Gamers Are Fierce-Chapter 713 - 711 Carmen
What time is it now?
Mule had asked just this simple question.
The prepared sheet of paper had not only words such as north, south, east, west, yes, and no, but also contained twenty-four letters and ten numbers.
Mule had already tested it. When he asked where this location was, his hand, holding the pen, could clearly feel an invisible force driving it. The pen tip slid across the paper, pointing to different letters and numbers, spelling out 'Dolphin Hotel, 0408'.
In other words, the entity could perceive the external world and respond.
However, when Mule asked what the current time was, the invisible force lingering on the pen inexplicably went berserk, dragging Mule's hand frenetically across the paper.
Mule's hand was firmly stuck to the pen. He tried to wrest back control of his arm, but to his shock, he found himself completely unable to match the entity's strength.
The result of his resistance was a dislocated right arm, the forearm twisted backward at an angle that looked excruciatingly painful.
Of course, that was nothing; players' physiques far surpassed those of ordinary people, and most had undergone training to endure pain. The pain from a dislocated arm wasn't even on par with bamboo slivers under the fingernails or appendicitis; it wasn't considered unbearable.
The real trouble was that the force lingering on the pen began trying to reverse control over Mule's body.
Though he wasn't smiling, a rigid grin appeared on his face. Though he wasn't moving, veins bulged on his arm. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞
Deep wounds inexplicably appeared on his body. Blood gushed from them, dripping to the floor and soaking into the carpet.
What was happening? Was asking the time taboo? Or was the note designed this way? Would players inevitably lose control of their bodies just by participating?
Dizziness from blood loss assaulted his brain. Mule's thoughts raced as he desperately searched for an escape.
The information merchant could feel the chilling sensation spreading from his right arm throughout his entire body, his flesh gradually stiffening and growing numb.
The only part he could still use normally was the left half of his body...
Mule clenched his jaw. Just as he was about to use his trump card, he seemed to discover something and strained to turn his head towards the door.
One of the skills the information merchant possessed allowed him to create a virtual, intangible eyeball. He could fix it in a position not far from himself to scout like a surveillance camera, transmitting the footage directly into Mule's brain in real-time.
This skill was called the False Eye Technique, clearly a spoof of Gaara's Sand Eye Technique from Naruto. Though the skill's name was a meme, its effect was very reliable and practical. The summoned eyeball had no physical form, making it extremely covert, and it could be deactivated at any time. Theoretically, it was secure and reliable.
Using the False Eye Technique, Mule could clearly see the indicator above the elevator pointing to the fourth floor, motionless.
DING-DONG.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing two figures inside: the Black Holy Son and Li Ang.
The Black Holy Son still wore the same outfit from the day he teleported into the scenario world, standing silently in the corner of the elevator. Li Ang held a sheet of white paper nearly a meter wide, with two lines written on it.
The top line, in a larger font, read: 'When a player encounters an anomalous event, don't panic! Just do this, and make the anomaly call you a pro!'
The bottom line, in a slightly smaller font, read: 'If you run into trouble, please open the door. I will help.'
Undoubtedly, the Black Holy Son and Li Ang, having just come down from the fifth floor, were tonight's patrol.
Mule's heart skipped a beat. As an information merchant, he was well aware of the Black Holy Son's identity as the Young Master of the Higan Organization. The Higan Organization was not a reputable group, nor was the Black Holy Son a benevolent person. Considerable evidence proved that even before becoming a player, he had exploited his status to act recklessly and commit numerous sins.
In fact, Mule was highly suspicious of the Black Holy Son's motives for volunteering to patrol that night. He doesn't seem like the type to care for his subordinates, or someone who would risk his life to investigate a subordinate's death.
However, Li Ang is trustworthy. The handwriting on the paper he's holding is very much his style; it's unlikely to be a forgery by the Black Holy Son.
In a flash, Mule weighed the pros and cons. He strained to twist his waist, swinging his still-controllable left arm backward to unleash the Mage's Hand skill. An invisible hand extended across the distance, manipulated the door lock, and pushed the door open.
"Hmm?"
Li Ang, in the elevator, raised an eyebrow. Aided by the corridor lights, he could see Mule in the dim room—disheveled, covered in blood, and contorted into a strange pose. Is he doing yoga? If so, that pose is far from standard. He's almost stiffer than a corpse twelve hours dead and already in rigor mortis.
(If Miss Chai were here, she would definitely be roasting Li Ang for his thoughts right now.)
Thoughts aside, a teammate is in trouble, and I have to help. Li Ang bent his knees slightly, stamped his foot on the elevator floor, and shot out like an arrow. He crossed the corridor and charged into Room 0408.
Mule's condition was dire. New, deep wounds continually appeared on his right arm, which tightly clenched the pen. The left side of his body was also stiffening at a steady rate.
"My note said to play a spirit game. I chose the Pen Spirit," Mule said rapidly, while he could still speak freely. "Everything was normal at first, until I asked it what time it was..."
Perhaps because the spiritual entity detected Li Ang, the intruder, the negative energy engulfing the pen suddenly accelerated its corrosive speed. Mule felt his lips go numb from right to left. When he tried to speak again, he could only manage muffled sounds, "Mmph... Mmph... Ah... Ah..."
TAP. TAP. TAP.
The Black Holy Son, who had been in the elevator, now also rushed to Room 0408. Li Ang had once again left the absolute safety of the elevator to help another player. The Black Holy Son, who had sworn earlier that day to be on patrol, naturally had no reason to stand idly by.
His feet landed on the blood-stained carpet of Room 0408. To prevent the elevator doors from closing and trapping players on the fourth floor, the Black Holy Son had specifically retrieved a heavy object from his inventory and wedged it between the two elevator doors. This way, whenever the elevator doors attempted to close automatically, the object would block them, keeping them open in the fourth-floor corridor.
"'He's...'" The Black Holy Son looked at Mule, sitting stiffly in the chair, his brow furrowed. "'Trapped by an anomaly?' he asked in a low voice."
"'Seems like it.' Li Ang glanced at Mule's note and the records he had written with his left hand. He narrowed his eyes and reached out to pry Mule's hand, which was gripping the pen, open. However, he found Mule's arm as unyielding as cast iron, completely immobile. Applying force rashly might break Mule's fingers."
Li Ang considered for less than half a second before immediately making a decision. If it breaks, it breaks. I can heal it anyway. Mule, hang in there! I'm coming to save you!
