Prodigy’s Playground

Chapter 171 Autumn Wind Is the World’s Tombstone

In the hotel room, Jiang Ran lay on the bed.

His palm pressed against the left side of his face, as if the warmth of that girl still lingered there, never having left.

Today’s Cheng Mengxue was the boldest Cheng Mengxue he had ever seen—bolder even than the drunk Cheng Mengxue from the cruise on Worldline 0.

Even in his dreams, he never could have imagined Cheng Mengxue doing something so daring.

“This isn’t like her—”

Jiang Ran murmured.

But then again, who ever said a girl had to fit one particular style?

In all nineteen years of Jiang Ran’s life, this was the first time he had ever been kissed by a girl.

Even if it had only been a dragonfly-light touch on the cheek, a first was still a first.

On Worldline 0, he and Cheng Mengxue had been completely innocent, never crossing even half a step over the line.On Worldline 1, on the very day he transitioned over, he had only just started dating Nan Xiuxiu for four days, so there had been even less possibility of physical intimacy. Even the only time they had held hands had been much later, during that date trip.

So.

What did it feel like, being kissed by a girl for the first time?

Jiang Ran felt… somewhat at a loss.

[Because he could not determine who, exactly, the one kissing him was.]

At present, he was 99.99% certain that this Cheng Mengxue was fake; yet that remaining 0.01% uncertainty hung above his head like Murphy’s Law’s hidden blade, leaving him no room for carelessness.

“This wasn’t a childhood-friend kiss. This was… a girl’s kiss.”

That airy sentence had circled in Jiang Ran’s mind the entire night.

Even though he had never truly been in love before.

Still, even an idiot could hear the meaning beneath those words—[I like you, not in the way childhood sweethearts like each other, but in the way a girl likes a boy.]

This probably counted as a confession.

But in a situation like this, who could tell whether it wasn’t merely a trap meant to drown him in tenderness?

“Who… are you, really—”

He sat up, pulled his backpack closer, and took out the glass bottle stoppered with oak.

This was the time capsule the real Cheng Mengxue had buried more than ten years ago.

As of now, only Jiang Ran, Xu Yan, and Cheng Mengxue herself knew what was written inside.

This farce of “the real and fake Cheng Mengxue” had gone on and on, repeating endlessly, but tomorrow—it would finally reach its conclusion.

Jiang Ran’s thoughts went no further than this.

Every resolve he forged after parting would always dissolve into confusion the moment they met again, until reason and emotion blurred together, and he could no longer tell whether the girl before him was human or ghost.

Everything.

Waited.

For tomorrow’s answer.

October 2, 2025. Morning.

After Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue finished breakfast in the hotel restaurant, they each returned to their rooms to change, agreeing to meet shortly in the first-floor lobby.

———

Jiang Ran put on his white coat and looked at the two symmetrical buttons on either side of the collar—the right one was a plastic decoration, while the left was the miniature listening device sewn on by the Donghai City Public Security Bureau.

They had no plans to check out today, so the backpack could stay in the room. After tidying his appearance in the mirror, Jiang Ran stepped out, pressed the elevator button, and headed downstairs.

In the first-floor lobby, Cheng Mengxue was already waiting for him.

Perhaps it was only an illusion—

but Jiang Ran felt that today Cheng Mengxue’s gaze was exceptionally clear, her temperament steadier, almost as if she had become a different person.

She was still wearing a dress today, only now it had been changed to an icy blue one, fresh yet carrying an extra sense of solemnity.

Walking over, Jiang Ran noticed that Cheng Mengxue was still wearing that crystal-clear jeweled necklace around her neck.

“That necklace’s pretty,” Jiang Ran said.

“Hehe, it was my birthday gift from my dad last year.”

“What brand is it?”

Cheng Mengxue pinched the ring of the necklace and lowered her head to look at it. “Tiffany. Ever heard of it?”

Jiang Ran shook his head. “No, but it looks exquisite. It must be… expensive?”

“A little expensive, probably.”

Cheng Mengxue did not deny it. “But luxury goods like this are definitely cheaper in America than in Dragon Country because of exchange rates and tariffs.”

“My dad also thought I’d grown up, become a real young woman, and should finally have a necklace of my own, so that’s why he gave it to me~”

Jiang Ran nodded and said no more.

truth and falsehood intertwined with falsehood and truth entangled—whether Cheng Mengxue’s parents were even still alive now was impossible to say.

