Chapter 27: The King of Hell’s Wedding (4)
“Choose the hell you will face tonight!”
The proclamation hit everyone like a jolt of sobering potion. All the players stiffened, eyes flicking nervously toward the lottery bucket.
Seeing no one move, the Ten Halls imp called out, “Everyone must send a representative to draw the lot.”
Still, nobody moved. They hung their heads, avoiding eye contact, like students caught unprepared in class.
Amid the silence, a tall young man, about 1.9 meters with a long braid, stepped forward, his voice booming like a bell. “I’ll draw. Anyone object?”
All eyes focused on him.
Fatty wiped the blood from his mouth and muttered, “He always loves showing off, doesn’t he?”
Yu Xingcao sneered. “Don’t talk nonsense if you don’t understand. Showing off is how you earn likes, coins, and bookmarks. If he hadn’t stood out in every instance, how could he have risen to Ordinary Citizen so fast?”
“He’s an Ordinary Citizen?” Jian Yuntai whispered, frowning. “All eight dorms participating in this instance are from the low-status section. If he’s an Ordinary Citizen, why is he in this instance?”
Yu Xingcao, though harsh to Fatty, spoke to Jian Yuntai more gently. “He gets along well with his roommates and didn’t request a dorm transfer. I think his roommate is close to leveling up too, but still slower than he is. The record for a pauper reaching Ordinary Citizen the fastest is held by him—no one has broken it yet.”
“How long did it take him?”
“Only four months.” Yu Xingcao sighed, shaking his head with a twinge of self-reproach. “He reached the fourth month in the Livestream Team and, with half a million bookmarks, rose to Ordinary Citizen. When I hit the fourth month, forget bookmarks, I barely had likes or coins in the livestream.”
Jian Yuntai immediately recalled his own fewer-than-fifteen-thousand bookmarks and sighed helplessly.
It seemed the road ahead was still long.
Among the twenty-four streamers in the instance, He Qingzhou had the highest social rank and the top livestream ranking.
Most importantly, he was well-liked. No streamer objected as he stepped forward. Everyone watched silently.
Other players, following a “don’t stir up trouble” mindset, remained quiet, observing the situation.
Under everyone’s tense gaze, He Qingzhou reached into the lottery bucket. When he turned around, he flashed a wide, confident grin.
“Relax, my luck’s off the charts.”
At his words, the veteran players exhaled in relief, their bodies no longer stiff with fear.
They tilted their heads and whispered nervously: “Hope they don’t get Tongue-Pulling Hell. Last round I quit halfway through that one. The imp said we were all gossipy, used tongs to pull our tongues out bit by bit, and finally tore them off completely!”
“I’m more afraid of Steaming Basket Hell. Players get trapped in an airtight dark box, can’t stretch, and get steamed like buns all night…”
“Isn’t there a Copper Pillar Hell? You have to hold a hot metal pillar, skin burns away, but you can’t let go.”
“The hells you guys mentioned are nothing… if you have a strong will, you can endure. Some hells aren’t about willpower at all.” Suddenly, someone scoffed, “Think about Oil Pot Hell.”
“……” Everyone shook their heads in panic. At the mere mention of Oil Pot Hell, their expressions darkened. “He’s right… compared to those, I definitely don’t want Oil Pot Hell…”
Before they could finish, He Qingzhou withdrew a bamboo lot from the tall lottery bucket, fingers clutching a stick.
The Ten Halls imp took it, his pale face curling into a chilling, eerie smile. “Congratulations. You’ve drawn the ninth level of hell—Oil Pot Hell!”
“…………”
All eyes fell on He Qingzhou in stunned silence.
He Qingzhou cleared his throat and patted his chest with a grin. “Think of it as soaking in a hot spring. Don’t be scared!”
Viewers in the livestream laughed, exasperated:
“Nice draw! Next time, skip it.”
“The show’s got drama. How dare Monkey He brag about his luck after drawing Oil Pot Hell?”
“According to the veterans, Tongue-Pulling, Copper Pillar, and Steaming Basket Hells are terrifying… but Oil Pot Hell is even scarier. I bet it’s more than just jumping into an oil pot.”
