Su Luo noticed a shift in the air as the hunt intensified.
The small monsters no longer trickled out in timid groups of three, as they had at the start.
Now, they swarmed in packs of five or six, sometimes seven or eight, moving together like a predatory tide.
The tables had turned—what began as a hunt with her team as the predators now felt like a desperate bid for survival.
Still, the chaos brought progress; their task was nearly complete.
Beneath the shadow of a jagged rock formation, the group finally shook off the relentless creatures and collapsed for a moment’s reprieve.
The bespectacled man seized the chance to share his hard-earned wisdom.
“Regular monsters? One person can handle them. Elites, though? You’d better have some serious skills or pair up with someone. As for the final BOSS, that’s a group effort, and even then, victory’s not guaranteed.”
He added, “Sure, more people make snagging the BOSS tougher, but going it alone is a death wish unless you’re really confident. So, if you can save someone, do it.”
His gaze lingered on Su Luo as he spoke.
As a cleric, her ability to heal made her the group’s lifeline.
She nodded, her mind already turning to another question.
“That red potion you used earlier—where’d you get it?”
“It’s from the system shop,” he explained.
“Three points for a bottle. You can also find them in some of the trial dungeons. Not in the newbie ones, though—those just give you two red and two yellow potions at the end. Red’s for health, yellow’s for stamina.”
Su Luo let out a quiet sigh.
Teaming up with veterans was proving invaluable; without them, she’d be fumbling through this world’s rules for who-knows-how-long.
Her eyes drifted to Number Ten, curiosity sparking.
If she hadn’t been here, how would someone like him—aloof, enigmatic—piece together this knowledge?
As if sensing her stare, Number Ten turned, his piercing gaze meeting hers.
The sheer beauty of his face hit her like a shockwave, and she realized she’d been overthinking.
With a face like that, he could stroll into any team with female players and charm the answers out of them in minutes.
Her thoughts wandered, tinged with a familiar ache.
If she’d been born with such striking looks, would her parents have abandoned her so easily?
The question lingered, unbidden, like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
She drifted in her reverie for a moment before pulling herself back.
These thoughts crept up sometimes, uninvited, and though she knew the blame wasn’t hers, the sadness clung like damp mist.
Number Three’s voice broke the silence.
“Time’s about up. The BOSS should be spawning soon. Let’s move.”
The group stirred, dusting off their weariness, and headed out.
They didn’t need to search long.
A colossal steel sphere loomed into view, smashing through the dense forest with terrifying ease.
This was no elite monster—the BOSS dwarfed them all, towering taller than 3 Su Luos stacked together.
Steel tendrils lashed out from its body, felling trees like blades through grass.
The team hurried forward, joining several other groups already gathered, waiting for the fight.
Among them, one figure caught Su Luo’s eye.
He nodded at her, gratitude softening his expression.
She recognized him instantly—the one called “Filial Son.”
He approached, lowering his voice.
“My game name’s Internet Addict. Thanks for the heads-up back there. I… my real name is—”
Su Luo cut him off with a quick shake of her head.
“I don’t need to know who you are. Saving you was just a reflex.”
She softened her tone but pressed on.
“You shouldn’t be so open, you know. Trusting everyone who helps you? That’s a fast track to getting burned.”
Internet Addict blinked, his wide, puppy-like eyes brimming with sincerity.
“I trust you’re a good person. You saved my life. Even if you meant me harm, I’d just… give this life back to you.”
Su Luo pressed a hand to her forehead, exasperated.
What kind of naive kid was this?
“Look, I’m not listening, okay? And with your track record—picking that newbie-killer to guide you—where do you get the confidence to trust your own judgment?”
He scratched his head, sheepish, then ventured, “Can you at least tell me your name? If you ever need help, I swear I’ll do everything I can.”
His stubborn determination gave her a headache.
“Lost,” she muttered reluctantly.
His eyes lit up like stars.
“I’ll remember that!” he declared, practically bouncing back to his team.
Number Ten, who’d been watching the exchange with quiet amusement, murmured to himself, “Lost… huh?”
A girl in a blue tracksuit spoke up from the gathered crowd.
“Are you all done with your tasks?”
“Done,” someone replied.
“Good. All that’s left is the BOSS. Once everyone’s here, call out your roles.”
“Got it.” A few quick words between the veterans clarified the plan, and the group settled in, waiting for the rest to arrive.
Before long, the pair of deceitful old men sauntered over, their faces still wearing that smug, self-assured air of seasoned experts.
The newer players instinctively edged away, their wariness palpable.
The old men, unfazed, carried on with their lofty demeanor, as if the distrust didn’t register.
The BOSS’s presence was a force of its own, drawing players like moths to a flame.
In no time, faces Su Luo had never seen before converged on the scene, summoned by the looming battle.
The group followed the earlier plan, calling out their roles: twelve players total—two tanks, four warriors, four mages, one assassin, and one cleric.
