Game of Deception Chapter 35: Lucky Escapee

In a world of black and white, a young boy in a yellow hoodie fled in sheer panic.

"Hah... hah... hah..."

He panted heavily, darting frantically through the crowd.

No one could see him, nor could anyone touch him.

He ran for a bit before throwing a terrified glance over his shoulder. Stumbling along, he nearly tripped and fell several tis.

Recalling that handso yet sinister young man, a vivid, overwhelming terror surfaced in his heart.

'Oh god, there's a Deceiver of the World!'

Now that he was separated from his friends, he was done for if he got caught!

That crimson gaze was the indisputable proof of the Domain of Force.

He had encountered Deceivers from the Domain of Force in the ga before, which only made him realize just how terrifying they truly were.

Especially since he belonged to the category that utterly lacked combat power...

There was absolutely no way he could defeat a Deceiver of the World from the Domain of Force at the sa level in this kind of close-quarters situation!

For so reason, he felt as if that Deceiver was a corpse—this was what his Title's ability was telling him.

Beyond that, it also scread at him: Run!

He had once seen a massive three-ter-tall spider in a ga, and he had faced off bare-handed against a chainsaw-wielding maniac. Yet the sense of danger they gave him was far less intense than what radiated from that man!

Just by being stared at by that corpse-like man, the boy felt the illusory sensation of his entire body being torn to pieces—

—This was a premonition of death, foretelling exactly how he would die.

The boy's Title was "Lucky Escapee," which allowed him to passively predict his own condition in the "next turn."

More often than not, he had survived solely by relying on this Title's ability.

The "next turn" ant the mont before he could make a new reaction.

In other words, the opponent could slice him into pieces bare-handed before he even had ti to process it.

'...M-Mystic Eyes of Death Perception? I don't want to be sliced into seventeen pieces—'

'To have such a dangerously high-level ability, just what rank is that guy?'

'Zhou's Azure Lead? Or... Silver of Moon?'

'I never saw him the last few tis I ca here—'

But right at that mont.

His footsteps ground to a sudden halt.

A new illusion washed over the boy's body—a sharp, piercing pain suddenly blood in his chest.

He had a premonition that he was about to be kicked flying.

But by now, it was already too late to dodge!

He could only squeeze his eyes shut and cross his arms to protect his chest as best as he could.

The next instant, he was violently sent flying through the air.

It was a rciless kick—just a single strike left his mind completely blank. The boy rolled across the ground three full tis before skidding to a halt... and even then, he felt as if he couldn't muster the strength to get up.

The excruciating pain made tears stream uncontrollably down his face, blurring his vision so badly that he couldn't even make out facial features.

"You sure can run..."

A deep, eerie voice echoed softly.

In the boy's hazy vision, he only saw two clusters of crimson fire light up.

The next mont, an oppressive aura of death swept over him—

The premonition of death surfaced with crystal clarity once again.

Feeling that his head was about to be brutally kicked off, he curled into a tight ball and desperately hugged his head.

"Mommy, save —"

The boy wailed miserably.

'...This little guy is quite interesting.'

Ming Po, with his hands tucked into his pockets, casually strolled over and looked down at the cowardly boy with piqued interest.

He looked quite young, perhaps even younger than the boy nad "Cat" who died in the first ga. This was likely the youngest Deceiver of the World Ming Po had ever seen.

The opponent's ability seed to be related to prophecy.

Running away the mont he saw him earlier could just be chalked up to cowardice. But when Ming Po stayed out of his line of sight, slowly approached from the side, and prepared to kick him... he clearly hadn't seen where Ming Po was, yet instinctively shielded his chest.

That was the exact spot Ming Po had intended to kick.

Yet Ming Po hadn't even made his move at that point—what kind of supre perception was this?

Ming Po's interest was imdiately sparked.

To determine whether the boy was observing his muscle movents, predicting his attack trajectory, or sothing else... Ming Po filled himself with killing intent, earnestly visualizing tearing the boy limb from limb using his Frankenstein Title's ability.

But the opponent showed no reaction to this.

When Ming Po planned to kick him in the head, the boy instead clutched his own head.

—But Ming Po hadn't even walked up to him yet.

Undoubtedly, it was so sort of ability to accurately foresee danger.

The acquisition of Titles was clearly linked to performance—having a Title like this ant this kid's main tactic was evasion.

Thinking this, the hostility in Ming Po's heart faded slightly.

Perhaps there was another way to use him.

Ming Po squatted down and grabbed a handful of the boy's hair with one hand.

"Who are you."

He pinched his throat, producing a deep, gravelly smoker's voice. It was a completely different tone from Ming Po's usual voice.

The boy instantly burst into tears out of pure terror.

His body trembled uncontrollably as he gasped for air, completely unable to form a response.

'—This guy's voice is so deep and raspy, he sounds exactly like a villain!'

Just from having his hair grabbed, the boy foresaw his own death—images of his arms being ripped off and his head being torn from his neck flashed constantly through his mind. The ever-changing, real-ti updates of his impending doom had completely maxed out his brain's mory space, the sheer terror preventing him from thinking straight.

"S-Spare ..."

The boy sobbed aloud, cowering and clutching his head: "I'll give you my chips..."

'—So chips can actually be traded offline?'

Ming Po's heart skipped a beat, having just acquired a new piece of intel.

Although his combat power was clearly superior to the boy's right now, Ming Po was, after all, just an ordinary rookie. He had played far too few gas, and there were many rules he still didn't understand.

From this perspective, the other party might actually be his "senior."

"Title."

Ming Po halted his imminent ability activation and restrained his intent to attack.

Simply staring at him with those crimson pupils, he said tersely, "Hand it over."

"...I am, the Lucky Escapee..."

The boy whimpered, "I'm a Deceiver of the World from the Domain of Balance... I don't have any combat power!"

"Your ability."

Ming Po's deliberately raspy voice sounded again.

The boy froze for a mont, suddenly realizing sothing.

His eyes lit up, and he hastily rambled, "I... I can foresee the damage I'm about to take... I can help scout the way for you! I can also act as an early warning... I'm very useful...!"

As a "Lucky Escapee," he indeed had a profound supernatural talent for "staying alive."

Even though Ming Po hadn't shown a single ounce of goodwill up to this point and remained steeped in killing intent... the boy still managed to grasp the sole path that would allow him to survive.

"Active effect."

Ming Po pressed further, keeping his voice low.

"When faced with a fork in the road, I can sense which path is the correct one and which one is dangerous!"

The boy answered without a mont's hesitation.

In the next breath, Ming Po reached out and wrapped his hand around the boy's throat.

Yet the boy wasn't afraid—because he realized the other party didn't actually want to kill him, so he didn't put up any fierce resistance.

"Use it once."

Ming Po ordered.