“If it’s not jumping into an oil pot, what else could it be?”
The Ten Halls imp tossed the bamboo stick high into the air. In an instant, it expanded exponentially, growing from the size of a chopstick to that of a truck, easily sweeping up the players in the hall and plunging them through the floor.
All the players taking the main quest were carried away.
The remaining players, following their destined person on the side quest, stood pale and silent, stepping out of the hall. Tonight, they too would face a calamity.
Within two minutes, only the King of Hell, the ten palace imps, and the abandoned destined persons remained inside. Until now, the King of Hell had kept his eyes half-closed; now, he opened them slightly and cast a mocking glance at Cui Yu.
“He chose me, and you’re this heartbroken?” The King of Hell pressed a hand to his chest, fully feeling the shared pain. He didn’t comfort his younger brother but instead conjured a vision of Oil Pot Hell before them.
The King’s gaunt face twisted into a sneer. “Look at how hard he worked to become my wife.”
“……”
Cui Yu’s expression remained calm, not even a slight furrow of his brow. He quietly poured himself a cup of wine, the white strands of his hair falling gracefully over his sleeves like a flowing galaxy.
The King of Hell stiffened, pressing his hand to his own chest. He paused, then narrowed his eyes and asked rhetorically, “Why is my heart suddenly so sour?”
“……” Cui Yu lowered his gaze, silent.
※※
In the dark ninth level of hell, wailing and howling echoed, bitter and sorrowful. Yu Xingcao plummeted down, landing heavily on Fatty’s back.
“Ow! My—” Fatty started, but Jian Yuntai then fell directly on top of Yu Xingcao, precise and forceful.
Before Yu Xingcao could rise, Fatty roared from below, “Are you two playing PUBG? Did you pick me as the landing spot?!”
Jian Yuntai finally stood and helped Fatty up. Just as they got to their feet, both of their faces changed at the same moment. They crouched, lowering their centers of gravity, ready for whatever came next.
They were now on a single-plank bridge barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Beneath their feet lay brittle, thin, bluish-green wooden boards covered in moss. One misstep could send someone sprawling flat on their back.
Falling wouldn’t be the worst part—it was critical not to fall off the plank. About ten meters below roiled a massive pot of boiling oil, steam rising violently. One touch of the scalding vapor would instantly numb the hand, and the consequences of falling into the oil were unthinkable.
“Why are there only ten people on this plank?” Yu Xingcao looked left and right, frowning. “I remember dozens of people chose the main quest.”
Jian Yuntai casually reminded him, “They’re all outside the wall. I can hear them talking, but can’t make out what they’re saying.”
Yu Xingcao tilted his head, puzzled, but heard nothing. After the world had warped, people’s physical evolution varied widely; some had far better hearing than him. He didn’t question it further, focusing instead on the wall.
The wall looked ancient, yet solidly built with strong soundproofing.
As everyone familiarized themselves with the surroundings, a sharp, high-pitched voice came from the south end of the bridge—the ten palace imp’s shrill tone.
“Oil Pot Hell! Those who sinned in life through rape, plunder, abduction, or other crimes will face the boiling oil upon death! Come to me now, or bear the consequences for missing the rules!”
Everyone immediately stepped forward, moving cautiously south.
The moss on the plank was dense, but careful steps could avoid most of it. During their progress toward the southern bridgehead, only a few careless players slipped; the rest remained steady.
At the bridgehead, the other players finally came into view.
The Ten Halls imp handed each person a small cup, roughly the length of a pinky and holding about 100 milliliters. He instructed them to hold it in their mouths, then patted the large cauldron beside him, shouting:
“The cauldron at the bridgehead contains scalding hot oil. You must scoop it with your cup and carry it to the cauldron at the bridge’s end. Eighty people are divided into eight groups of ten. The team that delivers the most oil to the far cauldron within five minutes wins.”
“The losing team’s plank will break, sending everyone into the oil pot below for fifteen minutes. Only then will the punishment end. A new round then begins, and this process repeats. Tonight, your task is to transport as much hot oil as possible.”
As he finished speaking, ghostly flames from the wall lamps flickered before each plank, forming numbers that shifted in the air.
