Bloodhorn doesn't immediately agree to Henwell's suggestion, and the next gdiatorial match proceeds as usual with Henwell and his group participating.

  They secure another victory, but the other four teams of youths face targeted attacks. A wealthy noble spends money to deploy gdiators he owns from other arenas, following the rules of gdiatorial combat.

  The four teams suffer significant losses—five youths are killed, and seven are left crippled. This amounts to nearly a quarter of the young gdiators, infuriating Bloodhorn.

  Once he calms down, he recalls Henwell's advice and swiftly implements changes.

  He establishes a new rule: young gdiators will not accept paid challenges for six months. After that, they will only face challenges from peers their age, excluding adult gdiators, especially those not under Bloodhorn's command. Additionally, there will be four gdiatorial performances each month, with only one team of young gdiators participating each time.

  The remaining youths are reorganized into three teams, alongside Henwell's five-member squad, rotating their appearances.

  Henwell's team, now more famous, will have higher ticket prices for their matches. This approach maintains the air of mystery while satisfying the audience's demand for gdiatorial shows. It also provides other young gdiators with more exposure, helping them gain fans.

  For the young gdiators, there are both advantages and disadvantages. The benefit is ample rest time, allowing for recovery even from injuries. The downside is reduced earnings, as they only perform once a month. Overall, the benefits outweigh the drawbacks.

  For Henwell, this strategy offers a better chance of survival, successfully distributing the risk.

  Two weeks ter, Henwell and his team are back in the arena, this time facing a group of children. This match is arranged by Bloodhorn to boost their popurity. Despite his reluctance, Henwell knows that survival demands action, so he takes up his spear and eliminates his assigned opponents.

  Unlike his teammates, Henwell strikes with precision and lethal efficiency, ensuring each attack is fatal. In a single round of combat, he dispatches several of the young adversaries, each strike piercing their hearts for an instant death. To many nobles watching, this isn't seen as cruel but rather a merciful release for those children.

  Compared to the brutal sughter exhibited by the other members of the Insect Squad, Henwell's approach spares his opponents from prolonged suffering.

  However, the repeated necessity of killing children weighs heavily on him. For someone with a mature mind and a past life grounded in normal moral values, this is a profound test of conscience.

  Just as Henwell's conscience is being relentlessly tormented, his special ability finally manifests. However, he doesn't feel the excitement or anticipation he once imagined. Instead, he discovers that this ability is quite different from the ones depicted in novels or movies. In his mind, a chat group appears.

  The group consists of dozens of people, all initially nameless. But as the first person speaks, names begin to appear one by one.

  "What the fuck! Is this the standard newbie package for transmigrators?"

  "Why is it just a chat group? How am I supposed to defy fate and change my destiny with this?"

  "Wait a minute! Maybe this is our system! We might all be in the same world, forming a secret organization to control it through our influence!"

  "Exactly! I'm in The Cloud Dynasty, the youngest son of a general!"

  "The Cloud Dynasty? Never heard of it. I'm in The Great Wind Empire, and my cheap old man is the current Premier!"

  "The Cloud Dynasty? The Great Wind Empire? Never heard of those either. My dad is Tom Cruise! Do you know him?"

  "Tom Cruise? Who's that? I'm the youngest son of The Minister of War."

  "You don't know Tom Cruise? Surely you know The Sky Empire? You must be from some backwater! Tom Cruise is the emperor of The Sky Empire! I'm the fifteenth prince of the empire. How about it, guys? Want to join forces with a big shot? You backwater barbarians? ╯▽╰!"

  "How dare you! My Xiaan Empire spans nine thousand miles east to west and ten thousand miles north to south! All nations pay tribute, invincible under the heavens. Who are you calling barbarians?"

  "Bold words! You must be dreaming! My Haotai Empire is the most fertile nd in the world, with vast territories and a popution in the billions! Who do you think you are?"

  "Wait a second! Aren't we all on the same continent?"

  After a heated discussion, they realize they aren't on the same continent—or even in the same world.

  Suddenly, a sweet voice breaks the silence: "Hey guys! What's the use of this thing? Are we supposed to trade resources with each other?"

  The group falls silent at the sound of the charming voice, then bursts into a frenzy.

  "There's a girl here!"

  "Slurp—Licking the screen!"

  "Same here!"

  "Count me in!"

  ...

  Eventually, everyone settles down, realizing that the chat group is just that—a chat group. It seems to be merely a means to pass the time, with no practical use, at least not yet. Perhaps new functions haven't been discovered or unlocked.

  Throughout the conversation, Henwell remains silent. His conscience is troubled, and he wonders if this is all a figment of his imagination—a group of amusing people conjured up by his mind. They seem like companions from his homend, imagined to ease the guilt of having killed so many children.

  In this twisted world, Henwell feels like the only one who thinks it's wrong to kill children. He can't afford to show weakness, so he longs for someone to confide in. He fears he might develop a split personality, torn between survival and morality, but instead, his imagination has created these amusing characters.

  Henwell doesn't engage with these imagined personalities, as that would make him feel like he's truly losing his mind. Yet, ironically, the saying from his past life rings true: "Ever since I became crazy, I've felt much better!"

  By lurking and reading the chat logs, Henwell finds his mental burden significantly lightened.

  Unbeknownst to him, Henwell has already spent a year in the Bloodhorn Arena. Here, he can keep track of the calendar dates, and on his eleventh birthday, he makes a wish for himself—to escape this bloody arena as soon as possible.

  Despite the time that has passed, Henwell hasn't saved a single penny; every bit of his earnings goes towards buying body-strengthening potions. His body seems like a bottomless pit, never manifesting the elusive Fighting Spirit. Yet, Henwell can clearly feel himself growing stronger.

  Henwell and his team remain the star attraction at the Bloodhorn Arena, drawing rge crowds with each appearance. Over time, the three boys in the team have come to see Henwell in a new light, accepting him as their leader, even though Michelle, the youngest among them, is actually older than Henwell.