NFM Chapter 97

Meanwhile, in the command center of the Southern Region, the live broadcast was also being played.

“Dr. Qiao. The General has been alone inside…”

“He’s been in there for a whole day,” Dr. Qiao replied with some curiosity. “What has he been doing?”

As he spoke, he heard the rapid sound of keyboard typing coming from inside. After a continuous barrage of keystrokes, it seemed the person inside had completed his task. He pressed the “Enter” key and stretched lazily.

“In critical moments, it’s still the power of technology that saves the day…” the man sighed.

Dr. Qiao: “……?”

After thinking for a moment, Dr. Qiao waited until the room was completely silent before pushing open the General’s door.

…He felt like his eyes were playing tricks on him.

In the otherwise empty command room, the cold and ruthless General had his feet propped up on the table, one hand supporting his chin as he watched the live broadcast on the screen, while the other hand held a lollipop. Before Dr. Qiao could fully process what he was seeing, his vision blurred again.

The next moment, he saw the General sitting upright, a white object clenched between his teeth, his gaze focused intently on the screen in front of him.

“What is this…”

“This cigarette tastes quite good,” the other man said coldly.

Dr. Qiao: “……”

He suspected that the General might be lying, but his long-standing admiration for his friend quickly dispelled that thought. When he saw the person on the screen, he let out a surprised “Huh?”

“You’re actually watching a live broadcast from Star Light TV,” he said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt like he was stating the obvious. Who else would the General be watching? It was self-evident! With a mix of resentment and schadenfreude, he looked at the person on the screen who was shaking their shoulders and said, “As expected, he’s still just a lowly potential criminal, getting so emotional…”

“What?”

“Getting so worked up after witnessing a few deaths,” Dr. Qiao shrugged. “Considering the show’s effect, the production team chose the least bloody methods of execution. Yet he still… He’s just mentally fragile…”

Then, he heard the General’s voice.

“He is quite emotional,” the man said. “Look how happy he’s laughing, tsk tsk.”

“What?”

It wasn’t until half an hour later that Dr. Qiao remembered the purpose of his visit—to report on the increasingly rampant and seemingly divinely assisted attacks by the Southern Region Freedom Army. But before that, let’s turn our attention back to the museum.

The question of “Has No. 81 been scared to tears?” lingered in the minds of the host and the audience. The host signaled the director to give Lin Huai a close-up while saying, “It seems our No. 81 is quite emotionally unstable. So next—”

His voice was abruptly cut off, as if strangled by a farmer’s chicken.

What he had expected to see was a face filled with fear, anger, exhaustion, and pain from the death of his comrades. But to his surprise, what appeared on the screen—and was magnified from every angle for the audience to savor every detail of his negative emotions—was a face with a joyful smile!

The prepared script vanished in that instant. Looking at the face before him, the host found it difficult to put his thoughts into words. The smile carried not a trace of sympathy, fear, hesitation, anger, or even the relief of having narrowly escaped death—it was pure, unadulterated joy.

That joy didn’t seem to stem from the relief of seeing his comrades survive, nor did it carry the shadow that should have accompanied witnessing multiple brutal deaths. It was simply joy, complete and utter joy. He glanced at the third empty cabinet, his gaze briefly passing over the cabinet where the brutal deaths had occurred, and finally rested on the trembling boy in the fourth cabinet.

—Wasn’t he afraid? Wasn’t he angry?

The host eventually continued with his prepared script: “No. 81, earlier during the execution of No. 72 and others, you seemed quite angry. What was it that made you so furious? Was it the death of your comrades, or was it a mask for your own fear of the situation?”

“Fear?”

“Seeing your comrades die without dignity—isn’t that worth fearing?”

“Heh, heh…” Lin Huai laughed, his shoulders shaking. Then, he glanced at the audience with a hint of amused disdain, “Actually, I initially found this show incredibly boring, so boring it made me want to sleep—”

“Killing for thrills is common. But this method—where there’s no blood, no screams—is just too dull,” he shrugged. “It almost put me to sleep. Let me teach you a better way—if you want to pursue thrills, why not install a metal propeller at the top, spinning as it descends—(the following content was manually censored by the author), or remove the atmosphere…”

As he vividly described the scene, the audience turned pale, and some with weak stomachs began to gag. Lin Huai looked at the people below, feigning surprise, “Oh? Isn’t this the thrill you wanted? Compared to me, are you really more civilized?”