Jian Yuntai’s team was the fourth.
Seeing some players hesitate, the Ten Halls imp reminded them, “Rules are strict. One, no one may scale the wall to spy on other teams. Two, the cauldrons at the start and end cannot be moved. Three, anyone who falls off the plank cannot continue in this round—wait for the next.”
“The ghost flames will indicate the oil volume at the bridge’s far end, with the largest volume team at the top. Keep watching constantly.”
【Player Main Quest Updated】
【STEP2: Complete the Oil Pot Hell Challenge】
【Reward: 15 days of survival】
Jian Yuntai’s eyes flickered.
Complete the challenge? Not finish it?
This meant that as long as he could endure the challenge all night without quitting, he would earn the 15-day survival reward.
As he pondered this, the ghost flames suddenly split into two parts. One transformed into numbers, 1,2,3,4,5…..until 10, arranged vertically.
The other block of flames continued to flicker and shift.
Many players groaned in frustration: “With a tiny cup like this, how much oil can we carry?”
“Relax, we all carry little, so do they. It’s just a matter of speed and balance. Even if we fall, we won’t die, not even get hurt.”
“Eh? So it doesn’t hurt at all?”
“No, no, no! You’re thinking too simply! It hurts, terribly! Far worse than being boiled in oil—because the oil below burns the soul directly.”
“Holy crap, this is terrifying!”
…
…
“What a shame. If the cauldron could move, we could just carry it to the far end and dump all the oil,” He Qingzhou sighed.
He was also in the fourth team.
Jian Yuntai tried lifting the cauldron—it only tilted slightly. He frowned. “It’s so heavy. Can you even move it?”
He Qingzhou laughed in exasperation. “Hey—Jian Yuntai, you really underestimate me! I’m a Sinister Monster Type. My last title was ‘God of Strength Jufu’ Pretty impressive, right?”
Jian Yuntai casually asked, “And what’s your current title?”
“……” He Qingzhou’s face turned pale, and he shut his mouth.
Yu Xingcao glanced at him and asked curiously, “Does ‘God of Strength Jufu’ mean you’re strong enough to lift your dad?”
Note: Wordplay: Jufu here could means lift father (which actually was my previous translation before edited lol).
“……” He Qingzhou turned even paler.
“Lifting your father, that’s fine,” Fatty mocked Yu Xingcao and added casually, “The title ‘Jufu’ comes from mythology, usually referring to ape-like beasts skilled in throwing. By your logic, that would mean Kuafu* is praising your dad?”
Note: Kuafu (夸父) is a giant from Chinese mythology, also recorded in the Classic of Mountains and Seas. But Kua means praise so it’s another wordplay.
Yu Xingcao gave a cold glare. “…Go away.”
While they bantered, the livestream viewership surged like a rocket.
After a long day’s work—or other frustrations—many people opened their phones late at night, visiting the Livestream Team’s page to enjoy some alone time.
They searched for the “King of Hell’s Marriage” instance.
Unlike other instances, which relied on streamers to generate interest, this one carried its own buzz. Many people who usually never watched livestreams clicked in.
Below the search bar, twenty-four livestream rooms appeared, arranged by streamer rank.
Most viewers clicked the first-ranked livestream room—【Ape Lighting Lantern】He Qingzhou.
As soon as they entered, the livestream chat went absolutely wild with hahahaha:
“I can’t even! Monkey He keeps flexing that ‘God of Strength Jufu’ title every day. When is this hype even going to die down? hhhhhh”
“Hahaha, probably never, unless we make him an even more outrageous title.”
“This is too funny. He actually spent 500 livestream coins to swap the Ape Lighting Lantern back to ‘God of Strength Jufu.’ Monkey, was that really necessary? Ten minutes later, the fans will just restore it anyway, dog.”
Amid the waves of good-natured laughter, a curious viewer timidly asked: “Uh… who’s that handsome guy behind He Qingzhou? Is he a streamer too? I wanna check out a cute, good-looking guy.”
“!!! He’s a streamer. Investing in this one’s content is worth it—pale skin, beautiful face, long legs (scratch that) wife!”