The scene felt very much like the plot of the American movie Mr. & Mrs. Smith, where two people hid their identities while living side by side, each concealing secrets they could never reveal—

just like Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue now.

One side was thinking about how to expose the other, while the other side also clearly had ulterior motives.

With their minds so unsettled, even yesterday’s intimacy on the Ferris wheel now seemed strangely tasteless.

They left, hailed a taxi, and headed for Jingshan Bamboo Cemetery.

At last, it was no longer crowded with people, allowing Jiang Ran to experience a long-lost sense of openness and quiet.

Thinking about it, it made sense. During the rare National Day Golden Week holiday, who would wander around a cemetery?

To enter the memorial grounds, they first had to pass through a security gate, where a staff member used a device to scan their entire bodies.

Jiang Ran was surprised.

Because the previous two times he had come here with Wang Hao, they had encountered nothing like this.

But then he quickly understood.

[Plainclothes.]

These staff members conducting the checks looked like cemetery security, but in reality they were definitely plainclothes officers from the Donghai City Public Security Bureau.

Using the excuse of “civilized mourning” and “no paper burning,” they had set up this security gate, but their true purpose—

was to ensure his safety.

It seemed Officer Liu and the others had arranged everything well.

Ahead of him, Cheng Mengxue spread her arms and accepted the inspection. She still had not realized that this cemetery itself was a beast trap, and she was already surrounded inside it.

Jiang Ran followed behind and underwent the same check before officially entering the cemetery grounds.

The two of them walked like that, one in front, one behind.

Cheng Mengxue in front. Jiang Ran behind.

As expected, there were no random visitors in the cemetery, only two workers from the landscaping company trimming trees, and farther away a cleaner sweeping fallen leaves.

Jiang Ran knew perfectly well—

every person he could see, and every person hidden out of sight, had to be plainclothes police as well.

They had lain in wait here long ago, simply waiting for a single order from Officer Liu over the radio, at which point they would immediately arrest Cheng Mengxue and catch her off guard.

Walking ahead, Cheng Mengxue kept her eyes fixed on the steps before her.

Her heartbeat had already begun to accelerate uncontrollably. Only by walking in front, leaving Jiang Ran nothing but her back, could she avoid letting him discover anything unusual.

Soon—

the moment the two of them stepped onto the stairs together and reached the tombstone would be Jiang Ran’s moment of death.

At the same time, it would also be the moment she completed Father’s assigned task, made up for regret, and fulfilled her wish.

Countless days of waiting.

Countless days of torment.

Countless days of effort.

At last, in just a few minutes, it would all bloom into fruit.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

In her canvas shoes, she climbed the stone steps one by one, ascending toward the broadest platform in the cemetery—as if walking beneath golden light along a devout road toward divinity.

Finally.

The last stone step.

She crossed it.

Directly before her stood an upright gravestone bearing Cheng Mengxue’s name, inlaid with the black-and-white smiling photo of that girl.

She gazed at it, gazed into the past, recalling the words once written in her diary.

This girl looked like her, yet was not her; was her, yet not like her.

This was the 713th day she had been Cheng Mengxue, and it would also be the last.

Come on—

come on.

Jiang Ran.

Come up here.

She turned back, only to find Jiang Ran standing halfway up the stairs, looking up at her.

“What’s wrong?”

The girl blinked. “Aren’t… you coming up?”

Jiang Ran spread his hands. “Actually, I’m still curious why you’d want to come see your own tombstone.”

He gave a light laugh. “Generally speaking, if someone’s alive and well, nobody can calmly accept something as ominous as a gravestone, right?”

“Forget gravestones—even a lot of living celebrities are very bothered by biographies, monuments, and statues of themselves, treating them as taboos.”

“So what exactly are you thinking? Can you tell me?”

The girl relaxed and smiled faintly. “Actually, my thoughts aren’t that complicated. I just simply wanted to come and take a look.”

She turned her head toward the black-and-white photo on the gravestone.

The traces left by morning dew had condensed into droplets on the cold stone, like tears that had flowed down.

[Because among all the people in this world, most do not have the ability to leave any trace in history.]

“Dynasties rise and fall, years turn in cycles. Even emperors once above tens of thousands rarely get more than two lines in the history books.”

“And yet I already have a gravestone in advance—a gravestone that lets everyone see me, remember me. Isn’t that something deeply meaningful?”

