240: Chapter 240 I'm destined for a tough life, I'm afraid I'll bring you bad luck.
The C919's landing gear slammed onto the runway of Jeju International Airport, the tires emitting a piercing screech.
The cabin door popped open.
A hot wind, laden with a pungent, briny scent of the sea, rushed in.
Li Li was the first to walk down the boarding stairs, pushing a black suitcase. On the surface of the case was a crooked, half-finished sunflower, with "Daddy Li is Number One" written next to it in crayon.
The entire airport had been completely cleared, and hundreds of square formations were drawn in white lines across the tarmac, densely packed together.
In mid-air, swarms of new self-tracking solar-powered camera drones hovered, their red lights flashing wildly.
The global live broadcast officially cut to the main feed.
"They're here! They're here! The Chinese team is entering!"
"Dean Li's suitcase is just too out of place! Everyone else has tactical backpacks, is he going on a field trip with a child's doodle suitcase!"
Jiang Rumu followed closely behind, carrying a thirty-kilogram tactical backpack on one shoulder. Her camouflage uniform outlined her explosive muscle definition, and she exuded an icy aura that warned others to keep their distance.
Lei Zhen got stuck at the cabin door, took a deep breath, and forcibly squeezed his mountain of flesh out. He was draped with four oversized waterproof tactical bags, and incongruously, Lin Shuyin's pink backpack was strapped to his chest.
"Goddess Lin, these straps are digging into my pecs." Lei Zhen tugged at the straps, his voice muffled.
Lin Shuyin walked behind him, her fingers flying across her tablet. "Just endure it. The probability of resource looting after landing is fifteen percent. Your physique can effectively deter carbon-based lifeforms."
Chu Lingfeng skipped the last few steps of the boarding stairs, landed with a forward roll, stood up with one hand on the ground, and whistled. "This place is big enough for parkour."
Gu Ya walked forward coolly, while Lu Ye carried a large camouflage pack on his back, holding two metal forks he'd swiped from the plane.
Gu Zeyan used the reflection of the fuselage to fix his hair, pulling off a standard eight-toothed business smile, while Yin Ruoying pulled out a bright red lipstick and quickly touched up her makeup using her phone screen.
The ten of them stood inside the white-lined square marked "CHINA."
The surrounding area was already crowded with people.
Black people, The Caucasians, and brown-skinned people were dressed in a motley assortment of outfits—animal skins, loud floral shorts, and even some wrapped in heavy headscarves.
These were the teams from smaller nations that had arrived two days early to wait.
The UK team's Arthur Pendelton was wearing a sophisticated three-piece suit, sipping black tea from a bone china cup, while Victoria beside him fanned herself irritably, complaining about the UV rays.
France's Leon Dupont wiped the dust off his leather shoes with a handkerchief, humming an aria.
The North Korean team's Kim Cheol stood ramrod straight with a Red Star medal pinned to his chest, while Ri Chun-hee beside him was like a silent rock.
Li Li peeled open a gummy candy given to him by Shen Jue and tossed it into his mouth. The strawberry flavor melted on his tongue. "With this kind of setup, anyone who didn't know better would think the Olympics were starting."
"The way they're looking at you is very strange." Jiang Rumu lowered her voice.
Li Li tilted his head.
To the front left, the Indian team's yoga master, Raj Patel, sat cross-legged, hovering above his suitcase, his neck twisted at an eerie angle as he stared fixedly at him.
To the front right, the Australian crocodile hunter Steve toyed with a bloody crocodile tooth and made a throat-slitting gesture at him.
The Brazilian team's Carlos did a war dance on the spot, lifting his chin in provocation.
Li Li chewed his gummy, replying indistinctly, "It's normal. Who told them I'm so handsome."
Jiang Rumu rolled her eyes at him dramatically.
At the far end of the tarmac, the roar of engines suddenly exploded.
Two C-17 transport planes painted with the Stars and Stripes landed side by side, their violent airflow blowing off the baseball caps of several nearby small-nation competitors and whipping up a sky full of dust.
Immediately after, a Gulfstream business jet marked with a Star of David taxied into position.
The US team and the Israel team made their final entrance.
Leading the US team formation was Hunter Smith. The guy was shirtless, holding a wriggling live centipede, which he tossed into his mouth, crunching away enthusiastically as he gave a thumbs-up to the camera.