When Su Luo announced her role as a cleric, a ripple of excitement passed through the group.
Eyes sparkled as they turned to her, and she realized she’d underestimated her value.
Clerics weren’t just uncommon—they were rare, a precious asset in this brutal game.
The girl in the blue tracksuit, who’d spoken earlier, softened her expression and approached Su Luo with a warm smile.
“I’m a tank. Keep an eye on me out there, okay?”
Su Luo had been stunned to learn this delicate, strikingly pretty girl was a tank—a stark contrast to her appearance, much like the bespectacled man’s unexpected grit.
She nodded, signaling she understood.
The tank girl reached out and patted Su Luo’s head, a gesture so maternal it caught her off guard.
Su Luo’s eyes widened as a thought struck her: this game could extend life, preserve youth.
Who knew how old this “big sister” really was?
The group huddled to strategize.
Once the plan was set, the tanks charged forward to draw the BOSS’s aggro, while the others fanned out, poised to strike.
Su Luo’s heart sank as she saw the damage numbers flash: a single lash from the BOSS’s steel tendrils dealt -10 health.
Her face paled.
In this trial, death was real—no second chances.
If not for her perfect evaluation earlier, one hit from that BOSS could’ve left her on the brink.
The second mage, Number Two, seemed to sense the same danger.
He waved the newbies back, ordering the warriors to hold off and letting only the assassin scout ahead.
“Su Luo, stay behind me and keep the tanks healed,” he instructed.
But this cautious approach weakened their offense.
Of the four remaining newbies, only one was a mage; the rest were warriors, leaving their firepower lacking.
The front line wavered, teetering on collapse.
Then, another newbie mage, a wiry girl, turned to a stocky player nicknamed SlightlyChubby.
“You, go up and attack,” she demanded.
SlightlyChubby, despite her burly frame, was a warrior—an ironic twist that left Su Luo baffled by this game’s bizarre class assignments.
“Why me?” SlightlyChubby asked, confusion knitting her brow.
The mage shot back, “Can’t you see the front’s about to fall apart?”
SlightlyChubby’s voice hardened.
“I’m not asking why we need to attack. I’m asking why I have to go.”
The mage didn’t miss a beat, her tone dripping with entitlement.
“You said your parents are players, right? They must’ve passed down plenty of experience. Isn’t it obvious you should go?”
SlightlyChubby froze, stunned by the audacity.
This logic was absurd, predatory.
In her eighteen years, she’d rarely argued with anyone, and now words failed her.
Her face flushed red, but she couldn’t muster a retort.
The mage, emboldened, smirked.
“Don’t worry, with all that bulk, your skin’s probably thick enough to take a few hits.”
Su Luo’s jaw dropped.
She’d seen this kind of shamelessness before—kids at the orphanage who’d grown accustomed to pity, who believed the world owed them everything.
It warped them, left them vulnerable to reality’s harsh lessons.
But this mage?
She didn’t strike Su Luo as an orphan, so why was she acting like one?
“You’ve got some nerve,” Su Luo snapped, unable to hold back.
“What gives you the right to send someone else to die? If anyone’s skin is thick as a city wall, it’s you.”
Ignoring the mage’s darkening expression, Su Luo pressed on.
“Your health’s the same as her. Why don’t I send you to the front to feel the BOSS’s warm embrace?”
Thanks to the sharp-tongued lessons from the orphanage’s headmistress, Su Luo’s verbal arsenal was unmatched.
In a few cutting words, she left the mage red-faced and speechless.
A stifled laugh broke the tension.
Su Luo’s eyes flicked to the source—Number Ten, chuckling softly.
Catching her gaze, he waved a hand, his voice laced with amusement.
“Don’t mind me. Carry on.”
The mage, who’d been glaring daggers, softened the moment she saw Number Ten’s face.
His beauty was unreal, outshining even the most polished celebrities.
Her anger melted into a shy flutter of her hand.
“It’s fine. She’s just… funny, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
But her eyes shot back to Su Luo, simmering with resentment for making her look foolish in front of her newfound crush.
Su Luo scoffed.
“What, his face got you so dazzled you forgot what he’s laughing at? Delusion and narcissism are diseases, you know. Get them checked.”
She glanced at Number Ten, her tone flat.
“What’s so funny? Never seen someone get called out before?”
Number Ten’s eyes glinted with mirth.
“Not like you do it.”
Su Luo sighed inwardly.
Her whole life, her appearance had been a hurdle.
At 1.62 meters, with a face that blended innocence and charm, she’d always been underestimated.
Every time she led the orphanage kids to settle a score, her opponents would sneer, “What, you off the bottle yet?”
It always ended in a fight to prove herself.
More than once, she’d wished for a commanding presence—a regal, 1.7-meter-tall aura that could silence a room with a single glance.
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