All the surrounding players were condemning Yang Yi’s misdeeds, as if he had violated some sacred law.

But in truth, he had merely stepped on and killed a house-nesting rat.

Any normal person would have made the same choice as Yang Yi, unless… they had become a rat thrall, their perception twisted by the toxin of the house rat.

Yang Yi stayed alert, quietly counting the players around him and noting their approximate positions.

There were 425 in total: 282 on the dock, 143 aboard the ship.

Among them were twelve guards, seemingly a tactical squad.

As for the other ordinary players, their combat strength was still unknown.

These players had not been parasitised for long. There were no obvious deformities on their bodies; some even looked no different from normal people, the parasitic parts hidden beneath their clothes.

Yet they were tightly united, as if able to distinguish friend from foe, directing all hostility towards Yang Yi.

“No survivors?”

Yang Yi scanned the area but could not find a single normal person.

Every player approached with ill intent.

They appeared wary of Captain Dijie’s strength and reputation. No one dared provoke him outright; they limited themselves to verbal abuse.

But judging from their emotions, violence was only a matter of time.

Yang Yi immediately searched his body, hoping to find a usable weapon.

What he found left him stunned.

“This captain doesn’t even carry a melee weapon?”

He muttered, discovering a beam rifle in the pouch at his waist.

Apart from that, there were several empty reagent vials and over a hundred packs of blood bags.

“There’s an opening!”

“Die, Captain Dijie!”

Two players behind Yang Yi finally made their move. One wielded a crowbar, the other a rapier.

Zzz! Zzz!

The beam guns mounted on the wall responded instantly, shooting the two dead on the spot.

“Right… I’m Captain Dijie now!”

Yang Yi remembered his identity, nearly forgetting who was host and who was guest.

These half-rat thralls were standing on his ship.

“Kill them!”

Yang Yi gave the order. At once, more than twenty beam guns along the harbor wall activated, beginning an indiscriminate slaughter of the players in the port.

The dock area descended into chaos.

This place was equipped with an independent power supply. The defensive systems were intact. It was Yang Yi’s home ground.

And he had already found his weapon. It had been on his finger all along.

It looked like a ruby ring, but the setting could be opened, revealing a short crimson razor blade inside.

【Name: Blood Thornwheel】

【Type: Relic】【Quality: Heroic】【Description: Carve a wound to command the blood within your body in battle. The greater the blood loss, the greater the weapon’s power.Wounds carved will not heal until the battle ends.】

Though it was his first time using it, Yang Yi did not hesitate. He sliced open his own carotid artery on the spot, sending blood spraying out.

At the same time, his mouth split open like flower petals, forming three sections. Several tube-like tendrils emerged, drawing blood from the corpses of nearby fallen players.

These players were no pushovers. Some possessed formidable combat ability or powerful items.

By now, six or seven of the beam guns on the wall had already been dismantled.

“Kill the captain first!”

One player roared, hurling an object at the wall. It appeared to be an electromagnetic pulse grenade, an EMP, instantly disabling all electrical systems, including the beam guns.

“We’ve got at least thirty seconds. Attack!”

“Kill!”

More than a dozen bullets tore through Yang Yi’s body, passing cleanly through. Yet none of the players advanced. Only a few shoved each other nervously.

“Go!”

“Why don’t you go?”

“You first!”

“If you go, I’ll go…”

The standoff continued, though the players could hardly be blamed.

The weapon in Yang Yi’s hands was simply too oppressive, too absurd. It forced their instinct for survival to the surface.

The bullets that followed were all blocked by a colossal greatsword, broad as a door.

The blade was over three meters long, wrapped in blood-red thorns. Its excessive weight gave the metal a dark crimson hue.

Its original form… was naturally the Ironbreaker Greatsword Yang Yi was most accustomed to.

“Close call… almost lost control of the situation.”

Blood still poured from Yang Yi’s neck, all of it drifting toward the massive sword.

The dozens of bullets Yang Yi had just taken nearly finished him off, dropping his vitality to 1/37.

Fortunately, Refuse to Die had triggered. Otherwise, there was no telling whether his remaining blood would have been enough to sustain a revival.

“I need to kill more people to replenish my blood… or I’m really going to die.”

Yang Yi’s face was pale as wax, as though his body had been completely drained.

Then he flung out all the blood bags from his satchel. From his split-open mouth, a swarm of syringes shot forth, draining every pack dry.

“This is bad…”

A burly, dark-skinned man holding a gleaming silver greatshield did not even finish speaking.

He, along with four players behind him, was cut cleanly in half at the waist. The shield split into two pieces.

Before their bodies even hit the ground, syringes pierced them and dragged them away.

The syringes were connected to Yang Yi’s mouth, turning the corpses into mobile blood supplies until they were sucked dry.

“Hah… hahahaha… this feels amazing!”

Yang Yi burst into laughter. The massive greatsword in his hands moved like an extension of his body, weightless. After several exchanges, hardly anyone could withstand a single strike. All were severed by one swing.

And the longer he fought, the stronger he became. A flush of color slowly returned to his ghastly face. His excitement mounted.

In the end, the battle devolved into a one-sided slaughter.

Baptized in blood and death, Yang Yi’s eyes turned dark crimson. His skin, sponge-like, began absorbing the blood splattered around him.

The scene was utter carnage. Shriveled, shattered corpses of players lay everywhere. Even some player vessels had been cleaved straight through.

The death toll surpassed five hundred. Players emerging from within the shelter met the same fate beneath Yang Yi’s blade.

…

Several minutes earlier.

Inside Laboratory No. 3.

Wei Qian slowly woke, slumped over the experiment table.

She had no idea when she had fallen asleep, though she had been having a strangely pleasant dream.

“I actually fell asleep in the lab?”

She was surprised.

But that surprise quickly turned to alarm when she noticed a message left by Dijie.

“How could this happen?”

A powerful sense of dread welled up inside her. No one aboard Shelter No. knew better than she did how terrifying the house-nesting rats were.

She immediately began examining her body.

On her right ankle, she found a parasitic house rat.

Before she could react, the laboratory lights flickered. A brief power failure swept through the room, only for the system to instantly switch to the Lab No. 3 backup safety supply.

“This is…”

Wei Qian pulled up the surveillance feed.

Very soon, she saw Yang Yi in the harbor district.

She saw the overwhelming massacre.

And the figure wielding the blood-red greatsword.

“Dijie?”

…

Yang Yi had killed everyone, yet the thirst for blood inside him still raged.

The sensation resembled the insatiable hunger, though he had not completely lost control.

After standing silently in place for ten minutes, the deep crimson faded from his eyes. The greatsword in his hand vanished.

Then he began walking toward Sector C.

None of his actions escaped Wei Qian’s gaze.

“Who are you?”

She murmured to herself, her eyes cold.

Because the real Dijie could never suppress a vampiric frenzy.

Each time, isolation was the only way he could gradually regain his senses.

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