GURGLE—

Bob's neck was firmly grasped by the icy armored hand, his bulky body suspended in the air. Veins bulged on his pitch-black face, his features were distorted, and his mouth hung unconsciously half-open as he struggled to draw in oxygen.

His right arm was already twisted like a pretzel. Pale shards of bone pierced his skin, boring through. A pool of blood had formed on the steps leading to the church, with the "Sleep Life" cookie floating quietly atop it.

His left hand rested feebly on Miss Chai's palm, trying to pry her fingers from his neck.

However, the durability of the Qinge Armor depended on the strength of the Spiritual Body within. After Miss Chai had absorbed a portion of the Yin energy from the Misty Territory, she was far more powerful than before. Let alone Bob, who was merely a player specializing in the arcane arts; even if he were a player from the Fighting branch focused on physical conditioning, he wouldn't stand a chance against her in raw power.

"Wait!"

Seeing Bob about to be strangled alive by this figure who had suddenly appeared, John Joyce and the others nearby panicked. They stepped forward and hurriedly said, "Don't kill him!"

Li Ang slowly turned his head, staring at them coldly without a word.

John Joyce's heartbeat inexplicably skipped. A dense, cold sweat instantly broke out on his back. Facing Li Ang's gaze, he felt as if he were being stalked by a heartless beast in human skin.

This sense of oppression... How long has it been since I've felt this after becoming a player?

John Joyce gathered his somewhat scattered thoughts and said quickly, "Although this mission seems to focus on puzzles, the setup with five players is enough to suggest that it could very well include a combat scenario requiring all five of us. Every bit of combat power is precious."

"Heh," Li Ang chuckled indifferently. "Just a moment ago, you seemed to be saying something else."

John Joyce fell silent for a moment, then offered a defense, "I'm very sorry. Actually, I also disapproved of Bob's actions just now. Teammates should trust each other..."

"I think so too."

Li Ang cut him off directly. He stepped slowly toward Bob, who was on the verge of suffocation, picked up the "Sleep Life" cookie from the ground, and took the double-barreled shotgun that originally belonged to the old black man from Miss Chai's hand.

[Name: Fireworks Shotgun]

[Type: Weapon]

[Quality: Excellent]

[Attack Power: Medium]

[Special Effect: Firework Burst. Pulling the trigger will launch two fireworks from the barrel. The fireworks will automatically explode upon contact with a solid surface or after traveling 200 meters, scattering metal fragments at a temperature of 1500°C in an arc.]

[Consumption: 5% of total blood volume, 200 stamina points]

[Cooldown: None]

[Equipment Requirement: Total blood volume exceeding 3000ml]

[Remark: The rising fireworks, should they be viewed from below? Or from the side?]

Li Ang nodded and commented, "A good item."

In the scripted worlds of the kill-or-be-killed game, teammates could trade items and use equipment passed to them by others. However, this was all predicated on the complete willingness of both parties; no coercion or hostage-taking was allowed. Otherwise, the acquired equipment and props would only appear as they were, without their Special Effects being usable. This system prevented high-level teammates from coercing low-level players into surrendering all their equipment and props during script missions.

This "completely voluntary" setting was quite mystical. According to tests by some large organizations, using drugs or Mental Control on players did not qualify as absolute voluntariness.

Li Ang couldn't use this piece of equipment himself, nor could he put it into his inventory. However, this didn't stop him from casually wiping the shotgun and hanging it on the holster at his waist. If I can't use it, you can't take it away either.

Li Ang's actions were natural and smooth, like those of a habitual offender with extensive criminal experience. He looked up at Bob, who was nearly choking. While weighing the "Sleep Life" cookie in his hand, he said coldly, "I heard you wanted me to eat this?"

Miss Chai, in perfect sync, threw an uppercut at Bob's chest. It sank deep, breaking who knows how many ribs, accompanied by CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! sounds that resounded clearly.

After delivering the uppercut, Miss Chai moderately loosened her grip on Bob's neck. Bob, whose chest had been heavily struck, felt excruciating pain, as if it were about to burst. His vision went dark, and a ringing filled his ears; he couldn't see or hear anything clearly.

"I... I was wrong..." Bob, unable to see or hear, said with difficulty. "I shouldn't have tried to control you... cough, cough... I'm actually a member of the Midnight Brotherhood. I'm willing to spend four thousand—no! Five thousand Game Currency to buy my own life after we leave this scripted world."

Bob had no desire to die. Before becoming a player, he was just a worker in a fresh meat shop in the slums, earning a meager salary. He had no wife or children (or rather, he'd had a girlfriend and an illegitimate child many years ago, but he vanished after his girlfriend got pregnant). He had lived a life of hardship.

After becoming a player, his life turned around overnight. He became a guest of honor for local city underworld factions. Not only did he move out of the slums, but he also acquired a luxury sports car and charismatic companions. He became a true high-flyer.

Bob, who was just beginning to taste the pleasures of an upper-class life, couldn't die here, no matter what—he hadn't enjoyed nearly enough.

"Five thousand Game Currency, huh? That's quite a sum."

Li Ang laughed and shook his head. He had no intention of accepting the offer, as doing so would mean exposing his player nickname to a hostile organization.

He had a much better way of controlling Bob. "Open your mouth," Li Ang said coldly, having Miss Chai force Bob to the ground and pry open the old black man's mouth with brute force.

"What... what are you going to do?!"

Bob lay on the ground face-up. His jaw was forcibly pried open, and he felt intense pain in the corners of his mouth, as if they were being torn apart. He struggled and called out inarticulately, "It's no use! This 'Sleep Life' cookie won't work on me! If I don't voluntarily trade it to you, it can't Trigger its Special Effect!"

"Who said anything about feeding you a cookie?"

Li Ang shook his head. "You should consider yourself lucky. I, Brother Dao, am old now, too old to lift a knife. If this were the past, someone like you, harboring such hostility towards me, would already be chopped into pieces finer than dumpling filling. But just because I'm not killing you doesn't mean I can't do anything to you..."

As Li Ang spoke, he dragged a fat, fleshy Worm, its entire body covered in some unknown, foul-smelling slime, from the void. He then shoved it towards Bob's mouth.

"Here, time for your medicine."

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