Chapter 565: Great Immortal

There are differences even among hacks.

On the map, every team’s hack user had already activated the wall-penetration character outline feature, watching from afar as the green-pants player attempted to teleport and steal the Star of Africa—only to be instantly killed.

Shit.

The hack users sucked in a breath; they knew Tengzi’s ACE anti-cheat scan still had some use—it could detect 80% of hacks on the market, and the remaining 20% were mostly high-end DMA versions.

That is, Direct Memory Access.

By connecting two computers via DMA devices disguised as graphics cards, sound cards, or routers, the host runs the game while the client reads memory to see maps, player coordinates, and character models.

Add a Fuser to integrate visuals and a Kmbox to simulate mouse input, and you achieve auto-aim, with customizable mouse sensitivity to largely evade anti-cheat scans.

Profit breeds industry: a full DMA setup with software costs a few hundred to a thousand yuan per month for the cheap ones, and tens of thousands for the premium ones.

Those who can afford it are mostly streamers, clubs, and workrooms, hiring enforcers to protect bosses who place orders.

How profitable is this industry? A match lasts ten minutes or so; earnings range from a hundred to several hundred yuan cash. An enforcer makes in one month what a factory worker earns in months—or even half a year—screwing bolts.

The barrier to entry is so low, the profit so immense, it’s crazier than any previous online game.

Fuck.

In the squad channel, the enforcer couldn’t help cursing.

Since everyone had wall-penetration, the hack users in each team shook their heads left and right through walls, exchanged glances, and instantly knew the opposite side was also a hack user—here to escort bosses.

When hack users meet hack users, they can still duel by adjusting mouse parameters—loser accepts defeat.

But encountering this blatant, violent memory modification—someone who flies and tunnels through the earth—a Great Immortal

“They’re not leaving us any room to breathe.”

All the enforcers in every team shared an unspoken thought: low- and mid-tier hacks require switching accounts after every match—account cost around thirty yuan cash. High-tier hacks are slightly better, but time is still cost—every second is money.

Blow one round, and you still have to refill the boss’s order next round.

Unless

The enforcers paused, then simultaneously called their club’s customer service to report the game ID 【F Pifu 】 from outside the match, while inside the game, they all jumped over buildings at once.

“Oh oh! Viewers, we can see that the five teams’ Mo Wan hack users have all moved simultaneously toward the bottom of the map, without attacking each other—could they have formed an alliance to take down 【F Pifu 】 first?”

The streamer named Hua Ge perked up—this kind of spectacle wasn’t something you saw every day; his live stream viewership surged, climbing the trending chart.

“Huh? You’re not running away—you’re coming toward me?”

Li Cheng’s expression was unreadable. Amid the teammates’ complaints—“Bro, you’re blocking the bridge, they can’t retreat, where else are they gonna go?”—he slowly raised both hands.

Tap-tap-tap—

The hack user alliance opened fire together; fifth-grade bullets rained in from all directions.

High sensitivity, no lag today, magnetic axis stopped fast, linear four-bar three, high FPS vs low FPS, Hangzhou’s oddball—just don’t be a fake black.

All bullets merged into a single straight line, forming a bullet chain, hurtling straight for Li Cheng’s head.

As the bullets neared impact,

The silver slime suddenly transformed into a human form, gripping a skull-crushing power hammer, its shaft pointing forward, the hammerhead aimed at the bullet chain—and deflected every single bullet.

Clang-clang-clang-clang—

Hui Yu stood before Li Cheng, expression cold (faked), shouldering the hammer, gazing coldly at the players: “A desperate alliance.”

“Holy shit, there’s a four-man squad voice and global chat!”

Hack users, bosses, teammates, streamers, viewers—all felt a million grass horses galloping through their minds.

One hack user, unwilling to give up, activated his character Wu Lu Lu’s ultimate skill, shouldering a rocket launcher and firing a missile.

The missile trailed smoke, twisting violently through the air, curving toward them.

Hui Yu stood still, not dodging, not swinging the hammer—only calmly lifting his left hand, grasping the missile’s warhead with perfect precision.

