"Stop! Don't run!"
In the heart of the town, a group of black-clad men gave chase, their target: the hooded boy darting desperately through the alleys.
The pursuit was intense. The boy zigzagged through the deserted streets in a panic—and it just so happened that Mo Yan and Zixuan passed by right then.
"Who are these guys? Why are so many people chasing just one kid?" Mo Yan asked between gasps, barely able to keep up.
Sure, this wasn't the game anymore, but wasn't this a little too real? Only 200 meters in and he was already out of breath? If he wasn't going to inherit the game's infinite stamina, could he at least get a stamina bar? This was brutal.
Zixuan, meanwhile, soared low overhead on her staff, keeping altitude just low enough to avoid detection.
"I don't know… but they might be the ones behind this town's 'lost light.'"
"Huh? In that case, we definitely can't let them get away with it." Mo Yan panted as he looked longingly at Zixuan's staff. "Hey, it's kinda unfair that only you have a ride. Mind giving me a lift?"
Zixuan sighed, then patted the staff. "Fine. Hop on. We can't let your stamina ruin this mission."
"Hehe, thanks a ton!" Mo Yan grinned and clambered onto the staff, mimicking a horseback mount like he was born to ride it.
Up ahead, the black-clad pursuers cornered the boy in a narrow alley near the castle walls.
"We finally found you. Hand over the token, or you know what happens next," one of the men growled, stepping forward.
"In your dreams! I'll never give anything to the likes of you—Fallen God Brigade!" the boy shouted back defiantly.
"Oh? So you know who we are. Pity. If you won't play nice, then we'll just have to teach you a lesson. Get him!"
"Stop right there!"
Just as the leader raised his weapon, Mo Yan flew in with a spinning kick, knocking the blade from his hands and sending the man tumbling aside. Everyone froze—even the boy stared in stunned silence.
"I don't care who you are, but I won't let you run wild in front of me!" Mo Yan declared, landing with a flourish and drawing his sword, pointing it at the black-clad men.
"Boss, what do we do? Some random guy just jumped in!" one of the lackeys stammered, backing away.
The leader stood, brushing off his cloak with a scowl. "Tch. Nosey brat. You have a death wish, huh? Fine—kill them all!"
With his command, the group surged forward. Mo Yan didn't retreat—he stood protectively in front of the boy, smiling faintly. And then…
A barrage of fire rained down from the sky, engulfing the black-clad attackers in a blazing circle.
The leader looked up—Zixuan hovered above them, suppressing the enemy with area spells to buy Mo Yan and the boy some space.
"So, the brat's got backup. Not bad… but don't think that's enough to beat me!"
With a mighty leap, the leader soared into the air, twin blades flashing as he closed the distance with Zixuan. Forced to evade, Zixuan dropped to the ground.
"Zixuan! You okay?" Mo Yan called, eyes full of worry.
"Don't worry—I'm good at dodging. But watch out—this guy isn't ordinary." Zixuan glared at the enemy. His twin blades were unusually swift and sharp—so fast, in fact, that she could barely track them mid-air. If she hadn't created space in time, she might have been sliced open already.
"Got it. I'll rely on your ranged support," Mo Yan nodded, turning to face the black-clad leader again.
So this guy could pressure Zixuan, who topped the charts as the server's best spellcaster? That wasn't obvious when I kicked him earlier… but if that's the case, then I'll handle this myself!
Mo Yan stepped forward, launching a proactive sword strike to suppress the enemy. In PvP, you had to strike first against speedy opponents—cut off their rhythm before they could gain momentum.
At first, the tactic worked. The leader was forced onto the defensive, parrying Mo Yan's strikes. Meanwhile, Zixuan was fulfilling her role perfectly, raining down spells on the other black-cloaks, keeping them off Mo Yan's back.
But the balance didn't last long.
"Not bad. You've got some skill. But beat me, 'Wind Patriarch'? Dream on!"
With a roar, the man—now revealed as Fengzu, or Wind Patriarch—swung both blades wide, repelling Mo Yan in a single burst.
He leapt aside, his movements blurring as he dashed around Mo Yan like a tornado, clearly intending to overwhelm him with speed.
Mo Yan was panicking now.
What the hell?! Are normal humans even supposed to move this fast?! I mean, this is beyond broken—this guy's speed isn't just ridiculous, it's cartoonishly busted!
No. I can't let this continue—I need to fight smart!
Mo Yan inhaled deeply, shifting to full defense. Then, recalling his game knowledge, he activated his Warrior's Aura to boost his senses.
At that moment, Wind Patriarch struck from behind—but this time, Mo Yan sensed it. He spun around and parried just in time.
"Not bad. But how about this?!"
In one second, Wind Patriarch slashed his twin blades eight times in a flurry—on the final blow, crack!
Mo Yan's sword shattered.
"…Huh?"
He stood frozen for a second. Then reality hit.
"WHAT THE HELL?! NOOOO!!"
Tears welled in his eyes—not from pain, but from loss.
My sword… you bastard! Do you have any idea what I sacrificed to get that sword?! Two whole months of summer pay! That's my entire bonus! All gone!
Mo Yan wasn't a big spender. That sword—the limited-edition six-star Starcleaver—was his one splurge. Upgrading it to max level required six copies. He had sunk every cent of his two-month summer job, plus his full attendance bonus, into it.
And what was his job in real life?
Security guard. A security guard! Do you know what a security guard earns? Two thousand yuan a month!
He saved five thousand yuan for that sword.
And now it was gone.
Completely gone.
"This is unforgivable. Either pay me back or pay with your life! But you're not walking away from this!" Mo Yan roared, pointing at the black-clad man, consumed by righteous fury. At this point, he didn't care about anything else. He just wanted one thing: compensation.
Wind Patriarch let out a cold laugh. "Compensation? For that piece of junk? Don't make me laugh. Where I come from, we mass-produce that kind of trash by the thousands. That thing of yours? Knockoff, at best."
Mo Yan's heart shattered all over again.
That sword had cost him everything—and now it wasn't even worth anything?
"You… you monster!" Mo Yan howled.
Wind Patriarch slowly raised his twin blades and walked toward him. "Your little stunt was amusing, but now you'll pay the price."
Mo Yan stood there, lost in grief, unaware of the danger approaching.
Then—
VROOOOOOM.
The unmistakable rumble of an engine cut through the tension. Everyone's heads turned.
"Wait… is that—?" Zixuan's eyes lit up.
There was no mistaking that sound.
A motorcycle.
And in this game, there was only one player bold enough to race a motorbike through the map—
Wastesea Ranger!
~~------------------------
Want to read ahead? 30+ chapter's on patreon:
patreon.com/WhiteDevil7554