Chapter 1
The rusty steel rod swung across Jason's lower back, landing with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the ground, gasping, as another blow slammed into his spine. He visualized his vertebrae cracking like weathered bark under the assault.
Jason couldn't hold on any longer. Numbness spread through his limbs as he collapsed, blood trickling from his forehead into his eyes, tinting his vision crimson.
"…Bastard…" he choked out.
Laughter erupted around him. A squat, wiry man shouldered the steel rod, circling Jason before planting a muddy boot on his skull. "Think you're tough, huh? Show me again."
Jason's vision blurred, his brain buzzing from the pain. This man, leaner than him, possessed shocking strength, speed, and reflexes—Jason was no match.
The man ground his boot into Jason's temple. "Come on, show me that attitude."
Jason blinked blood from his lashes, spitting a bloody tonge. "Scum."
The man's eyes turned murderous. The rod came down on Jason's skull, the crack echoing like thunder in his ears. White-hot pain tore his nerves as he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. Blood dripped from the rod onto the vibrant grass.
"Boss Wei, stop! He'll die!" someone called.
"Fuck healing. Find a same-level player to take him out. 1000 points waiting—don't waste it."
Death… Would he die here, in this absurd place? No—he couldn't. What about his grandmother? He had to escape, to kill these monsters.
Boss Wei hauled Jason up by his bloody hair, forcing eye contact. "You've got guts, kid. Could've been a good dog if you'd behaved. Too bad you don't know when to quit."
Jason was nearly unconscious, but hatred flared at the man's smug face. His bleary eyes suddenly sharpened.
Boss Wei froze, releasing him instinctively and stepping back.
Jason surged up with a final burst of strength, hands clamping around Boss Wei's throat. Kill him! Take him down with me!
Boss Wei's face turned purple, eyes bulging as he kicked Jason's abdomen and shins. Jason coughed up blood, pain numbing him as he squeezed tighter, ignoring the blows.
Others rushed in, kicking and pulling, but his grip wouldn't budge. Boss Wei pried at Jason's wrists, nearly crushing the bones. Jason's veins stood out, eyes wild with Killing Intent,a specter from hell.
"Pull him off! Boss is choking!"
"Fuck, where's this strength coming from? Kill him!"
"Can't! We're higher level—system punishment if we kill him!"
A blade flashed. Jason saw it in slow motion: the steel biting into his forearm, his hand severing at the wrist. Blood sprayed.
Agony exploded. A red haze fell over his vision. He rolled, staring at his severed hand, legs kicking involuntarily, a death rattle in his throat.
This game was real—pain, humiliation, death. And he'd done nothing yet. He refused to accept this.
Memories flooded back: his entry into this world…
Chapter 2
Icy water engulfed Jason, needles piercing his clothes and chilling his bones. He could swim, but winter seascape and painkillers numbed his limbs. Cotton clothes dragged him down, zipper stubborn under stiff fingers. Darkness pressed in, asphyxia drowning his panic.
He thought of his grandmother in the hospital, his wasted life, the fall into the sea. Had Qiao Ruidu fallen too?
Salt water flooded his mouth, limbs heavy. Was this death? His grandmother… he was a failure.
A warm light bloomed, wrapping him in warmth, chasing away the cold. He opened his eyes to nothing but light.
A child's voice: "Congratulations! You're selected for the Abyss Game. Choose to enter or…" A giggle. "Die now."
Confusion swirled. Dead or alive? "Enter," he croaked.
Light blinded him. When he woke, voices surrounded him—curious, unconcerned,hostile faces.
He sat up, scanning a sunny village: tall trees, cozy houses, fields in the distance. Dry clothes, no sign of the sea.
A portly man sneered: "Newbie. This isn't reality. It's the game world."
Jason touched his wrist—an icy silver band, unremovable. "Silver Ice Device," the man said. "Your system port."
Jason snapped: "How do I get it off?"
"Can't. You're in newbie protection—for now." The man leaned in, menacing. "Watch your mouth. An hour later, you'll regret it."
Jason smirked. "No need to wait." He'd fought enough street battles to not fear bullies.
A woman with a burn scar interrupted. "Newbie, time's short. Access the Device—all info's there."
The man sneered away. Jason tried, and his consciousness plunged into a virtual space—twin kids, system spirits, explaining rules: kill to level up, no killing lower levels, or face punishment.
