Chapter 291: An Uneasy Christmas Eve

As Wu Chang's rifle shot blew Kent's head apart, the player's Blood Oath vanished; his attribute panel showed Strength and Will each increased by 1 point, and Inspiration by 2 points.

This was not the first time he had completed a Blood Oath; he had gone through the same process many times, so he had initially just glanced at it and ignored it.

He was about to shift his attention when he suddenly noticed something wrong—the attributes gained from resentment were not being suppressed to 10%, but added in full to his current attribute panel.

Was it because his Absolution talent was unique, or because attributes stacked within the instance were unaffected by the extra attribute suppression?

He looked at the vital energy rising from Kent's corpse and ordered his True Self to swallow it.

Strength +3.

Oh well.

Wu Chang could confirm that, given Kent's stats, the vital energy inside him would never grant Wu Chang +30 Strength; thus, it was clear that stacked attributes within the instance were indeed unaffected by the extra attribute suppression.

He felt a surge of excitement, but quickly calmed himself.

No, in other A-class nearing-uncontrolled instances, consuming elite monsters to gain 30 Strength wasn't rare; in a way, the ability to stack attributes had still been weakened.

For others, it was a weakening—but for him, proportional weakening was actually an enhancement.

Because after the weakening, his ability no longer touched the Wasteland Realm barrier; without the barrier's restraint, his stacked attributes could be added in full.

Thinking this way, the Stat God had clearly not abandoned him.

If the Sea Giant's infinite growth, viewed from the perspective of what an A-class instance should yield, was also suppressed.

But the attributes gained through Absolution were exactly the same—pure red resentment always granted one free attribute point, one Will, and two Inspiration, no matter the instance.

Even the Curse-Bound instance could not interfere with Absolution's effect; this talent's permission level was indeed very high.

After confirming the attributes, Wu Chang turned his attention to the item dropped from the red resentment—a white belt.

"Item Name: White Phantom"

"Item Rank: B"

"Item Skill: Swift"

"Skill Description: When equipped with White Phantom, the player's movement speed increases by 20%, the speed of any vehicle the player drives increases by 10%, and the casting time, recharge time, reload time, fire rate, and aim time of all skills and item skills are reduced by 10%."

"Item Skill: White Phantom"

"Skill Description: Activate to briefly enter White Phantom state; during White Phantom duration, you cannot be locked onto or aimed at by any tech-based weapons, and there is a 30% chance to be immune to area damage from tech-based weapons. Skill duration: Will / 2 seconds. Skill cooldown: Will × 1000 seconds."

"Note: White Phantom state uses flexible timing and can be paused or restarted at any time. The cooldown only begins after all duration has been fully consumed."

No wonder, during the red resentment's charge toward Kent, the shooter never sniped him—he had entered White Phantom state, making him untargetable.

Too bad White Phantom only worked against tech weapons, not physical attacks; the resentment had barely reached Kent's side before Kent easily knocked him down and executed him on the spot.

Young. Too young.

In the Abyss Game, acting without gathering enough information is a sure way to suffer heavy losses.

What? You can't see other players' resentments, have no intelligence sources? Then never mind.

With Kent dead, next comes the three shooters.

These shooters had been brainwashed since childhood to be utterly loyal to Kent; keeping even one alive would be trouble, and without Kent, they had lost the meaning of their lives—sending them to join him, they'd likely welcome it.

The shooters' stats were low; each granted Wu Chang only 0.5 Strength.

In other instances, he wouldn't even glance at such numbers—but in the Curse-Bound instance, they were still highly valuable.

After Kent and the shooters, the next to settle accounts with were Bai Lao K and his group.

Through the prolonged battle's fallout, everyone present had been lost in the Chaos Power; if Wu Chang wished, he could kill them all.

A few senior officers had strong wills and noticed the anomaly during combat, maintaining clarity—but the accumulated Deepwater Devourer within them was enough to strip them of bodily control, just like the shooters.

By the time Wu Chang's body and True Self emerged from cover, only they remained capable of movement.

They first went to the Black Fatty's side; they were guests, few in number, underarmed, and at absolute disadvantage in the gunfight—of the original twenty-some, only nine still breathed.

But they were barely breathing; each survivor had been hit at least three times—death was merely a matter of time.

Old Master Wu was kind-hearted and couldn't bear to see the wounded suffer; he shot each one once, freeing them from their torment.

The seven short, stout clients were on par with the shooters; each granted only 0.5 Strength.

The other two were more surprising—the Round Two and Champion Match contestants, their strength comparable to Gray Wolf's; each granted 1.5 Strength.

After the clients came Bai Lao K's own people; as before, the shooters couldn't be left alive.

Wu Chang moved calmly and composedly into the darkness, dragging out each shooter one by one and shooting them dead.

No hesitation. No emotion.

As effortless as crushing an ant—not taking a human life.

