The next day, when Song Jin woke up, he thought he had only closed his eyes to rest for a moment. But a glance at the time showed it was already past 7:00 AM—he had slept for a full eight hours. He sat up in an instant, completely startled.

Li Xiao, who had originally been lying on the other side of the bed, was now sitting on a chair by the window. He hadn’t woken up yet.

Song Jin double-checked the time, unable to believe that he could sleep so soundly in such a strange, hostile environment—especially with another alpha whose true motives remained entirely unvouched for.

Hearing the subtle movement, Li Xiao opened his drowsy eyes: “Awake?”

Song Jin’s eyes darted with suspicion: “Do you have a sleepwalking condition?”

As if hearing something utterly hilarious, Li Xiao let out a low smirk: “You kicked me down here, forgot? It’s my first time discovering that someone’s sleeping posture can be this atrocious.”

Song Jin: “…Impossible. Quit spreading rumors about me.”

Li Xiao: “I still have a bruise on my waist. Do you want me to show you?”

Song Jin couldn’t remember a single thing about last night. Forcing himself to stay composed, he feigned complete indifference: “A bruise from a single kick? Where did an elite military student get such delicate, high-maintenance skin like a young mistress?”

Li Xiao stood up unhurriedly: “Anyway, you owe me a kick. I’ll collect it when I have some free time.”

Song Jin: “…” Keep dreaming.

The air in the room was completely stagnant, and the overly pink, heart-themed decor was making two deeply straight men incredibly uncomfortable. After a quick wash, they promptly made their escape.

By this hour, the streets were already packed with people, most of whom boasted rippling muscles and carried an assortment of weapons.

Li Xiao’s gaze swept across the crowd, noting that crossbow-type grappling ropes were the most common. They served as a downgraded, civilian alternative to military-grade launchers, though these crossbows had terrible accuracy, lacked robust tensile strength, and were incredibly unwieldy.

The two picked a relatively clean street-side shop for a quick breakfast before wandering over to a stall selling gear. Song Jin picked up a pair of protective goggles, flipped them over twice, and tossed them back with sheer distaste.

Pure garbage, and they dare to charge three thousand credits.

Li Xiao looked at the blades first, picking out two that were barely passable. Turning around, he grabbed a pair of goggles and said to Song Jin, “Go pay.”

Song Jin gave him a sour look: “On what grounds am I paying?”

Li Xiao: “Isn’t your money my money anyway?”

Song Jin: “…” This kid is getting bolder and bolder by the minute.

Near noon, they met up with four secret guards.

A guard reported, “At 6:00 PM, the organizers will arrive to host the opening ceremony. Here is the background dossier on them.”

Sitting inside the hovercar, Li Xiao and Song Jin looked at the virtual window projected by the guard.

The organizer was an organization named Kylin. They used to be a notorious gang of space pirates active within the Nanming Constellation. Currently, they controlled over half of Sector B, raking in massive profits through exorbitant land rents and protection fees from local enterprises and merchants. The monthly gold-hunting competition was one of their primary revenue streams.

Li Xiao: “A thug organization like this managed to construct a giant Rubik’s cube?”

The guard brought up another file: “The Rubik’s cube was commissioned seventy years ago by Kylin to a construction firm. It was only repurposed as the venue for the gold-hunting competition five years ago.”

Song Jin caught sight of the firm’s registered address and knitted his brows: “From the Sacred Asia Empire?”

The guard nodded: “We have already tasked our local operatives to investigate. There should be results within the next two days.”

Li Xiao stared at Kylin’s background data, deeply lost in thought. During the early stages of the internal strife in the Danse Empire in his past life, one of the organizations that went completely rampant in the Nanming Constellation was precisely named Kylin.

Were they merely capitalizing on a national crisis for profit, or was there someone pulling the strings from behind?

By 5:30 PM, celebrations had already broken out across the residential districts.