“What’s the title and name? I’ll go search for it.”
“neinei pink Jian Yuntai!”
“???”
Seeing the rows of question marks from the viewers, you could feel their genuine confusion even through the screen. Old viewers roared with laughter: “Exactly! Wife is this super cute, pink little darling. Go check out his stream and see for yourselves.”
Because the title was so baffling, many people actually went to look it up.
Once they confirmed Jian Yuntai really had that title, they covered their mouths in laughter and clicked into his livestream out of curiosity.
“He must be a super ‘little cutie,’ otherwise there wouldn’t be a title like that.”
※※
About a minute later, the other block of ghost flames flickered and shifted repeatedly, finally stabilizing into “5:00.”
What did that mean?
Everyone stared at the ghost flames in confusion.
The next second, it changed to 4:59.
“Holy crap! That’s a damn countdown!” someone immediately realized. Panic spread as everyone clamped their tiny cups between their teeth and lunged toward the cauldron.
Yet many froze at the edge.
F*ck!F*ck!F*ck!F*ck! This is terrifying!
The cauldron’s boiling oil churned violently, steam curling upward. Just leaning forward to scoop a little sent hot oil splashing straight onto their faces.
“Move, don’t block me!” a brave player pushed through the crowd, gritted their teeth, glanced at the cauldron, and, eyes shut, thrust their head forward. In the short moment it took to scoop one cup, half their face was scalded.
No wound appeared, but the pain struck directly at the soul. Words could not describe it.
Some even let go on the spot, the little cup clattering to the ground. Tearfully, they picked it up and repeated the task.
Fatty roared, thinking, This time I’m giving it my all!
He thrust his head forward, scooped a cup, and grimaced as the heat seared his face, but grit his teeth and ran toward the plank despite the pain.
Thump, thump, thump—
Thump, thump, thump—
Footsteps echoed relentlessly.
Team Six had incredible luck this round. Their randomly assigned group happened to have three speed-type Sinister Monster Types. Running with both stability and speed, they quickly transported the boiling oil to the far-end cauldron.
The ghost flame rankings instantly updated.
The game had just begun, yet Team Six had already surged to first place, their oil volume far ahead of the rest.
Jian Yuntai, clutching his tiny cup, realized halfway along the plank that his team might be doomed.
It was a disaster—so bad he couldn’t bear to look.
All coordination had vanished.
Many players ran recklessly, paying no attention to the moss beneath their feet. A slip sent them sprawling, and often the people behind tumbled too.
Some fell into the oil pot after only a couple of trips, their screams unbearable to witness.
And those screams rattled everyone else.
Fear gnawed at the remaining players, breaking their balance. Those who could have crossed steadily now zigzagged like an ‘S,’ twisting their bodies to maintain footing. Jian Yuntai avoided stepping directly on the moss, but he still faced serious trouble.
The tiny cup in his mouth was just too thin!
And the heat conducted terribly well. The lower half of his face felt as if it were pressed against iron shackles scalded by charcoal, while the upper half had to endure splashes of boiling oil from the tiny cup. If the oil only touched his skin, he could have tolerated it—but this oil seemed to have a mind of its own, aiming straight for his pupils.
After several trips back and forth, his eyes were barely able to open. He had no choice but to rely on sound to judge positions, trying to avoid colliding with others.
Once again reaching the start of the plank, Jian Yuntai wiped his face and glanced at the ghost flame countdown.
—2:34.
Only two and a half minutes remained.
Their Team Four had already slipped to seventh place, while Team Six remained far ahead in first.
The iron plank beneath them wobbled from side to side, and players continued to fall off into the cauldrons below.
The countdown made everyone’s hearts pound with fear. Their steps lost all rhythm, reduced to frantic dashes.
“Damn it!” Fatty cursed loudly in the middle of the bridge.
“Move!” Yu Xingcao slurred through the cup in his mouth.
These two didn’t just lack coordination—they seemed magnetically drawn to collide. Over seven or eight back-and-forth trips, they had crashed into each other at least four times. Each collision splashed scalding oil onto the other. By the time they reached the far cauldron, their cups were empty.
