Xie Qing glanced at the current exploration progress—71%. As expected, the sacrificial ritual had significantly boosted it.

However, his current identity was that of a hotel staff member, but tasks were issued to guests. He needed to take off the staff uniform and revert to being a guest before he could submit the task.

The black hair was tightly wrapped around his legs, coiling and climbing up his body like snakes, creating a spiral phone cord effect on him.

Forget about taking off his clothes—if that hair reached his chest cavity, he would be strangled to death.

The ends of the black hair were raised like octopus tentacles, and the tips turned into a mouth full of sharp teeth shaped like a lamprey. It was creepy to look at. Xie Qing couldn’t stand it and got goosebumps all over his body.

The monster’s head was ready to move, opening its mouth wide to bite Xie Qing. Xie Qing pinched the seven-inch part with two fingers, then he spun the blade and swung, the monster’s head fell off and turned into a pile of ash. A transparent liquid with a sulfur smell gushed out from the cross-section, which was probably hot spring water.

The monster suddenly went crazy, and dozens of its mouths full of sharp teeth lunged at Xie Qing at the same time.

Xie Qing dragged the man with the orange peel-colored face in front of him to block the attack. The man tried to struggle, but Xie Qing’s thin white hands were like iron clamps; he couldn’t break free.

The strands of black hair couldn’t distinguish between friend and foe, and it bit the man’s face into pieces.

Xie Qing didn’t escape unscathed either—he was bitten in over a dozen places in the blink of an eye.

The audience was terrified, but on closer inspection, it turned out Xie Qing had dodged just in time. His clothes were loose, and the monster’s mouths had only bitten into his outer layers.

“Thanks for helping me take off my clothes. Ugly or not, that was kind of thoughtful.”

With a few ripping sounds, Xie Qing tore at the parts of his pants that had been bitten. The uniform trousers was shredded into tatters and fell to the ground.

Meanwhile, the orange-peel-faced man was wrapped up like a mummy by the black hair. The square-faced man from the security department grabbed Xie Qing’s arm, but Xie Qing leaned forward with both hands outstretched and stepped back. Instantly, he slipped out of the oversized uniform, leaving the guard holding only the sleeves.

As soon as Xie Qing escaped, the square-faced man lost his balance and stumbled backward into the hot spring pool. A surge of black hair rushed in and devoured him completely, from head to toe.

Then the black hair wildly surged out of the water—such an overwhelming sight that it could scare a timid person to death on the spot. The aggressive strands of hair split into countless tendrils, each tip morphing into a mouth filled with sharp teeth, all lunging at Xie Qing in a frenzy of biting and tearing.

In an instant, the dense black hair covered the area where Xie Qing had been standing.

The viewers in the livestream held their breath, too afraid to even speak; as if opening their mouths might make their hearts leap out of their chests.

Then, in the next second, the black hair suddenly went berserk, attacking itself in a frenzy. The tentacle-like strands slapped against the water’s surface, sending up sprays several meters high. Seeing this, the audience immediately understood—Xie Qing was definitely unharmed. This black-haired monster was just throwing a fit in helpless rage.

After the monster finished venting its fury, it slowly retreated back into the hot spring. On the shore, only scattered strands of black hair remained, which quickly ignited on their own. A breeze swept by, and even the ashes vanished.

“Friendly reminder: you can breathe now.”

“Holy crap, I actually forgot to breathe—almost suffocated myself!”

“So… that means the mission’s complete, right? Let’s give it up for everyone’s beloved top, Xie Qing!”

“Wait, huh? Where’s Xie Qing?”

The sky was still overcast, the hot spring still steaming, and the shredded pieces of Xie Qing’s uniform pants still lay on the ground.

But Xie Qing was nowhere to be seen.

“The livestream feed hasn’t been cut, which means Xie Qing is still alive. If he’d returned to the original hotel, the camera should’ve switched back with him. So why is his feed still active, but he’s vanished?”

“Did he use an invisibility item to escape just now?”

“Xie Qing’s a new player—he only got that crappy love potion as his starter item. There’s no way he has invisibility.”

009’s jaw subconsciously clenched, and his eyes quickly scanned all the surveillance screens. Besides Xie Qing’s camera feed, the others were all frozen, showing no activity at all.

This meant Xie Qing still hadn’t left the special space—so those monitoring him were still unable to observe any of the other players.

Thankfully, the mystery didn’t last long. The tall figure of the acting manager appeared beside the hot spring. He reached into the void and yanked a figure out.

The person stumbled as he landed, grumbling, “Can your hotel please learn how to handle valuable items with a little more care?”

Suddenly, the system alarm blared across the sky.

[Warning! Warning! The system is under attack. Mission process forcibly terminated!]

Xie Qing had, right after ripping off his uniform, immediately chosen to submit the mission. He hadn’t expected that even after leaving the special space, the acting manager would forcibly drag him back.

