The so-called broadcasting studio was a dazzling hall steeped in extravagant luxury.
Grotesque golden chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling high above, while the walls were carved with lifelike relief sculptures so vivid they almost seemed alive. Candles flickered from silver holders embedded into every corner, their flames casting restless shadows across the hall.
The entire venue resembled a colossal stepped amphitheater divided into nine enormous tiers.
The lower the tier, the wider the space became.
The broadest level was large enough to fit an entire football field.
Each tier was covered in a different colored carpet and decorated in its own distinct style.
But the most eye-catching feature of all—
was the row of ten thrones positioned at the very top.
The thrones were crafted from crystal and velvet, lavish to the point of excess. Beside them rested fruits, wine, and silver platters, creating an obvious distinction between classes.
Every tier faced the same direction.
At the center of the hall floated a massive holographic projection.
Thriller Trainee.
The glowing words hovered in midair, impossible to ignore no matter where one stood. They seemed to imprint themselves directly into the viewer’s vision.
Just like the mechanical voice earlier, this was clearly technology far beyond modern science.
The hall buzzed with noise.
Tens of thousands of people gathered across the various tiers, their expressions filled with anxiety, confusion, and fear.
No one could even estimate the true size of the hall.
The sea of people stretched endlessly into the distance.
Meanwhile, Zong Jiu stood calmly amid countless staring gazes, lazily flexing his fingers as though he didn’t care about the attention at all.
The original owner of this body possessed an appearance impossible to overlook.
Because of mild albinism, his hair was snow-white and his skin almost unnaturally pale. Anywhere he went, he naturally became the center of attention.
Zong Jiu honestly found it a little unfortunate.
If this were a normal talent show, he could probably survive entirely on his face alone.
Suddenly, screams erupted throughout the crowd.
“What the hell is this?!”
People stared down at their chests in alarm.
Blue text had appeared there out of nowhere.
Zong Jiu lowered his own gaze.
Thriller Trainee — E-Rank.
He wasn’t surprised.
The original owner of this body had essentially been decorative cannon fodder. Weak physique. No combat ability. An E-rank evaluation was perfectly reasonable.
At this point, even the most stubborn people could no longer convince themselves this was normal.
The atmosphere instantly grew more restless.
However—
not everyone looked panicked.
Zong Jiu’s gaze drifted toward the edges of the hall.
Several groups stood quietly near the walls, maintaining obvious distance from the newcomers.
Unlike the frightened crowd, their expressions remained calm and indifferent.
The badges on their chests all displayed ranks above C.
The highest visible rank among them was A.
Compared to the terrified newcomers packed together below, these people radiated composure and experience.
Zong Jiu already understood why.
Not everyone here had been dragged in from reality like Xia Chuan and the others.
For years, people around the world had continuously disappeared into this endless horror dimension.
Millions had vanished.
Most died within the infinite cycle of horror instances.
Only a tiny fraction survived long enough to become veterans.
Compared to those ruthless survivors who had clawed their way through countless deadly situations, the newcomers gathered here were little more than expendable fodder.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen this many people at once.”
One of the veterans spoke quietly.
“So what?” another sneered. “Most of these newcomers will probably die before the first few rounds end.”
The veterans watched the terrified crowd below with detached expressions.
None of them showed the slightest intention of stepping forward to explain anything.
No one here was a saint.
In this place, even surviving yourself was difficult enough.
Then the mechanical voice echoed once more.
[Time is up.]
[The entrances to the broadcasting studio are now sealed.]
BOOM.
The doors around the hall slammed shut simultaneously.
Many newcomers jumped in fright.
[The first round of preliminary evaluation has ended.]
The candles throughout the hall suddenly extinguished one after another.
Sparks floated upward from the dying flames, gathering together in midair until they formed a glowing humanoid silhouette.
“Welcome, trainees who successfully passed the preliminary evaluation.”
“I am the anthropomorphic manifestation of the system.”
“Next, I will explain the rules of Thriller Trainee.”
Meanwhile—
Xia Chuan remained downstairs in the stairwell.
He sat impatiently on the stairs, constantly checking his phone.
The battery had already turned red.
Still no signal.
The crowd around him continued taking pictures and selfies, making the atmosphere feel oddly casual despite everything.
Then someone frowned.
“…Wait. Why is it suddenly so quiet?”
The noisy corridor from earlier had completely fallen silent.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Nothing.
An uneasy chill spread through the stairwell.
“Hold on…”
Someone suddenly slapped his thigh.
“Could there be an exit upstairs? Maybe everyone already left!”
The crowd immediately became agitated.
“Holy shit, that makes sense!”
“Why else would it suddenly be this quiet?”
“We’ve been waiting here like idiots!”
The entire group surged toward the stairs.
Xia Chuan followed along impatiently.
But after climbing several floors—
the people in front abruptly stopped.
“What the hell are you doing?! Move!”
The people behind shouted angrily.
At that moment, a strong sense of dread suddenly gripped Xia Chuan’s chest.
Something warm splattered onto his face.
Drip.
Drip.
His vision blurred crimson.
Confused, Xia Chuan grabbed the object hanging over him.
