CHAPTER 1690: CHAPTER 8 SCENE 1 BEGINS

The female white-collar workers didn’t believe it. Before witnessing the Conquerors’ might, their wariness toward the Vietnamese man stemmed solely from his male identity.

"I can protect you all!" The Vietnamese man waved his hand and slapped the curvy backside of one of the white-collar women with a loud smack. He then brought his hand to his nose and sniffed. "So fragrant. Is it Chanel No. 5?"

"Help us!" One of the white-collar women looked to Tang Zheng for help.

Aside from their shared nationality, Tang Zheng’s handsome appearance quickly earned him goodwill among them.

Given what had happened to the two white-collar workers, the Chinese newbies began to gather spontaneously, while the Southeast Asians grouped according to nationality.

"Can we stop this and figure out a way to get out of here first?" The red-haired man suggested. "We’re all Conquerors, so stop pretending you’re big shots!"

"What the hell kind of place is this?" The burly scarred man, frustrated after searching to no avail, lashed out by kicking the iron gate twice violently. He then strode toward the table.

Bang! The burly man yanked the drawer open roughly, scattering debris all over the floor.

"Stop!" Tang Zheng frowned and shouted, but the scarred man didn’t care, snapping back angrily, "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Tang Zheng didn’t want to expose his abilities. He darted forward and charged at the scarred man, throwing a fierce punch.

The man wasn’t fazed, assuming a boxing stance. But before he could throw a punch, his vision blacked out as immense pain erupted from his jaw, sending his body flying.

Tang Zheng landed a solid punch on the man’s chin, launching him into the air. Then, clasping both hands together, he raised them above his head and brought them crashing down.

Bang! The man hit the ground like a sack of mud and passed out cold.

The entire secret room, resembling a prison cell, fell into a dead silence. Several Conquerors turned their gazes toward Tang Zheng and scrutinized him carefully.

"Looks like beating up newbies doesn’t result in point deductions," Tang Zheng remarked sarcastically while looking at the team points on his wristwatch screen. Then his expression darkened. "I don’t care what you do to the newbies, but you’re not allowed to damage anything in the room."

"What do you mean by that?" The Vietnamese man was enraged. "Who gave you the right to call the shots?"

"Are you genuinely stupid or pretending to be? This is clearly a secret room survival game. The room must contain clues to escape. If you destroy things, how are we supposed to find them?" The Indian man, with an aura of an elite, spoke. As an English third-order, he had the confidence to assert this.

"Why make it so complicated? Let’s just brute force our way out. It’s just a damn iron gate." The Vietnamese man shrugged indifferently and was about to exhibit his abilities to the two white-collar women. But then, he realized his abilities were restricted.

"What’s wrong?" The Indian man noticed the change in the Vietnamese man’s expression and asked in surprise.

"Nothing!" The Vietnamese man wasn’t so dumb as to reveal too much. He kept quiet, but the Conquerors quickly noticed their powers had vanished.

For a moment, the Conquerors, who had previously assumed there was no danger, all turned grim. Without their abilities, only brute physical strength remained—and that was far too limiting.

"Hmm? Could it be an issue with our abilities?" Tang Zheng tested his least detectable power, the gravity field, and found it still functional, causing some hesitation in his judgment.

"Ding-dong. The Indian man is correct. Starting now, your abilities are stripped, spatial props are restricted, and you can only use your wits to solve the secret room," announced the Trojan.

The Conquerors erupted in shock at Trojan’s announcement.

"Damaging the room’s objects will not only deduct points but also trigger punitive electrocution. Please note, it’s a global electrocution. This means one person’s mistake results in punishment for everyone. Your protective clothing’s effects are canceled, so don’t rely on your Conqueror status to act recklessly."

"With each increase in punishment frequency, the intensity of the electrocution will gradually rise. Of course, if you want to brute force your way through the iron gate, you can do so, but you will face severe point penalties and extremely strong electrocution consequences."

"The faster you escape, the more points you’ll earn. These points will be crucial for the upcoming Holy Land War, so make sure you treasure them."

"If you fail to escape within twenty-four hours, you will be eliminated!"

Trojan ignored the murmurs of the Toys after explaining the rules and fell silent.

"Nobody move! Get over there and crouch in the corner!" The Vietnamese man, shocked at first, quickly recovered and roared at everyone. "I’m an English third-order, so I’m the boss around here."

The two white-collar women fled like startled rabbits. Solving the secret room became the priority, so the Vietnamese man couldn’t spare time to bother with them.

"Be careful! Didn’t you hear me? If you scratch the floor, I’ll skin you alive!" The red-haired man roared as he anxiously examined the walls. He wasn’t exactly a brainy type and was utterly at a loss.

"Hey, you act all high and mighty, so find a solution!" The Vietnamese man gestured with his chin toward the Indian man, entirely ignoring Tang Zheng and his group.

"Impulsiveness won’t help," the Indian man lectured the Vietnamese man, moving to the table and beginning his inspection. Going by his skilled movements, he was evidently experienced in such tasks.

The Vietnamese man felt reassured and once again cast a lecherous glance at the white-collar women’s stocking-clad legs, scheming anew.