Li Xiao and Song Jin sat casually on the hood of their off-road vehicle, watching the sky gradually darken as vibrant, neon signs lit up both sides of the streets. A massive starship sailed across the horizon, hovering squarely above the Rubik’s cube.

“They’re here! They’re here!”

The crowd erupted into an ear-piercing roar of excitement.

A hundred-meter-tall virtual screen projected from the hull of the starship. An AI-generated female anchor appeared on the screen with a stiff, eerie smile, officially declaring the start of the competition.

At 5:55 PM, a disc-shaped flying craft detached from the side of the starship, locking itself onto the massive external gears, forcing them to turn slowly. Simultaneously, a countdown timer appeared on the giant screen.

[ 10... 9... 8... 7... 3... 2... —— START! ]

With a thunderous mechanical clang, the pitch-black, hollow Rubik’s cube illuminated instantly. Brilliant fireworks erupted into the high sky, lighting up the entirety of Sector B.

“Awooo——!” The crowd on the streets went wild once more.

The AI anchor reappeared, her sweet, synthetic voice echoing throughout Sector B.

[ The arena is open. Prospectors, please proceed to your designated entrances for inspection and entry! ]

[ As per tradition, each individual may carry a maximum of two tools. Firearms and thermal weapons are strictly prohibited. ]

[ We have prepared incredibly lavish rewards for everyone. The final stage even conceals the priceless Shaman Child blood of the Bique tribe! ]

[ Lastly, we wish you all success! ]

Watching a continuous stream of vehicles flying toward the Rubik’s cube, Song Jin walked around the hood and opened the driver-side door: “Let’s go.”

Li Xiao climbed into the passenger seat, staring at the presentation of the Bique Shaman Child blood looping on the giant screen. A massive sense of dissonance hit him.

Truly precious treasures would never be flaunted to the lowest rungs of society, let alone aggressively advertised in a lawless dump like this—almost as if they were terrified people wouldn’t find out. But if it were a hoax, why was Song Jin trying to seize it, and how could Qi Ge’s Bique-like ability be explained?

The entire affair was laced with anomaly.

Song Jin activated the hover mode, slamming the accelerator to the floor. The car carved a beautiful arc through the air, hurtling toward the Rubik’s cube.

“Can I temporarily trust you?”

Hearing this, Li Xiao snapped out of his thoughts: “We did sleep on a heart-shaped bed together, after all. If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t have waited until now.”

Song Jin: “…”

Looking at the dense gridlock of vehicles under the night sky, Li Xiao’s voice turned relaxed and deep: “Rest assured, you are perfectly safe at least until we divorce. I have no desire to become a widower at such a young age.”

Always bringing up the one topic that shouldn’t be mentioned.

Song Jin let out a soft huff: “Then I truly must thank you.”

Li Xiao: “We’re family. No need to be so polite.”

“…” Song Jin gripped the steering wheel tightly, telling himself to remain calm. Sooner or later, I am going to give this kid a proper thrashing.

Because of the sheer volume of prospectors, security checks at the entrance took a significant amount of time. By the time Li Xiao and Song Jin made it inside, it was nearly 9:00 PM. Two secret guards followed close behind, flanking Song Jin.

The first-floor lobby was packed to absolute capacity. Countless floating surveillance drones drifted into the Rubik’s cube, taking up positions everywhere.

At exactly 9:00 PM, a virtual screen flickered to life in the air above the lobby.

[ Welcome, prospectors. ]

[ Please freely select a number and wait before the elevator corresponding to that number. ]

Seven massive, holographic stone sculptures slowly materialized in mid-air, with numbers one through seven hovering above their heads. Song Jin scanned them, realizing they were all avian creatures.

The holographic representations were severely damaged, leaving only rough outlines. He could vaguely recognize a rustic bunting, an oriole, and a blue magpie, but the remaining four were so heavily blurred together that it was impossible to tell them apart.

“A completely blind choice? No hints whatsoever this time?”

“They all look practically identical!”

“Just pick whichever looks the prettiest?”

