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Eleven
Location: Hufangqiao, Qinghua Bathhouse.
Warren stepped out of the shower without so much as a towel, stark naked, striding in with his bow-legged gait. Behind him, I was clutching a towel over my privates, squirming with modesty.
"Ah, Master Zheng, you're here! The usual? Eighty ounces of white-cut meat, and a sliced pork dish, extra sauce..." Warren waved him off with practiced ease: "No need. Bring me some Daoxiangcun pastries—Zilaihong and date-paste shortbread—and a pot of clear tea. I'm here to talk business with a friend, not getting a scrub today. Everyone clear out, give us some privacy."
After dispatching his orders, Warren turned to me:
"What's the matter? Never been to a northern bathhouse?"
I answered honestly:
"I've been in university bathhouses, but they're not quite the same."
The two of us slipped into the hot pool one after the other. Warren leaned his arms on the pool edge, submerging his entire body until only his head was above the water, blowing out a comfortable snort:
"Come on, let's chat. Tell me everything you know about the situation."
I nodded, glancing at the scabs still on my shoulders, and recalled the fight from two hours ago.
Or rather, it couldn't even be called a fight, because the entire time it was me without any moonlight augmentation versus Warren with full augmentation—one of us getting pounded into the floor with a fire extinguisher by the other.
Warren's "Abandoned Object" was completely inscrutable. It could activate in broad daylight, anytime, anywhere, wielded as effortlessly as his own limbs.
And his enhancement stats were incomprehensibly high.
I'd calculated my peak as Tenshinhan and Rock Lee levels, right?
He was starting at Frieza and the Fourth Raikage at minimum.
By the time he'd beaten me nearly unconscious, Warren suddenly stopped.
"Yield?"
"I yield, I yield, I yield—"
"Good. Let's switch locations then. We're all sweaty and sticky, can't have a proper conversation."
And so I was brought to this centuries-old bathhouse...
I poured out everything I knew—all the rules, all the intelligence, like dumping a bamboo basket.
Warren pondered for a moment:
"My take is simple. This Holy Grail War you described? It won't be that straightforward."
"Oh? How so?"
"You remember, right? The Holy Grail War is triggered when the ley lines in Fuyuki City erupt with spiritual energy every sixty years, and in that process, Heroic Spirits are summoned and fight in pairs. Correct? But even the final victor never broke free of the cycle—whether it's Emiya Shirou becoming Archer, or Saber Artoria being summoned over and over, none of them escaped their fate of reincarnation through winning."
Even though we were competitors, hearing such an outrageously nerdy monologue from the other guy made me blurt out:
"Wait—are you, too, a noble member of the anime-watching tribe?"
"Hey, if you ever become a landlord, you'll understand. Time is practically infinite, you end up watching everything."
Warren half-reclined in the pool, gazing blankly at the ceiling:
"You mentioned that all the selected people seem to be centered on your social network, which means someone behind the scenes is orchestrating this. The participants aren't random—they were handpicked by someone close to you. You and I are just pieces on the board, kept in the dark."
"It's like raising venomous insects. First you lure ordinary folks in with a fortune, right? It has to be ordinary people—think about how many rich people there are in Beijing. Why wouldn't they go after them? Sixty million? Real wealthy types wouldn't even blink. It's people like us who fall for it. Then you make us kill each other, and whoever's left at the end? Best case, they're just someone with unexplained wealth who's murdered multiple people—assassination? Bodyguards? Human experiments? They'll make you do whatever they want."
"So I don't want to hunt you. I want to cooperate. Let's work together to smoke out whoever's behind this, because whether I eliminate you or you eliminate me, I don't think either of us escapes in the end. This game looks like a battle royale, but you notice there's no penalty for not hunting. No shrinking zone, no forced elimination timer. Everyone could just take the money and live their own lives—but you people are just too attached to your desires."
I remained noncommittal, but I had to admit, Warren's argument had struck a chord.
