Chapter Twenty-Two: I Won't Pretend Anymore—I'm Laying All My Cards on the Table

The reporter hung up the phone, and almost everyone turned to look at Fang Nian. The Xia family, in particular, gazed at him as though he were a creature from another world.

A shiver ran down Fang Nian’s spine; an uneasy chill crept through his heart. To be honest, this abrupt transformation from obscurity to the center of attention was far from pleasant. But since things had come to this, there was no point in hiding anymore—he might as well admit it.

“No more pretending. I’ll lay my cards on the table—it’s me.”

That’s just how things are in this world—when you deny something, people will stop at nothing to force you to confess. But once you finally do admit it, then no one believes you.

“Impossible! Look at him—he hardly looks the part of a hunter. You must be joking.”

“I think so too. It’s probably just someone with the same name. Isn’t everyone aware that the Xia family’s live-in son-in-law used to be a nobody who ran a corner store in District Four? How could he possibly be so capable?”

“Exactly. There’s no way it’s him. I swear on it—if the person on the phone really is him, I’ll do a backward somersault from the ceiling and eat shit.”

“Count me in too.”

Outsiders refused to believe it, but the Xia family thought differently. How could it be that someone who wasn’t even the Xia family’s son-in-law would go hunting and save the Xia family’s son-in-law? Was this some kind of movie? How could the world be so coincidental?

Xia Junhui walked over, scrutinizing Fang Nian up and down with incredulity.

“I knew from the first day I met you, you were a slippery one—but I never imagined you hid this deeply. So you really do have some tricks up your sleeve.”

Fang Nian was truly at a loss for words with this aunt of his—her mouth really was something else.

Seeing Fang Nian finally admit it, Xia Moyu no longer had to hold back. He burst out laughing and turned to Xia Hong.

“Grandpa, it really was brother-in-law who did it. He’s a hunter too. In fact, on his very first day in District Sixteen, he cleared ‘Buried Alive.’ But he didn’t want anyone to know, so I’ve kept it a secret all this time.”

Hearing this, Xia Hong finally believed it. The clouded gloom on his face gave way to a rare trace of delight, and even his way of addressing Fang Nian changed.

“Nian, does that mean you also cleared ‘Death ID’?”

Fang Nian was a bit unused to this sudden form of address, but he nodded and replied lightly.

“Yes. I happened to be out for a stroll this morning, and just cleared it on the way.”

Good grief… If you’re going to boast, could you at least be a bit more modest? But given the current situation, he had every right to brag, and no one begrudged him for it.

At this point, Jin Jindao and Xu Lang looked as though they’d swallowed something foul—yesterday’s leftovers, no less. They never could have imagined that today, right here, Fang Nian—the infamous good-for-nothing son-in-law—would upend their plans.

Jin Jindao summoned his lackey and slapped him across the face.

“‘Death ID’ was cleared yesterday—why didn’t you report it?”

The boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, nearly burst into tears from the slap, but still stammered, “I… I told you yesterday… But you were with Xiao Qian…”

Another slap rang out—Jin Jindao nearly knocked the boy out.

Now he understood: the scheme he and Xu Lang had concocted behind their families’ backs no longer posed any threat to the Xia family. Their plan to earn credit within the family was a complete failure.

Worse still, they’d fallen into another trap set by Fang Nian. It was a total loss—the cost to the hunting ground was still incalculable.

Of course, with the Jin family’s wealth, losing millions was painful but not devastating. The worst he’d face would be a couple of weeks’ confinement upon returning home.

But what infuriated Jin Jindao most was Fang Nian’s insult to his hunting ground designs. He’d always taken immense pride in his work, believing himself destined to become a top-tier architect of hunting grounds.

‘Death ID’ was his crowning achievement, the work he considered his magnum opus. And yet, Fang Nian had dismissed it as something he’d simply cleared on a morning stroll. That was utter humiliation.

In that moment, Jin Jindao seemed on the verge of losing his mind. He pointed at Fang Nian, furious.

“Fang, I don’t believe you could possibly understand my design. You must have just blundered your way through by sheer luck, right?”

Fang Nian merely smiled. Was this guy crazy? If he provoked him further, would he really go mad? That might not be such a bad thing. He shrugged and replied,

“You’re really full of yourself. You must have a lot of confidence in your hunting grounds?”

“Of course,” Jin Jindao replied haughtily.

Fang Nian waved his hand with a hint of exasperation.

“In that case, if you’re so confident in your designs, why resort to deceiving the public?”

Jin Jindao tensed immediately. “That’s nonsense!”

“Fine. Since you want to hear it, let me give you a lesson. Let’s start with your design for ‘Buried Alive.’ On the surface, the hunting ground appears sophisticated, using psychological suggestion throughout to create an overwhelming atmosphere of fear. But really, if the hunter has enough willpower, or knows some methods to clear their mind, the entire challenge becomes trivial—utterly worthless.”

To have ‘Buried Alive’ dismissed as trash infuriated Jin Jindao, but he had no grounds to refute it. As Fang Nian said, the design was indeed quite basic—he’d barely spent any money on the framework, focusing mainly on psychological tricks.

That’s why, as things stood, even an eighty-year-old with no hunting experience could clear it if they knew a few meditation techniques.

“Now, as for ‘Death ID,’ which you consider your masterpiece—I’ll give you this, it’s a step up from the last one. It actually shows some real effort and could hold its own. If I were to rate it, I’d give it an eight out of ten.”

For once, Jin Jindao did not interrupt him. But then, an experienced reporter nearby spoke up.

“Fang, when this hunting ground was first introduced, the experts in the field analyzed it thoroughly. Some even made it to the end and sent the killer to jail, but for some reason, no one could clear it. They came up with thirty different endings, even considered the killer turning himself in, but none worked. Could you explain why?”

Fang Nian was caught off guard—he hadn’t expected that, after only a day online, so many people would attempt to solve it, devising so many different strategies. If he could join such a group, he’d gather information even faster.

Hearing the question, Fang Nian smiled.

“You weren’t wrong in your approach. But you were misled by the hunting ground’s architect, which is why you couldn’t clear it.

“You may not have realized it, but the real twist was set the moment you entered the hunting ground. For realism, the designers even hired actors. So, when a hunt begins, out of the ten people entering with you, you might be the only real hunter—all the others are just actors and never truly enter the ground.

“To make things even more convincing, they deliberately performed memorable actions to mislead you—like when I entered, they had a boy who liked to scratch his left hand with his right thumb. If you see someone like that inside the hunting ground, you’d assume it’s the same boy you saw outside. But that’s just your assumption; he never actually entered.

“So, many people thought ‘Death ID’ was a true multiplayer hunting ground. But in fact, it isn’t—it’s a single-player challenge.”

At these words, jaws dropped all around.