Horror Game Designer

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

“The situation is being handled with utmost seriousness by the headquarters. They’ve been extremely thorough in choosing the team for this investigation, conducting several layers of screening to ensure only the best are involved. Even if you’re highly skilled, they’re not just going to let you be part of it,” Bai Xiao explained, his fingers brushing against a folder on the table bearing Qin Tian’s name. “We’ve got additional responsibilities too, like keeping an eye on Minlong Street and Li Jing Street. Believe me, the tasks we’ve been assigned are just as challenging as any.”

As he finished, Bai Xiao turned his attention to the senior team members who remained in the room. Together, they began to meticulously map out their strategy for the evening’s operation, painstakingly considering every possible outcome and preparing for various contingencies.

Meanwhile, Gao Ming was conspicuously absent from this high-level discussion. He was engrossed in something else, hunched over Qin Tian’s computer, his fingers rapidly navigating through various files and applications in search of a specific piece of information.

The Investigation Bureau had a specialized team adept in gathering and organizing information. Recognizing the need for their expertise, Gao Ming reached out to one of these specialists, tapping into the bureau’s extensive investigative network to track down an individual for a personal quest.

He then took out his phone and began inputting some criminal profiles that he had crafted himself. These profiles were the product of his unique insights into the criminal psyche, designed to identify the most dangerous and unstable elements in society – those who needed to be neutralized promptly – as well as those who might be amenable to cooperation.

Gao Ming prided himself on his deep understanding of these criminals’ psychological weaknesses and vulnerabilities. He was the only one in the city who dared to engage with such volatile and dangerous individuals.

“I always believed a truly gripping suspense game should be logically coherent and devoid of supernatural elements. But I’m just an average game designer. Some of my case designs lack rigor, and I’ve encountered criminals with abilities that surpass those of normal humans. These abilities could potentially develop into extraordinary powers, influenced by the enigmatic ‘shadow world’, much like Xuan Wen,” he mused.

In less than thirty minutes, a bureau staffer sent Gao Ming information on his first target.

This criminal was unusually tall and had a striking appearance, which made it virtually impossible for him to evade the city’s extensive surveillance network unless he was deliberately concealing his whereabouts.

“An underground fight club?”

Impressed by the bureau’s quick work, Gao Ming swiftly grabbed a raincoat and prepared to leave.

“Where are you off to? I’ll join you!” Zhu Miao Miao, who had been lost in her thoughts, suddenly stood up, her eyes scanning the room for a fire axe.

“That won’t be necessary, stay here.”

“But Chief Chen instructed me to stick with you,” Zhu Miao Miao protested, abandoning her search for the axe and hurrying over to Gao Ming. “Is there a new assignment?”

“Just going to meet an acquaintance,” Gao Ming replied, not objecting to her company this time. Together, they got into the investigation team’s vehicle and drove towards the dock area.

For a long time, Hanhai had been a place where money could buy almost anything. It was a free port that showcased the finest art but also concealed the most basic and brutal forms of entertainment. Here, one could indulge in any sensory pleasure if they were willing to pay the price.

Gao Ming skillfully maneuvered the bureau’s car through the city’s bustling streets, eventually pulling up near Queen’s Eleventh Street. He parked the car close to a restaurant, timing their arrival perfectly.

“We’re here. According to the intelligence we received from the bureau, our target frequents this place for his daily lunch,” Gao Ming explained, casually adjusting the brim of his hat to shield his face. He glanced over at Zhu Miao Miao, who sat tensely in the passenger seat, ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. “Stay calm and be ready,” he advised her quietly.

Outside, the rain had started to subside, creating a network of shimmering puddles on the pavement. Gao Ming watched as the reflections of the city’s buildings danced and distorted in the water.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps disrupted the tranquility, splashing through the puddles and scattering the mirrored images. Passersby instinctively stepped aside, creating a clear path.

Turning the corner onto the street came a towering figure, almost two meters tall, clad in a bespoke suit that struggled to contain his muscular frame. His exposed skin was adorned with intricate tattoos of ferocious giants and ghosts, striking an imposing image.

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

“He matches the picture in my head perfectly,” Gao Ming whispered to himself, a slight smile playing on his lips as he observed the man’s commanding presence.

The man, seemingly oblivious to Gao Ming’s gaze, strode into the restaurant. His entrance caused a stir among the other customers, who quickly made room for him, their movements betraying a mix of respect and fear.

