Chapter 286: The Knife Is Still on Your Neck

These words left the one well‑versed in the Moyu Miji completely stunned; he stammered, "Team up? But you…"

"What did I do? My knife is still pressed against your neck?"

Cheng Shuili let out a light laugh.

"This is a necessary measure to ensure frankness between us, a sign of goodwill for our Moyu cooperation. Think about it: if I let you go and you turn and shoot me, how damaging to the harmony? This way, everyone stays at ease."

Her logic was airtight, even carrying a strange persuasiveness.

"Now, to show your goodwill, hand over your weapon for me to keep. Rest assured, it's just safekeeping; when the Instance ends I'll return it, if we're still alive then."

Cheng Shuili said matter‑of‑factly, "After all, holding a weapon, how can you focus on Moyu? If you get desperate and try to reunite with teammates, or your hand slips and ignites a fire, ruining our Moyu plan, that would be terrible."

The face of the one well‑versed in the Moyu Miji twisted into a knot; it hurt more than being robbed outright.

What is this? Being a hostage and still having to voluntarily hand over a protection fee?

Where in the world does such logic exist?

The Moyu gentleman furrowed his brow, about to resist, when his neck brushed the cold blade again.

Hey... who said such logic doesn't exist in the world?

When a person should admit cowardice, they must admit it.

He said nothing else, raised both hands, obediently tossed his pistol to a spot no one could reach, then drew a dagger from his waist and flung it away, finally explaining, "No weapons left, really. Can you loosen your grip? It hurts a bit..."

It wouldn't loosen.

Cheng Shuili didn't trust such a verbal agreement.

She gave a faint smile, deciding to employ the system's weapon: "Since you're so sincere, shall we sign a trade contract?"

Cheng Shuili's words were in a negotiating tone, but the knife pressed against his throat left no room for negotiation.

Sign or die—what other choice is there?

The mind of the one well‑versed in the Moyu Miji raced.

Sign a trade contract?

Once a system‑notarized contract is established, the breach penalty is huge; he'd truly become a fish on the chopping board!

No! Absolutely cannot sign!

The pride of being sixth on the dual rankings, though mostly due to luck and scrapes, still sparked a faint rebellious courage in his heart.

His gaze sharpened suddenly, the throat muscles pressed by the blade tensed instantly, his body wanting to slip sideways like a loach!

At the same time, his raised right hand darted like lightning toward his lower back!

There lay a micro submachine gun packed with bullets! It was his last trump card, the confidence that let him dare to explore alone!

"You don't dare..."

A low growl squeezed out between his teeth.

But all his struggles, in Cheng Shuili's eyes, were like pressing a slow‑motion button.

Almost at the same moment his gaze shifted, Cheng Shuili had already moved.

Not retreating, but stepping further forward.

The Night‑hunt blade pressed against his throat, as if alive, glided along the muscle's path and lightly adhered, precisely hitting a more lethal pressure point; the icy sting instantly pierced his adrenaline, causing his newly gathered strength to freeze.

Simultaneously, Cheng Shuili's other hand, like a phantom, reached out and lightly hooked and snapped his wrist as he reached for his lower back.

The motion was so delicate it seemed merely to brush a falling leaf, yet it contained tremendous force!

"Uh!"

The one well‑versed in the Moyu Miji felt a sharp pain in his wrist, his entire arm instantly went limp and weak; the fingers that had just touched the gunstock could no longer exert force.

The next second, Cheng Shuili deftly snatched it; the carefully hidden micro submachine gun had already changed hands, landing in her grasp.

The whole process flowed so smoothly it was breath‑taking, without affecting the Night‑hunt blade's millimetric stability on the other hand.

"Tsk, Moyu and so many gadgets, very unprofessional."

Cheng Shuili's voice remained calm, with a hint of teasing, as if she had merely brushed dust off his shoulder.

"It seems our Moyu philosophy has some deviation; we need a proper discussion."

The Night‑hunt blade's tip adjusted slightly, locking him firmly in place again.

The one well‑versed in the Moyu Miji froze completely, cold sweat mixing with acidic rain dripping from his temples, the faint hope and rebellious thoughts in his heart crushed entirely.

The disparity in strength between them was despairingly vast; all his intentions and follow‑up moves were completely transparent to her.

This woman... ridiculously strong!

Who the heck is this guy?

He is, after all, sixth on the dual rankings!

How could a regular player subdue him so easily? Is this guy also on the leaderboard?

The one well‑versed in the Moyu Miji was stunned, instantly recalling an ID—Good!

That perfectly balanced ID that was pressing on his head!

Just a ranking that differs by so much? Truly... terrifying!

Cheng Shuili weighed the micro submachine gun in her hand; it was heavy, likely loaded with bullets.

Regardless of the outcome, this thing was definitely hers.

Cheng Shuili casually tossed it into the abyss, joining the previously acquired rifle.

"Now, can we focus on discussing our Moyu cooperation?"

Her tone was gentle, yet every word carried undeniable power.

"Or, do you need me to streamline your equipment again?"

Simplifying works... but he must have it!

The one well‑versed in the Moyu Miji watched his last trump card vanish from Cheng Shuili's grasp, his mouth twitching, and finally withered like a dead flower, completely wilted.

He had a mournful face, his voice filled with resigned despair: "Sign… I'll sign! You say how to sign, I'll sign however you say…"

"If you'd cooperated like this earlier, it would've been fine," Cheng Shuili said cheerfully, "Wasting everyone's precious time."

Cheng Shuili opened the panel, quickly set it up, then handed the panel to the seasoned Moyu Miji.

Such face-to-face transactions don't need to go through the chat box, and even the later signatory can't see the ID of the person who initiated the contract.

That's why people engaging in face-to-face trades are usually especially careful.

One has to read a contract at least two or three times before being able to sign it.

But now with a knife at his throat, and having lost a submachine gun bought at great expense, the seasoned Moyu Miji has no choice but to sign.

This woman is not joking.

If he refuses, this person will really go all out and kill.

The seasoned Moyu Miji sniffled, looking pitiful.

Only after receiving the transaction completion prompt did Cheng Shuili relax and let go.

The moment he was released, the seasoned Moyu Miji eagerly ran toward his weapon that had been thrown into the puddle!

This is acid rain! If you're late, it'll get corroded!

Cheng Shuili didn't stop him either, merely offering a half‑hearted reminder from behind: "Touch the weapon and you'll be in breach of contract."

The seasoned Moyu Miji paused, then froze instantly.

Just what did he sign earlier?