Marcus Johnson was a literal humanoid tyrannosaurus; the ground shook with every step he took. Sarah beside him nimbly vaulted over a luggage cart, and Chloe Adams wore a leather motorcycle jacket, swinging a wrench in her hand.
A full ten people, five teams.
On the Israel side, a bald, gaunt old man walked at the front, followed by Samma, who was dressed in a tight black tactical suit, and six others.
This was the configuration for four teams.
The live stream chat exploded instantly.
"Wait! Why do the Americans have ten people and Israel have eight?"
"Yeah! Why does our country only have two! This isn't fair!"
"Rigged! Absolutely rigged! Protest against the tournament organizers!"
On YouTube, the anger of netizens from small nations flooded the screen, profanities flying everywhere, and the servers nearly crashed.
Lin Shuyin glanced at the data fluctuations on her tablet. "Human blindness is truly fascinating. They're here spewing hate without even finishing the original rules."
She looked up, staring directly into the drone camera, speaking at a rapid pace.
"Article 1 of the 'Oil Tournament Rules': The top ten nations in comprehensive strength get five teams; the top thirty get four teams; the top eighty get three teams; the top one hundred and fifty get two; and the remaining nations get one. There are a total of four hundred and sixty-five teams."
"Survival of the fittest—that's the initial setting of the law of the jungle. If you don't even have the ability to gather this much information, I suggest you just find a hole and bury yourselves at the start to save on medical resources."
The Tsinghua genius's sharp tongue was broadcast across the entire network.
Chinese netizens instantly perked up.
"Did you hear that! Top ten nation! This is the prestige earned by our national strength!"
"Well said, Goddess Lin! If you don't have the strength, keep it shut!"
"So what if the Americans have five teams? Our Dean Li can take on ten of them by himself!"
While they were arguing, the giant lift in the center of the airport activated.
"Hum—"
Amidst the low sound of mechanical operation, five two-meter-tall, silver-white humanoid objects slowly rose.
Sunlight hit their streamlined metal shells, refracting a cold sense of technology. They had no facial features; their faces were solid black holographic projection screens.
All nine hundred and thirty contestants went silent instantly.
Even Hunter, who was chewing on a centipede, stopped his movements.
Gu Zeyan's business smile froze on his face, and Yin Ruoying held her lipstick without putting the cap back on.
"Holy crap." Lei Zhen opened his mouth wide. "Terminator?"
"Bionic robots." Lin Shuyin's eyes lit up, her fingers tapping frantically on her screen. "The latest generation of NPCs jointly developed by China and the US, using the upper limits of existing human physical stats. This industrial design, this joint articulation… it's too wonderful!"
The bionic robot in the center stepped forward without a hint of mechanical stiffness.
The black screen on its face lit up, displaying scrolling subtitles in multiple languages.
A synthetic, inorganic broadcast echoed throughout the airport.
"Welcome to the 'Oil Tournament'."
"I am the tournament control NPC, codename Zero-One."
"Next, I will read the basic rules of the tournament."
The number of concurrent viewers in the global live stream broke three billion at this moment.
"First, all contestants must be internet celebrities with no military record. Anyone suspected of having a military record has been forcibly removed."
Zero-One's head turned slightly, its black screen aiming precisely in Li Li's direction.
It paused for a full two seconds.
Li Li swallowed the gummy in his mouth, raised his hand, and waved it at the bionic robot in an extremely perfunctory manner.
The chat flooded with messages.
"Hahahaha! The NPC is scanning a cheater!"
"Zero-One: How the hell did this kid pass the background check?"
"Dean Li: What are you looking at? Haven't you seen a cook before?"
"Second," Zero-One continued, "Special anesthetic pistols will be provided during the tournament. Those shot will fall into a deep coma for one to three hours depending on their physical fitness. If the environment of the coma poses a fatal danger, the tournament organizers will force a temporary withdrawal. If serious injury or illness is determined, they will be permanently disqualified."
"Third, all non-public transportation must be operated by the contestants themselves. Any external assistance is strictly prohibited."
"Fourth, it is strictly forbidden to beat or harm other contestants. Only anesthetic pistols and specific items provided by the tournament may be used to attack parts below the neck. Violators will have their eligibility revoked."
"Fifth, the location of the next game will only be announced after there is a winner/survivor for the current game. Carrying any private communication devices is prohibited throughout."
"Finally, the bottom 10% of teams in terms of points/performance in each major game will be automatically eliminated."
