House of Flames

Under Martin’s watchful eyes and the armed guards surrounding them, Hou Rui and his group were marched through a stretch of dense forest, finally emerging into a mountain valley. Here, before his eyes, lay a scattering of buildings, with dilapidated vehicles and rows of barracks dotted about. At the very front of the valley stood a three-story cement building, its exterior walls inexplicably blackened.

Martin nimbly leapt onto a stone and bellowed, “Pair up—two to a room! Throughout this process, I expect complete cooperation.”

At his command, the gun-toting guards escorted the group in pairs into the building. When it was Hou Rui’s turn, he saw that inside, the place had been crudely partitioned into a series of adjoining cells. Each cell was further divided by iron bars into two sections, and everywhere, dry wood and straw were piled up.

As Hou Rui was still trying to figure out the building’s purpose, the guards shackled him with a heavy iron cuff—about two meters long—to a wiry, dark-skinned man who looked South Asian. Without further ado, the guards swiftly left.

Roughly five or six minutes later, once everyone was presumably locked inside, Martin’s voice rang out from a makeshift iron loudspeaker: “Before we begin, let me lay out the rules. In a moment, we’re going to set the building on fire. The two of you shackled together will have a chance to fight for a key. The flames will spread quickly—don’t think about escaping together. If you hesitate or fail to eliminate your partner before making your escape, you’ll both be burned alive.”

He gave them no time to react or think, pausing only briefly before shouting, “Light it up!”

With that, a line of fire ignited outside, leaping from cell to cell in seconds until the entire building was ablaze. Just two meters from Hou Rui, a small metal box in the ceiling flipped open, and with a metallic clang, a key fell to the floor.

This was the lifeline—the only way out of the inferno.

Accelerants had been doused throughout the building. The piles of wood and straw in the cells and corridors erupted into flames almost instantly, the heat forcing Hou Rui to squint against the brightness. All around, he could hear nothing but the crackle of burning wood and the desperate, angry shouts of those trapped inside.

He barely had time to react when, with a violent rattling of chains and bars, his South Asian partner made the first move. The man yanked hard on the shackle, dragging the unprepared Hou Rui toward the bars and pinning him tightly against them.

Staggering, then slammed against the bars, Hou Rui barely had time to resist, reaching for the chain as his opponent closed in, wrapping the excess length around his arm and clawing at Hou Rui’s face.

The flames warped the man’s features into a mask of desperation—at that moment, only ruthless violence would determine who escaped the fire.

Hou Rui twisted and dodged as best he could, but shackled against the bars, he took blow after blow. His opponent, realizing the bars impeded his swing and rendered his attacks less lethal, quickly switched tactics, lunging forward to clamp a hand around Hou Rui’s throat.

Hou Rui tucked his chin, straining for breath, gripping the man’s wrist with one hand while yanking at the shackle with the other, using his back, hips, and legs to batter the bars—anything to create space. He knew that if he remained pinned, he’d have no chance to fight back.

The two men grappled desperately as the flames grew uncontrollable. Even Martin and the others outside had to retreat from the searing heat and billowing smoke.

The fire intensified, Hou Rui’s clothes dried out, his hair threatened to catch fire, and thick smoke blurred his vision. Still, his opponent’s grip never loosened—both men were fighting for their lives.

This can’t go on, Hou Rui thought. If nothing changed, they’d die together. He had to break free from the bars.

Desperation lending him courage, Hou Rui let go of the man’s hand—he wouldn’t be choked to death in an instant—and began feeling blindly around for a weapon. Only a weapon could deliver a decisive blow and force his opponent to release the shackle.

Suddenly, his fingers closed around a stick, little thicker than his own thumb. Tears sprang to his eyes—his lifeline! Without hesitation, he jabbed the stick at the man.

Unbeknownst to him, the other end was already ablaze. The burning stick struck his opponent’s abdomen.

A guttural scream erupted from the man, but Hou Rui only pressed harder, twisting the stick to deepen the pain.