“As usual,” the man’s voice rumbled, deep and rough, likely the result of a past injury. He took a seat, his massive frame stretching the fabric of his suit.

The atmosphere inside the restaurant grew tense. The patrons hurriedly finished their meals, eager to distance themselves from the man’s formidable presence. He appeared unfazed by the effect he had, a scene he seemed all too familiar with.

“Boss, two bowls of noodles to go,” Gao Ming called out to the restaurant staff. He then confidently made his way through the now mostly empty space and sat directly opposite the man.

As he poured two cups of hot water from a nearby thermos, Gao Ming appeared completely at ease. “I hear you’ve been a sensation in the underground fighting rings. Thirteen victories without a single defeat. But that’s not your real name you use in the ring, right?” he asked casually.

The man’s expression shifted, his tattooed face contorting as if the inked figures were coming to life, revealing a monstrous mouth.

“I remember a boxer who resembled you. His life wasn’t easy,” Gao Ming continued, his voice steady. “His mother was chronically ill. After his father passed away, she remarried, bringing her son and daughter into a new family with a man who was a violent, lecherous gambler. This man sought to salvage his own shattered pride through cruelty and violence, both at home and elsewhere.”

As Gao Ming spoke, the atmosphere in the restaurant seemed to grow even heavier. The few remaining customers quickly finished their meals and left, sensing the tension at the table.

Gao Ming, however, showed no sign of leaving, clearly intent on seeing this encounter through. “That gambler had no right to be called a father. After his wife’s death, he became even more abusive towards his stepchildren. He forced the elder daughter to endure endless chores and harsh beatings for even the smallest mistakes.”

Gao Ming, maintaining his calm demeanor, leaned slightly forward as he continued his narrative, his voice taking on a slower, more hypnotic cadence. “But the younger son, he was even more pitiable,” he said, his tone laced with a subtle sense of empathy. “This innocent and kind-hearted boy was constantly berated and threatened by his abusive stepfather. The terror and stress he endured led to a chronic condition of enuresis – bed-wetting – a problem that haunts him to this very day.”

Across from him, the muscular man’s eyes flickered with a turmoil of emotions. The pain of long-suppressed memories seemed to crack through his hardened exterior, revealing a vulnerability he had long fought to conceal.

Observing these changes, Gao Ming continued to speak in a gentle yet probing manner, his fingers lightly swirling the water in his cup. “Each time the boy wet the bed, it triggered a violent outburst from the stepfather. He would cruelly cover the child’s face with the soiled sheet, force him against the urinal, and taunt him, saying that even dogs knew where to relieve themselves.”

“Are you done?” The man’s voice was strained, his breathing accelerated, eyes now bloodshot. The stirring of deep, painful memories was bringing childhood nightmares back to the surface.

This man, who would later become the infamous murderer known as Yan Hua, was still in the process of transformation, his dark past not yet fully defining him.

Gao Ming, sensing the increasing tension, quickened his pace. “His fear of wetting the bed grew so intense that he dreaded even the thought of sleep. On countless nights, he would force his eyes to stay open, slowly turning into someone abnormal,” he said. “Feeling helpless and powerless, he started to grow crueler, understanding the vicious cycle of violence begetting violence, yet unable to escape it. He became precocious and cunning, all the while harboring a growing, hidden desire for aggression.”

As Gao Ming spoke, the man’s body tensed, his muscles straining against the fabric of his suit, which seemed on the verge of tearing under the pressure of his imposing physique.

“His stepfather never saw him as a human being, even giving him the feminine name of Yan Hua,” Gao Ming continued, his voice steady.

“Shut up!” The man’s fist clenched, raised threateningly toward Gao Ming, his inner turmoil reaching a breaking point.

“Even as he grew up and trained himself almost to the point of self-torture, the fear lingered, and his bed-wetting only worsened,” Gao Ming added, unflinching.

“I said, shut up!” The man’s voice was a mix of anger and desperation, his body trembling and bones cracking under the strain.

“He despised his own body, pushing himself harder in his training, but few knew the true reason behind his efforts,” Gao Ming said, his voice now a whisper.

As the man’s fist descended, Gao Ming delivered his final, cutting remark: “All he ever wanted was to kill his stepfather.”

The fist halted mere inches from Gao Ming’s face, frozen in mid-air. His sharp and revealing words had pierced through the man’s defenses, laying bare a secret hidden for over two decades. The revelation left the man feeling exposed and vulnerable as if standing naked in a downpour.