Chapter Thirteen: Vanished Into Thin Air

Should I use the same tactics from my past life again this time?

Shen Li glanced at the camera, knowing that Pei Wenxuan was watching from behind the monitor. In their previous game, their team had faced fierce storms and towering waves that capsized their boat, forcing them to pause their mission at this station. Ultimately, they were trapped there by the same method.

Originally, they had secured five stations and were just one step away from setting sail to fish and clinching victory. Yet, they were deliberately delayed until they lost the game.

Before the game started, Shen Li had already set up a “barrier layer” to isolate virtual projections from the real world. Thus, no matter what virtual objects were released into the sea, they could not affect reality.

That was why the boat had now stabilized, creating a surreal contrast with the raging sea.

“What? Why isn’t the boat being lifted by the waves??”

“This is terrifying! Has Shen Li used some kind of magic again?”

“I really want to know how many skills Shen Li has that we don’t even know about.”

Silence fell behind the monitor. The director stole a glance at Pei Wenxuan’s expression, dark as coal, and immediately scolded the head of the tech department: “Hurry and check what’s going on!”

“Yes, I’m checking right now!”

In front of the camera, Shen Li seemed to hear their words, flashing a mysterious smile—beautiful and unrestrained—as if telling them that their futile efforts were pointless.

The tech director repeated multiple tests but found no issues, hanging his head in defeat. “There’s no anomaly. I honestly don’t know what’s happening.”

He looked back at the monitor, noticing Shen Li standing straight at the bow of the boat. Suddenly, a spark of realization lit up his eyes.

Could it be...?

Impossible!

The virtual isolation technology was so advanced that even the world’s top technicians couldn’t produce it on demand, let alone an unknown girl like her!

Maybe it was just a bug. He’d check again.

Immersed once more in his technical work, he shut out everything else.

---

With the isolation technology in place, the Black Material Team successfully hauled their catch ashore. Both teams gained substantial rewards and arrived at Station 3 almost simultaneously. Shen Li signaled to Ji Beishu to join her and took the lead in carrying a large net of fish to the scale. The station guard recorded the weight and then signaled the Top Stream Team.

Suddenly, Shen Li spoke: “Are you sure the fish you caught are real?”

Her words caused Ji Beishu’s pupils to widen. He guessed the production team might be helping the Top Stream Team cheat and stared hard at them. Jiang Fuya stiffened in guilt but quickly composed herself, offering a gentle smile: “Of course. How could the fish in the sea not be real?”

With a warm smile, she added, “Sister Shen Li, you’re really overthinking. I just have some experience from previous fishing shows.”

Before she finished, Lu Ziwei chimed in: “Fuya, you’re amazing. With you, our team will definitely win!”

“Oh, no,” Jiang Fuya blushed shyly. “I’m not that great. Compared to professional fishermen, I’m a novice. But compared to amateurs, I’m okay.”

“Fuya’s so modest. Be confident—you’re the best little fisher on the field!”

“Shen Li, get lost! You cheated with virtual screens before, and now you dare accuse Fuya of cheating? Not everyone’s as dirty and disgusting as you. Fuya’s strong enough to win without cheating!”

“Exactly! Wait, what’s going on???”

“Where’d the fish go???”

“What happened???”

The Top Stream Team had just placed a net full of fish on the scale when, before the weight could be recorded, the fish vanished into thin air. Only a few dead fish remained in the net. Jiang Fuya’s eyes widened in terror.

The director said that the fish released would automatically enter the net and that no one could tell they weren’t real. So what was going on now?

Panic flashed through Jiang Fuya as she looked toward the camera, silently pleading for help from the director behind it.

Lu Ziwei blurted out: “Didn’t the director say the fish wouldn’t disappear?” Immediately, he covered his mouth—terrible!

The director behind the monitor was furious, clutching his chest and gasping for breath.

Seizing the opportunity from Lu Ziwei’s slip, Shen Li stepped forward relentlessly: “What do you mean the director said the fish wouldn’t disappear? Real fish in the sea don’t vanish into thin air? What exactly are you implying?”

She advanced toward Lu Ziwei: “If I’m not mistaken, only virtual projections can disappear like that. Are you telling all the live viewers that the fish you caught were virtual products planted by the production team?”

Her voice grew sharper and angrier, her rising aura overwhelming everyone present: “Why did the director secretly plant virtual fake fish for your team? Why didn’t we know anything? Didn’t you say the game was absolutely fair? Is it just because our team is called the Black Material Team that you can cheat at will, trample fairness, and throw the spirit of the game aside?”

---

Her eyes reddened. In a sudden motion, she grabbed a camera and pulled it close to her face, staring straight into the lens: “We, the Black Material Team, demand an explanation from the production team. Tell us why, in your eyes, fairness is something to be trampled on at will. Even if we carry so-called ‘black materials’ imposed on us, we accept that. But using such despicable means to hand victory to the Top Stream Team—is that what your show stands for?”

Shen Li stepped back a few paces, looking up at the sky, staggering. After a moment, she lowered her gaze, eyes void and lifeless as she stared into the camera. In that instant, she resembled a beautifully shattered porcelain doll painstakingly pieced together—still whole on the surface but riddled with cracks.

A single crystal tear slid down her cheek: “When an avalanche falls, not a single snowflake is innocent.” She lifted her head and smiled—a smile filled with desolation, fragmentation, sorrow, and pain. For a moment, the cameraman forgot to switch angles, holding the shot steady.

She crouched down, hugging her knees, burying her face, trembling. The scene seemed frozen.

Other members of the Black Material Team couldn’t hold back their tears. Bai Qiuya, slandered as a “mistress and homewrecker,” Qiao Le, accused of “infidelity,” and Ji Beishu, branded with the charge of “insulting women”—all had reddened eyes.

They stepped forward, crouching beside Shen Li. Bai Qiuya hesitated, her hand suspended in midair before finally resting gently on Shen Li’s back.

At that moment, their hearts felt crushed and suffocated.

No matter how much they despised each other, their fates were now bound tightly together for the first time.

Not far off-camera, Jiang Nian leaned against a tree, watching the sobbing girl with eyes full of hatred. Clenching his fists tightly, veins bulging on his neck, he bit down hard on his teeth.

He knew all too well the pain behind her words and swore he would not spare those people.

At this moment, the live chat exploded in chaos:

“What does Shen Li mean? Isn’t she the one who killed Pei Wantian?”

“Maybe it’s true. Look, if she had such powerful backing to manipulate public opinion, she wouldn’t be hated online by everyone.”

“Are you guys out of your minds? Shen Li is an actress. Does acting once clear her name? You actually believe that?”

“Good thing I didn’t believe it. Anyone who does is a fool. Her words can’t be trusted at all, haha.”

“Damn it! Why should Fuya take the blame for the production team’s mess? I’m so mad!”

...