The Arena of the Empty Tower (Gladiator) Chapter Fifty-Seven: Sisters

In truth, what Li Xiaoyue did not realize was that her constant complaints about the matter were precisely what kept Wu Hui at the forefront of Li Xiaojing’s thoughts. It was much like when someone tells you not to think of a white bear; as soon as you fixate on this instruction, your mind inevitably conjures up white bears again and again. The growing fondness both sisters felt for Wu Hui was, to a large extent, a result of their mutual influence through telepathy.

They would have to wait until their mental manipulation skills improved before Li Xiaoyue and Li Xiaojing could escape this state. For now, the two sisters would remain mentally conjoined for quite some time.

In the next round, Li Xiaojing faced her old adversary, Lu Fu, who had once again come charging in. Their abilities were evenly matched, and neither could claim a swift victory.

Upon meeting, they immediately opened fire. Bullets spat from the gun in Li Xiao’s hand, but Lu Fu kept swinging his fists, forming a shield to block the shots.

After a sharp, crackling exchange, Li Xiaojing saw her bullets were useless and tossed a grenade. It was no ordinary grenade, but a rare item she had purchased in the rest area of the previous floor. As a consumable worth two hundred points, its power was not to be underestimated.

Wu Hui had taught Li Xiaojing that when the situation called for it, she should use her items without hesitation; otherwise, regret would forever be her companion. Losing a match or a game for the sake of saving precious consumables—that was the greatest loss of all.

The grenade exploded into a ball of fire, engulfing Lu Fu and his shield. Normally, their abilities would be comparable, but Lu Fu, having been repeatedly killed by Wu Hui and the man in white, lacked the points to purchase items as Li Xiaojing could. This became the critical factor deciding the outcome.

Lu Fu, swallowed by flames, did not die immediately. His body burned, he howled in agony, causing Li Xiaojing to feel a pang of pity. Yet despite her sympathy, her attack did not relent; bullets continued to rain down without pause.

Charred and enraged, Lu Fu let out a furious roar and, incredibly, charged forward headlong through the hail of bullets.

A sharp crack rang out.

Li Xiaojing’s shadow gripped a baseball bat, suddenly appearing beside Lu Fu, and brought the bat down hard, knocking the already exhausted man to the ground.

“Whew—” Li Xiaojing wiped sweat from her brow and commanded her shadow to finish him off.

The power of her level-four Shadow Split skill was impressive; she wondered what it would be like at level five or six, or even higher.

“Maybe you’ll be able to split into several shadows, each resembling you more closely,” Li Xiaoyue said in her mind. “A ruthless sister—showing no mercy to anyone except Wu Hui.”

“You say I keep mentioning Wu Hui, but you’re no different!” The sisters began to quarrel in their minds once more.

Meanwhile, Wu Hui, spoken of as if he were merely a topic of conversation between the two, had encountered a new opponent.

The man stood clad in white, his hands wrapped in bandages. His eyes were narrowed, giving him a gentle and tranquil appearance.

“Zhao Xingluan (Level Three Player)
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Charm: 8
Intelligence: 10
Physical Strength: 11
Perception: 10
Willpower: 9
Mystery: 10
Status: Appraising
Favorability: 20 (Opponent)”

A level three player—his attributes nearly overwhelmed Wu Hui in every respect.

Wu Hui could only guess at his skills and items. He would probe a bit, and if he couldn’t win, he’d concede early rather than stubbornly fight to the end.

Rational players like Wu Hui possessed a significant weakness: if a battle seemed both unnecessary and unwinnable, they would swiftly choose to give up. This was not necessarily wrong, since persisting would likely lead to defeat. Yet those who charged in recklessly often had a greater chance at victory than people like him.

Wu Hui was no coward; he simply believed there was no need to risk his life in the present circumstances.

“If you don’t want to fight, you might as well surrender early—why bother coming here?” Zhao Xingluan sighed, unwrapping the bandages on his hands.

The bandages wound in circles, finally transforming into a long staff.

“…” Wu Hui remained silent. Armor appeared on his body, his chess pieces and the dire wolf spread out, launching an attack on the enemy.

His offensive capability was strong, his overall agility impressive, and he was extremely nimble. His attributes surpassed Wu Hui’s own when in minor King form. The Queen’s Blade would be blocked.

“Are you observing me?” Zhao Xingluan slipped free from the encirclement of summoned creatures, stretched his bandage into a long whip, and lunged at Wu Hui. “It seems you do want to fight—just not so soon against me…”

“In that case, I can’t let you see too many of my trump cards!” he declared.

Wu Hui curled his lip, deflecting with his tool shovel. “That’s not your decision to make.”

He launched a flying knife imbued with icy power.

Forcing out an opponent’s trump cards inevitably exposed some of his own abilities. Victory would not be decided here and now.

“You’re quite good, treating this game as a whole. It’s likely that I’ll face you on the top floor,” Zhao Xingluan said, wrapping a bandage around Wu Hui’s arm and dodging the flying knife. “I must defeat you while revealing as little as possible—otherwise, things could get complicated.”

His trump card, the military token skill, was not well suited for solo duels. If Wu Hui used his ace, he might genuinely have a chance to defeat Zhao Xingluan within five minutes.

But in their normal states, Wu Hui was no match for a level three player. He soon fell behind and eventually conceded, leaving the arena. Had he kept fighting, it would not have been him probing Zhao Xingluan, but Zhao Xingluan probing him.

Maintaining a prolonged battle would allow Zhao Xingluan to remember his strength and speed, making it possible to catch him off guard once the ace was played.

Wu Hui surrendered, retreating to the previous floor, losing one hundred points.

A win or loss or two meant little; for Wu Hui, this game was merely a way to pass time. As long as his points weren’t spent, he could play as many rounds as he liked without dying, and eventually, his power would grow, or perhaps luck would favor him and he’d avoid stronger opponents, allowing him to leave the game.

Yet that would be rather unsightly, and the returns would be low—essentially a waste of time.

Those who reached the top floor were either level three or the elite among level twos. Relying on luck and perseverance was simply unreliable.

Wu Hui’s thinking was slightly flawed; from an overall perspective, few level three players actually reached the top and left, because the game’s difficulty was relatively low for them. They were almost guaranteed to win if they attended. If more level threes participated, the difficulty would rise, but for level one and two players, it would become far too harsh.

Thus, the Empty Tower Deathmatch continued to operate, players coming and going, and many level one and two players remained trapped inside, while only three or four level threes were ever present.

Overestimating the difficulty and the opponent was a matter of character—especially since Wu Hui had spent the last two days playing chess with Ren Yin, whose caution had rubbed off on him. Whether this was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.

Regrettably, the Empty Tower Deathmatch was not a place for excessive deliberation. Overthinking here was ill-advised. Victory was the only necessity.