The crowd grew restless. With only three minutes to choose, people began scattering toward the elevators in various corners. Song Jin exchanged looks with his two guards, confirming they possessed zero prior intelligence on this.

As the countdown ticked down, Li Xiao stood entirely frozen, his brows knit tightly. Song Jin asked in a low voice, “Are we moving?”

If it was purely random, they might as well just pick one.

Entering the large elevator corresponding to the Rustic Bunting, they were transported to the third floor. When the metal doors slid open, they faced a ten-meter-tall stone sculpture of the bird. However, the statue’s head was shattered, and a stark, crimson “X” was painted across its chest.

“An X? Does this mean we picked wrong?”

Thousands of people crowded around the sculpture, completely bewildered.

With a heavy mechanical grinding sound, ten pathways manifested around the perimeter. The drone hovering above the statue projected a fresh screen:

[ Please select a pathway to advance within five minutes. ]

Another completely blind choice. In this arena, intellect seemed to be a redundant commodity.

“There’s gold bars!”

Someone in the crowd yelled at the top of their lungs. A massive wave of people instantly charged toward Pathway 3.

Brick-sized gold bars lay scattered out in the open along the rusted metal skybridge. Initially, the prospectors were cautious, but seeing someone scoop up the gold completely unscathed, a frenzy ignited. They flooded into the corridor like a tidal wave.

“Pathway 5 has them too!”

“Pathway 7 has them as well!”

“So much! So much gold!”

Song Jin noticed Li Xiao was still closely analyzing the stone sculpture. Looking up for a moment, he asked in a whisper, “Is there some trick to this statue?”

Li Xiao shook his head. Ever since he laid eyes on this sculpture, an intense feeling of discomfort had settled over him. Memories buried so deep they were practically forgotten began to resurface.

Though he wasn’t born from the Empress, his memory was entirely filled with his Imperial Father, Empress, and his older brother; he possessed almost zero impression of the omega who gave birth to him. He had always assumed—just as the palace rumors whispered—that his biological father had been secretly executed by his brother, which explained why he had never seen him.

But just now, he recalled something. When he was a child, there was indeed an omega who had raised him briefly, though he couldn’t be certain if it was his father. That omega used to tell him strange mythological children’s stories, many of which revolved around birds.

The Great Deity Rustic Bunting ranks sixth among the gods. Whosoever refuses to obey, He shall incinerate them with divine fire.

“Ah——!”

A blood-curdling shriek snapped Li Xiao back to reality.

The floor of Pathway 3 began to tilt violently like a massive seesaw. Because a massive concentration of people rushed to the far end, it completely lost its equilibrium, flipping to a sheer ninety-degree vertical drop.

“Help! Help me——!”

Dozens of people clung desperately to the metal ridges on the flooring, suspended in mid-air, while the gold bars they had gathered rained down into the abyss. Some couldn’t hold on; they screamed as they plummeted into the dark.

The crowd standing at the entrance of the pathway felt their hearts pounding like war drums. Terrified, they backed away in unison. No one dared to save them, nor was there any way to do so.

Suddenly, jets of roaring fire erupted from the edges of the floorboards. Those fighting with all their might to crawl back up were instantly scorched, falling into the depths. Only a dozen or so individuals managed to narrowly escape using grappling ropes.

“Ah——!”

Before the crowd could even process the horror, agonizing screams echoed from the other pathways as well. Massive sheets of fire erupted from the floors, instantly swallowing the masses.

The screen above the Rustic Bunting displayed a fifteen-second countdown, but everyone was too paralyzed to move. Entering any pathway felt like stepping straight into a furnace!

A secret guard leaned in and whispered to Song Jin, “The configurations for all these pathways are identical.” Which meant every single corridor was rigged with flamethrowers; it was just a matter of what triggered them.

“As long as we don’t go in, we won’t get burned!”

“We aren’t going anywhere! We’ll just wait right here!”

A large group huddled tightly together in the waiting area, nervously watching their left and right.

