Just as I was reeling from the shock of the sixty million, one wall over, next door, Auntie Mae and her husband were experiencing the same earthquake.
Auntie Mae was from Henan. In her younger days, she and her husband had come to Beijing to make their fortune. Every morning before dawn, she'd set up her breakfast cart at the subway entrance—jianbing, tofu pudding, and savory soup. At night, she'd fire up half the grill and string up some plastic rainbow lights, transforming her stall into a late-night skewer spot. Thanks to its quality and low prices, she'd quickly built a reputation around Dawang Road.
But that same quality and low pricing meant she didn't earn much. After a full day of backbreaking work from dawn to dark, paying rent, utilities, and her son's living expenses, she'd be left with maybe one or two thousand.
Even so, she insisted on wrapping whatever she saved in red cloth and stuffing it inside her pillow. She said it helped her sleep better.
The cost of their renunciation seemed utterly insignificant compared to this sudden windfall. Who came up with this? Why was it floating in midair? Aliens?
"How much?" Uncle Ray asked Auntie Mae, swallowing hard. He could barely believe what he was asking. She managed all the family's money, including the mobile banking.
"Sixty million..."
Uncle Ray popped a slice of American ginseng under his tongue, then pinched his own philtrum, afraid he might pass out from the sheer shock.
"We don't have to wake up early and work until dark anymore? Our boy's wedding money is covered? We're getting a big house?" Uncle Ray couldn't contain himself even while pinching his own face. This man, bronzed dark from years of labor under the sun, was having his entire worldview washed away by sudden immense wealth, slipping into a chatty state he normally only reached after half a bottle of baijiu after a long day.
Desire sprouted like vines from the heart, shooting skyward in an instant.
"The money can't all be yours—I did half the work! You can't just kick me out now that you're rich. We need a joint account, a fixed deposit..."
Auntie Mae, however, stayed composed. She was growing calmer by the moment. She had little interest in her husband's outburst. Something about this felt off. Scanning the room, she noticed the strange envelope on the bed.
The old couple had sold their hometown home long ago and had no contact with relatives. Where had this envelope come from?
Inside the envelope was a message:
Dear Auntie Mae,
Welcome to the Holy Grail War Mode (Asia Region—China Zone, Sixth Match)
Participants: 7
Starting Funds: 60 million
Victory Condition: Eliminate the other six contestants and seize their funds
Since you and the others were involuntarily invited, we've included the above information as a bonus. Thoughtful, aren't we?
Of course, we won't send you into battle empty-handed against younger opponents. Each participant has been granted an ability—one that gives you strength and destructive power far exceeding a normal person. Please use this power responsibly and do not harm innocents. Abuse of this power will result in post-game punishment.
Your ability in the Holy Grail War is closely tied to your Renunciation Item. You'll need to explore this on your own. Based on ability power levels, Rider-class ability ranks in the upper-middle range of this Holy Grail War. We hope you develop it well.
As for your first opponent, we can only reveal that they live in the same residential compound. The good news is they know nothing about their own ability either. As the saying goes, fortune favors the bold. May you have favorable fortune and swift victory!
—From the moon that has shone upon you for five thousand years
After reading the letter, Auntie Mae needed time to absorb the intelligence. But in the blink of an eye—the time it took to glance away and look back—the letter had vanished from her hands. The tactile sensation of the paper against her fingertips was gone too, as if it had never existed.
The only thing remaining was the information etched into her memory. Auntie Mae shook her head to clear it, then checked her phone again to confirm she wasn't dreaming.
"So this is a challenge. Like those CCTV game shows where contestants compete. I need to eliminate six other people who also received 60 million."
"And they've each given up something too. What they can't see is their weakness. Find the weakness, and I can take them down one by one!"
"If I fail, not only am I in danger, but my sixty million gets taken. Then my son's wedding money, my grandson's school district apartment, all of it—"
Auntie Mae thought it through silently. Her own renunciation item wasn't hard to figure out. So for her, resolving things within the compound would be ideal.