The girl smiled. “I think the number of people in this world who can see their own gravestone with their own eyes can be counted on one hand. And I’m one of them.”

“If this gravestone didn’t exist, these past two years, who would remember me? Who would think of me? Who would still… remember the traces I left behind?”

Jiang Ran reached into his pocket.

From inside, he took out the glass bottle stoppered with oak and raised it in his left hand.

The girl froze slightly.

Looking at the prism-like light refracted by the bottle, it felt as though something had shattered across time and struck directly into her heart.

“You—you dug it up!”

The girl became flustered. “Jiang Ran! How could you do that!”

Blinking, she suddenly understood many things. “So—when you asked me that question before, you already knew what was written in the letter—”

Ah.

Jiang Ran slipped his right hand into his front pocket and took out a card, displaying it before the girl: [Designated Truth].

He said softly, “According to our agreement that night, the effect of this card could be saved for future use. I can ask any one question, and you must answer honestly, telling me your true feelings.”

With a flick of his wrist, the card turned into a light butterfly, tracing an arc toward the girl.

She reached out and caught it, looking at the description on the card.

That’s right—

this was the paired card from the Truth or Dare game, the counterpart to the designated dare she had used before.

She had never imagined Jiang Ran would use this card here.

What would he ask?

It was clearly only one step away.

Just one step! One step more and she could complete the divine punishment and realize her wish!

“Now, I’m going to use the effect of this designated truth card to ask you one question.”

Jiang Ran looked at the girl standing above, outlined in gold by the sunlight. “[Do you remember what was written on the letter inside the glass bottle—or not?]”

Maple leaves drifted down from the branches in scattered pieces.

A sparrow pecked twice at the ground, then fluttered away.

The autumn wind lifted the hem of the girl’s skirt and the edge of Jiang Ran’s coat, carrying unseen dust and smoke off into the distance.

[“I remember.”]

The girl said softly.

She understood that this question had long been a deliberate test Jiang Ran had prepared for her.

It was precisely because of the “moss” mistake two months ago that she had still been unable to wash away suspicion and truly gain Jiang Ran’s trust.

But now, she would not be shy anymore.

She had already done the thing Cheng Mengxue had most wanted to do in her memories. Emotionally and psychologically, she had already severed herself from her.

This was only a mission, a divine punishment that absolutely had to succeed.

“Before, I was just too embarrassed to say it out loud.”

“7”

The girl smiled and lowered her head. “Although I really have forgotten some of what was written later in the letter, after all, it’s already something from more than ten years ago—”

“And on top of that, children speak without restraint. Back then I was only seven or eight. What meaningful message could I possibly have written to my twenty-years-later self?”

“But the beginning of the letter, we still remember clearly. Because back then you really made me angry. I dragged you to swimming lessons every day, but you were always finding all sorts of excuses to run away.”

“Maybe in your eyes, this little thing seems like I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. But to me—to a little girl you once pulled out of the river with your life on the line—this was the biggest thing in the world.”

She pressed her lips together, shook her head, and looked at Jiang Ran. “Jiang Ran is a huge dummy.”

The final whisper rode the autumn wind into Jiang Ran’s ears.

Along with it came the code that crossed time itself, causing Jiang Ran’s entire verification plan to collapse.

He fell silent.

He had thought this was a test with absolute certainty.

But this Cheng Mengxue, who had almost never shown a flaw, had still handed in a perfect answer.

He began recalling Wang Hao’s words—

what, exactly, counted as real?

What, exactly, counted as fake?

If something fake was identical to the real thing in every way, could it still be called fake?

“Jiang Ran, can I look at it?”

Standing above, the girl stretched out a hand toward Jiang Ran. “I only vaguely remember the first half of the letter. I’ve really forgotten the latter half completely.”

“I’m honestly so curious now—what exactly did the childhood me write to the future me?”

A lie.

She did not care in the slightest what the latter half of the letter said.

She just wanted Jiang Ran to come up.

She just wanted Jiang Ran to walk up the stairs—

just wanted him standing in front of the gravestone, entering the sniper’s line of sight.

“Okay.”

Jiang Ran nodded and walked up the stone stairs step by step, approaching the girl.

Only two steps remained.

Jiang Ran stopped and handed the glass bottle containing the letter to the girl.

Looking at the tip of Jiang Ran’s shoe where he had stopped, the girl bit her lower lip and said nothing.

