***
Bonus chapter! Thank you to JustSomeOne for the donation! ^^
***
Xu Jinyan was a player.
Ruan Qing had known it the moment he glanced at him—just that one careless look was enough to confirm it.
His suspicions about Xu Jinyan’s identity had begun back in the library.
Though the original owner and Xu Jinyan weren’t particularly close, they had been college roommates for a year. They knew each other well enough.
Even if the original owner hadn’t liked Xu Jinyan, he’d known one thing for certain: Xu Jinyan didn’t lie. He disdained lying.
But in the library, Xu Jinyan had lied to him.
“Classmate Xia, if you don’t attend the ball… you’ll die.”
Ruan Qing had observed carefully—skipping the ball wouldn’t kill anyone. In fact, those who didn’t go were safer than the guests who did.
Which meant Xu Jinyan had lied.
Not only that, but he’d recognized Ruan Qing as “Xia Qing” at a glance, even with his hat obscuring his face. Then he’d deliberately deceived him.
None of this was something the real Xu Jinyan would ever do.
The Xu Jinyan standing before him now… was not the real one.
But this dungeon wasn’t the type where players were assigned identity cards. They’d simply been given random guest roles. Cases like his and Xu Jinyan’s were… unusual.
Ruan Qing’s lowered eyes flickered. Could Xu Jinyan be… a special player like him?
***
Though the cruise ship had resumed its normal speed, Ruan Qing still felt unwell. On top of that, maintaining the demeanor of the Evil God under everyone’s watchful eyes left him with little appetite.
He wasn’t going to breakfast to eat—he was going for appearances.
"Qi Lintian" was visibly displeased. After escorting Ruan Qing back to his room, he returned to the dining hall, grabbed a plate of food, and hurried back.
Ruan Qing didn’t want to eat, but some things weren’t up to him.
The way "Qi Lintian" set the food down made it clear that refusal wasn’t an option.
Obediently, Ruan Qing took the chopsticks and ate in silence, his earlier arrogance in the dining hall nowhere to be seen.
"Qi Lintian" pressed his lips together, a trace of disappointment crossing his handsome face—as if he’d been hoping for resistance.
Ruan Qing: “…”
Ignoring him, Ruan Qing ate slowly and methodically, stopping only once he’d had enough to keep his body functioning.
He still ate very little. "Qi Lintian" frowned at the barely touched food on the table.
“Not eating anymore?”
Ruan Qing shook his head slightly. “Too much in the morning makes me uncomfortable.”
"Qi Lintian" searched his memory—humans did tend to eat lightly for breakfast—and finally relaxed.
His gaze darkened as he watched Ruan Qing sitting obediently on the stool. First, he tugged at his own tie, then leaned in, using his thumb to brush the corner of Ruan Qing’s lips.
“There was something there,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as if afraid of being misunderstood.
Ruan Qing had already wiped his mouth with a napkin; he knew there was nothing there. Pressing his lips together, he turned his face away, avoiding "Qi Lintian's" hand.
"Qi Lintian" paused, then let his hand drop to Ruan Qing’s sleeve.
The robes were elaborate, with wide, cumbersome sleeves that made even eating inconvenient. Ruan Qing had rolled them up earlier, but now "Qi Lintian" smoothed them back down, adjusting the fabric where it had been disturbed. He tidied every crease with meticulous care, more devoted than a servant.
Yet the more he adjusted, the darker his eyes grew—and the bolder his hands became.
Memories from last night flooded Ruan Qing’s mind, freezing his slender body in place. Even the pretense of compliance was too much now. Instinctively, he slapped away "Qi Lintian's" wandering hand and tried to stand.
"Qi Lintian" didn’t give him the chance. In one motion, he pinned Ruan Qing back into the chair.
Panicked, Ruan Qing tried to kick—only for his ankle to be caught midair, leaving him trapped.
"Qi Lintian" glanced down at his foot, then, as if struck by a thought, knelt on one knee. Slowly, he guided Ruan Qing’s foot to rest against—
“Here,” he said, his voice decadent and hushed. “Step on me.”
Ruan Qing immediately tried to pull free, but "Qi Lintian's" grip was unyielding. Even with his full strength—which, given his frail body, wasn’t much—he couldn’t break away. His eyes reddened at the edges as he gave up, letting "Qi Lintian" keep hold of him.
