Lu Xiao wanted to get closer, but was driven back by the chilling “keep away” aura radiating from Fu Songcheng.
He paid no mind to Lu Xiao’s request to team up—even his refusal seemed offhand, almost careless.
In this slaughterhouse called Death Party, trust was scarcer than points, and teaming up meant more chips for betrayal.
Supporting his faintly throbbing back, he avoided those ill-intentioned, scrutinizing stares and walked straight toward the “Supply Exchange” glowing with a pale blue halo.
At the center of the loading zone stood a massive square monolith, and before it hovered countless semi-transparent interactive screens.
Fu Songcheng stood before the monolith and tapped lightly with his fingertip.
A personal panel popped up before him. The 500 points on it were his payment from clearing the novice instance.
“Open the points shop.”
The screen instantly expanded into a massive three-dimensional list.
The items here were dazzling in their variety—everything from ordinary daggers to grenades—but the price tags were enough to deter any novice.
Fu Songcheng’s gaze swept rapidly across the “Consumables” column.
His first priority was dealing with the wound on his back.
Because of “Damage Synchronization,” every hit that madman Yu Huaiting took in his instance was shared with him.
He was afraid Yu Huaiting would wear him down to death from a distance.
The dizziness from blood loss was eroding his will.
He locked onto an item called “Basic Recovery Potion.”
Name: Recovery Potion (Basic)
Price: 150 points
Effect: Restores 10% HP.
Fu Songcheng clicked “Buy” without a moment’s hesitation.
A test tube filled with emerald-green liquid materialized in his hand.
He twisted off the cap and downed it. A cool sensation rapidly spread from his throat through his whole body. The burning pain in his back instantly lessened, and a tingling sensation of new flesh growing came from the wound.
His HP was restored—but he knew this was only temporary.
As long as Yu Huaiting was still fighting, he could be dragged down by this “lover” at any moment.
“150 points.”
This expense was completely unnecessary.
If not for that damned thing called “Damage Synchronization,” he wouldn’t have been in such a sorry state right after leaving the novice instance.
Fu Songcheng opened the points shop again, his fingertip flying across the search bar.
Keywords: dissolve relationship, lover, unbind.
The screen flickered a few times and pulled up several results—but Fu Songcheng’s expression only grew darker.
【Sever the Karmic Chain】: Price: 100,000 points. (Note: Instance drop only. Currently out of stock in the shop.)
【Water of Oblivion (Concentrated)】: Price: 50,000 points. (Note: Only erases both parties’ memories of the contract.)
“Trash shop.”
Fu Songcheng cursed under his breath.
Since he couldn’t shake him off, then he’d make him pay the price.
Fu Songcheng let out a cold snort, opened the “Curios” category, and spent 10 points to buy a [Love Letter] radiating a sickly-sweet fragrance.
He stood before the monolith and elegantly unfolded the letter paper.
If one ignored the hatred in his eyes, the scene might genuinely look like a gentleman deep in love, writing to his distant beloved.
He wrote extremely fast, his strokes sharp and fierce with anger:
“Yu Huaiting:
Thanks to you, the moment I left the novice instance, I was forced to pay 150 points in medical fees to share the damage you took.
If you have even a shred of basic decency, then right now, immediately, reimburse me for the losses caused by sharing your damage.
—Fu Songcheng”
He clicked “Send.”
The envelope transformed into a streak of red light and vanished into the void.
…
After sending the letter, Fu Songcheng didn’t bother waiting for a reply. He looked down at himself.
Right now, he looked terrible.
His originally well-tailored custom suit had been stained dark purple by dried blood. His shirt collar was askew, his cuffs soaked through with blood.
This “corporate drone” outfit was hardly suited for a life-or-death instance.
He flipped to the shop’s “Personal Equipment” section.
He set his sights on a combat suit.
Name: Standard Combat Suit.
Price: 50 points.
Attributes: Defense +5, Wear-resistant.
Fu Songcheng clicked “Buy.”
A beam of blue light swept over his entire body, and the clammy, sticky sensation vanished instantly.
It was replaced by a snug, crisp, power-infused sense of being wrapped up.
He tugged at the collar. The high-necked design perfectly covered his slender neck, which had grown somewhat pale from blood loss.
Next, he continued shopping and opened the weapons section.
Name: Basic Dagger.
Price: 100 points.
Attributes: Attack +15, Agility bonus +3.
With this weapon added, the 500 points he’d worked so hard to earn had already shrunk to 190 (after deducting 150 for the potion, 50 for the combat suit, 100 for the dagger, and 10 for the love letter).
He took the long-handled dagger, gleaming with a faint blue luster, from the void.
