Chapter 259: Stuck

The rest of the journey fully proved why the lower nest beneath Toy City was a place even counter-terrorism mobile units refused to descend into.

The air here was murky, visibly filled with floating dust particles. Some ground surfaces looked solid but were in fact soft, rotten mud, easy to sink into.

And the terrain was rugged and complex, like a labyrinth Li Cheng had idly doodled under his desk during class.

On the tablet, the official Toy City map of the lower nest quickly reached its edge.

Fortunately, Li Cheng had the Information Synthesis Glasses; he activated the passive scanning function and found traces left by previous human movement, following them onward.

After walking like this for half an hour, descending roughly five to six hundred meters, the terrain gradually opened up, and clear signs of artificial structures appeared.

"Is this… a tunnel?"

Hui Yu frowned in confusion, staring at a vast network of interconnected tunnels suddenly appearing deep underground, their walls cast from concrete, occasionally interspersed with Lego bricks.

On both sides, piles of machines, pipes, wires, and cables crowded the space, making it cramped and oppressive. Every so often, electric lamps hung from the walls.

A large machine resembling an air purifier hummed steadily, sucking in the murky air from the tunnel entrance, cleaning it, then pumping it through ventilation ducts to other areas.

Li Cheng silently thought: 'Overall, it resembles a modern city's underground utility system—but the problem is, this place is too deep. It doesn't look anything like it could connect to Toy City aboveground.'

Hui Yu imitated Li Cheng's habit of glancing left and right, lowering her voice: "There's a sleeping bag ahead."

The tunnels branched everywhere, intricate and tangled; at some intersections, scattered sleeping bags lay on the ground—clearly, people—or something else—lived here regularly.

The two hurried deeper into the tunnel. Hui Yu asked in confusion: "Who built this massive project?"

"Don't know. But it certainly wasn't those severely ill Fault Syndrome patients."

Li Cheng glanced at the weathered walls: "From the patterns of concrete flaking off the walls, this tunnel system is at least fifteen years old—possibly over twenty. Roughly dating back to Toy City's founding."

Public records offered little on that era, only stating that under the leadership of the great Mayor Dumbledore and Deputy Mayor Einstein, the earliest citizens toiled together, building Toy City from nothing on the surface.

"What a pity."

Hui Yu sighed, patting the wall regretfully: "If not for Fault Syndrome, this place would be perfect for retirement."

"True." Li Cheng nodded in agreement. Toy City was vast, populous, with everything from food and drink to entertainment, and no shortage of high-end combat power.

You could live comfortably here and also seek masters, learn, and strengthen your combat ability.

He added casually: "There have been forum cases—some players encountered relatively peaceful script worlds, and since their failure penalty was permanent staying, they simply chose to abandon the mission and stay forever."

"People like that exist?" Hui Yu gasped. "What about their families and friends?"

"Those who make this choice are mostly lone wolves—either estranged from family or with none at all."

Li Cheng sneered: "Plus, some people borrowed too many game coins, gear, and items from banks and couldn't repay—so they just ran away."

Running away to another script world is still running away.

Come to think of it, for players living on the edge, being able to stay long-term in a script world they love counts as a life well-lived.

Like Mike the Soldier ending up in Genshin Impact, Honkai: Star Rail, or Zenless Zone Zero;

Hermes ending up in Equestria;

The Viet Cong ending up in Gensokyo;

Hammer fans going to Warhammer 40K, or Cthulhu enthusiasts to Innsmouth, and so on.

Hey, the first three I'll accept, but the last two? No matter how you look at it, those aren't good endings, right?!

Wouldn't crossing over be more likely to terrify you into screaming and pissing yourself than fill you with joy?

Hui Yu's expression grew strange as she pondered, imagining which script world she'd choose if she were to permanently stay.

"First, it needs modern entertainment—food, drink, fun, plenty of it. Second, it should be peaceful, but not too peaceful—I'd prefer somewhere I can legitimately kill, kill, kill."

"Hunger Games and The Purge, huh?" Li Cheng glanced at her. "You've got taste."

"Everyone needs dreams," Hui Yu declared confidently. "But if these people succeed and permanently stay in script worlds, how does the forum even know they succeeded? They can't send back messages."

"Huh? Not bad—you actually thought of that."

Li Cheng said lightly: "The forum has a theory: players who choose permanent staying are 'discriminated against' by the system, with a higher chance of being selected as opponents in Death Duel missions—like Jiang Zhihui."

This intelligence was gathered during Death Duel missions—players who choose permanent staying can no longer enter the Slums.

Without the Slums as a communication and trading hub, their power growth inevitably slows, making them more likely to die without reason."

The moment "die" left his lips, Li Cheng's gaze sharpened; he drew a rusted cleaver from thin air, reversed the blade, and held it leftward to block.

Boom—

The concrete wall to his left suddenly shattered as an invisible beast burst through, whipping its long, razor-sharp tail—ending in a spinning chainsaw—toward Li Cheng's chest.

The airborne dust outlined its form: a terrifying, large mechanical hound with a single red eye and a distinctly futuristic sci-fi design.

Shhhrrrrr!

The mechanical hound's metal tail was intercepted by the rusted cleaver, wrapping several times around the blade, sparks flying.

The chainsaw at its tip spun wildly, emitting a shrill whine, yet could not touch Li Cheng.

Li Cheng, with his Information Synthesis Glasses active and prepared, swung the cleaver, yanking the mechanical hound close, then punched with his left fist in rapid succession.

The mechanical hound reacted swiftly, twisting its limbs to embed its claws into the concrete ceiling, dodging Li Cheng's flood of attacks while releasing its metal tail, breaking free, and retreating several steps.

"Don't move—or I kill her."

A shout came from behind: a white-clad swordsman with an orange cat-head held a longsword against Hui Yu's throat.

Clearly, this orange cat-head swordsman was Hong Mao, the male protagonist of the Chinese animated series "Hong Mao and Lan Tu: Seven Heroes."

And the red-eyed, optical-invisible mechanical hound was LQ-84i from the video game "Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance."

Both bore purple-black Fault Syndrome matter on their surfaces, though not severely.

Li Cheng's expression turned odd: on one hand, the two had wildly mismatched aesthetics; on the other, how the hell did Hong Mao think he could hold liquid metal hostage?

It was like Captain America trying to choke a robot in "Avengers: Age of Ultron."

"Don't care about me—run!"

Hui Yu cried out, stepping forward suddenly, twisting her head hard against the blade.

"?!"

As the male lead of a children's animation, Hong Mao had always been righteous and noble, and never in his wildest dreams imagined that a hostage would commit suicide in such a gruesome manner — the Changhong Sword in his hand trembled for a moment.

But the next second, Grey Rain — whose neck had been slit open and whose severed cross-section was still spraying liquid-metal blood — whipped his head around and slammed a fist into Hong Mao's chest, hammering the young hero into the wall.

"Don't move! Otherwise I'll kill him."

Grey Rain pressed the Skull-Crushing Hammer against the side of Hong Mao's forehead and grinned as he spoke.

(End of chapter)