But some people never knew when to stop. Encouraged by Ruan Qing’s surrender, "Qi Lintian" grew even more audacious—his fingers slipping to untie Ruan Qing’s belt.
Ruan Qing’s eyes widened in shock. His slender body trembled slightly, a trace of panic flashing across his delicate features, his gaze clouded with fear and dread.
This man didn’t know the meaning of restraint. Satisfying one’s desires in moderation could bring pleasure, but excess only evoked terror—an overwhelming, suffocating fear.
It was like drowning in an endless sea with no lifeline in sight, a horror with no escape, no resolution.
It didn’t start by his will, nor would it end by his command. He had no control at all.
Uncontrollable sensations surged through him, shattering his composure and reason. His body no longer felt like his own; even his mind seemed to slip away.
Until he was utterly dominated. Until nothing remained.
Before Ruan Qing could stop him, "Qi Lintian" gripped his chin, forcing it upward as he pressed their lips together, silencing any protest.
“Mmph…!” Ruan Qing tried to push him away, but his earlier struggles had drained him of strength. If not for the chair beneath him, he might have collapsed to the floor.
His resistance was futile—"Qi Lintian" didn’t budge an inch, leaving no room for refusal. His tongue invaded past Ruan Qing’s lips, teasing with a mix of dominance and insistence.
Then, mercilessly, "Qi Lintian" knelt on the chair, forcing Ruan Qing’s legs apart, leaving him no way to close them.
Now, Ruan Qing couldn’t even struggle. The slightest movement would brush against "Qi Lintian's" thigh, and even without much theoretical knowledge, he knew that would only pour oil on the fire.
Weakness left him unable to clench his jaw. All he could do was let "Qi Lintian" kiss him, the rims of his eyes flushing red.
The kiss was rough, devouring, stealing Ruan Qing’s breath as if "Qi Lintian" meant to consume him whole.
Tears welled in Ruan Qing’s eyes, glistening like mist, his expression pitiful and helpless. His fingers clutched desperately at "Qi Lintian's" clothes, knuckles whitening from the strain.
Only when Ruan Qing was gasping for air did "Qi Lintian" finally pull back—but his lips still lingered, teasing, while his hands grew bolder.
Ruan Qing jolted in alarm, twisting his face away, but "Qi Lintian" was far stronger.
“Don’t— mmph—!”
Before he could finish, "Qi Lintian" claimed his lips again.
Though daylight had long since arrived, the sea remained shrouded in darkness—oppressive and terrifying, each flash of lightning sending a shudder through the heart.
It felt like the eerie calm before something horrific in a horror movie.
Amid the violent storm, only the lights of the cruise ship still glowed, faint yet stubborn.
The ship’s lights weren’t harsh, but staring directly at them still stung the eyes.
“Mmm…”
Whether it was the glare or something else, Ruan Qing, his head tilted back, closed his eyes. Tears had already pooled in his gaze, and with that motion, they spilled over.
They weren’t tears of pain or sorrow, yet they lent him a fragile, tragic beauty—like a fallen god stripped of power, helpless against the cruelty of mortals.
Heart-stoppingly exquisite, so much so that it tempted others to push him further.
"Qi Lintian" glanced down at the delicate, refined thing in his grasp and tightened his grip with deliberate cruelty. “Had enough?”
Ruan Qing trembled, shaking his head weakly. His lips parted, but it took a long moment before a faint, unsteady whisper escaped. “There’s… really nothing left…”
Any more, and he’d die.
"Qi Lintian" knew he’d gone too far. The boy’s body wasn’t fully transformed yet; it couldn’t endure this kind of torment.
He sank to one knee again, shifting Ruan Qing’s foot to press against himself.
Ruan Qing’s clothes were already in disarray, his shoes long discarded, leaving only his slender, elegant feet exposed.
Even through the fabric of "Qi Lintian's" clothes, the moment skin made contact, his breath grew ragged.
His darkened eyes locked onto Ruan Qing, his voice—usually so composed—now rough and low. “Be good. Move for me.”
Ruan Qing had no strength left. Even if he had, he wouldn’t obey.
"Qi Lintian" knew that. Gripping the boy’s ankle, he took matters into his own hands.
The more powerful a being, the more others craved to conquer them—especially a legendary Evil God.