The moment his fingers touched it—
his entire body froze.
It was warm.
Wet.
Sticky.
A severed human intestine dangled limply from his hand.
Before anyone could react—
THUD.
Half a corpse crashed directly into the crowd.
Blood exploded everywhere.
Screams instantly tore through the stairwell.
The body had been split cleanly in half. Flesh, organs, and broken entrails spilled across the stairs.
Several people vomited on the spot.
Xia Chuan stared blankly at the intestine still clutched in his hand.
Then—
he unleashed the most horrifying scream of his life.
Inside the broadcasting studio, the system continued its explanation calmly.
“The competition format follows a survival-based elimination system.”
“Trainees will continuously enter horror instances.”
“After each round, rankings will be reevaluated.”
“Elimination will continue until only one hundred trainees remain.”
“The final survivor will obtain the ultimate reward.”
The hall remained deathly silent.
Everyone listened carefully.
“The current rankings are divided into seven levels.”
“S. A. B. C. D. E. F.”
“The higher your rank, the more authority and privileges you possess.”
“Higher-ranked trainees may obtain private rooms, special services, and even advance information regarding future instances.”
Zong Jiu quietly glanced upward toward the highest platform.
Unfortunately, from his current position, he couldn’t clearly see the people seated above.
But he remembered the descriptions from the novel.
The S-rank dormitories were absurdly luxurious.
Sky gardens.
Private pools.
Panoramic suites.
Compared to that, the E-rank dormitories were practically prison cells.
“As this is a survival show, live broadcasts will be available to external viewers,” the system continued.
“However, trainees themselves cannot view the broadcasts or bullet chat.”
“Communication with the outside world is prohibited.”
“Now begins the question-and-answer session.”
A newcomer immediately shouted,
“Why is the first throne empty?”
The system replied calmly.
“Because the holder of the No.1 seat possesses the privilege of not attending assembly.”
The crowd stirred violently.
The veterans, however, reacted differently.
Several people visibly stiffened.
Fear flashed across their faces.
Clearly—
they knew exactly who occupied that seat.
Another voice suddenly rang out from above.
Calm. Unhurried.
“You haven’t explained the elimination rules.”
Everyone subconsciously looked upward.
The speaker sat among the upper ranks.
“If death inside the instance equals elimination, then how are rankings involved?”
“And if rankings determine elimination, does that mean lower-ranked trainees can be erased regardless of survival?”
The question instantly cut to the heart of the issue.
The system answered immediately.
“Correct.”
“After each evaluation round, the lowest-ranked trainees will enter punishment instances.”
“If they survive the punishment instance, they may obtain a revival opportunity.”
“But trainees who die within regular instances lose all qualifications immediately.”
The atmosphere became heavier.
Then the same voice asked another question.
“…Who are the instructors?”
This time, even the veterans tensed visibly.
The instructors clearly possessed authority capable of affecting everyone’s life and death.
Yet throughout all these years inside the infinite loop, no one had ever encountered beings capable of overriding the system itself.
The system paused briefly.
Then answered coldly,
“Your authority level is insufficient. Question denied.”
At that moment, some newcomers suddenly snapped.
“This has to be fake!”
“There’s no way people are actually dying!”
“We have this many people here! What can you possibly do to us?!”
The system remained silent for several seconds.
Then it finally spoke again.
“If you still refuse to believe reality…”
“Then witness it yourselves.”
The glowing humanoid figure shattered apart into countless sparks.
At the same moment—
The ceiling of the broadcasting studio slowly opened.
Sunlight poured inside.
Warm golden light illuminated the hall.
But outside—
the corridor had become a sea of blood.
Bodies littered the floor.
Some had been ripped open from chest to abdomen.
Some were missing limbs.
Entrails and shattered organs lay scattered everywhere.
The newcomers instantly went pale.
Many collapsed vomiting.
At the very end of the corridor—
someone was still crawling.
A blood-covered figure dragged himself desperately toward the hall.
Half his spine had been torn out.
Chunks of flesh dangled from his back.
“Hah… hah…”
His hands clawed across the carpet, leaving bloody trails behind.
Then someone screamed,
“T-That’s Xia Chuan!”
The famous idol struggled forward with bulging eyes filled with terror.
His face was twisted beyond recognition.
Every movement looked agonizing.
He desperately crawled toward the open hall as though grasping for salvation itself.
Ten meters.
Five meters.
Three meters.
Then—
his head suddenly separated from his neck.
ROLL.
The severed head tumbled across the carpet.
Blood sprayed everywhere.
His body collapsed instantly.
Silence.
Absolute silence consumed the hall.
The newcomers trembled violently.
Some cried.
Some stared blankly in shock.
The system’s voice echoed calmly through the studio.
“This is the consequence of violating the rules.”
“Congratulations.”
“You made the correct choice.”
The ceiling slowly closed again.
Darkness swallowed the sunlight.
Then—
an invisible force suddenly lifted everyone into the air.
Screams erupted throughout the hall.
The system announced coldly,
“The first official match has been moved forward.”
“Please prepare yourselves.”
The carpet beneath their feet suddenly dissolved into darkness.
And the next moment—
everyone was dragged into the abyss.