"Your only chance to leave: become an 'Ace'," the boy chirped.
Jason's head spun. Kill or be killed. He thought of his grandmother, the debt he owed.
Back in the village, the portly man returned with thugs as the protection timer ticked down—24 minutes. Jason grabbed a hoe, but the scarred woman stopped him. "Foolish. They'll torture you."
He ate a burger from the system, eyeing the thugs. His underground fighting days taught him to read opponents—these men were reinforced,but he'd fought stronger.
Timer hit zero. The portly man grinned. "Time's up, kid."
Jason dropped the burger, fists ready. The first blow came fast, but he ducked, countering with a kick. The man's speed shocked him— reinforced indeed. They swarmed, fists and boots raining down. He curled up, protecting his vitals, waiting for an opening.
Grabbing a leg, he flipped the portly man, knee slamming into his spine. Chaos erupted. Jason grabbed a steel rod, swinging wildly. Blood splattered, but a heavier blow sent him flying, rod clattering away.
David—approached, smirking. "Tough guy? Let's see you land a hit."
Jason stood, wobbling. Every bone ached, but he'd survived worse. He charged, feinting to grab the hoe, swinging at David's legs. The man dodged easily, speed blurring. A kick to Jason's ribs dropped him, rod cracking his skull.
Darkness threatened, but rage burned. He clung to David's leg, teeth sinking into his calf. Blood filled his mouth as David screamed, knife slashing Jason's arm.
Through bloodied vision, Jason saw his severed hand lying nearby, the Silver Ice Device still on the wrist. So this is how it ends?
Blackness swallowed him.
Chapter 3
Jason opened his eyes to darkness, no pain, no sensation. Was this death? He "moved," sensing his body but unable to touch anything. A faint light revealed a broken robot rat, metallic and menacing. It attacked, claws swiping—no pain, but relentless.
Time lost meaning until a white flash pulled him back.
He woke to Sherry's scarred face, half-concealed by hair. "You… survived?" she breathed.
Pain crashed back. "My hand?"
"Here." She gestured to his wrist, whole again, thanks to a Healing Scroll. Jason flexed his fingers, amazed. "Thanks. I owe you."
"More than that. Scrolls are expensive." She looked away. "They thought you dead. Left you for me to bury."
Jason surveyed the forest, moonlight filtering through. "Why help me?"
Sherry shrugged. "Bad luck. Thought I'd make 30 points, now I'm out a scroll."
He laughed weakly. "I'll repay you."
"First, survive."
They talked of the game: levels, points, the tyrant Han Bin ruling their village. Jason learned his Silver Ice Device had disconnected when his hand was severed, reconnecting when Sherry placed it back—his "glitch" in the system.
As dawn approached, Sherry healed his worse injuries. Jason vowed to get stronger, to kill David,to escape. The Abyss Game was no game—it was survival, kill or be killed.
And somewhere, his grandmother waited. He'd fight through this hell or die trying. The first step: master the game's rules, use its glitches, and rise through the ranks. Even if it meant becoming a monster himself.
Chapter 4
Both sucked in a breath simultaneously. After all the thought, this seemed the only plausible explanation.
Sherry couldn't help touching her right upper arm, where her Silver Ice Device lay hidden beneath her sleeve. Jason ran his fingers over the cold metal on his wrist, a self-deprecating smile forming. "So I got lucky it's on my wrist."
"Actually, everyone starts with it on their right wrist. It can move and transform."
"Move? Transform?"
Sherry nodded. "Its material is unique—like the liquid metal in Terminator, but more functional. With points, you can alter its shape and position, but it can't leave your body. I've seen someone turn it into a dagger fused with their hand. To me, it's a collar around our necks—we're never free of the system as long as it's there."
"Cutting off the limb would disconnect it."
"Then you become a living ghost, consciousness stuck in the void space." Sherry shook her head. "I know what you're thinking, but escaping through that loophole? Unlikely."
Jason pressed a hand to his aching stomach, gasping. "Then play by the rules—become an 'Ace'. What's that rank?"
Sherry gave a bitter smile. "Ranks are based on playing cards. Levels 2–10 are ordinary; above that are the 'Attendants'."
"Attendants?"
"Four Jacks, Four Queens, Four Kings, Four Aces, one Black Joker, one Red Joker—collectively, Attendants."
Jason's Adam's apple bobbed, speechless. A Level 5 Wei had already felt inhuman—what power would higher ranks hold?