Yet here that god was, brought to his knees, enslaved by his own desires.
The sight was enough to make one’s heart race, to ignite a feverish urge to dominate.
But Ruan Qing only glanced once before pressing his lips together and shutting his eyes.
"Qi Lintian" lowered his voice, his tone hoarse, carrying a hint of command that brooked no refusal.
"Look at me."
Ruan Qing didn’t want to, but he feared what "Qi Lintian" might do next—something even worse. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.
Yet he refused to let his gaze wander where it shouldn’t. Instead, he fixed it on "Qi Lintian's" face.
The man was undeniably handsome, his sharp features as if meticulously carved by the heavens themselves—a beauty so striking it felt almost aggressive. Yet his demeanor exuded an air of nobility, like a refined young master from an aristocratic family.
But now, he was nothing more than a beast in gentleman’s clothing, his deep eyes burning with an emotion that sent shivers down Ruan Qing’s spine.
His suit and dress shirt remained perfectly in place, save for the loosened tie and the wrinkles Ruan Qing had clawed into his chest.
It didn’t make him look disheveled. If anything, the disarray lent him a careless elegance, impossible to look away from.
Time stretched unbearably—so long that Ruan Qing’s feet began to ache—before "Qi Lintian" finally released him.
When it was over, "Qi Lintian" pressed a kiss to the corner of Ruan Qing’s lips, tenderly cleaning away the evidence before straightening his robes and retying the sash.
Just like that, he resumed the guise of the dignified nobleman.
Had Ruan Qing not witnessed it himself, he would never have believed this man capable of such things—or that he was, in truth, the Evil God.
The food on the table had long gone cold. After carrying Ruan Qing to the bed, "Qi Lintian" went to clear the dishes, leaving him alone in the room.
Slumped against the headboard, Ruan Qing stared blankly, lost in thought.
Then, after a long pause, he retrieved a small, spherical object.
The Demon’s Eye.
It could block all prying gazes—and see through every illusion.
Ruan Qing had only ever used the first ability. Now, he stared down at the artifact in his hand.
See through all illusions…?
He had no strength left to wield it. But if he did nothing, this dungeon would become his grave.
"Qi Lintian" would never let him leave.
His lashes fluttered faintly. Then, pressing his lips into a thin line, he mustered the last of his power—and activated the Demon’s Eye without hesitation.
The moment the Demon’s Eye activated, Ruan Qing’s face turned deathly pale, and a metallic tang rose in his throat.
He quickly grabbed the nearby pillow—just in time to cough up a mouthful of blood, staining the pristine white fabric a stark, horrifying red.
After vomiting blood, Ruan Qing clutched his chest with slender, trembling fingers before collapsing weakly onto the bed. His delicate frame shook uncontrollably.
It hurt.
So much.
It was as if his entire being were being torn apart—an agony that seared his very soul, impossible to suppress or endure.
Yet Ruan Qing gritted his teeth, fingers twisting into the fabric over his heart, forcing himself to withstand the excruciating pain.
Or maybe he hadn’t endured it at all. Maybe he’d just grown accustomed to the torment.
Ever since he first used this power, his heart and mind had ached faintly. The more he drew on his abilities, the worse the pain became—until it was all-consuming, leaving his mind blank and numb.
There was no time to rest. Wiping the blood from his lips, he pushed through the pain and raised his gaze to the Demon’s Eye floating in the air.
The eye was now fully open, its enormous black pupil dominating most of its form, staring unblinkingly down at Ruan Qing.
It looked almost alive—sinister and chilling.
No matter how many times he saw it, the sight filled him with dread. But Ruan Qing forced himself to keep looking.
To anyone else, the eye appeared unchanged. But a closer look at Ruan Qing’s own pupils would reveal flickering images reflected in their depths.
These weren’t scenes from his immediate surroundings.
After all, the visions contained people—and there was no one in front of him.
From Ruan Qing’s perspective, everything was different. The moment he activated the Demon’s Eye, its inky pupil turned milky white, projecting the very images he sought.
What he saw didn’t surprise him in the least.
Xu Jinyan really was a special NPC player, just like him.
But Ruan Qing didn’t stop there. He shifted his focus, searching for another target.
Then, after a few seconds, his expression faltered—a rare flicker of shock crossing his beautiful eyes, as if he’d stumbled upon something utterly unexpected.
