Jiang Yan’s eyes shot up sharply, his cold blue gaze radiating a piercing intensity as if it spelled three words:
Get. Lost. Die.
However, the audacious steward seemed utterly oblivious to the meaning behind his glare. Instead, he pushed his luck even further, his long, slender hand stealthily slipping beneath Jiang Yan's flowing robe under the cover of the long table and the prince’s intricately embroidered silver-and-white silk garments.
“Mm…”
The hand Jiang Yan had been pressing against the steward’s chest clenched tightly in an instant, crumpling the neatly pressed black fabric of his tailcoat collar.
He bit down hard on his lip, a faint blush spreading at the corner of his eyes.
Yet the damned culprit remained utterly unfazed, his expression still carrying that gentlemanly, teasing smile as he deliberately asked:
“What’s the matter, Your Highness? Do you require assistance?”
Bastard…
This damned pervert!
Jiang Yan, still biting his lip, slammed his hand firmly against the steward’s chest.
The steward chuckled softly, the faint vibration of his laughter rumbling in his chest as he finally released the poor little prince in his arms.
Such inappropriate and unbecoming behavior didn’t trigger any system prompts or punishments—almost as if it had been tacitly approved.
Perhaps, as a substitute NPC, the steward’s task was to forcefully push the broken storyline back on track at all costs, with logic no longer being relevant.
For instance, the ridiculous act of the steward toying with the king’s widow under such blatantly indecent circumstances was something the system would selectively ignore.
Once more, the steward gave Jiang Yan’s backside a light pat and said: “Don’t want to speak, Your Highness? Are you shy, or do you feel troubled?”
With that, Yu Xiu swept his gaze over the long table, taking in the players and the various NPCs whose expressions were all different degrees of unnatural. He smiled lightly and said:
“Then may I trouble you, our honored guests, to each recount what you were doing last night when our great King met his unfortunate demise? Let’s proceed in order so we can bring tonight’s final trial to a swift conclusion.”
“Forgive me for being in such a hurry, but as you can see, His Highness is already quite exhausted. He’s pale and frail, having spent most of his energy searching for the King’s body fragments during the day. He needs to rest as soon as possible.”
After saying this, the steward lowered his head and pressed a kiss against the soft, adorable swirl of hair on Jiang Yan’s head—intimate and ambiguous.
The players exchanged glances with varying expressions.
Finally, Yu Jia raised his hand.
Just as he was about to speak, the steward, Yu Xiu, interrupted him:
“Oh, right! I must remind everyone—please ensure the truthfulness of your statements. Anyone caught lying—”
Yu Xiu paused for a moment, his green eyes narrowing into crescent shapes as the smile at the corner of his lips grew wider and wider. Then, in a chilling and almost delighted tone, he added:
“—will face a punishment far worse than being eliminated.”
Snap!
With that, he snapped his fingers.
A green mist exploded into existence above the long table, startling everyone.
The players stared in shock as the mist boiled and swirled like vapor rising from a witch’s cauldron, gradually revealing a cruel and bloody scene—
It was unmistakably the steward.
Wearing his tailored black tailcoat, the tall figure of the giant steward was seen throwing an ordinary human man onto a chopping board before turning to pick up a boning knife.
In the mist, the man lying on the chopping board struggled desperately.
However, as a human, he was weak and insignificant before the steward’s immense strength, like a helpless chick. Thick ropes—each as wide as an adult man’s wrist—bound his limbs, rendering him immobile.
The man could only cry and beg for mercy, watching helplessly as the black-haired, green-eyed steward elegantly wiped the boning knife with a crisp, white kitchen towel. His movements were so graceful, it was as if he were polishing a delicate and intricate musical instrument.
“Are you ready?”
Within the green mist, the steward smiled brightly at the man on the chopping block, asking considerately, “Are you ready?”
The man was soaked in sweat, his robes nearly drenched through. His entire face was smeared with tears and snot, and the dampness on his lower body made it unclear what kind of liquid it actually was.
His eyes were bloodshot with terror as he shook his head frantically.
The players wore calm expressions. They already knew all too well what would happen next.
“It’s been so many years, and it’s still this same scene?” Cao Youfeng muttered with a tone of irritation.
“There’s still a slight difference,” Tao Shi remarked as he lifted the glass of red wine by his side and took a sip. “For example, in the version we saw back then, the butcher was far uglier and rougher than Jiang Yan’s husband.”
An old trick.
Jiang Yan stared blankly at everything happening in the mist, expressionless.
Within the swirling mist, the cold silver boning knife reflected the steward’s face, his vibrant green eyes glimmering with excitement.
Jiang Yan raised an eyebrow slightly and looked up at the man holding him. Sure enough, this person was watching the image of himself in the mist with an expression of keen interest, his eyes flashing with an unmistakable gleam of enjoyment.
As expected.
Jiang Yan sighed silently, his gaze filled with disgust and indifference.