He had no idea how long it lasted, but when the burning stick finally ignited the man’s clothes, the agony forced him to let go of the shackle. Gasping for air, Hou Rui seized the chance to escape the bars, dragging the chain as he staggered nearly a meter away, coughing violently.

After slapping out the flames on his own clothes, his opponent quickly recovered and began yanking the chain from the other side—once again, they were at a standoff. Though Hou Rui had reversed his fortunes, as long as this dragged on, both men would perish.

The fire within the building raged, the temperature in the cells soared, and the air grew so hot it felt as if it would ignite the very lungs. Now, some prisoners had managed to kill their partners and escape. Hou Rui heard the sound of running and exultant shouts.

Suddenly, as he was strategizing his next move, the tension on the chain vanished—the shackle whipped toward Hou Rui as if the man across the bars had let go.

A trap! He’s feigning surrender! The realization came too late—caught off guard, Hou Rui was yanked backward several steps and fell into a pile of burning wood.

Instantly, his hair and shirt caught fire, pain searing through him. The South Asian man, seizing his moment, jerked the chain again to drag Hou Rui back toward the bars.

Flat on his back, unable to brace himself, Hou Rui was no match for his opponent’s strength. Panicked, he slapped frantically at the flames on his body, rolling on the ground, dragging the shackle. As his feet pointed toward the bars, he bent his knees and mustered all his strength for a powerful kick.

An arm is no match for a leg. The man was caught off guard; Hou Rui’s kick sent him crashing back against the burning bars, his face pressed to the red-hot metal.

With a sizzle and a plume of black smoke, a scream tore from the man’s lips.

After a brutal contest, Hou Rui had finally gained the upper hand. He was considering his next move when, through the thick smoke, a figure appeared.

Ding Ye—the last person Hou Rui wanted to see at that moment.

“Don’t bother struggling; you’ll burn to death anyway,” Ding Ye said, kicking the key into a nearby fire before grabbing the South Asian man from behind, hauling him back toward the bars and dragging Hou Rui with him.

Now, it was a matter of life and death—how could Hou Rui, alone, hope to win a tug-of-war against two men? All he could do was plant his feet against the bars, refusing to be dragged closer to the searing metal.

The fire raged out of control, and as Hou Rui, stubborn as a cockroach, continued to resist, Ding Ye—frustrated—changed his strategy. Releasing the man’s arms, he gripped his neck and, with a swift twist, broke his neck. Then, winding and knotting the shackle through the dead man’s wrist and the bars, he secured Hou Rui so he could no longer pull the chain back to his side, trapping him helplessly in the burning inferno.

“You bastard! I’ll kill you!” Hou Rui shouted in fury, powerless behind the bars.

“When you’re roasted, I’ll come back and eat your heart,” Ding Ye sneered before vanishing into the smoke.

Flames licked out from every window, and every survivor who escaped the building looked back in terror at the roaring blaze. The chance of survival for those still inside diminished by the second; even Martin began to gather the survivors.

Suddenly, a man with his upper body aflame burst out of the inferno, tore off his burning jacket, rolled on the ground to smother the flames, and finally lay flat, coughing breathlessly.

“What’s your name?” an armed guard asked.

“Ding Ye,” the man replied.

The guard tapped on his terminal. “From now on, you’re Number 18. That’s your name on this island.”

Without another word, Ding Ye watched the burning building with evident satisfaction.

Inside, surrounded by smoke and flames, Hou Rui was desperate. He pulled frantically at the chain, tearing his wrists open to the bone, but still could not break free. As he watched the South Asian on the other side of the bars burn like a log, an idea struck him. He braced his left hand beneath his foot and, summoning all his strength, stomped down—once, twice, three times. He no longer felt pain; his body was aflame, the fat beneath his skin melting under the heat. He only wanted to live.

At last, with his left hand broken and mangled, Hou Rui wrenched free of the shackle. Shielding his eyes with his right arm and holding his breath, he plunged headlong into the wall of fire.