“Is it a scorpion or a spider? This doesn’t make any sense!” Xu Bei loudly complained to steel his nerves.
Countless strands of black hair surged toward him like jets of spider silk, intent on binding the player—or even piercing through him.
This attack was denser than any before, with lethal hairs attacking from all directions.
Even though Xu Bei immediately started his signature left-right dodging, it was still impossible to evade everything completely.
Not to mention, the ghost woman’s outstretched hands were sucking him in violently; it felt like he was running endlessly on a treadmill, never moving forward.
He could see every attack clearly, but the clearer he saw, the more it felt like he was staring at his own death sentence.
“Puchi! Puchi! Puchi! Puchi!”
In the blink of an eye, Xu Bei was pierced through by four spiraled black hair spikes, instantly killed.
“……”
A moment later, resurrected, Xu Bei stepped out from the safe room and returned to the middle of the corridor, falling into silence.
Because right next to him was Dao Xia Qujing, which was a bit awkward.
He had just spat all his fierce words, saying he would slap down the dark livestream forces and kill the five-times-blood ghost to prove himself.
But the moment he charged forward, he was instantly killed by the BOSS.
Tell me, isn’t that embarrassing?
The only relief was that the scorpion BOSS hadn’t resurrected, so there was no need to start over.
But this also meant the scorpion and the ghost were two separate BOSSes, not some second phase.
This should be called a [Double BOSS Battle].
“……”
Dao Xia Qujing looked a bit strange and stayed silent as well.
By all logic, now would be the perfect time to unleash endless taunts—this was prime sarcasm moment.
Because he was currently roasting Xu Bei hard, and Xu Bei had no energy to fight back.
Dao Xia Qujing had just cracked Xu Bei’s defense and got flustered, spouting a bunch of nagging words.
But after calming down and watching Xu Bei get instantly wiped out, he instead recalled his own past.
He once wanted to be a skill streamer, relying on some tricks to act cocky, refusing to be an entertainment streamer or joke around with viewers, losing his temper at the slightest setback, even arguing with the chat.
The final result was of course a total collapse of his streaming career; he couldn’t even support himself.
He eventually became a thug-for-hire for a streaming guild, with no right to even be a small-time streamer.
Now, watching Buxiaozi’s livestream—even though he had basically invaded and been watching from the start—he couldn’t deny he’d finally realized what true streaming entertainment was.
From the beginning, he hadn’t looked away from the screen, afraid to blink lest he miss any of the streamer’s antics.
Buxiaozi hadn’t disappointed anyone. He had just said some fierce words, then was immediately one-shot by the BOSS.
Could anything be funnier than that?
And that was the power of streaming!
The clown was the ultimate answer in the streaming world.
But most people didn’t want to be clowns. Streamers had their dignity; how could they humiliate themselves for the viewers?
Yet the word clown didn’t even fully describe Buxiaozi, the small streamer.
Because clowns were often actors putting on a show, but was Buxiaozi’s absurd behavior acting?
No, it wasn’t. So he wasn’t a clown—he was something higher than a clown.
Buxiaozi had demon-like invincible skill, paired with an angel-like pure mind.
His body was born a virtual game prodigy, but he installed a game-idiot brain.
Along with his stubborn bull-like personality, never admitting defeat, and a mouth tougher than a tank.
He might not be a gaming genius, but he was definitely a streaming genius.
Thinking of this, Dao Xia Qujing looked at the flood of bullet comments in Buxiaozi’s chat and recalled that his own stream once barely got one or two comments per day.
He suddenly felt at peace.
“Dodge, dodge, dodge! Dodge my ass! Block! You gotta block, understand?” Now feeling at ease, he immediately pointed at Xu Bei’s face and started lecturing again.
“If the Qunimazi won’t help, fine. But you have no right to talk back! You deserve to suffer, damn it!” Xu Bei clenched his fists so hard his knuckles trembled.
“You skipped class when you fought the female overseer! Without knowing how to block, you can’t survive. Without blocking, you’ll never beat the ghost. No matter how fast you dodge, you’ll never outrun those black hairs—you can only block,” Dao Xia Qujing snorted coldly.
“You really think I’m going to believe you?” Xu Bei looked at him with suspicion.
“That’s all I have to say. Believe it or not,” Dao Xia Qujing shrugged with a careless expression.
“You piece of trash, can you just get lost? Lying in my game and teaching me how to play? I’ve seen disgusting people, but never someone this vile.” Xu Bei kept insulting, ignoring the BOSS to enjoy his rant.
“I know I’m no good. Being a jerk is how I survive,” Dao Xia Qujing’s thick skin was impressive as his expression gradually turned serious: “That’s the rule in this circle. These games were made for streaming.”
“When a small streamer’s world is invaded, they can’t play normally. The game owner has no right to kick out the intruder. This setup exists solely for streaming guilds.”
“So as long as the guilds raise more thugs and stronger players, they control everything in the streaming world. You simply can’t…”
“Nagging! You think I don’t know? It’s just a game, damn it! Get lost!” Xu Bei interrupted the long, stinky lecture with a flying shoulder charge that pushed him away, stepping into the ghost’s domain to continue challenging the BOSS.
Dao Xia Qujing was slammed against the wall, falling silent as he slid down.
But after Xu Bei turned his back, he quietly opened his browser to check guides online.
What did blocking mean in a virtual game?
He already knew how to open his own livestream chat to watch the bullet comments.
Basically, it was just opening a webpage window beside his view so the streamer could glance at it during downtime.
This webpage could also be used to browse the internet.
(What’s the streamer clicking?)
(The streamer’s online)
(Quiet, quiet, streamer’s checking guides)
(Lol)
(I’ve got a picture guide)
His little move couldn’t fool the sharp viewers in the chat.
They immediately caught on—the streamer was checking guides.
Though Xu Bei wasn’t the first streamer to look up strategies during play, the scene still felt comical.
“Got it, so that’s what blocking means.” Xu Bei quickly understood.
“You really are a streaming genius,” Dao Xia Qujing sighed, still watching the stream.
Xu Bei thought he was sarcastically mocking him again, so he ignored it.
But it was Dao Xia Qujing’s genuine compliment—he was truly impressed.
However, after Xu Bei harshly spoke, the moment he stepped into the corridor covered with black hairs, he immediately became cautious, tiptoeing forward little by little.
(9)
(9)
(9)
(9)
(9)
Suddenly, Xu Bei noticed his viewers were frantically spamming a single number, which confused him.
(The streamer has died nine times)
(One last chance)
(Lose and smash the helmet.)