The second test 30(1)
"Kill him? Just like that?" Qingling was a little surprised. She hadn’t expected the test to be so simple, easier than playing games with Wu Dahai.
Gaoyang was equally taken aback. It seemed so easy—too easy, in fact, to be true.
"Yes." The white rabbit looked at the two of them. "It’s simple, right? Just decapitate him or pierce his heart with a sharp blade—just like killing a person."
"Killing him is easy, but how do we deal with the aftermath?" Qingling was concerned.
"Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it." The white rabbit, wearing white gloves, lightly tapped the radio at her waist, signaling that she had backup and everything was under control.
Qingling hesitated no more. She approached Niu Xuan, a sharp dagger now in her hand.
She knelt down, cutting open Niu Xuan’s shirt, locating his heart. The blade hovered over his gently rising chest, poised to plunge when Gaoyang suddenly called out, "Wait!"
Qingling paused, looking at Gaoyang in confusion.
"Hold on for a moment," Gaoyang said.
The white rabbit glanced at him too. "What’s wrong? You don’t want to join our organization?"
"No," Gaoyang hesitated, "I just don’t understand. Why kill him? He hasn’t turned into a beast." And how are you so certain Niu Xuan is a lost one? He didn’t ask that last question, assuming the other must have some insight.
"No reason is needed. Killing beasts doesn’t require justification," the white rabbit said nonchalantly. "If you must have one, our organization requires decisive, unwavering fighters. We don’t need people who will sympathize with or feel pity for the beasts."
"He’s just a lost one." The white rabbit stepped forward, nudging Niu Xuan’s body with her foot. "If you don’t want to kill him, we can find someone else. Hmm, what about that girl, Wan Sisi? She seems fond of you, doesn’t she? I can check if she’s a lost one. If she is, you can kill her instead."
Gaoyang felt a chill. Her observation was disturbingly sharp.
"Have you made up your mind?" the white rabbit pressed.
Gaoyang remained silent.
He wasn’t some saint. If Niu Xuan died, so be it. It had nothing to do with him. Besides, Niu Xuan wasn’t even human—just a deluded beast.
However, a few things still bothered him.
The first was the white rabbit’s words—"Kill this lost one."
She could have simply said "kill the beast," but she emphasized "lost one." This at least indicated one thing: her organization treated lost ones differently from other beasts.
Normally, all beasts were dangerous, and awakened ones should eliminate them. So, conversely, if the attitude towards lost ones differed, it was likely the opposite of elimination—preservation.
The white rabbit claimed this was a test, but to Gaoyang, it felt more like a choice.
She was subtly guiding them in their decision, all the while downplaying the significance of the lost one with phrases like "just a lost one."
Then, she upped the stakes by threatening to kill Wan Sisi, a classic manipulative tactic: one option was the innocent Wan Sisi, the other the troublesome Niu Xuan.
The choice was obvious.
It was like a trick between spouses: the wife tells the husband she wants a $20,000 bag, but later mentions a $500 dress. Weighing the two, the husband immediately agrees to the dress.
The white rabbit was doing the same, pushing them towards a swift decision: kill Niu Xuan.
If they killed him without hesitation, it would prove two things. First, that they believed lost ones could be killed. Second, that they accepted a difference in how lost ones were treated.
Yet, these two points were contradictory.
To disregard the life of a beast suggests that, in their eyes, a beast has no right to life. But for a being without that right, they were still differentiating treatment. It felt like saying, "I won’t kill my own cat, but I’ll kill someone else’s." It was blatant double standards.
"If you’re not going to kill, I’ll take it as a refusal." The white rabbit glanced at her watch. "Time’s running out, and I still need time to clean up."
Sometimes you have to take a gamble. High risk, high reward.