eyes. "Furthermore, if my guess is correct... this wire sh and that water prison combined make up the content of the first level... right?"

"Of course," that voice said smugly. "The wire sh will slowly tighten, and you only have three minutes. Once that ti is exceeded, the key can never be retrieved again."

"Originally, you were supposed to make a painful choice here, this was to be your journey of redemption... but now, heh."

As the person's voice faded, the steel ball began to creak and slowly rotate inward.

Placing this key in the middle of the thorny barbed wire was simply a malicious intention.

Following the normal route, there were roughly two ways he would have arrived here.

Either he risked drowning, waiting until the water surface rose high enough for him to hook the key down, then dove into the water to find it and unlock the lock.

By this ti, his energy would have been completely exhausted.

Even without taking Titles into account, even a healthy, ordinary person enduring this for several hours would probably only have half a life left upon crawling out. They might even suffer from low blood pressure or low blood sugar.

Under circumstances where he wouldn't even have ti to rest, his hands would inevitably shake like he had Parkinson's.

If he tried to retrieve it from inside, his entire arm would inevitably beco a bloody ss. And skin soaked in the cold would lose its elasticity, becoming exceptionally fragile. It was even possible that it would be ground down to the bone by the rotating iron wire.

And in the other scenario... the situation where he cut off his thumb to escape, this would still be a difficult problem.

At that ti, one of his hands would already be crippled.

Then he would have to make a dilemma of a decision—whether to use his already crippled right hand, which had completely lost its precision and strength, to grab the key; or to risk his intact left hand to grab the key.

If he used his right hand to grab the key, which would be "recycling waste", then the "waste" would very likely fail him; but if he used his left hand, it was highly likely both hands would be crippled.

However, Ming Po thrust his right hand in without hesitation!

He didn't harbor any wishful thinking of observing the trajectory of the iron wire—he didn't believe the other party would leave him such a "way out". It could only be a vicious trap.

Therefore, he directly withstood the grinding of the iron thorns. Countless bloody holes appeared on his right arm in an instant, and blood poured out profusely.

By the ti Ming Po pulled his right arm out, roughly a dozen tiny iron wires were already embedded in it.

Thick, blackish blood seeped out drop by drop. The deepest one had pierced in at least five centiters.

Yet Ming Po didn't let out a single groan.

"You like to laugh, huh."

The corners of Ming Po's mouth curled up slightly, and his left hand thodically pulled out the blood-stained iron wires one by one.

"That's fine, then smile a bit more. You won't be able to smile soon enough."

—That voice was observing his actions in real-ti. Whether Ming Po was in the pool or by the wire sh, his words were instantly heard by the other party.

This ant one thing. The thod the other party used to hear his voice was highly likely on Ming Po himself.

From a design perspective... it was even highly possible that the "designer of the ga" was nearby.

Or rather, right here in the "map" of this ga.

Just from this brief exchange, Ming Po had already profiled the other party's image:

A young teenager, roughly fourteen to seventeen years old, highly likely male. Highly arrogant. Possessing minor chuunibyou tendencies, along with paranoid, violent, and antisocial tendencies.

"I think you'd better give your adults a call."

Ming Po said thodically, "Otherwise, you'll regret it."

The other party was indeed provoked. "It's not certain who will regret it!"

—Resistant towards parents, possessing a strong desire to prove oneself. An irritable personality, fragile self-esteem, highly likely stemming from the pressure of their family of origin.

He had already roughly figured out the outline of the situation in his mind.

Ming Po touched his face with his blood-stained left hand, revealing a highly aggressive, ferocious smile.

In that instant, the other party didn't produce a more intense reaction, but fell silent for a mont.

—He was afraid. For at least an instant, he clearly feared him.

Ming Po understood.

Then, this "Gu Tao" he was playing right now was either his father or his teacher.

If that was the case... was this hatred due to dostic violence? Or simply a strict father?

What a loving father and filial son...

Thinking this, Ming Po held the blood-stained key and walked slowly toward the gate.

His steps were slow and heavy, and his breathing had grown ragged.

"Hide well, kid..."

He muttered softly, speaking in a deep voice that only he could hear. "Don't let catch you..."

It was as if...

The boss of this ga wasn't the other party, but Ming Po himself.