At this point, he couldn’t help but suspect—had this guy actively made some kind of deal with the main system?
After all...
Ha! This pervert seems to be enjoying himself a little too much in this game!
Within the green mist, Steward Yu Xiu gazed at the human struggling fruitlessly on the chopping block, his face lighting up with excitement as he declared:
“Punishment—begins now!”
“No… please… no, no, no—”
“Ah—!!”
A knife stabbed deep into the abdomen, blood splattered everywhere, and the man on the chopping block let out a heart-wrenching scream.
Yu Xiu’s strikingly beautiful, almost otherworldly pale face was now speckled with tiny droplets of blood, and the smile at the corner of his lips only deepened.
The players collectively sucked in a breath, yet their expressions remained mostly composed.
After all, they had already witnessed the dismembered giant king, the horrifying human-eyed grass roots on the elf lawn, Jiang Yan’s bizarre black tentacles, the rotting flesh-eating giant rats, the mutated head corpses, and just moments ago, their companion Geng Hui turning into a snail person.
This level of “gore cinema” was already well within their range of tolerance.
However, the next moment, the scene within the green mist rendered everyone speechless.
Yu Xiu, holding the gleaming silver boning knife, didn’t continue torturing the young man on the chopping block. Instead, he bent down, as if rummaging for something beneath the table.
Amidst the man’s agonized screams, he spoke cheerfully:
“Punishment! This is punishment, sir. It will hurt a little, but you just need to endure it!”
“Your screams are a bit too grating. Why don’t we chat instead? May I ask why you entered the game? According to the report I saw, it was because of gambling.”
“Isn’t it ridiculous to enter a game for such a foolish reason? I thought the kind of wish that could make humans sacrifice their lives would be something noble, like saving themselves or their loved ones.”
“A gambler playing games should be skilled, shouldn’t they? So why did you lose? I’m really curious. Please don’t lie to me…”
Before the man could respond, Yu Xiu finally pulled out what he had been searching for—a massive moth.
The creature was about the size of an adult man. Its white wings bore four symmetrical skull patterns, and its thick, wriggling antennae waved through the air. Attached to its grotesquely swollen body were two human heads.
Yes, human heads.
But they had no eyes.
Where the eyes should have been, two black, tube-like appendages protruded, each ending in a large, round eyeball that dangled and swayed as if observing the unfamiliar surroundings.
Moments later, the mouths of the two heads suddenly erupted with the wailing cries of infants.
“What the hell… is that?!” Jian Hou exclaimed.
Even after witnessing so many strange creatures, the players still couldn’t suppress their disgust when faced with such an abhorrent monstrosity.
“Alright, alright!”
Steward Yu Xiu gently coaxed the enormous moth he held in his hands, as though soothing a real child—or perhaps two, given the number of heads.
The giant moth’s cries quieted quickly, for its four eyestalks, dangling eyeballs swaying in the air, had already locked onto the man sprawled on the chopping block, writhing in agony from his wounded abdomen.
It flapped its grotesque wings, attempting to escape Yu Xiu’s grip and pounce on the man.
“Shh, shh” Yu Xiu whispered softly, soothing the creature as he carefully lowered it toward the man.
“He’s… he’s going to let that thing eat him?!” The chef’s voice trembled with horror.
But this outcome was already within everyone’s expectations.
The man, seeing the monstrous moth inching closer to him, shook his head frantically in terror and desperation:
“No, no… please… just kill me… I’m begging you—!!”
Yu Xiu released his grip, and the moth swiftly latched onto the man’s body.
However, it did not immediately tear him apart as food.
Instead, the moth embedded its bloated, writhing abdomen into the man’s knife-gashed stomach. Its entire body began to pulse and contract rhythmically.
The scene within the green mist was so bizarre and nauseating that the players seated at the long table couldn’t help but grimace in disgust and confusion.
“…This… doesn’t look like it’s eating him,” the chef hesitated, his voice trembling.
As if aware of the players’ confusion, the elegant, towering steward in the mist smiled and leaned closer to the writhing man to explain in his usual soft, lilting tone:
“Humans fear death so much; there’s no need to be afraid. This little one isn’t going to kill you right away. It harbors no ill intent.”
“It simply needs to lay its eggs inside your body to incubate them.”
“Lay… eggs?!”
The man in the green mist began to struggle wildly, thrashing in a frenzy of terror.
The players seated around the long table collectively inhaled sharply, their faces paling in unison.
In the green mist, Yu Xiu maintained his elegant demeanor, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he spoke:
“This is a newly cultivated moth—a baby, really. Very docile. Adult specimens don’t prey on humans, but they do require live hosts for reproduction.”
He paused, tilting his head slightly, his voice soft yet chillingly clear:
“Their eggs are no larger than those of a normal moth, but they can produce billions at a time. These eggs adhere to the blood vessel walls or thin membranes of human organs for incubation. During this process, the host remains alive.”