She took the glass bottle.

Stepped back.

Put a little distance between them.

Then pulled out the oak stopper and drew out the childhood letter that had been sealed away for more than ten years.

She unfolded the page.

The crooked handwriting, mixed with pinyin marked with tones, leapt into view—

Jiang Ran is a huge dummy!

Seriously, every time I tell him to go learn swimming, he never takes it seriously!

If he drowns again next time, that’ll be a huge problem. He’ll die!

Sigh.

Forget it, I’d better just learn properly myself.

If something like that happens again next time, and he falls into the river, then it’ll be my turn to jump in and save him.

The me twenty years later—

you must have already grown into an adult by now, right?

Then you must be amazing, beautiful, and strong!

Are you and Jiang Ran still together?

Are you still best friends?

I really hope you’re still just like when we were little, the best friends in the whole world.

Can you promise me one thing?

[No matter where you are twenty years later, or what your relationship is—if Jiang Ran runs into danger or hardship, please make sure to help him, okay?]

[After all, he once saved our life, and nearly lost his own in the process.]

[In my heart—Jiang Ran will forever be a great hero.]

Her eyes widened, and she held her breath.

The first half of the letter was indeed exactly the same as in her memory; but the second half, the part completely forgotten, suddenly stirred up the dust of what had been buried, crashing over her like a flood beast.

Inside her heart, something snapped, and yet at the same time something came surging back.

Her whole body trembled uncontrollably, and tears burst like a broken dam, drip by drip soaking the letter paper.

Jiang Ran froze. “Y-you… why are you crying so hard?”

He stepped onto the final two stairs and stood before the girl.

“Quick—”

The girl lowered her head, choking on sobs, and forced out two words with difficulty.

“What?”

Jiang Ran hadn’t heard clearly and bent down.

The girl shakily lifted her head. Her face was already drenched in tears, and the clear, resolute gaze from this morning had become utterly unreadable at this most critical moment. “Jiang Ran—”

Grinding her teeth, seeing through life and death, through time itself, she forced the words out again.

“Quick—”

Ding.

From the rooftop of a distant building, a flash of reflected light suddenly flickered, briefly cutting across their vision.

It was a detail ordinary people would never notice, yet the girl caught it instantly with razor-sharp perception.

That was the sniper taking aim!

“Watch out!”

She shoved Jiang Ran hard, throwing herself forward.

The sound of the bullet entering flesh.

In an instant, a blossom of blood burst open, accompanied by shattered fragments of bone spilling from the hole! Jiang Ran saw only this single second before the girl knocked him to the ground, and the two of them rolled down the steps together.

“Move!”

“There’s a sniper!”

“Protect Jiang Ran!”

“Go after them!”

In an instant, the plainclothes police hidden nearby all sprang up, shouting loudly.

The gardener trimming branches ran over at flying speed and threw a smoke grenade toward where Jiang Ran had fallen.

Hissssssss!

Rolling white smoke burst outward like an explosion, instantly covering a radius of ten meters and completing the smoke screen against the sniper’s line of sight.

“Xiaoxue!”

In the dense smoke, where visibility was nearly nonexistent, Jiang Ran struggled to his feet and gathered the limp girl from the ground into his arms.

Inside the thick white haze, nothing could be seen. The sharp smell of blood and the mud soaking through everything clearly testified to a life slipping away.

“Xiaoxue!”

Jiang Ran laboriously lifted Cheng Mengxue’s head. A small hand trembled weakly as it gently touched his left cheek.

“Jiang Ran—”

Cheng Mengxue’s voice was as faint as a dying thread, thick with tears.

Her unwilling yet gradually unfocusing pupils seemed to look straight into Jiang Ran’s soul.

“—save me.”

Thud.

Her fingers lost their strength, tracing a streak of blood as they slipped from Jiang Ran’s chin. Cheng Mengxue’s arm fell heavily to the ground, and her body went soft as though all the bones had been pulled from it.

The pain in her chest was gone.

The tears no longer flowed.

At the same time—so did her breathing.

“Useless!”

On the other side of Donghai City, inside a luxurious conference room, the middle-aged man ripped off his headset in fury and slammed it onto the table.

“Utterly useless! How did it end up like this at the very last stage?!”

He shook his head and looked at the Tang-suited old man seated on the other side of the conference table.

“So there really were plainclothes officers at Jingshan. As expected, the Donghai City Public Security Bureau still found something.”