“This No. 81, he’s a complete villain…” someone murmured.

“So disgusting, how could he say such vile and cruel things?”

“He should be executed! How can someone like him be allowed to live? He must be executed!”

These commentators, who hadn’t personally participated in the execution of the potential criminals, spoke with a clear conscience, loudly calling for another person’s death. Meanwhile, the demon at the center of their discussion laughed. He covered his face, his laughter growing louder, “Originally, I thought you were all incredibly boring. This random execution method is such an old cliché. But just now, I discovered a secret—this secret is the most ingenious and creative aspect of this game.”

“Here, I must pay my respects to the show’s planner. You are truly creative,” he said, his eyes gleaming as he looked at everyone. “Want to know what that creativity is?”

“Should we cut the broadcast?” someone asked.

“No,” the person in charge stopped him. “Let’s see what else No. 81 has to say.”

Next, No. 81 said something that left everyone dumbfounded: “What’s the current viewership?”

“What?”

After the host reported the viewership numbers, Lin Huai shook his head with regret, “Only a few million? Well, consider it a grand opening discount.”

“Before revealing this truth, I’ll also make my judgment on No. 91’s fate,” Lin Huai said, looking at the red-haired girl in the glass cabinet across from him. “I saved you once before, and now you’re here again. What a coincidence… By the way, let me ask you a question.”

The red-haired girl looked at him in confusion.

“How long can you hold your breath?”

After saying this, he pressed the blue button in front of everyone, laughing heartily.

Transparent water began to slowly fill the glass cabinet from the top. To savor the prisoners’ fear, the speed of the water flow was strictly controlled—it would take about five minutes to reach the girl’s nose.

The human limit for holding breath is three minutes. The girl had eight minutes left to live.

After witnessing Lin Huai’s bizarre actions, the previously sluggish viewership skyrocketed to its peak! Countless viewers who had left the live stream or switched channels flooded back in. They spammed question marks and exclamation marks, everyone asking the same few questions.

“Is he crazy?”

“Is he deliberately killing someone?”

“Why is No. 81 doing this?”

Amidst the stunned gazes of everyone, Lin Huai laughed heartily. He laughed so loudly, like a child who had just received his favorite toy.

“You…” the host was speechless.

He was completely stunned by the scene before him. According to his plan, Lin Huai would definitely press the yellow button, releasing the potential criminal as he had done before. Then, at the end of the show, they would reveal the truth behind “allowing the prisoners to escape,” savoring the prisoners’ even greater despair while watching the viewership reach its climax.

But, but.

But this man didn’t play by the rules!

He was actually going to kill someone!

“You, you,” the host stammered, “Why are you killing someone?”

Lin Huai looked at him leisurely, “Isn’t this what you, the production team, and the greenhouse gave me? I’m the fourth, with the power to kill the corresponding prisoner.”

“But…”

“But what?” He stepped closer to the glass, his dark eyes meeting the host’s. Those eyes were inscrutable, but the corners of his mouth curled up in a sinister and eerie smile, “Oh, I see—”

He deliberately drew out his words.

“You don’t actually want to kill, you don’t want to punish the guilty. Your thrill doesn’t come from their deaths,” he said softly. “What you truly want is to dominate us completely—our bodies, our souls, our dignity.”

“What you want to satisfy is just the desire to dominate from on high.”

After saying this, he laughed again. Meanwhile, the water had already reached the girl’s calves.

But the girl didn’t struggle, nor did she show any sign of pain. She looked at the young man in the glass cage across from her, her gaze resolute.

—As if she had made a decision.

“This is quite a show,” Su Li heard her roommate say. “Is No. 81 crazy? Deliberately killing his own comrade?”

“What is this? Would rather die free than live on in disgrace?”

“Why overthink it? I think No. 81 just had a mental breakdown from fear!”

“This…”

In the Southern Region command center, Dr. Qiao watched everything unfold, his mind frozen.

He couldn’t understand Lin Huai’s actions at all. The only explanation was that this man was a villain bent on societal revenge. But the General sitting beside him curled up the corners of his mouth at that moment.

Lin Huai’s actions had, in that instant, almost maxed out the world’s hatred toward him. Even Wang Pangzi and Lu Xiaotian, who were still in their glass cells, exchanged a stunned glance.