404: Chapter 404 Things Have Gone Seriously

The commentator didn't bother with his fallen equipment; he just gripped his hair tightly with both hands, burying his head as low as it could go, his body trembling violently.

In an inconspicuous corner at the back of the stands.

The recording pen held between the fingers of Wang, the gossip reporter, slipped out silently.

*Clatter.*

The crisp sound felt exceptionally jarring in the deathly silent environment.

He had prepared a bellyful of drafts about the 'Psychotic Genius,' the 'Capitalist Scam,' and the 'Rise of the Shady Hero,' but now, he couldn't remember a single word.

Inside the top-floor VIP room of the Organization.

Arena Supervisor Chen Feng could no longer maintain his standing posture.

His legs gave way, and with a 'thud,' his knees slammed heavily onto the expensive carpet.

His mouth hung open, emitting meaningless 'ho-ho' sounds from his throat, like a fish that had been tossed onto the shore.

The warning from the Research Department Head echoed repeatedly in his mind.

—Lin Yao's strength is enough to bankrupt the Organization.

He believed it now, but he—he had clearly pulled out of the betting pool!

Couldn't those hundred-plus idiots see the situation clearly?

Yan Pojun had been beaten to that extent, yet they still charged out?

Inside the venue, on the surviving and largest broadcast screen, the image didn't switch at all.

The director seemed to be scared witless, just like everyone else.

The camera was frozen firmly on the center of the fan-shaped crater.

There, a flag of the Organization—which had survived the successive explosions but was now tattered and torn—was pinned beneath a severed limb, fluttering slightly.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely at this moment.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

A drop of viscous blood slid slowly down the broken handle of Xu Biao's war hammer, hanging in mid-air.

Finally, it broke free from the surface tension of the metal.

*Drip.*

The bead of blood hit the pool of blood gathered below, making an extremely clear, faint sound.

And opposite this tragic scene.

The separation of thumb and middle finger brought an end to the sustained action.

A few specks of grey light remained on the fingertips of Lin Yao's left hand, which was held in mid-air. These specks extinguished completely the moment they touched the air. The phantom knights that had condensed in mid-air vanished in unison. The space previously occupied by these phantoms returned to its empty state.

Above the arena, the silver torrent formed by countless clones also completely dissipated at this moment.

In the air, there were no longer any energy fluctuations that pressured one's breathing.

Lin Yao slowly lowered that hand to her side.

Her body assumed a stiff posture due to prolonged muscle tension.

Finally, it's over!

She snapped back to her senses.

The fan-shaped crater spanned across the center of the arena. The crater was a full fifteen meters deep. Its surface was covered in a thick layer of dark red sludge. That sludge was still flowing slowly, gathering toward the depths.

At the edge of the crater lay several incomplete torsos. An arm reached out from the sludge, fingers splayed, with shattered metal armor plates still hanging between the fingers. Red liquid was dripping from where the arm had been severed.

Lin Yao's gaze swept over these objects.

Her breath hitched at this moment.

What... what are these?

What's going on?

A terrifying thought surfaced in Lin Yao's mind.

She took a step back.

Her heel struck an alloy plate that had been flipped up by the explosion. The alloy plate emitted a sharp metallic grinding sound, vibrating through the sole of her foot.

Lin Yao's body tilted backward as her center of gravity shifted.

She collapsed onto the debris-strewn ground.

It was a mixture of scorched earth and unknown liquids, cold and coarse.

Lin Yao pressed her hands against the ground to prop herself up. Her fingers sank into that layer of mixture, feeling a slimy texture. She jerked her hands back, her body shrinking away.

Her back pressed tightly against an upright obstacle.

Her heart hammered violently in her chest, each beat causing the muscles across her entire body to twitch.

She gasped for air, a faint rasping sound coming from her throat.

There was no other explanation; she had killed people, and it was horrific.

Lin Yao hugged her knees, burying her head between her arms.

This was just a match.

This was just a match to win that seven million plus prize money.

Why did it turn out like this?

Those people were clearly just shouting and charging a moment ago.

Lin Yao's body trembled at a high frequency.

She didn't look up.

She didn't dare look at that fan-shaped crater.

That wasn't an arena.

That was a slaughterhouse.

No one could have predicted that they would suddenly rush out while the battle was at its peak, and then scurry around like idiots...

Logically, the responsibility didn't lie with Lin Yao, but this was just a match after all.

Lin Yao had turned it into a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

In the front row of the stands.

A female spectator who had been holding up a support sign froze with her hand in mid-air.

She looked down at the crater, then turned to look at her own feet.

A drop of bright red liquid had splashed onto the top of her shoe.

The liquid was warm, carrying a thick scent of blood as it slid down the shoe.

A 'gurgling' sound came from the woman's throat.

She bent over, clutching her throat with both hands; the intense nausea caused her whole body to arch like a bow.

"Blegh—"

A shrill dry heave exploded within the deathly silent venue.

This dry heave was like a spark falling into a warehouse full of dry wood.

Beside the female spectator, a man suddenly threw down the support sign in his hand. The sign shattered on the ground with a crisp snap.

Immediately after, the man let out a sharp wail.

"People are dead! They're all dead!"

His voice was trembling and heart-wrenching.

At this moment, massive panic spread instantly like a plague.

In the stands, the tens of thousands of spectators who had been motionless all moved at once.

The spectators in the front rows began to push backward frantically.

The spectators in the back didn't know what had happened, but they were pushed and shoved every which way by the immense force.

Screams, cries, and curses mixed together, converging into a chaotic noise.

People abandoned all their support items and scrambled desperately toward the exits.

The massive shoving caused many to fall in the aisles, only to be trampled by the crowd behind them.

The venue's security system collapsed completely.

Inside the VIP room.

Zhong Huai stood before the floor-to-ceiling window.

His palm was pressed against the glass, his knuckles turning bloodless from the force.

He looked at the chaotic crowd below, then at the young girl curled into a ball in the center of the crater.

Death on this scale had already exceeded the scope of a 'competition accident.'

This was a massacre.

If not handled properly, both Lin Yao's life and the reputation of the Organization would be completely destroyed tonight.

Just how much of an idiot was that guy who led the way in violating the rules to return to the arena?

However, most people wouldn't divide the responsibility so clearly.

The dead are beyond reproach; the pressure would only fall upon the living.

Things have gone way too far.

Zhong Huai turned around abruptly.

He pulled a communicator from his jacket and quickly dialed a string of numbers.

It was Chen Jing's private line.