The acting manager let go of Xie Qing’s arm and smiled politely. “Dear guest, as the acting manager of this hotel, I must ensure that you obtain VIP status. Otherwise, I won’t allow you to leave.”

The hotel lured players into turning on each other, but the acting manager was even more direct—he outright tried to force Xie Qing into sacrificing the person most important to him, bringing that temptation into the open without disguise.

Xie Qing lifted his eyelids slightly to glance at the manager, then gave a strange little smile. “A sacrifice only matters if it’s precious. Do you really think there’s anyone in this hotel important enough to me for that?”

“Maybe not,” the acting manager replied. “But that doesn’t matter. The hair wanted a human sacrifice—what I want is your dignity.”

Xie Qing: “Then you’re dead wrong.”

Acting Manager: “Which part?”

Xie Qing: “Every part.”

He looked up at the acting manager—not into his eyes, but at the top of his head.

A few seconds later, Xie Qing withdrew his gaze and said lightly, “You’re going to regret this.”

The acting manager let out a chuckle. “That kind of weak threat doesn’t sound like something you’d say.”

“Oh?” Xie Qing raised an eyebrow. “And you know what I would say? You think you know me that well?”

Xie Qing finished speaking—and then he smiled. A soft, sweet, almost tender smile. And with that very smile, he said,

“I offer the one most important to me as a sacrifice to the goddess of Darkness and Bounty.”

The acting manager’s expression changed instantly.

Just as he had said earlier, the actual value of people in the hotel to Xie Qing didn’t matter. What he had counted on was Xie Qing’s arrogance—his certainty that Xie Qing would rather die than become a betrayer. That was why he had forced Xie Qing into this corner.

Breaking Xie Qing’s pride, wearing down his will—that was the real entertainment for him.

He had no desire to see Xie Qing surrender so easily.

A scratching, irritable discomfort bloomed in the acting manager’s chest and stomach.

It was like eagerly anticipating a luxurious feast, only to discover once it reached his mouth that it was tasteless and dull—a complete waste of time with nothing to show for it.

Had he misjudged him?

The acting manager’s gaze pierced into the depths of Xie Qing’s eyes.

“You really want to sacrifice them?”

“I do,” Xie Qing replied calmly.

The acting manager grabbed Xie Qing by the collar and yanked him forward roughly, lowering his head to lick his face.

Xie Qing’s skin was cold.

What the acting manager tasted was a rich, fragrant bitterness—deep and intense—but underneath it, just at the very edge of perception, bloomed the faintest trace of sweetness. Together, the flavors wove into a strangely captivating complexity.

It was the taste of truth.

He let go of Xie Qing’s collar. The fabric, already stained with his blood, had been further torn by the rough handling. A ring of red marks now circled the delicate skin of Xie Qing’s neck like a choker, giving him a fragile, almost pitiable appearance.

“…Why is he licking him again…”

Someone muttered off-screen, a mix of bafflement and horror in their tone.

Xie Qing scrubbed his face hard, visibly disgusted. But then his expression froze, eyes narrowing sharply.

“You were testing whether I was lying, weren’t you?”

That level of perception caught the acting manager off guard. Internally, he was surprised—again. The more he observed Xie Qing, the more convinced he became that Xie Qing wouldn’t betray that man called Qin Chen.

Even if Qin Chen was just some insignificant, painfully ordinary guy—with a quiet, almost irritatingly withdrawn demeanor—none of that mattered. Because as long as Qin Chen was Xie Qing’s teammate, Xie Qing wouldn’t turn on him.

…Unless there was something he didn’t know.

Some hidden grudge or history between Qin Chen and Xie Qing that made it easy for Xie Qing to go along with the idea of sacrificing him—without guilt, without hesitation.

But no matter what Xie Qing was planning, the acting manager knew one thing:

He could cut it off at the root.

The system notification rang in Xie Qing’s ears.

[Player Xie Qing, please note: The task conditions have been altered by an intruder.]

[Warning! Warning! The system is under attack!]

[If the player wishes to reduce the manager’s hatred points,]

[Interfering with the task process will result in system erasure!]

[You must sacrifice the one you love most.]

[Warning!]

Xie Qing’s expression didn’t shift. His calm demeanor remained unbroken, even as the system blared its threats.

“Sacrifice the one I love most?” He muttered to himself, the corners of his lips curling slightly. “That’s your plan?”

The acting manager’s eyes darkened, sensing a shift in Xie Qing’s attitude. But Xie Qing’s eyes remained focused, calculating.

This system’s warning felt more like manipulation than a real constraint.

It was all becoming clearer now.

[According to this condition,]

[Unidentified attack continues!]

[Player Xie Qing has successfully sacrificed the one he loves most.]

[The attacker will be…]

[Manager’s hatred points have been reset to zero.]

[Orderkeeper will execute.]

The final notification echoed, but before the words could settle, a violent shift in the air crackled. A pulse of energy surged through the space, and the once-untouchable acting manager froze, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and realization.

Xie Qing’s gaze remained icy and unreadable as he watched the system continue to unravel its twisted script, the acting manager now caught in the process.