What I couldn't say was that the seventh competitor was Chloe Chen. Warren was too powerful, and Chloe seemed to have countless threads connecting her to the mastermind.
Just as I was mulling this over, the tea and snacks arrived.
I deftly picked up the teapot, warming the cups and brewing the tea while continuing the conversation at a measured pace:
"It's an honor that you'd want to team up with me, brother. An alliance is easy to discuss! But man, those punches you landed on me earlier? Brutal. Got my head ringing. I won't hide it from you—my Abandoned Object is—"
"The moon, right? Hahaha, I know."
My wrist stiffened. The teapot trembled, and golden tea spilled over the rim of the cup.
Warren didn't seem to care. He casually tapped the tabletop twice with his finger joints:
"Remember now?"
"I remember!"
It hit me. That night, while I was running my analysis, I'd gotten hungry and ordered roast duck delivery.
He was the one. He was the delivery-guy competitor who'd brought my food that afternoon.
Around thirty, well-proportioned build, a conspicuous knife scar under his jaw, muscular—not like your typical thin delivery worker.
Without knowing any better, I'd even invited that delivery guy to the balcony to help me test the moonlight.
According to Warren's philosophy, had the delivery guy been eliminated, or had he been given intel and released?
I didn't know.
What I did know was that this person's existence was dangerous to me.
"I'm not trying to hide it from you, brother. But an Abandoned Object is too critical to each person. You only share your weakness with someone you've bled with. Make sense? Our alliance isn't finalized yet—we'll get to it later. Come on, drink."
I downed my cup in one go, smacked my lips, and shook my head:
"What's wrong? Think I'm not being upfront enough?"
"Tea doesn't hit right. Brother, we're celebrating today—how about a real drink?"
Warren blinked, then let out a roaring laugh:
"All right, get a few bottles of Niuer Erguotou. Let's drink, you and me."
Life is truly bizarre.
A few hours earlier, we'd been beating each other senseless with fire extinguishers in the hallway.
And now here we were, buck naked in a bathhouse, arms around each other's shoulders, toasting and downing drinks until we were both absolutely wrecked.
"Hahahaha, Little Zhou, let me tell you about that heating bill thing. So our building originally had free central heating from the work unit."
"Then some other unit got jealous and reported us, so they started charging five years ago. Course, not a single person paid. What are they gonna do? Turn off the heat? The heat's still running. I've had who knows how many tenants, and I'm still waiting for some sucker to actually pay. Never happened!"
"And you, you earnest little idiot, you went and paid for the whole previous year. And what happened? The sharks smelled blood—now they call me every day harassing me to pay the back balance! You're the ultimate gullible fool!"
I was drunk too, pointing at the ceiling and swearing:
"Brother Zheng, brother Zheng, listen—listen to me! That one's on me, I admit it. But I'm broke, man, I really am. After that heating bill, I had 300 yuan left in my account. You think advertising is some lucrative career? Social elites? Ha! All fake, it's all a scam!"
"We pitch clients on this scheme or that, it's all just us broke idiots pulling ideas out of our asses—haha—like, look at America with the Statue of Liberty, so we tell the client to build a giant lamppost in Shanghai, 60 meters minimum, and when you walk under it, it projects a massive logo on the ground like Batman. Awesome, right? Except the deal goes through for 800 grand and the city government denies the permit—illegal structure—too bad, we're keeping the money. Hahaha, that's advertising for you!"
"But now we've got money, brother. When you've got money, you've got to act like it."
"Haha, so what are you going to do?"
"First thing tomorrow, I'm paying a hundred years of your heating bills! A hundred years of rent too!"
"Hahahaha, you dumbass, property rights are only seventy years, and you're a multi-millionaire renting an apartment!"
"I'm a man of my word! I'm going to find that client we screwed out of 800 grand and give them a proper 60-meter lamppost. I'll gather every idiot in Shanghai under the light, and I'll pull the switch—boom! Look at it! That's advertising! That's creativity!"
"Hey, you're a real one. Come on, to your integrity, we've got to go another round."