The rules were read.
Zero-One stepped back and merged into the queue.
"In thirty minutes, the first round will begin: Squid Game. Please put down all items, proceed to the designated vehicles, and collect your initial game equipment."
The broadcast cut off.
The atmosphere on the tarmac dropped to freezing point, and the smell of gunpowder skyrocketed.
Li Li stood where he was, unmoving.
The gazes piercing in from all directions were several times more numerous than before.
Hunter of the US team cracked his wrists and made a shooting gesture at Li Li. Sarah, beside Marcus, warmed up her ankles, eager to try.
South Korea's Park Ji-hoon made a heart shape at the drone, his peripheral vision locked onto Li Li.
Japan's Kenji Sato clutched his wooden sword, his lips sealed in silent prayer.
Russia's Ivan patted his chest, looking like a brown bear ready to go berserk.
"Bro." Chu Lingfeng leaned in. "These people have reached a tacit understanding; they plan to focus fire on us right at the start."
"The higher-ups of the US and Israel definitely gave the NATO nations a kill order." Jiang Rumu said expressionlessly. "In the first round, they are coming specifically for Li Li."
Lei Zhen hoisted the pink backpack on his chest, his fleshy face scrunching up. "Screw them! Whoever dares to come over, I'll beat the crap out of them with one punch!"
"Rule number four: beating is strictly prohibited." Lin Shuyin didn't even look up. "If you throw that punch, you'll be permanently disqualified. They are trying to force us to break the rules."
Former Middleweight Boxing Champion clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking. "Then we'll just have to trade shots with anesthetic pistols."
Li Li rubbed his chin, not responding.
The crowd in front suddenly parted to create a path.
A middle-aged man wearing a gold-trimmed black robe and a white turban walked slowly toward them, surrounded by four bodyguard-like figures and a woman in black.
The man had an elegant temperament, and every gesture carried the composure of someone who had long held a position of power.
The woman in black behind him stood motionless, exuding an aura of death that warned others to keep their distance.
The surrounding small-nation contestants stepped aside, and even the people from the US team reined in their arrogance.
The man stopped in front of the Chinese formation. Or to be precise, in front of Li Li.
He bowed slightly, performing an extremely standard Arab greeting.
"Mr. Li Li, I have heard much about you."
The man looked up, a gentle smile on his face.
Li Li raised an eyebrow. "Who are you?"
"The Emir of Oman, Sayyid bin Maktoum." The man's voice was mellow, carrying a charisma that made one feel as if they were basking in a spring breeze.
He dropped a bombshell.
"I am also Delia's father."
Jiang Rumu's back tensed instantly.
Although Chu Lingfeng and Lei Zhen didn't know who Delia was, their intuition told them this old man was trouble.
The Chinese netizens in the live stream were stunned.
"The Emir of Oman? A monarch personally entering a battle royale?"
"Who is Delia? An old acquaintance of Dean Li from the Middle East?"
"Flashback: Go back and read chapter 73, bro."
"Holy crap, this old man has such a strong aura. He wouldn't be here for revenge, would he?"
Li Li looked at the middle-aged man before him, who was wearing a look of benevolence.
He didn't come to find him when Delia died, but now he's here to cozy up?
Sayyid stepped forward, speaking in a volume that only a few could hear: "During Delia's lifetime, thanks to Mr. Li Li's care, she always longed for Chinese civilization and had mentioned you to me."
He sighed, revealing a hint of grief at just the right moment.
"In the upcoming tournament, the Oman team will do everything in its power to help you. This is a father's repayment to a benefactor."
Sayyid extended his right hand, palm up.
An extremely sincere and impeccable gesture of alliance.
Samma stood behind him, a literal killing machine.
The tarmac was so quiet one could hear the wind. Hundreds of gazes were pinned on Li Li.
Li Li lowered his gaze, looking at that well-manicured hand.
He reached his hand into his pocket.
Sayyid maintained his gesture, his expression unchanged.
Li Li pulled out a strawberry-flavored gummy, peeled off the wrapper, and tossed it into his mouth right in front of this nation's Emir.
"Crunch."
The sound of the gummy being crushed was exceptionally crisp on the quiet tarmac.
Li Li chewed the candy, his left canine tooth visible.
"There's no need for help."
He brushed the sugar powder off his hands.
"My life is too tough; I'm afraid I'll curse my teammates to death."