The countdown hit zero. Without warning, the metal floorboards of the waiting zone suddenly collapsed inward.

“Ahhhh——!”

People thrashed and clawed wildly to find a handhold, but they dropped like stones.

The instant weightlessness hit, Li Xiao grabbed a slender metal crossbar overhead, swinging himself upward. Balancing perfectly atop the narrow beam, he rapidly surveyed the area.

There were still five pathways that hadn’t triggered any traps.

The Rustic Bunting ranks sixth?

Li Xiao looked toward Pathway 6. There was no gold inside it.

Song Jin caught a crossbar and flipped himself into a half-crouch next to Li Xiao. Inhaling the pungent, metallic stench of charred clothing and burning flesh, his temper flared: “What a twisted, psychopathic piece of entertainment.”

Dull, heavy thuds echoed continuously as bodies impacted the metal plating far below. Li Xiao noticed that the lower plating was covered in dense arrays of tiny perforations. Realizing what was coming, he barked a low order to Song Jin and the guards: “Go to Pathway 6!”

Song Jin knit his brows slightly, but he and the two guards followed closely on his heels.

The remaining dozens of people clinging to the overhead beams saw them run, but they were too terrified to move. The beams were less than twenty centimeters wide; letting go to run on them felt like a guaranteed ticket down.

“Oh no, look below!”

Hearing the shout, the remaining survivors looked down, their eyes widening in absolute despair. The massive metal plates below unleashed columns of fire several meters high. They were trapped like ducks on a roasting rack, with absolutely no avenue for escape.

The moment Li Xiao’s group of four stepped into Pathway 6, the horrific shrieks echoed from behind them.

The stifling heat rolling off the flames made Song Jin even more irritable. After safely crossing the hundred-meter-long skybridge, he asked Li Xiao, “Did you decipher the pattern?”

“A guess.” Li Xiao scanned the various skybridges. He could hear distant and near screams echoing through the structures; it seemed the situation on the other floors was identical.

Past the skybridge lay a narrow, claustrophobic metal corridor. The walls on both sides were covered in heavy markings.

A guard noted, “It looks like some form of text.”

Song Jin: “It belongs to the Bique tribe.”

Li Xiao was slightly surprised: “You can read it?”

Song Jin didn’t offer a lengthy explanation: “I came across it by chance in the past.” However, the words carved into the walls were all curses like destruction and death.

Reaching the end of the corridor, a fragmented piece of a starship wing was welded into the side wall. Li Xiao noticed a line of text carved onto it, which had been violently scratched out with deep, heavy gouges:

[ Justice Is Never Absent ]

“Justice is never absent…” Song Jin muttered the line under his breath. “What kind of absolute ghost of a place preaches about justice?”

Looking closely, the style and depth of the carvings and the scratch marks were completely different, suggesting they were not made by the same hand.

Up ahead, they entered a massive platform. In the dead center stood another ruined stone statue of the Rustic Bunting, with piles of gold stacked at its base. A few prospectors who had survived other pathways were already locked in brutal fistfights, tearing into each other to claim the wealth.

“There’s a hint!” a guard whispered.

Li Xiao and Song Jin looked up. A virtual screen flickered above the statue.

[ Congratulations on passing the first stage of trials. Please freely select a statue to enter the corresponding numbered pathway. ]

The holographic images of the seven statues appeared once more, accompanied by a three-minute countdown. The survivors from the first stage knew they had to choose, but choosing meant plunging right back into a death trap.

“Two bars of gold are enough to feed me for a lifetime, can we just forfeit and leave?!” someone shouted loudly.

To everyone’s shock, the screen actually generated a response.

[ You may choose to abandon the next round. As long as you complete this selection round, you may leave with your gold. ]

Whoa! There was actually such a loophole! Which meant if they successfully survived just one more choice, they could walk away filthy rich.

“Since we can opt out midway, why not brave one more round?”

“Let’s push through one more stage and see.”