A competitor in the same compound? Now that was interesting. As the resident breakfast and late-night stall owner, Auntie Mae knew every household intimately—except for the young tenant next door, that Zhou fellow who'd only moved in a couple of years ago.
She just needed to observe carefully, identify what they'd each given up, and take them out.
"Old woman, you can't leave me! I've worked myself to the bone for this family. I've been your horse and your ox." Uncle Ray was still rambling.
"Stop your blubbering. Go sharpen the knife." Auntie Mae commanded. She already had a strategy.
"What for? The meat for tomorrow's skewers is all cut and ready." Uncle Ray looked confused.
"No more stall work. Don't worry about it. As for the knife? You'll need it later." A dangerous glint flickered in Auntie Mae's eyes.
"Young competitors, huh? Let old Auntie Mae have a go at you."
---
Before heading to the bank to withdraw money, I stopped by the small clinic downstairs for simple bandaging.
The wound on my left hand wasn't deep—I'd controlled the pressure when I cut—but as someone who'd never self-harmed before, this was still hard to accept.
I looked at the blood seeping through the gauze, feeling like it wasn't gauze anymore but sandpaper, grinding violently against my wound.
It really hurt!
But looking at the rest of the names on the list—the delivery guy who sprinted through a hundred orders a day with calves like tree trunks, Auntie Mae who hauled seventy-plus pounds of ingredients to her skewer stall every night, and my Manager Hu who'd been bodybuilding for years and was built like a young bull...
To survive them, I'd have to use some strategy.
Now, the hunt begins.
Auntie Mae didn't set up her stall today. That was unusual.
This directly meant the commuters who usually lined up for her four-yuan jianbing at the Dawang Road intersection had to settle for eight-yuan soupless xiaolongbao from the shop next door.
Just look at these working stiffs, trying to save four yuan... who cared about the moon?
Where was she now?
She was carrying a sturdy-looking canvas bag, wearing sunglasses and a headscarf, glancing back every few steps as she walked toward a bank a kilometer from our compound.
Reaching the bank entrance, she glanced up at the security cameras, then chose the ATM on the left.
Three machines total—numbers 1, 2, and 3. Machine 2 was occupied. Auntie Mae walked into booth 1, remaining alert to her surroundings throughout.
She and her husband had come to Beijing to make their fortune in their early twenties, starting as factory workers. When the Olympics-era environmental regulations forced the factory to relocate to Hebei, she was laid off. Together with her husband, she sold jianbing in the morning and skewers at night, managing to save enough for a sixty-square-meter apartment in Chaoyang District—land more precious than gold. She'd thought that would be her whole life, until yesterday...
A line of text on the ATM screen interrupted her reverie.
"Sorry, this machine is temporarily unable to process withdrawals."
She frowned and quickly moved to booth 3.
"Sorry, this machine is temporarily unable to process withdrawals."
"Who emptied all the ATMs in Beijing?"
Auntie Mae's heart sank. She had a bad feeling.
She stared warily at occupied booth 2, her free hand slipping behind her back to pull out the small carving knife she always carried at the skewer stall.
"Must be a competitor."
The door opened. Auntie Mae's knife hand went slack, and the blade slipped into her pocket.
It was the next-door tenant, Marcus from the advertising company, the one who played movies at full volume.
Auntie Mae breathed a sigh of relief, but then noticed the bandage on his left hand and the canvas bag just like hers. Her hand crept back toward the knife handle.
"Well, aren't you supposed to be at work? What brings you here?"
"Heh, times are tough. I was trying to cook and accidentally cut my hand. My mom sent me a bag of local specialties, so I thought I'd withdraw some cash while I'm at it. What about you—and that bag—is that for local specialties too?"
Auntie Mae smiled faintly. "Every family has its troubles. My boy's trying to start a business, so I'm withdrawing some seed money for him. Don't tell my old man, okay? Keep it between us."