“This is bad, Old Wu. The wire on the girl will be discovered soon enough. If Wu Yang gets caught too, we’ll be completely exposed.”

The old man in Tang robes remained calm in the face of danger. He took a phone from his pocket and lifted it to his ear.

“Lilith.”

He called softly.

“Father, I am here. What are your instructions?”

The phone was clearly not connected to any call, yet a pleasant female voice came from it, elegant and strangely alive.

“Help Wu Yang escape. Deliver him safely to Los Angeles.”

The old man’s tone allowed no questioning.

“And arrange me a flight route to the Cayman Islands. We leave immediately.”

“Understood.”

The woman called Lilith responded instantly.

Two seconds later, the light and lively female voice sounded again.

“A safe route has been arranged for Wu Yang. The Cayman flight path has been secured. Total points deducted: 3.7 million.”

“Wishing you a pleasant journey, Father. Please continue upholding your noble ideals and build an even better future for this world.”

The old man put away the phone and stood up.

“We’re leaving.”

The middle-aged man nodded, pulled open the double doors of the conference room, and followed the Tang-suited elder out.

Their vehicle shot out from the underground garage, engine roaring violently as it sped toward the airport.

One hour later.

Pudong International Airport. The private jet apron. A Gulfstream business jet had been waiting there for some time.

A luxurious Rolls-Royce Phantom drove into the apron and stopped beside the plane.

“Don’t move!”

“Hands up!”

“Police!”

The Donghai police who had long been lying in ambush sprang out from every direction, guns trained on the Rolls-Royce, every one of them on full alert.

“Get out!”

An officer shouted through a loudspeaker.

Finally—

the front driver-side door opened, and the driver in a black suit and white gloves stepped out with his head lowered, both hands raised high.

“Get on the ground!”

The driver obediently lay flat.

Shield-bearing officers advanced from both sides and yanked open the rear door—

only to find no one there.

The back seat was empty.

“Search it!”

Several officers rushed forward, checking front and rear, roof and undercarriage, even opening the hood and trunk.

There was no second person.

Everyone looked at each other in stunned silence.

What—

was going on?

This was clearly Wu Yuanzheng’s private plane, and he had just applied for the emergency route under the pretense of a medical operation.

But—

where was he?

At the same time, Jiaxing Nanhu Airport.

An Toyota Alphard business van quietly drove into the apron and parked beside another private jet.

The middle-aged man stepped out, opened the rear door, and helped the Tang-suited elder out.

“Why not just have Lilith deal with the Donghai police too? She should be able to do it.”

“That would consume over 10 million points.”

The Tang-suited elder explained, “Once point consumption exceeds 10 million, the event is broadcast to all members. At that point, our identities would naturally be exposed.”

“In truth, we weren’t forced to that point, were we? We’re only heading to the Cayman Islands temporarily to avoid unnecessary trouble.”

“Once everything is handled, we can return openly and proudly. It’s not that I’m afraid of dealing with the police. I’m only concerned that others with ulterior motives might take advantage of the chaos and disrupt our plan.”

———

The middle-aged man sighed and still moved toward boarding.

Inside, he felt nothing but bitterness. A key forged over two years had finally reached the day the lock appeared.

And what happened?

Not only had they failed to open the lock, they had lost the key as well.

A total loss.

“What about Jiang Ran?”

The middle-aged man turned back. “We can’t just leave him alone.”

“Then find someone else and kill him.”

Wu Yuanzheng sounded unconcerned.

“We have so many believers. Any one of them can become the most loyal killer.”

“This time, we only went through all this trouble with divine punishment because we didn’t want to expand the impact, alert the grass, or let outsiders see any connection to us.”

“If we kept it simple, Jiang Ran could’ve been killed right inside Donghai University. We’re not lacking people like Old Bu. Plenty of believers are willing to give their lives to make up for regret.”

The middle-aged man shook his head and bent into the cabin doorway.

“This time… we lost rather miserably.”

Bang!

A muffled gunshot.

A bloody flower burst from the middle-aged man’s brow. His eyes went blank as he toppled backward, crashing down onto the boarding stairs. His corpse twitched twice, then went still.

Wu Yuanzheng froze.

No matter how he imagined it, he had never expected someone to be lying in wait inside the private jet.

Click.

A young man stepped out from the cabin, kicked aside the middle-aged man’s body, and pressed the muzzle against Wu Yuanzheng’s forehead.