Seeing the countdown drawing to a close, Song Jin prepared to step toward the corridor corresponding to the Oriole, but his wrist was suddenly caught in a firm grip by Li Xiao.

“What?”

Li Xiao tilted his chin toward the two guards, signaling them to follow: “I prefer the Blue Magpie.”

The Great Deity Blue Magpie ranks third among the gods. He delights in casting illusions upon the wicked, leaving them to wander in circles indefinitely.

Shortly after entering the pathway, they hit a dead end. Song Jin looked at Li Xiao with confusion: “And now?”

Li Xiao wasn’t entirely certain either. He waited in silence.

Suddenly, a massive metal shutter slammed down five meters behind them, and the ground began to descend rapidly. The two guards reacted instantly, shielding Song Jin.

“The space is shifting!”

A slight tremor shuddered through the structure, and the shutter slid open once more. Presenting itself before them was the painfully familiar first-floor lobby. They were right back at the starting point.

Song Jin scanned the surroundings. The main exits and entrances were entirely sealed; clearly, the system had no intention of letting them roll out. This completely illogical game was causing his patience to evaporate at an alarming rate.

Rather than continuing to play by these rules, it would be infinitely faster to just hunt down the head of Kylin and beat the origin of the blood out of him.

“I’m done playing—” Song Jin turned to Li Xiao, only to find the other man’s gaze incredibly sharp, his expression far more solemn than before. “What’s wrong?”

Li Xiao didn’t know how to explain it in a sentence or two. This so-called gold-hunting competition was never meant for the general public—it was a engineered gauntlet designed specifically for the people of the Bique tribe. Only someone who understood the history of the Bique tribe and recognized the sequence of these deities could ever hope to decipher the navigation pattern.

Anyone driven purely by ignorant greed would be ensnared here, destined never to leave alive.

“Go to Elevator 1,” Li Xiao said, taking massive strides forward. He had suddenly found his drive.

Song Jin caught up in two steps, blocking his path: “Give me one reason why I must follow your lead.”

Li Xiao paused, staring at him blankly: “You don’t have to follow me. We can part ways right here.”

Song Jin let out a sharp, irritated laugh: “Are you threatening me?”

Keeping an eye on the surrounding surveillance drones out of the corner of his eye, Li Xiao slung an arm over Song Jin’s shoulder, guiding him forward: “I have a premonition that we can make it to the very end.”

This arena wasn’t like that amusement park back on N2781. If he let Song Jin run wild here, something catastrophic might actually happen. If Song Jin wound up dead, his alliance with Song Yu would go up in smoke.

Song Jin brushed his hand off aggressively, turning around to walk away, completely immune to his antics. This place was incredibly sinister; rather than blindly charging in like a headless fly, it was better to break out first and formulate an alternative strategy.

“Stop throwing a tantrum, darling,” Li Xiao said, pulling him back.

Song Jin’s eyelid twitched: “…” Darling? Who gave you permission to call me that?

Li Xiao: “Sweetheart?”

Song Jin: “…”

The two secret guards: “…” This kid really has something. He’s got the young master looking ready to commit a homicide.

“Don’t be angry.” Li Xiao leaned in from behind, wrapping an arm around Song Jin’s shoulder, pressing close to his ear.

Just as Song Jin was about to kick him into the next century, he heard Li Xiao speak in a voice meant only for the two of them: “I’ve cracked the pattern. Follow me.”

Song Jin’s eyes flashed. Acting entirely casual, he pushed him away and turned toward Elevator 1. “If we don’t clear this game, you better brace yourself for a beating.”

Li Xiao: “…”

The chronological order of the seven divine deities was: Oriole, Grey-Hooded Bunting, Blue Magpie, Green Robin, Raven, Rustic Bunting, and Golden Feather Finch.

By knowing the hierarchy of the deities, one could select the correct pathway for every single stage. This was never a gold-hunting game to begin with; by simply refusing to touch a single gold bar, one could bypass 90% of the active hazards.

