Chapter 24: Sniper

Xu Bei had been playing “Dear Son” up until now, and it was obvious this was a linear, single-player adventure game.

However, all virtual games required an internet connection and real-name registration; if you weren’t online and registered, you couldn’t play.

So, even games filled with solo adventure storylines would be stuffed with some online features for Players.

“Dear Son,” as a suffering-type game, had two online systems, one of which was the common Team System for adventuring together.

But when Players teamed up, the Monster’s health would double, making the game even harder.

Some experienced veteran Players would match into newbie Players’ worlds to help them fight Monsters.

Such helpful veteran Players would be respectfully called: “Old Brother.”

As for the other feature, that would be [Invasion].

In the later stages, Players could activate the Lineup System and randomly invade other Players’ game worlds, appearing as hostile units to battle them.

Players who invaded others’ worlds, naturally, would be called in turn: “Bad Brother!”

And the situation Xu Bei was facing now belonged to the latter.

(Heroic Descent!)

(Cheater Must Die!)

(Justice from Heaven!)

(Justice Will Prevail!)

The barrage was still clamoring, but Xu Bei himself didn’t really understand any of it.

The red “Invasion” text in front of his eyes flashed a few times and then disappeared, and he foolishly kept moving forward.

But he hadn’t taken more than a few steps before he couldn’t move any further…

From the staircase in the middle of the Factory’s second-floor corridor, a pitch-black, bizarre figure slowly emerged.

A Flashbang streaked out in a line of white light, the camera panned coldly at a ninety-degree angle, and finally shone directly on Xu Bei.

But even with the white light on his face, Xu Bei didn’t feel any glare, since the Player’s white light would automatically blur.

His own camera’s Flash stood on the opposite side, held by the strange person, startling Xu Bei so much that he froze on the spot, his face full of confusion.

Because this person’s style was completely different from the Jumping Corpse Factory Girls he’d met before.

It wasn’t just that they were different from Monsters—this one looked exactly like himself.

Uh… that sounded a bit convoluted.

Because the strange person was also wearing a Reporter Suit, with a camera hanging at his waist—the white light coming from its Flash.

The only difference was that the strange person was holding a Scythe, his whole body shrouded in eerie black smoke, as if his murderous intent had taken physical form.

That’s right, this black smoke effect was designed so that any invaded Player could instantly recognize the “Bad Brother” in front of them.

Suffering games didn’t require cunning, only killing.

Xu Bei could sense the hostility from the newcomer. Not to mention, in this plotless, broken game, there was no way to communicate with enemies—every encounter led straight to battle.

“Unfilial son, huh? Jie jie, finally matched into your world.”

But just as Xu Bei was thinking this, the Scythe-wielding stranger actually spoke, his words tinged with an awkward local accent.

“He spoke?” Xu Bei muttered in confusion.

“Your streaming room’s public opinion is about to explode, aren’t you going to take a look?” the Scythe-wielding stranger said again.

“Are you a Player? What’s going on in my streaming room? I don’t even know how to open it,” Xu Bei replied.

“…Looks like you really don’t understand the rules of the streamer circle at all,” the Scythe-wielder said, speechless.

But his reaction also revealed something.

He wasn’t just a random invader—he was a “Sniper” with a specific purpose and target.

And he definitely wasn’t a newbie Player; the Scythe in his hand was a hidden weapon only available in the late game.

The Scythe, this strange polearm, was extremely hard to use—especially in PVE monster-farming, where the narrow corridors made it tough to swing, and the blade often struck the walls.

But it had another advantage: it was overwhelmingly powerful in PVP!

When it came to Player vs Player battles, generally speaking, the longer your weapon’s reach, the stronger you were.

Players, unlike Monsters, didn’t have sturdy bodies, thick health bars, or tough stagger meters.

Monsters could ignore a Scythe and charge in for a ruthless counterattack, trading blow for blow, but Players could never win a straight trade with a Monster.

But fighting between Players was different—they were all fragile.

Whoever got hit first would give their opponent a huge advantage.

So, if you wanted to judge whether a Player was good at PVP, you just had to see if their weapon was long enough.

“Rules?” Xu Bei was still shaking his head, looking completely unconcerned.

He didn’t even understand the game, let alone the rules of streaming.

“Heh, you’ve already offended too many people. As for who? I’m not saying. Anyway, we’re just getting paid to do the job,” the Scythe-wielder sneered.

“Offended? Getting paid to do a job?” Xu Bei repeated, murmuring, his expression gradually turning cold.

And in just a short moment, his mind figured everything out.

Just from one sentence, Xu Bei understood what was happening.

He’d been targeted by an assassin sent by some powerful faction. That was probably it. And in reality, that was exactly the case.

Although online virtual games weren’t Xu Bei’s area of expertise, contract killings happened all the time on Meteor Street—he understood this kind of thing perfectly.

“Why? Why would playing a game offend people?” Xu Bei questioned.

But this was a question he understood all too well—he was just pretending to be clueless, trying to draw out more from the enemy.

Because on that neighboring Meteor Street, no matter what you did, you’d end up offending someone. As long as you did anything, you’d be cutting into someone else’s interests, and then they’d want to get rid of you.

If you wanted to avoid offending anyone, you could only rot away and starve. If you didn’t want to starve, you had to fight.

The appearance of this Scythe-wielding stranger made Xu Bei feel as if he’d returned to Meteor Street.

“Jie jie, your popularity’s rising too fast. You haven’t joined any Guild, who allowed some wild loner like you to start streaming? Someone paid our Studio a lot to snipe you—don’t think you’ll have an easy time streaming,” the Scythe-wielder said, not bothering to hide anything.

Because there was nothing to hide—everyone understood, it was just the industry Rule.

“So that’s it, the same old faction struggles. I have no intention of joining any organization,” Xu Bei replied disdainfully.

“Well said! You’ve got guts! Then die! The streaming world doesn’t welcome you!” the Scythe-wielder charged forward, raising his Scythe high, slashing fiercely at the unfilial son.

His face was twisted with anger and resentment, as if endless grudges boiled within him!

His attack was merciless!

The Scythe’s blade swept straight for his enemy’s neck!

This didn’t match Xu Bei’s stereotype of a professional assassin at all.

Because in Xu Bei’s impression, a real assassin wouldn’t be angry, wouldn’t hold grudges, and certainly wouldn’t show such bloodlust.

In short: emotionless, ruthless to the employer, ruthless to the target.

But the Scythe-wielding stranger before him overflowed with hostility, as if he and Xu Bei had some deep, personal grudge.

Because once, he too had dreamed of being a top technical streamer.

But reality had mercilessly shattered his dream.