“Wu Yuanzheng.”

He gave a light laugh.

“Never thought the man behind Father… would be you. I even read your biography when I was little. I admired you for a while.”

Facing the gun, Wu Yuanzheng’s breathing remained steady.

“Young man, put the gun down. Whatever you want, we can discuss it properly. Whatever it is, I can give it to you.”

The young man gave a cold snort, slipped his left hand into his trouser pocket, and took out a gleaming gold coin.

On the reverse side of the coin was engraved a bizarre Ferris wheel, with a deep, mysterious eye staring from the center.

The front of the coin faced Wu Yuanzheng. The moment he saw the emblem, his pupils contracted sharply.

He already understood who the other party was.

And he had already seen his own ending.

“How did you find me?”

He asked softly.

“Your situation is even more dangerous than mine, hiding everywhere. Spare me, and I’ll help you deal with the Clown.”

“Heh. Too late, Father.”

The young man looked at him.

“There was never any grudge between us, and I had no extra energy to waste on you. Even when you targeted me multiple times in Prodigy’s Playground, I never held it against you.”

“But you just had to do the one thing I can never forgive.”

His voice turned heavy.

“You touched my best friends.”

“Not one—two of them. The two best friends in the whole world. How exactly am I supposed to forgive you?”

“I meant no harm.”

Wu Yuanzheng closed his eyes.

“This was only a test, a verification. From another angle, you could even say I helped fulfill the wish you made two years ago. Shouldn’t you be thanking me?”

“If someone betrayed you, then it was the [Puppet]. What did you think of the information I gave you? His plan isn’t hard to guess. You can start a [Hide-and-Seek Game] just like I did, take his coin, and gain the same authority as me.”

“You really like playing games, don’t you?”

The young man smiled.

“Then fine, Father.”

He pinched the coin in his left hand and balanced it on the tip of his index finger, thumb pressing underneath in preparation.

“If it lands face up, I spare you. If it lands tails up, I shoot.”

Without waiting for Wu Yuanzheng to react, he flicked the coin into the air.

Whirr, whirr, whirr.

The coin spun through the air, then landed with a ding, bounced twice, and lay still.

Wu Yuanzheng hurriedly opened his eyes and looked down.

On the coin was the embossed image of a man in a tailcoat, a top hat on his head, a short cane in his right hand, stars scattered behind him.

At the lower section was a string of English letters:

MAGIIAN

(The Magician)

“Heh… hehehe.”

Wu Yuanzheng laughed happily.

“It seems my luck is never—”

Bang!

The gunshot rang out loud and sharp.

A bullet hole appeared in Wu Yuanzheng’s forehead, and the entire back of his skull exploded open, blood and brain matter splattering everywhere. He fell backward onto the morning steps and landed in a spreading pool of blood.

Qin Feng bent down, picked up the Magician coin from the ground, and slipped it back into his pocket.

Then he stepped forward, looking down at Wu Yuanzheng’s dead, unclosed eyes.

“Your luck is very bad.”

He crouched down.

[Those were the best friends of my entire life.]

“I may not understand them, but I understand myself.”

“In a seventy-character text message, nearly half the space was wasted on the two of them. That means they had to be the people I valued most in my life.”

After that, he opened Wu Yuanzheng’s outer robe and took two coins from the inner pocket, laying them side by side on the ground.

One was Wu Yuanzheng’s own identity marker—the Father coin.

The other was the coin Wu Yuanzheng had won from defeating the King in the Hide-and-Seek Game.

The King’s seat had already been permanently eliminated from Prodigy’s Playground, and its identity coin had become an item carrying a one-vote veto right.

But Father’s seat could still be inherited.

And after inheritance, it could likewise continue the sole authority over the King coin.

Only—

Qin Feng stood up and raised the phone to his ear.

“Lilith. Destroy the Father coin for me.”

“Ah?”

A trace of surprise entered the pleasant female voice on the phone.

“Are you certain, Magician? Lilith is obligated to remind you that Father’s seat can still be inherited through the coin, and it also passes along the usage rights of the King coin.”

“According to the game rules, if you choose to destroy the Father coin, then the King coin will also be destroyed along with it.”

“I’m sure.”

Qin Feng already knew the rules by heart.

“Every member of the playground is absurdly intelligent. At the next meeting, they’ll immediately realize Father was killed and that someone else took over behind the scenes.”