Amidst the chorus of agonized screams and the thunderous grinding of industrial traps, they successfully navigated past the Rustic Bunting stage, continuing down a steep, descending corridor. They had already descended to the third underground level, roughly thirty meters below the surface.

At a circular junction, ten individuals emerged from another pathway. Li Xiao observed that every single one of them possessed a massive, towering build. Aside from ropes and blades, they carried zero gold bars.

The leader was an alpha who looked to be under thirty, with sharp, rugged features and a short mustache. The scent radiating from his body was so faint it was practically non-existent.

Li Xiao’s sense of smell and perception of pheromones were significantly more acute than an ordinary person’s; even without pheromones being actively released, he could typically catch a person’s scent from meters away. Yet, with this man standing less than two meters from him, he smelled absolutely nothing.

The two factions locked eyes, but neither side initiated a greeting. This oppressive, suffocating silence stretched on for nearly twenty minutes.

Upon reaching the final checkpoint, before Li Xiao could even make a move, he watched the ten individuals step cleanly into the pathway corresponding to the Golden Feather Finch.

Song Jin and Li Xiao exchanged a silent, heavy look: [Looks like you aren’t the only one who knows the pattern.]

Li Xiao: [Be careful.]

If these ten individuals weren’t surviving members of the Bique tribe, then they were people who had conducted exhaustive research on them. The Bique tribe was a microscopic faction within the Danse Empire, virtually unknown to the wider galaxy, meaning they held practically zero research value. Anyone who went through the immense trouble of studying them could not possibly harbor pure motives.

The lights along both sides of the final corridor ignited in sequence, and the enclosed, claustrophobic corridor abruptly opened up into a massive chamber.

In the exact center of the space stood a one-meter-tall circular platform, with massive mounds of gold stacked around its base. Song Jin surveyed the surroundings with a frown, deliberately saying aloud, “So this is the final destination? Doesn’t look like there’s anything of real value here.”

Li Xiao monitored the movements of the ten individuals. They stood composedly three meters away from them, completely indifferent to the gold bars.

Suddenly, a massive virtual screen dropped from the ceiling, and the AI anchor materialized once more. Her rigid, synthetic smile appeared profoundly sinister and twisted within this dim, hollow expanse.

[ Congratulations on overcoming all trials! ]

[ You may freely divide all the gold bars amongst yourselves, and claim the mysterious grand prize we have meticulously prepared! ]

As her sweet, gentle voice reverberated through the chamber, a soft mechanical click echoed from the center of the platform. The four members of Li Xiao’s group instantly went on high alert.

The flooring of the platform slid open slowly, and a massive, towering silhouette began to rise. Remembering the decor of the previous stages, Li Xiao surmised this had to be the statue of the Golden Feather Finch. Except this one was colossally larger, standing over twenty meters tall—comparable to a military mecha.

Snap!

The entire chamber was flooded with blinding light as a ring of spotlights on the ceiling converged on the central statue.

When the details came into sharp focus, even individuals like Li Xiao and Song Jin, who were thoroughly accustomed to horrific sights, felt their brows lock tight.

Dozens of semi-naked corpses were violently impaled and pinned to the twenty-meter-tall Golden Feather Finch statue using rusted metal rods. Their exposed flesh was hacked to pieces, with some lacerations deep enough to expose bone—clear evidence that they had been subjected to extreme, torturous abuse before their deaths.

The cascading torrents of blood had stained the entire statue a horrific crimson, turning the Golden Feather Finch—a traditional symbol of auspicious blessings—into something profoundly demonic and grotesque. It looked entirely unlike a guardian deity.

Li Xiao glanced toward the ten individuals, instantly sensing that their breathing had turned heavy and erratic.

“Hey.” Song Jin stared at the statue, gesturing for Li Xiao to look closer.

A massive volume of crimson liquid began to erupt from the very peak of the statue, cascading down its contours like a fountain. The visual impact was profoundly sickening.

This was in no way a reward. It was a vicious, highly targeted provocation.