Sherry read his mind. "Scary, right? The highest rank now is a King, the only one for ages. No second King, so he can never become an Ace."
Jason shook his head, no fear—only excitement. What man didn't dream of godlike power?
Sherry stood. "I can take you to my place. You won't survive long out here like this."
Jason nodded. She eyed him, tone icy: "You don't look like a bad guy, but cross me, and I'll break your limbs and feed you to Ted."
Jason smirking. He understood her vigilance—2000 points was a tempting bounty for a lone girl in this world.
Sherry flushed. "What's so funny?"
"Help me, and I'll repay tenfold. Hurt me, and I'll return it tenfold." He grinned lazily. "If you don't trust me, leave alone. My word stands."
She hesitated, then said, "Follow me."
Jason braced against a tree, rising inch by inch, voice a whisper: "Let's go."
"Can you walk?"
"Fine."
"I won't let you within two meters. Don't expect help."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Back in the village, Jason tried to avoid those outside. "NPCs," Sherry said. "Yellow names are NPCs, green are players."
He focused—sure enough, a generic name floated above an NPC's head. Sherry's head showed a green name and Level 4.
Her home was spacious, plain but clean, empty save for essentials. "Rented. Newbie houses offer protection—only those I allow can enter. You're safe here."
Jason collapsed onto the guest bed, exhausted from the short walk. Sherry bit her lip, explaining, "Healing Scrolls are 80 points. That's all I can afford."
"You owe me nothing. This is more than enough."
She nodded. "Rest." As she turned to leave, he called out, "Can you check someone's status by name?"
Sherry paused. "Costs points to unlock. Who?"
"Ryan Qiao."
Silence. "Ryan Qiao, Level 2, born in West White Tiger Rookie Town."
Jason's jaw tensed, staring at the ceiling, a mocking smile forming. Of course he's here.
"Is he—"
"Goodnight," Jason cut in, waving her off.
—
He woke at dusk, disoriented, memories crashing back. Grandma…
He sighed, covering his eyes. Physical pain paled to the ache in his chest. His mother was rarely around; his grandmother had raised him. Just as he could finally repay her…
Hospital savings would run out. How long until he escaped? Would she wait? He didn't even know if he'd live another day.
Gritting his teeth, he swallowed pills and ate, then froze at voices outside. Peering through curtains, he saw Ted and his cronies laughing crudely. Murderous intent flared—he'd memorized their faces, their names. They'd pay.
Back in bed, he accessed the Player Platform. The twins sat there, dressed differently.
"Need help, Player?" Xiao Yuan chirped.
"Healing Scrolls." Jason snapped.
"You can't afford them."
"Then shut up."
Xiao Yuan shrugged, fiddling with his shoelaces. Jason browsed weapon categories— cold weapons,hot weapons… Futuristic weapons like the Air Compression Rocket Launcher (1200 points) baffled him.
Xiao Shen said,"16 days to skim everything here non-stop."
Jason exited, rolling his eyes. "Must I see you every time?"
"Use the shortcut outside. But you'll need us—many players even consult us for lunch."
"Doubt it." Jason logged out as Sherry entered, night falling.
"You're up. Feeling better?"
"Barely." He stood, steadying himself. "Take me to the grind spot tonight."
"I just got back." Sherry poured water, gulping it down. "24 points today, interrupted by Han's men. At midnight, we'll hit the Gray Rats—80 points in two nights, tops."
"Tough?"
"Passive aggro. Stay a meter away; they stop chasing outside their zone. You might be faster."
"Frontal attack?"
"Unlikely without reinforce. I calculated—if not for Han stealing points, a Level 3 could handle them easily."
"We'll take back what's ours." Jason's voice was steel.
—
At 3 a.m., they left. Jason spent 10 points on a steel longsword, 5 left from his initial 20. Painkillers numbed his grip.
Gray Rats loomed outside the village, meter-tall, motionless in moonlight, eerie as zombies.
Sherry demonstrated: strike the leg from behind, retreat, repeat. Jason recognized the pattern—he'd endured their claws in the void, memorizing every move.
"Your turn," Sherry said, panting after a kill.
Jason approached a Rat, blade aimed at its heart. It lunged—left claw, right claw, seven swipes, a bite. He dodged, circling, timing the opening.
Minutes later, the Rat fell, a prompt glowing: 3 points + 20 for First Harvest.