“At present, both [Puppet] and [Witch] have already noticed that there’s something unusual about Jiang Ran. Jiang Ran has also already used the Donghai City Public Security Bureau to openly oppose Wu Yuanzheng.”

“If Father’s seat still exists, then the first person they’ll suspect will definitely be Jiang Ran. Even if I personally admit to killing Father, it won’t help. It’ll only make them more suspicious of my relationship with Jiang Ran and bring him even more danger.”

“Besides, Father’s dictatorship has lasted far too long. It’s made everyone in the playground overly cautious and extremely restrained. If they don’t expose flaws, how am I supposed to win this game?”

“Understood.”

Lilith’s reply was concise.

Almost instantly, the Father coin on the ground heated up, turned red in patches, and began to burn.

The identity coins in Prodigy’s Playground only resembled gold coins. In reality, they were made from a glossy plastic-like material designed to look like gold.

Inside the coin were complex circuit components.

Lilith was using a signal to activate the self-destruct mechanism inside the coin, creating a short-circuit burn.

Beep!

As the Father coin was completely destroyed, a push notification appeared on Qin Feng’s phone:

[N.3—PRIEST OUT!]

(N.3 Father eliminated!)

Beep!

Beep!

Beep!

At the same time, in seven corners across the world, seven phones rang with the same notification.

Switzerland. Interlaken.

Snow drifted at the entrance to the Alps. Inside a house with a blazing fireplace, a disheveled-haired man picked up his phone and smiled.

“Well now, well now. Father’s been eliminated. I really thought he’d last until the end.”

“Good riddance, honestly. Although I never personally knew Yan Chonghan from Dartmouth, he was doing work for my assistant at the academy. This counts as avenging him.”

“I have to say, with Father holding the King coin, someone still dared to challenge him—and actually succeeded. That’s impressive.”

“Who could it be? My guess is the Witch? The Vampire? Or maybe the Clown? Heh, I do hope someone stands up to talk about it at the next meeting. This is the great hero who’s liberated us.”

“Lilith.”

He called out.

“I need confirmation. If Father’s seat is eliminated, does that mean the King coin is invalid too?”

“That’s correct, Puppet.”

The bright, cheerful female voice came from the phone.

“As you said, the era of Father’s dictatorship in Prodigy’s Playground is over. No one possesses one-vote veto power anymore. You no longer need to hold back, nor need you answer to anyone.”

“Heh, I’m curious too.”

The man codenamed Puppet rubbed his stubble.

“How’s my piece doing? That girl called Cheng Mengxue—she was the only volunteer in the consciousness-upload experiment.”

“If Father’s offer hadn’t been tempting enough, I truly wouldn’t have wanted to break my agreement with the Magician. Well, too late now. The Magician will come settle the score with me sooner or later.”

“But only if he gets past the Clown first. So tell me, Lilith—how’s Cheng Mengxue? Is she still with Father? Is she alive?”

“Sorry, Puppet.”

Lilith’s voice carried helplessness.

“Lilith cannot answer that question.”

“Ah, you’re way too rigid.”

Puppet spread his hands.

“This is the kind of thing that’ll be obvious from tomorrow’s news anyway. Can’t you just tell me directly?”

Lilith gave a giggle.

“That’s right, Puppet. No matter how small the question is, it still isn’t allowed.”

She continued:

[ Lilith is only responsible for carrying out specific commands. She cannot answer any questions outside the game rules. ]

“All right, all right.”

The man was already used to it.

He stood up and looked at the goose-feather snow outside.

“A new era’s coming.”

“Lilith, can you stop the snow outside and give us two days of sunshine to celebrate?”

“You can, Puppet.”

Lilith replied calmly.

“That command would consume more than 10 million points, so I need your confirmation.”

“To stop snowfall in the Interlaken region at the foot of the Alps and maintain clear weather for two days will require 37 million points. According to game rules, this must also be broadcast to all members through the Prodigy’s Playground system. Do you wish to proceed?”

“Hahahaha, I was joking!”

The man burst into hearty laughter.

“The points don’t matter—I’ve got plenty. But the second that gets broadcast, won’t those little geniuses instantly figure out I’m hiding here?”

“Maybe after I move, I can use a broadcast like that to mess with them. But forget it. Those people are all way too cowardly. Give them the slightest clue and they’ll trace the whole vine straight back to you.”