“When the eggs hatch, the larvae—each the size of a fingernail—begin feeding on the host’s blood and flesh to grow.”
With those words, Yu Xiu raised the gleaming silver blade in his hand.
A flash of the crescent-shaped knife severed the man’s restraints in one fluid motion.
But the man didn’t attempt to escape. He couldn’t.
The massive two-headed moth pressed its pulsating abdomen deeper into his open wound, pinning him firmly to the chopping block as it continued laying its countless eggs.
“Kill me… please… kill me…!” The man’s desperate pleas echoed in the mist, his voice raw with terror.
Yu Xiu, ever the gracious steward, crouched slightly and offered his sympathetic reassurance:
“There’s no need to fear pain. These creatures release a special neurotoxin to ensure their hosts feel no discomfort.”
“The toxin will keep you alive as long as possible, so the larvae have a steady supply of nutrients. Once your body can no longer sustain them…”
He gestured slightly toward the creature still busy within the man’s abdomen.
“...They’ll start devouring one another until only the strongest remains.”
“At that point, the mother will leave your body, and the cycle will be complete.”
Yu Xiu straightened, producing a pristine white kitchen towel. He gently wiped the blade, his every motion refined, as though he were performing some sacred ritual.
His tone softened, almost reverent, as he added:
“When that final larva spins its cocoon using your skin and emerges from your body fully formed, it will not signify your death…”
“But a rebirth.”
The man’s screams reached a fever pitch, tearing through the eerie silence like a jagged knife.
Then, as if someone had pressed a fast-forward button, the scene within the green mist accelerated rapidly.
The green mist shifted and flickered like an old film reel, playing out the grotesque conclusion in eerie silence.
The man, having miraculously escaped the chopping board, dragged himself across the room—his abdomen grotesquely swollen, the grotesque moth still fused to his body, laying its endless eggs.
At first, he had tried to fight back. He had gripped shards of broken furniture and thrust them at the creature in desperation. Yet no matter what he tried, the moth remained embedded, impervious to his attacks.
Then, the soft, baby-like cries of the moth’s twin heads began to echo through the room, haunting and pitiful. The man hesitated. Something in him broke.
Slowly, he started to cradle the creature attached to him, shushing its cries like a parent calming a restless infant.
Days passed—or perhaps longer. He began consuming anything he could find: moldy bread, rancid meat, even scraps from the floor. His only purpose was to feed, to nurture the grotesque life growing inside him.
His abdomen swelled like a balloon, stretched so thin that his skin turned taut and bluish-purple. Beneath his skin, tiny larvae writhed in countless numbers, their movements creating sickening ripples across his flesh.
Still, he fed. Still, he cradled.
Time wore on. The larvae beneath his skin grew larger and fewer, devouring one another in a grotesque survival of the fittest. Finally, only two remained—two enormous, writhing grubs locked in violent combat under his skin.
The man could barely move now. His breathing had turned shallow. Yet, as the moth on his abdomen emitted its infant-like wails again, he found the strength to pat it weakly, whispering soft words of comfort.
At last, the battle within him reached its end.
The moth detached itself, its massive, segmented body slowly pulling free from his bloated abdomen. With one last beat of its skull-patterned wings, it fluttered out the window, leaving behind a dusting of fine white powder.
The powder settled over the man like a shroud. His body stilled. His breath stopped.
His skin, now a pale, waxy white, began to shift and peel. It sloughed away until it resembled a hollow, human-shaped husk—a chrysalis.
Days passed. The misted sky in the background turned white, then black, then white again. Time had lost all meaning.
And then, with a sickening crack, the man’s skull split cleanly down the middle. Two identical, ghostly pale infant heads emerged, their eyeless sockets stretching grotesquely as black, tube-like tendrils extended forth. From the tips of the tendrils, perfect black-and-white eyeballs dangled and swiveled as if observing the world for the first time.
The thin, human skin of the chrysalis split open with a slow, wet tear. From within, white moth wings adorned with skull-like patterns unfurled, followed by a long, segmented, pulsating body.
“Waaa… Waaa…”
The two infant heads wailed in unison, their cries chillingly soft yet unnatural.
The newly reborn creature beat its powerful wings once, scattering more of the white powder as it ascended. Then, with a final shudder, it pushed itself free of the broken husk and flew out into the open air.
The green mist dispersed.
At the long table, the players were already so tormented by this terrifying and disgusting scene that they couldn't speak.
A few new players slumped into their chairs in fright. Soon after, they fled the table, clutching onto a nearby cabinet to vomit.
Yet in Yu Xiu's eyes, there was still a glimmer of lingering interest.
“This is not death. This is rebirth.”
Then, he gently patted Jiang Yan, who was covered in goosebumps in his arms, as if to comfort him. He turned and looked at the players seated at the long table, whose faces were filled with shock and utter disgust, and said with a smile:
“Everyone, who will go first?”