Before the stunned eyes of everyone, he crushed it. Boom!

The explosion’s fireball obscured vision. Seconds later, smoke cleared—Hui Yu still stood firm, brushing dust off his clothes with ease: “Don’t make your sister Hui laugh.”

“How many floors can you carry a sack of rice? Two floors.”

Li Cheng murmured: “Let the world feel pain! Shen! Luo! Tian! Zheng!”

The next second, the giant frog god’s massive body shuddered—gravity twisted, radiating outward from the bridge in all directions.

Grass and trees, previously just textures, were utterly destroyed and snapped; all glass shattered; even terrain structures deemed indestructible collapsed like real reinforced concrete.

“Someone’s causing trouble—maintain maximum alert.”

Before the NPC soldiers could finish speaking, they were torn apart by twisted gravity, instantly reduced to boxes.

The dozen or so players on the field were all affected by the gravity wave—dying on the spot. The only two survivors were the characters of Zhang Qiang and Jia Wei.

“W-what just happened?”

Jia Wei’s eyes widened as he stared at Zhang Qiang; they were both Industrial Automation majors, with some computer knowledge.

If the giant toad and anti-gravity flight could be explained by a god-level hacker pulling unused hidden code from Suanjiao Zhou and injecting it into the game,

Then the destruction of theoretically indestructible terrain, displaying lifelike physical damage effects, completely exceeded their understanding—this was impossible at the code level, right?

The Wangba computer’s GPU fan spun wildly, emitting loud noise; Jia Wei’s voice trembled: “Qiangzi, this hacker’s so brazen—won’t we get banned by association?”

“Probably not—the streamer’s recording. Maybe… maybe it can prove we’re innocent.”

Zhang Qiang forced calmness—he’d spent a lot on this account—“Wait, what’s that?”

Half the buildings in the aerospace city were destroyed, yet a figure still stood among the ruins.

It was the map’s NPC boss, named Lao Tai, who could effortlessly kill unobservant players passing by with her sniper rifle and two armored vehicles beside her.

But this Lao Tai differed from Zhang Qiang’s memory—her face was covered in black tattoos, and her sniper rifle looked coated in black mold.

Bang!

The expressionless Lao Tai fired instantly—a black bullet spun through the air, crossing half the map in an instant.

The shot was swift and precise; Hui Yu swung his hammer in haste, but the bullet curved like it had eyes, dodging the power hammer, ignoring the altered gravity, and striking straight for Li Cheng’s forehead.

At the last moment, 【Thermal Death Corridor】 activated—a shadow of the Black Pharaoh appeared before Li Cheng, his expression blank, with no time to react—he was struck dead by the black bullet.

“Huhhhhhoooooo—”

The Black Pharaoh screamed in agony, black mold growing from within, spreading outward across his organs and skin.

Indeed, the Phase Demon’s corruption and assimilation ability affects players.

Li Cheng’s eyelid twitched; the Frog God sensed his thought and immediately clasped his palms together, releasing a gravity field that lifted the Lao Tai, possessed by the Phase Demon, along with her two armored vehicles, into the air.

Li Cheng waved his hand again—hundred tanks of the Imperial Guard materialized out of thin air, lining the bridge, aiming and firing at Lao Tai.

One volley, two volleys—

Tank shells pounded Lao Tai; her body continuously disintegrated, then rapidly regenerated under the black smoke.

“Holy shit holy shit holy shit,”

Jia Wei and Zhang Qiang stared in shock; the connected streamer was equally stunned, the live chat flooded with 【？？？】

【What the hell is this?】

【Is the streamer showing us an SORA-generated AI short film?】

The two college students’ shouting drew suspicious and annoyed glances from others in the internet cafe: “Dude, keep it down, you think you’re the only one here?”

“Sorry.”

Before Jia Wei finished speaking, he suddenly felt shadow engulf him—he turned around and saw a group of men in black suits and sunglasses standing behind him.

Fu Ding Huahua from the Sichuan Special Affairs Bureau forced a smile: “Hello, are you Jia, student ID *****, Automation major, Panzhihua College, 2025? May I borrow this computer?”