Chapter 28: Zhang Gui's Strength

The first round: a map-wide AK headshot spree, forty kills.

Ding!

[Game launching. Character fusion in progress. Entering competitive online shooter CF.]

The virtualization and illusion mode activates, and Li Xin’s consciousness enters the game. Facing someone as ruthless as Zhang Gui, Li Xin has no intention of showing mercy; he plans to take him down directly. Yet, as the Flying Tiger team rushes out from their spawn point, Li Xin suddenly grins and decides to toy with him for a while.

Such a man doesn’t even deserve Li Xin’s virtualization and illusion!

He sprints quickly across to the diagonal position, feints a shot deliberately off target, causing a wave of jeers. In the next second, Zhang Gui’s Grand Marshal Flying Fox fires a precise shot, taking the first kill.

Ding!

[System message]: Current HP: 95/100. Virtualization and illusion status ineffective.

Li Xin shakes his head on purpose and commands the Flying Tiger team to charge out again. Er Gouzi’s expression turns grim, sensing trouble. The onlookers, however, burst into mocking laughter, not taking Li Xin seriously at all.

“Ha! Worthless, just as expected.”

Zhang Gui smirks, his fingers dancing skillfully over mouse and keyboard, directing his Grand Marshal Flying Fox to roam the map nimbly. As soon as the Flying Tiger team appears, Fire Kirin fires a shot, scoring a headshot.

2:0.

The jeering in the internet café intensifies, turning into fervent praise for Zhang Gui.

Headshot! 3:0.

4:0.

…

Anyone watching would say Li Xin is a complete amateur. Every time he emerges, he fires a random empty shot and is promptly killed. In just a few dozen seconds, the score is already 10:0.

Ding!

[System message]: Current HP: 21/100. Danger period approaching.

On the machine's panel, the avatar representing Li Xin flickers, its body intermittently glowing red. One more death, and he will fall into the danger period, with the red glow intensifying. Accompanying this will be a dull stiffness in both body and mind, making his gameplay sluggish.

This is the game king’s automatic response, entirely beyond Li Xin’s control. Even if his body is perfectly healthy and his reflexes at their peak, this sluggishness cannot be diminished. There are always pros and cons, and the game king system is no exception.

The danger period is both a warning and a punishment. With every death, the game stops scoring and deducts experience instead, eventually lowering his level.

Counterattack? Wait?

While Li Xin hesitates, Zhang Gui scores another headshot. The alert sounds, and Li Xin is thrust into the danger period.

The jeering in the café grows louder—three deep and three wide, the crowd numbers over a hundred. They had thought that even if Li Xin was a weak player, he could at least put up a fight. But now, it’s a complete rout! Stranger still, his keyboard and mouse are moving swiftly, and the internet speed and ping are excellent, yet the Flying Tiger team keeps lagging.

The more deaths, the more severe and frequent the lag.

“What’s going on over there? Could it be the computer?” someone frowns.

“How could it be? You’re a regular at Destiny—Destiny’s hardware and internet are the best in the entire county,” another retorts.

“In my opinion, this guy’s just so bad that even the system’s speechless, deliberately making things harder for him with constant lag.”

“Haha, Brother Gui is unstoppable, blessed by the heavens—there’s no pressure to win at all.”

Zhang Gui beams with pride, even taking a drag from a cigarette handed over by a younger follower, exuding an air of superiority. Among the crowd, heavily made-up young women seize the opportunity to flirt and cast seductive glances, hoping Brother Gui will notice them.

As if society itself whispered: if you catch the eye of a big shot, you’ll live in luxury and style.

It’s already 11:0. If this pace continues, Li Xin’s defeat is inevitable. On the twelfth attempt, the Flying Tiger team respawns and runs out, still lagging and jerking across the screen. Zhang Gui’s Grand Marshal Flying Fox is already waiting atop the tall box at the defenders’ base exit, and as soon as Li Xin appears, he fires.

Ha! 12:0.

Is it really?

No one noticed the sneer curling Li Xin’s lips; all eyes were glued to the screen, seeing the Flying Tiger team move like a hunting leopard, suddenly bursting with speed and shifting left, dodging the bullet at the last moment. How did he do it?

No one saw clearly, nor had time to ponder. The Flying Tiger team fires, scoring a headshot!

11:1.

“How did he do that?” Zhang Gui curses, frowning, and quickly controls his respawned Flying Fox to rush out. There’s no time to think—he must secure a shooting position before his opponent does.

“Brother Gui, it’s probably just lag—he happened to slip out. Don’t be angry, just his luck. It’s 11:1; no way he can turn this around,” the café manager flatters, offering a well-reasoned analysis that everyone believes.

After all, it’s the only explanation that makes sense.

Er Gouzi, who had just felt a glimmer of hope, instantly deflates, glancing at Li Xin, who remains calm and unruffled. Whether trailing or scoring a kill, his demeanor never changes. Er Gouzi grows ever more curious about him. The others, however, think Li Xin has given up, resigned to defeat.

What’s the use of begging for mercy? Might as well finish the game—begging only makes it more embarrassing.

“Brother Gui, tall box at mid!”

Someone shouts a warning, hoping to earn Zhang Gui’s favor, but it backfires, and Zhang Gui snaps at him angrily.

“Shut up! If you think you’re so good, come play yourself!”

The young man’s face pales, trembling as he steps back. Others caution that Brother Gui is a gaming master—reporting enemy positions is disrespectful, tarnishing his reputation.

The youth nods helplessly, realizing he nearly caused trouble, sweat beading on his forehead.

Li Xin, meanwhile, smiles quietly. Zhang Gui does have some presence. Most of it is affectation, but at least he has some principles and boundaries.

He won’t give him another chance.

From the tall box at mid, the Flying Tiger team fires a shot toward the left of the defenders' base entrance. The crowd is about to scoff, but instead, they are stunned.

Zhang Gui’s Grand Marshal Flying Fox appears right there, struck dead by a headshot.

Godlike intuition? Perfect timing?

No one wants to believe it. In the past two minutes, they had already labeled Li Xin as an amateur. Now, two consecutive supernatural kills—such a drastic reversal doesn’t seem possible for the same player. Even more bizarre, the Flying Tiger team is still lagging, but the intervals and frequency of lag have suddenly decreased.

Strange!

After being killed twice in a row, Zhang Gui grows angry and frustrated, but the gap is still vast. He remains confident in his skill. Spitting fiercely, he mutters curses and sends Flying Fox out again.

“Brother Gui, go! Brother Gui, you’re invincible!”

A follower cheers, and suddenly the whole café erupts, thunderous and overwhelming. Normally, Zhang Gui would bask in the attention, but today, for some reason, he feels distracted—the boy opposite is far too calm.

“If I finish this AK round quickly and move on to the second match, I’ll win for sure. When it comes to sniper play, hardly anyone can match me—even my cousin admits it.”

Zhang Gui mutters to himself, swinging the mouse faster. As Flying Fox leaps out, he fires a shot at the mid tall box.