“So better safe than sorry. Just look at that arrogant Father. If he’d stayed as cautious as he was before getting the King coin, how could he have ended up like this?”

“All right, that’s it, Lilith. I need to get back to work.”

“Very well. Have a pleasant work session!”

Lilith’s voice gradually faded.

“Then until next time, Puppet. Please continue upholding your noble ideals and build an even better future for this world.”

The Pacific Ocean. Fiji. Vanuatu Island.

On a beach blazing under the sun, a gracefully curved woman in a bikini reclined beneath a parasol, drinking juice.

Hearing the push notification sound from the phone beside her, she picked it up and smiled.

“Hehe, Father got taken out. Seems you offended someone you shouldn’t have. As expected, sacrificing a Princess coin to muddy the waters was absolutely worth it.”

“One Princess coin to eliminate a troublesome opponent and conveniently wipe out the King coin too. What a bargain.”

“Prodigy’s Playground is definitely going to get much more interesting from here on out, isn’t it? The age of heroes dancing in chaos is finally about to begin again. I’ve been waiting forever. Father’s dictatorship was so boring.”

“Lilith.”

She called into the phone.

“I’m here! Dear Witch, what are your instructions?”

Lilith’s voice was full of playful confusion.

“It seems extremely hot where you are. Please remember to stay hydrated and avoid heatstroke.”

The woman shook her empty glass.

“Then send me two more juices.”

“Understood!”

Lilith replied crisply.

“Two more of the same freshly squeezed orange juices have been ordered for you. Once prepared, hotel staff will deliver them. Total points deducted: 80.”

“Ah, one more thing.”

The woman added, “In the eastern outskirts of Los Angeles, find me an abandoned church, factory, warehouse, something like that. Buy it for me and clean up the surrounding issues.”

“Of course, Witch.”

Lilith remained just as efficient.

“There is an abandoned Catholic church in the eastern outskirts of Los Angeles, uninhabited nearby, with the nearest commercial location five kilometers away. It meets your requirements. Everything has been arranged. Total points deducted: 2.3 million.”

“Just send me the address.”

The woman codenamed Witch set down her juice and stretched lazily.

“Now that Father’s fallen off the stage—some debts finally need to be settled.”

“That’s all for now, Lilith. Goodbye.”

The phone screen dimmed.

“Goodbye, Witch.”

Lilith’s tone remained bright.

“Enjoy a pleasant holiday. Afterward, please continue upholding your noble ideals and build an even better future for this world.”

Jiaxing Nanhu Airport. Private jet apron.

After the Father coin had burned to ashes, the King coin also began to short-circuit, glow red, and burn.

In less than a minute, the coin curled into a blackened lump of charcoal, no longer resembling its original form.

“What a pity, Magician.”

Lilith’s voice came regretfully from the phone.

“I originally thought you’d use the King coin on the Clown. I never expected you’d destroy it without hesitation.”

“That’s something many members dream of.”

“Using the King coin’s veto to make the Clown shut up forever would indeed feel satisfying. But honestly, it wouldn’t change my situation, nor bring me any benefit.”

Qin Feng’s analysis remained utterly rational.

“The Clown’s greatest threat to me is that he knows my identity and wants to kill me.”

“I have no interest in his future plans, nor in anyone else’s thoughts. So to me, the King coin has no use whatsoever.”

“Because my goal is to win this game and obtain the final authority of Prodigy’s Playground.”

[That means I will eliminate every single one of them. It also means every one of their plans and ideas is doomed to fail.]

“Wow, what a terrifying look in your eyes!”

Lilith’s voice on the phone deliberately acted as though she were trembling.

“But, Mr. Magician, what exactly is your final plan?”

“I don’t have any elaborate plan.”

Qin Feng said directly.

“My plan is massive and pure in only one sense—the same thing I just said.”

[Win this game and seize the ultimate authority of Prodigy’s Playground.]

He looked at the two coins burned into charcoal on the ground and said softly:

“I deceived my best friends, and I got my best friends killed. I never meant to drag them in again, yet I still ended up pulling them into danger.”

“This is a mistake I must make up for—even if on this worldline we don’t bear the title of best friends, and don’t share the same experiences or memories.”

“But friends are still friends. If on one worldline we were best friends, then on every worldline—I recognize them as my best friends.”

He straightened his collar and turned around.

“So my best friends—I’ll protect them.”

“The best friends I got killed—I’ll redeem them myself!”