After seven or eight trips, four or five were essentially wasted—they reached the end only to pour air into the cauldron.
“…” Jian Yuntai’s brow furrowed.
This wouldn’t work.
If the first round ended like this, there was no way they could turn things around in later rounds. He had to find a loophole in the rules.
Otherwise, he would spend the entire night boiling in oil.
“One-minute countdown!” the Ten Halls imp announced in a sharp voice. Instead of helping, it only made everyone more panicked.
Plop—
Plop—
Players kept falling off the bridge, screams shrill and pitiful, ringing in their ears. It was impossible not to imagine the horror of falling oneself—how horrible would your screams be?
Finally.
Fatty and Yu Xingcao collided again. This time, luck was not on their side.
Both stepped on moss, and their falls were almost identical, like copy-and-paste. They cursed simultaneously and toppled into the boiling oil.
“Ahhh! Aaaahhh!” Fatty’s screams echoed. From below, he yelled furiously, “Next round, I’m kicking you first! You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?!”
Yu Xingcao cursed back: “Who’s doing it on purpose? You’re just fat enough to take up the whole bridge. Nobody else can get past you! Next time, jump first yourself—maybe our team won’t end up last!”
Only four players remained on the plank now.
The other two cautiously ran toward the far end. He Qingzhou crouched by the cauldron, ready to scoop boiling oil, and glanced at Jian Yuntai. “Why are you just standing there?”
“We’re already eighth.” Jian Yuntai looked at the team rankings and then at the countdown—only twenty seconds remained.
He simply sat down on the spot, expression calm.
“Take a break. Time to soak in the scalding bath.”
“…” He Qingzhou, still jittery from the close call, glanced at the iron cauldron below. He muttered, “I salute you, man.”
“What else could I do?” Jian Yuntai remained unusually composed, even joking a little. “Do you think Fatty and Yu Xingcao were married in a previous life?”
“What?” He Qingzhou blinked, confused.
Jian Yuntai sighed lightly. “Otherwise, how could they collide every single time? The probability is pretty low.”
“Heh—” He Qingzhou laughed, “You’re wicked, that’s wicked.” He quickly composed himself, expression serious, and asked, “Have you already thought of a solution? At this rate, Team Six will just keep winning all night.”
“Mm.” Jian Yuntai didn’t elaborate, just nodded. “Too late for this round. Wait for the next one.”
“You actually have a plan?” He Qingzhou looked impressed, slightly amazed, and asked, “What kind of plan?”
No sooner had he asked than the Ten Halls imp raised its shrill voice:
“Five minutes are up—”
Screams erupted from the start of the bridge before anyone could react. A loud crack, crack echoed.
“Ahhhhhhhh!” the livestream chat erupted, “Wife! My huge wife is about to be fried!”
Except for the plank where Team Six stood, all other teams’ bridges snapped in the middle. Every player on them instantly fell, plummeting ten meters into the cauldrons below.
Jian Yuntai also fell from above, plunging into the boiling oil.
In an instant, oil splashed everywhere, and he sank to the bottom of the cauldron without even a bubble escaping.
Sea of Life and Death, inside the palace.
“Sigh.” The King of Hell feigned a sigh. “Team Four’s coordination was too poor. Their chances of winning were slim.”
Cui Yu lifted his gaze to the projection of the Ninth Level of Hell. The moment he saw Jian Yuntai fall into the cauldron, he immediately looked away, fingertips pressing the edge of his cup.
The King of Hell shook his head again. “Still, I see his determination. Since he likes me this much, even if he fails the trial, I will, for your sake, ensure that he…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Suddenly, he pressed his hand to his own chest.
“You!” he gritted his teeth. The sour ache in his heart from empathic connection made his eyes twitch. “Such jealousy!”
Yet when he looked at Cui Yu, the latter still sat straight-backed, every gesture elegant and composed, expression completely calm. Pale eyes flickered as he took a sip of wine.
…???
Why didn’t Cui Yu react at all?
Is he really feeling empathically connected to Cui Yu right now? The King of Hell doubted it greatly.
He sulked, no longer daring to provoke Cui Yu.
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