Each gunshot echoing in the darkness struck like a hammer blow to the survivors' hearts.

Several leaders, already on the edge of madness from the Chaos Power, were jolted awake by sheer terror.

Eight gunshots rang out; eight shooters hidden in shadows remained forever in the dark.

When the calm, expressionless True Self stepped out of the darkness, the surviving Bai Lao K elites nearly wept from fear.

White, Kent's deputy, whom the shooters had mentioned, still maintained the dignity of a second-in-command—though his gaze was fearful, avoiding Wu Chang's eyes.

Lower-ranking leaders with weaker mental fortitude had dark, damp patches spreading across their crotches.

This wasn't because Bai Lao K's leaders were cowardly; those who reached this level all had blood on their hands and went into every gunfight prepared to die.

But their understanding of enemies and death was limited to the normal range.

What Wu Chang had done—driving them mad, paralyzing them, or coldly stripping away life—lay entirely beyond their comprehension.

To them, Wu Chang now was not an enemy—he was an invincible demon, a monster wearing human skin.

White had lost control of his body, but his mouth still worked; staring at the True Self like Death itself, he forced out, through fear:

"What do you want? The goods or the money? Whatever you want, we'll give it—can't we have a chance to talk?"

He had seen Kent lead his men and hide with Wu Chang, and after the battle ended, heard four gunshots from behind the cover.

Without doubt, Kent was dead.

The boss is dead, but his subordinates still want to live; no matter what the other side demands, whether reasonable or not, as long as they speak up, he will fulfill it.

Wu Chang's physical body turned to White, activated mental resonance, and attempted to control him.

If you can't control the boss, the second-in-command will do.

"The target's self-awareness is too strong; full control is impossible. Mental control is converting into mental attack."

Mental control shifted to psychic attack, instantly causing White to let out a piercing scream; his eyes bulged, blood oozing from his ears, nose, and corners of his eyes.

The True Self shook his head and pulled the trigger, taking White away.

"You're not fit."

White's corpse terrified the already panicked bosses, nearly driving them mad.

To them, White had merely locked eyes with a man named Peace, expressed a desire to talk—and then bled from all seven orifices, his mind shattered.

A demon, absolutely a demon!

The True Self approached Smith, the man second only to White; he had realized the mechanism of the Curse-Bound instance was peculiar, making complete control difficult, so he wanted to talk to Smith and see if the man had any desire to become a puppet boss.

But before he could speak, Smith had already broken down—he raved curses at Wu Chang, and even after Wu Chang said "Quiet" twice, it had no effect.

Then they'd have to try another.

Bang.

Wu Chang shifted his steps to Jialin, next in line after Smith. Wu Chang: "I say—"

Jialin: "Ah!"

As soon as Wu Chang opened his mouth, Jialin let out a frantic, ear-splitting scream, his voice so powerful it nearly pierced Wu Chang's eardrums.

Bang.

After Jialin came Valentine.

Valentine, streaming with tears and snot, was utterly lost in his own world, muttering prayers for entry into heaven over and over; Wu Chang called to him several times, but he gave no response.

Bang.

After Valentine came Green.

……

Wu Chang was numb—how was it so hard to find one normal person?

They said these were mob bosses, killers without a second thought—why are all of them going insane so fast? Where's your mental resilience?

!

He didn't want to kill anymore—not only because he needed seasoned men who understood gang operations to help him take over Bai Lao K and manage the aftermath.

Also, since his strength attribute had stacked to 45, the gap between him and ordinary people had become too vast; killing these targets below level ten no longer granted him stackable strength attributes.

He had no qualms about killing, but he disliked meaningless slaughter.

Wu Chang walked to the last senior boss in the room—the one who had urinated his pants from the start.

He pulled out a bottle of liquor, poured it over Miles's face, drenched in foam and with glazed eyes, watching the man slowly awaken, then asked: "Want to talk?"

Miles had the weakest courage and poorest mental resilience—he had fainted early.

Precisely because of that, he had seen the least and received the least trauma; now he still retained his sanity. Hearing Wu Chang's question, he seized it like a lifeline and shouted: "Yes!"

If not for the Deepwater Devourer still active, this guy would've launched himself to hug the True Self's thighs.

The True Self looked at Miles's pants, soaked all the way to his thighs, and took a small step back, asking:

"I need you to clean up tonight's mess and help me take over Bai Lao K in a short time—can you do it?"

Miles swore without hesitation: "No problem! As long as you speak, your loyal servant Miles will find a way to accomplish it!"

Wu Chang's physical body lifted the Deepwater Devourer from Miles's body; the True Self pointed at the remaining Bai Lao K members—besides Kent's loyalists and the major bosses, many core members had also attended the boxing day trade.

"As a test, your first task is to convince them to join. Those unwilling to join—you handle them yourself. After dealing with these people, present me with a feasible plan to take over Bai Lao K. Only then will you pass the test."