The blade was extremely thin. The faint whistle it made as it spun between his fingertips gave him a long-missed sense of control.
He clipped the dagger precisely onto the waist loop of his combat suit.
By now, Fu Songcheng had completely shed his “office drone” aura.
His gaze had turned deep and cold—like a blade returned to its sheath but ready to draw blood at any moment.
Just as he was adjusting to his new equipment, a huge red exclamation mark suddenly popped up on his system panel.
[You have a reply from “Yu Huaiting”!]
Fu Songcheng raised an eyebrow and opened it.
The entire screen held only one massive bold character:
“Scram.”
Not even a punctuation mark.
Fu Songcheng stared at that character for three seconds—and instead of getting angry, he laughed.
“Scram?”
He repeated softly, his tone gentle enough to make one’s skin crawl. “It seems you still haven’t figured out who’s holding the initiative now.”
Fu Songcheng took the Sympathy Doll out of his backpack space.
The doll bore a certain resemblance to Yu Huaiting—especially that mop of messy white curly hair, which was crafted with uncanny accuracy.
Inside the instance, Fu Songcheng’s hand had never stopped moving.
Once he left the instance, he no longer gained attribute bonuses from stroking the doll. But now, he’d decided to teach this foul-tempered lover a little lesson.
Fu Songcheng sat in the rest area and ran his hands all over the doll.
Some players nearby were curiously sizing up this newcomer, but when they saw the strange doll in his hand, they all averted their gazes.
In this godforsaken place, the stranger the behavior, the more troublesome the skill it usually represented.
Fu Songcheng extended his slender fingers and pressed them against the doll’s back—the very spot where he’d just been injured.
“Yu Huaiting, let’s try a different way of communicating.”
Fu Songcheng’s fingers began to apply force to the doll’s back.
He didn’t tear it directly. Instead, with great technical skill, he repeatedly and heavily kneaded, pinched, and twisted that fragile patch of fabric.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Fu Songcheng’s movements were neither hurried nor slow, as if he were handling a delicate work of art. He even gave the doll’s waist a vicious twist.
Deep in the “Wasteland Forbidden Zone,” Yu Huaiting was just about to deliver the final blow to the mechanical behemoth before him.
Suddenly, his expression changed drastically.
A strange, vicious ache—a mix of numbness and soreness—exploded from his back and instantly swept through his entire body. His steady footing faltered, and his greatsword swung wide, grazing past the monster’s carapace and hitting nothing.
“Fu Songcheng!”
Yu Huaiting ground out the name through clenched teeth.
During the fight just now, he hadn’t had time to reply to that garbage love letter—and Fu Songcheng’s retaliation had come immediately.
Fu Songcheng was making it impossible for him to concentrate, making every breath he took tremble with irritation.
It was utterly unreasonable!
[System Notification: Your bound target is in an extreme state of anger/agitation.]
Fu Songcheng looked at the notification on his panel and applied more force with his fingers. This time he gripped the doll directly by the neck and gave it a gentle shake.
Five seconds later.
[Ding! Received a transfer from player “Yu Huaiting”: 5,000 points.]
[Message: Fu Songcheng, get your hands off it!]
Fu Songcheng finally let go and tucked the doll back into his backpack space.
5,000 points, received.
Added to the 190 he had left, his assets had instantly jumped to 5,190 points.
Yu Huaiting actually paid up when he had points—Fu Songcheng felt like he’d latched onto a sugar daddy.
After getting his revenge on Yu Huaiting, he refocused his attention on the system interface.
Though the Death Party instances were brutal, players who survived them had basic protections.
In the loading zone, every player was given a basic rest room. The system provided food and pure water to sustain physiological functions, free of charge.
The real luxuries were the various items and intel that could raise one’s clear rate.
He swiped through the shop interface and tapped an icon that had been flashing gold—[Player Rankings].
The rankings were divided into a “Wealth Ranking” and a “Power Ranking.”
Ranking wasn’t just a symbol of status—it meant that after each round, high-ranked players could receive extra system rewards and even the right to choose their instances.
Fu Songcheng’s gaze locked onto the first line of the “Power Ranking.”
[No.1: Yu Huaiting]
Instances cleared: 18
S-rank clear rating rate: 90%
Looking at that familiar name sitting at the very top, Fu Songcheng’s pupils contracted slightly.
Eighteen instances—in a game with a death rate over 50%, that meant Yu Huaiting was a monster who had crawled out of a pile of corpses eighteen times.
By comparison, he—a newcomer who had just cleared one novice instance and ranked somewhere beyond the tens of thousands—did seem rather insignificant.
And yet, of all people, it was him who’d been bound to Yu Huaiting.
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