"Why do I still have my ability? More importantly, should I take this chance to kill them?" Tang Zheng crouched and placed his palm on a book. Sure enough, he activated his gravity power to lift it.

"Hey, don’t mess around. Let the Indian man handle it," the Vietnamese man shouted at Tang Zheng. "If you obliterate a clue, none of us will get out of here."

"No, if I act now, I’ll draw too much attention and end up in trouble. Better to let them turn on each other and reap the benefits afterward," Tang Zheng calculated darkly, already set on a killing spree. Since entering the Holy Land, he had resolved to tear down Trojan by slaughtering those in his way.

"Hey, kid, didn’t you hear me?" The Vietnamese man, feeling dismissed, grew furious.

"Do you all think this will be some sort of game like ’Saw,’ where killing people is the only way to escape?" Tang Zheng changed the subject, steering the Vietnamese man’s train of thought.

"Hmm? Knowing Trojan’s malicious nature, it’s definitely possible," the Vietnamese man nodded thoughtfully.

"That’s right. I’ve been through a similar secret room before—killing is indeed required." The Indian man glanced at the newbies, releasing a bloodthirsty remark. "We could start by killing someone we don’t like and testing it out."

The newbies were like gazelles under the gaze of lions, their sweat glands on edge. Then the sound of rifles being cocked filled the air.

Some newbies had chosen rifles, and now they finally remembered to use them for self-defense. For Conquerors, a five-day confinement in the small dark room was punishment, while the newbies had only been locked away for three hours—relatively lenient treatment.

In the room, the six Conquerors—relying on their exceptional physical prowess—were undoubtedly the dominant force. But with firearms thrown into the mix, their dominance faltered somewhat. After all, without protective clothing and abilities, their physical bodies wouldn’t withstand gunfire.

While the Conquerors could suppress the newbies without killing them, it would involve a risk of injury. Bleeding out at the start of the game would be terrible; they needed to preserve their best condition for future enemies.

"What’s the matter? Think holding guns makes you all untouchable?" The Vietnamese man, not entirely clueless, yelled at his compatriots, "Stop standing around! Get over here!"

In such a dangerous situation, clinging to a strong figure was undeniably a wise choice.

After the turmoil, two isolated Filipino men remained ostracized. Under the scrutinizing eyes cast upon them, they sweated profusely and gripped their rifles tightly.

Tang Zheng continued searching for clues, knowing full well that the Vietnamese man’s temperament would lead him to impulsively propose suggestions, making him the Filipinos’ primary target of caution—and most likely the bullets’ intended recipient.

The Indian man had also considered the same issue and ignored the Vietnamese man’s frequent gestures.

The Vietnamese man, constantly leaping about, had already become the center of everyone’s attention. His petty moves were impossible to conceal, leaving the two Filipinos under immense pressure until, finally, one of them spoke up.

"Don’t push us, or we all die together." One Filipino man pulled out a hand grenade from his backpack, hooking his finger into the pin.

The newbies grew restless. Even if they couldn’t understand the words, the threatening gesture was clear, forcing them to put away their ill intentions and distance themselves from the Filipinos.

"FU~CK, Trojan’s really generous," the Vietnamese man cursed under his breath. It was a defensive grenade; in such a confined secret room, its shrapnel would scatter everywhere.

"I told you, Trojan wouldn’t let the newbies lack any form of self-defense!" The Indian man wasn’t surprised, flipping through the Bible. "Finally made a discovery."

"What is it?" The Vietnamese man hurried over, craning his neck to read.

"Some text is covered with pencil marks. Looks like we’ll need an eraser," the Indian man said, heading toward the table but finding nothing.

"Stop looking. I’ve checked already—there’s none," a petite Japanese woman said coldly. "There’s only half a pencil."

"Could spit help erase the markings?" The Vietnamese man displayed his ignorance, earning an eye-roll from the Japanese woman.

"It’ll tear the page." The Indian man shook his head. This brute posed no threat; dealing with the Chinese man should be the priority.

The Indian man stared at Tang Zheng, whose subtle but revealing details marked him as a powerful individual, heightening the Indian man’s vigilance.

"Give me the pencil!" Tang Zheng grabbed a diary and asked the Japanese woman.

"Have you found something?" The Japanese woman handed it over, her gaze fixed on the diary. "I checked this book earlier—there’s nothing written in it."

"Really?" Tang Zheng flipped through a few pages and began shading them in with the pencil.

"Yes." The Japanese woman curled her lips. "I trust my judgment."

"Hey, are you making time to draw manga or what?" The Vietnamese man sneered at Tang Zheng, doubting he’d uncover anything.

"I see now!" The Indian man wasn’t foolish and approached Tang Zheng’s side, glancing a few times before spotting the clue.

"What’s happening?" The Japanese woman stared in shock as Tang Zheng shaded the paper black, revealing indentations where text had been written on the previous page.

"A simple method. Someone wrote on the previous page, leaving indentations. When you rub graphite over it, the impressions naturally appear." The Conquerors had all purchased language specialization, so communication wasn’t an issue. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian.com to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)