Watching Miles, eager to act, the True Self frowned and reminded him:

"Before that, go change your pants."

As the True Self began taking over Bai Lao K, the physical body walked to the transaction table where the goods were laid out, pulled two stacks of cash from a suitcase full of Federal Dollars, and shoved them into his pocket.

Having settled his food expenses for now, he randomly picked an unclaimed car in the warehouse and drove back to Garden Street No. 26.

As he left the warehouse, he looked up at the sky and saw a full moon hanging high.

What a nice night.

Wu Chang, having just resolved the Bai Lao K issue and about to return to his cozy little home, gazed at the full moon with profound calm.

But for ordinary players who hadn't even found a proper job, let alone a stable place to live or dinner to eat, gazing at the moon in the sky, all they could think of was the white rice cake from a skewer meal.

Grrrrrrl~

The more he thought about it, the hungrier he got.

Beneath the bridge, three lone players who had formed a temporary group, wrapped in discarded old blankets, huddled together around a fire.

After their attributes dropped, the night wind grew bitterly cold, overwhelming them.

At the dungeon matching hall during the day, Lin Jiang's call, combined with the first follower's shout, instantly drew a flood of players into the dungeon.

Influenced by the atmosphere, these three, swept up in the heat of the moment, followed right in.

Only when the system notification appeared did they realize they had entered an A-rank near-out-of-control dungeon.

None of them were above level thirty; the highest-ranked among them, the Bard, was only level 28—an A-rank near-out-of-control dungeon was far beyond their capability.

But the advantage was the dungeon's difficulty was low; they hadn't yet encountered enemies with absolute numerical superiority, and strictly following the shared guide's key points had kept them temporarily safe.

The only problem was they were too cautious; opportunities they could've claimed were snatched away by bolder players because they hesitated to act.

After a full day of effort, none of the highly-rated jobs on the guide had been secured—they ended up huddled under the bridge, wrapped in blankets, enduring the night.

Tomorrow morning, they'd continue applying for jobs; this time, no matter how bad the job was, they'd take whatever came first.

They agreed on watch shifts—the other two players went to rest first, leaving the Bard on watch for the first half of the night.

Time slipped by, second by second, until it struck midnight. A gust of cold wind blew in, nearly snuffing out the fire.

The Bard shielded the flames with his body while adding firewood.

As he moved, a sudden sharp pain stabbed at the back of his neck, as if some threat had locked onto him.

Thump. Thump.

His heartbeat instantly grew heavy, and the bonfire before his eyes split from one into two, fracturing into double images.

The splitting of his vision seemed to crack his brain along with it. Under the violent pain, he saw the Will stat on his attribute panel drop by one point, showing 5 (-1).

This was what the guide had mentioned — if you had no shelter and slept rough on the streets at night, one point of Will would be deducted.

However, in the Misfortune instance, the first three times Will was deducted, it could be recovered through medicine or rest. As long as Will didn't drop again within the next 24 hours, the deducted points would be added back.

The Bard wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Thank goodness it was just a Will deduction.

The guide had mentioned various dangers of sleeping rough on the streets. Among them, the Will deduction — called Silent Night — was the luckiest outcome.

One careless slip, and you could be attacked in all sorts of ways.

It was precisely to cope with nighttime attacks that the three Bards had temporarily formed a team, huddling together for warmth.

Thank goodness — it was a Silent Night.

The Bard had just been about to add more fuel to the fire when he suddenly noticed that even when he looked at the bonfire, it was still doubled.

What's going on?

He looked closely at the doubled image. As his focus sharpened, he finally saw what was actually happening.

It turned out that at the spot where the bonfire was burning, the world had cracked open like a gap, and something seemed to be burrowing out from the deeper layers of the world.

The Bard laughed in relief. So the world had cracked open — you scared me. I thought my eyes were going astigmatism on me.

Heh heh heh, hmm hmm, hahahahaha!

The Bard stared at the cracked spot, laughing harder and harder, his laughter gradually spiraling out of control until it became manic.

He was so busy laughing that he didn't notice at all — as he stared straight into the world's rift, his Will was plummeting -1, -1…

The Bard's laughter woke the two sleeping companions. They had just been about to ask what was wrong with him when they saw the wildly laughing Bard's upper body suddenly vanish, as if some enormous monster had bitten it clean off.

Crunch.

The crisp sound of bones being chewed rang out beneath the bridge.

They had just been about to flee when the Bard's corpse, like a magnet, firmly locked their gazes in place.

The next moment, the two of them also couldn't help but start laughing.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Not far off, several people looked down at the bridge from afar, having witnessed the entire process of the three players being eaten.

If Wu Chang had been present, he would surely have recognized the one standing in the center of the group — it was his target to apprehend, Lin Jiang.

Lin Jiang gazed at the gruesome scene beneath the bridge and said softly to the people beside him:

"Make your move."

(End of this chapter)