"Of course, of course. I get it. I'll be going then, Auntie Mae."
As Marcus stepped out, Auntie Mae quietly brushed a hand against his canvas bag in the instant he passed.
Not local specialties—it was money. Stacks of cash!
She steadied herself and continued at the machine. Same result as before.
Marcus had emptied machine 2 as well.
Combined with his bandaged left hand.
His renunciation item was...
Auntie Mae gave up on the withdrawal entirely and turned to follow Marcus instead.
"Oh, not in a hurry to get your cash?"
"All three machines seem to be emptied out by someone."
"Really? I've heard some branches are struggling these days—if you don't make an appointment, you can only withdraw a few tens of thousands a day. Hardly enough for starting a business, right, Auntie Mae?"
"That's right. Starting a business in Beijing, you need at least a hundred thousand minimum."
The two of them chatted aimlessly. Marcus, despite his bandaged left hand and the bag in his right, was young and quick on his feet. A few strides put him into a shortcut alley ahead—just past the crossroads and into the compound, and he'd be home.
Auntie Mae knew she couldn't wait any longer. The crossroads definitely had surveillance cameras. This stretch of alley was where it had to end.
"Marcus, how'd you cut your hand?"
"Oh, this? Last night, around nine-something. Really weird. I woke up hungry, wanted to make noodles, and when I was slicing cured meat, the blade just... disappeared. I can't explain it. Before I could figure it out, my hand was already cut."
"Marcus, can you see this? What's in my hand?" Auntie Mae pulled out her knife and waved it menacingly in front of him.
Marcus squinted as if examining the empty air in her palm. "Huh? Nothing there. Your hand's empty. Auntie, I'd better hurry back—my mom's local specialties are all frozen stuff, gotta get them in the fridge." He quickened his pace, widening the gap between them.
Auntie Mae had her confirmation:
"He's a competitor. His renunciation item is—he can't see any bladed weapons!"
"Marcus, don't walk so fast. Let Auntie help you with that bag. You've got an injured hand—it must be so inconvenient."
"Auntie, take your time. I'm fine, don't worry."
In the empty alley, their stroll became a speed-walk, then a footrace.
One ahead, one behind. One young, one old. One carrying a bag, one wielding a knife.
"Auntie, why are you chasing me?"
"Auntie wants to help you, dear. Don't run—your wound will reopen."
"Oh, Auntie, you're so kind and generous! I thank your eight generations of ancestors!"
"Don't worry, Marcus. Once I catch you, I'll thank your eight generations of ancestors too."
Ten meters. Five meters. Three meters.
Light! Floodlight poured into the alley mouth like a waterfall.
Marcus smiled oddly, then stopped abruptly and turned around.
Right behind him was the crossroads.
His left hand had somehow slipped free of the bandage—revealing only a tiny crescent-shaped nick on the back of his hand.
"Huh?" Auntie Mae, who'd been cutting food for over twenty years, noticed this wasn't a kitchen knife wound at all—it was a surface graze from a small blade.
That "huh" was the last sound Auntie Mae ever made.
Both her wrists were already in Marcus's grip. Her knife was torn away and thrown aside.
"He can see!" was Auntie Mae's final fleeting thought.
"Auntie, ever since this morning, you've been wearing sunglasses along the road, testing routes—picking the only path that doesn't require crossing a street."
"The thing you can't see—it's cars, isn't it?"
"Goodbye!"
I shoved hard. Auntie Mae stumbled forward, falling into what her eyes saw as an empty crossroads—but was in reality a torrent of traffic, a heavy cargo truck barreling through at full speed.
"Ding! Hunt Complete! 60 million RMB credited to your account!" The system notification sounded right on cue.
I didn't look back. I just shrugged and tossed Auntie Mae's remaining belongings into the alley's garbage bin.
"That's right. The moon—who'd have thought my renunciation item was the moon?"
Next...