The true sacrifice had been made.

But who—or what—was the “Orderkeeper”?

[Congratulations, Player Xie Qing, you have been granted 24-hour hotel VIP status. VIP guests will not be punished for violations.]

[Warning! The execution has begun!]

[We wish you an enjoyable game experience.]

The acting manager’s figure flickered for a moment. Cracks appeared on his body’s surface, like spiderwebs fracturing the air around him, but just as quickly, he healed, his form returning to normal.

From the moment Xie Qing had seen the acting manager in the corridor, he had known that the real acting manager had been replaced by the man before him. Whether the system hadn’t noticed or if it had chosen to ignore it because this man had roughly fulfilled the acting manager’s duties, Xie Qing couldn’t be sure. But one thing was clear—the real manager was no longer in control.

The situation had shifted drastically, and it seemed the system was playing a more complicated game than Xie Qing had first realized.

The Orderkeeper’s interference was just the beginning.

It was estimated that the substitute manager forcibly altering the task conditions, had triggered the system’s bottom line, causing the system to finally snap back and prepare to eliminate this uncontrollable NPC.

In this game controlled by the system, there still existed an uncontrollable entity like the substitute manager.

The substitute manager, seeing Xie Qing remain as still as a mountain, smiled and said, “You want to delay until the system clears me? Although this body can’t hold out for much longer, it’s more than enough to complete the sacrifice.”

He extended his hand and drew erratic lines in the air, creating random patterns. A glowing circle appeared on the ground.

Xie Qing’s gaze remained calm, but his hand trembled slightly for a moment.

“The magic array will bring the person you sacrificed.” The acting manager looked at Xie Qing with delight. Betraying an enemy might not be a big deal—but what if the price was the one you loved the most?

Even if Xie Qing had a heart of stone, he would hardly be willing to pay such a painful price so easily.

Didn’t his hand tremble just now? He looked forward to seeing more reactions from Xie Qing.

Xie Qing brushed aside the loose strands of hair near his ear and gently lifted his face. “What if I beg you? Will you spare him then? I truly love him. As long as he can be safe, I’ll do anything you ask.”

A tone of groveling and begging didn’t suit Xie Qing—suddenly, the acting manager felt this little game had become dull.

But he didn’t want to let Xie Qing go, either.

So, the acting manager shook his head.

Xie Qing reached out to cover his face, his spine curling in agony. Black hair slipped down to his thin, exposed neck, making him look pitiful.

Traces of moisture streamed through his fingers—who knew how many tears of pain and despair it would take to truly seep through those gaps?

The irritation clawing at the acting manager’s chest and gut multiplied a hundredfold.

Xie Qing was breaking down before his eyes, yet he felt no satisfaction.

An oppressive frustration churned within him, making him restless. The system’s attacks on him were growing stronger—he had to speed things up.

The magic array began to emit a faint glow, sending out ripples like water. A few seconds later, the ripples gradually calmed, revealing the vague silhouette of a tall man. With just a tug of the acting manager’s hand, no matter where that man was, he could be pulled straight to the edge of the hot spring.

The man inside the array stood nearly two meters tall, with deep golden eyes set beneath a sharp brow ridge. His body was lean and powerful, exuding a latent, dangerous strength—like a wild beast constrained in a tailored suit.

The acting manager looked at the person in the magic array—and the person in the array looked back at him. One inside, one outside, it was like looking into a mirror.

Even the air seemed to have stilled.

If every step of the process had gone as planned, then there was no doubt: by forcibly changing the terms and demanding Xie Qing sacrifice the person he loved most, he had, clearly and unknowingly, made that person himself.

Xie Qing’s words—“You’ll regret” this”—now echoed deafeningly in his mind.

The acting manager carefully recalled that fleeting moment in the hallway—back then, the way Xie Qing looked at him had indeed been a little off. For someone as emotionally guarded as Xie Qing, his surprise had seemed… excessive.

Could it be…

That look wasn’t surprise—but the awe of love at first sight?

The acting manager took a deep breath, the cold expression on his face cracking slightly under the weight of shock. “The one you love most… is me.”

Xie Qing: “Mm.”

A suspicious look flickered across the acting manager’s face. “You really love me?”

Xie Qing: “Mm.”

The acting manager wanted to ask more—he still felt something was off. But Xie Qing didn’t give him the chance. He cupped the manager’s face and pressed his thumb gently against his lips.

Looking into his eyes, Xie Qing smiled softly, his voice light and tender: “Aren’t you just a little puppy? Try it for yourself.”

The acting manager hesitated, then took Xie Qing’s thumb into his mouth, his tongue brushing a slow circle across the pad of Xie Qing’s finger.

This time, he tasted a richer floral fragrance, a deeper bitterness, sharp with sour notes—and suddenly, the sweetness of orange candy bloomed in his mouth. As the bitterness faded, a faint lingering sweetness remained on his tongue.

It was the taste of truth.