Sherry gaped. "You… you studied their attacks in the void?"
"Couldn't feel pain there. Watched every strike."
She nodded, excited. "This changes everything. With your guidance, we'll farm Scrolls tonight."
Jason collapsed, sweating, but grinned. "Go. I'll talk you through it."
Sherry charged, blade flashing. Under his instructions, she landed quicker kills, each Rat falling faster than before. The void's torture had gifted him a cheat—pattern recognition no newbie should have.
As dawn neared, exhaustion blurred his vision, but hope burned. Every Rat killed was a step toward revenge, toward survival, toward home. The Abyss Game was a nightmare, but he'd turn its rules into a weapon. Jason Qiao didn't lose—he survived, he adapted, he conquered. And nothing, not even death, would stop him.
Chapter 5
Jason guided Sherry through the Gray Rats' attack patterns, her speed and strength surpassing his. With his near-precognitive edge from the void, she took down each Rat in two minutes flat, barely breaking a sweat.
"Eight kills in half an hour—usually takes me all day!" She wiped her brow, exhilaration overriding fatigue. "We'll buy that Healing Scroll tonight!"
Jason grinned, sick of feeling like a corpse. "How many grind spots in Moonheart?"
"Two dozen, four types: passive single-attack, passive group-attack, active single-attack, active group-attack. The tough ones are active group—Goblins give 30 points each, but Han Bin leads raids for those."
"Shares points?"
She snorted. "Only if you form a party. Han hoards points, lets his lackeys kill for scraps."
"Once we're stronger, we hit higher-point mobs." Three points per Rat was tedious, but survival demanded patience.
Sherry nodded, blade flashing again. Euphoria drove her—each kill a step toward safety. By midnight, she hit 80 points, redeeming a Scroll.
"Healing works better on specific areas," she explained. "Full-body heals minor wounds; focus on one spot for serious injuries. Where first?"
"Head." Jason tapped his temple—skull fracture memories lingered, illusion or reality,brain was priority.
The Scroll's green light washed over him, fog lifting from his mind. Pain dulled, clarity returning. "Better. Let's get another Scroll tonight."
Sherry's guard eased, scar less daunting in the adrenaline rush. They ate stale bread, slept in ten-minute bursts, and grinded until dawn, finally maxing Jason's heals.
—
Daylight trapped Jason indoors. He bought the "Demon Subduing List" for 20 points, a ranking of all 2,600 players. Ryan Qiao's level 3 confirmed what he feared: the bastard was killing too.
The platform's depth overwhelmed him—weapons, skills, maps—but its brutality shone through: a carnival of death dressed as a game.
A distant rumble shook the house, followed by shouts. Peering through curtains, he saw a crowd around the Life Tree—not newbies, but tense players.
Sherry returned, breathless. "A Punisher's back—Level 9."
Jason whistled. "Zou Yidao? The soldier?"
She nodded, eyes blazing. "Han's groveling, but he's plotting. My brother trusted him… Han got drunk with him, then stole his points when he passed out." Her voice hitched. "He kept me alive to breed 5-level cannon fodder for Zheng Wei to kill and level up."
Jason squeezed her shoulder. "After Han's dead, you can fix your face."
She looked away, whispering, "Maybe."
They schemed late into the night. Zou's 9-level status made him a wildcard—too strong for Han to ignore, too broke to leave. If they could pit them against each other…
—
At dawn, Jason accessed the platform, ignoring Xiao Shen's icy glare. The Enhancement menu glowed, three options: Body, Skills, Soul Forging.
"Skills unlock with Runes, Soul Forging at Level 6," Xiao Yuan chirped, bouncing in his chair. "Runes give non-attack skills—like 'Bard' for singing, or 'Skinshift' for disguise." He winked. "Lucky you only get three Runes. Choose wisely!"
Jason ignored the tease, focusing on Body Enhancement—Strength 26, Speed 24, Luck 7. "What's Luck do?"
"Better drops, dodges, luckier draws. Like a magnet for good rolls." Xiao Yuan smirked. "Your Luck's abysmal—no wonder you're here."
Jason scoffed, dumping all points into Strength. A dizziness washed over him, muscles tingling. Small gains, but every point counted.
Sherry dozed nearby, scarred face peaceful in sleep. Jason vowed to make Han pay—not just for her, but for every soul trapped in this hell.
The Abyss had rules, but he'd bend them until they broke.