The intense training continued late into the night.
Fu Songcheng dragged his somewhat exhausted body back to his rest room.
He casually pulled off his sweat-soaked jacket. The black tight-fitting combat suit outlined his lean waist and long legs.
He walked to the washstand, turned on the tap, and scooped up the ice-cold water to wash his face hard.
Just then, the system panel suddenly popped up without warning, accompanied by a sharp beep.
[System Notification: Your lover “Yu Huaiting” has logged out of the instance.]
[Clear Record: 19th formal instance.]
[Instance Rating: S-rank. Points awarded: 20,000.]
Fu Songcheng looked at the data on the panel and grabbed a towel to wipe the water droplets off his face.
“Twenty thousand points… no wonder he spends money so freely. Finally out.”
He was just calculating how to conduct a friendly negotiation with this number-one-ranked big shot when the rest room’s window suddenly burst with a loud crack!
Bang—!
The glass window was thrown open by a brute, overwhelming force.
Fu Songcheng reacted instantly, backhanding the [Dagger] from his waist.
Night wind poured through the window. A tall, slender figure crouched on the windowsill.
The man wore a tattered black trench coat, most of his body still stained with undried dark red blood and the scorch marks of gunpowder.
A shock of outrageously arrogant white hair danced in the wind. His signature peach-blossom eyes were fixed dead on Fu Songcheng, radiating undisguised wildness and killing intent.
It was Yu Huaiting.
He’d just come out of an S-rank instance, hadn’t even bothered to wash the blood off, and had directly used a high-grade tracking item to lock onto the [Lover]’s position, coming straight to his door.
“Found you, my lover.”
Yu Huaiting’s voice was hoarse, carrying the sick thrill of someone who’d just walked out of a slaughter.
He didn’t even bother with pleasantries. He raised his hand and used a rune with an intricate pattern.
[A-rank Item: Sealing Talisman]
A golden chain materialized out of thin air, shooting toward Fu Songcheng’s face like a venomous snake.
Yu Huaiting’s goal was clear: he wanted to forcibly seal the [Sympathy Doll] in Fu Songcheng’s system backpack and completely cut off the leverage the other had over him.
Fu Songcheng’s eyes sharpened. He gripped his dagger and swung to meet the chain.
However, before the dagger could even touch the chain, the system panel suddenly erupted with a blinding red light.
[Warning! Forcibly bound item ‘Sympathy Doll’ has highest-level permission protection!]
[A-rank item ‘Sealing Talisman’ activation failed! Item destroyed!]
With a crisp crack, the golden chain shattered mid-air.
Yu Huaiting crouched on the windowsill, looking at the annihilated A-rank item. He clicked his tongue and cursed: “Fuck, what kind of garbage ruling is this.”
He leaped down from the windowsill, his tall frame carrying an immense oppressive weight as he advanced on Fu Songcheng step by step.
Only then did the room’s light fully illuminate Fu Songcheng’s face.
Yu Huaiting’s steps paused slightly.
He’d originally assumed that someone who sent love letters and hid in the safe zone squeezing a doll for revenge must be an ugly, shifty-eyed novice waste.
But he hadn’t expected the person before him to actually quite suit his tastes.
Fu Songcheng had just washed his face. His short black hair was slightly damp, clinging messily to his forehead.
A few water droplets hung on the bridge of his high nose, sliding down his pale, slender neck and finally disappearing into the slightly open collar of his black combat suit. A black sports wristband encircled his wrist.
The most striking thing was those eyes.
Clearly at a disadvantage, clearly facing the number one on the Power Ranking, Yu Huaiting—yet Fu Songcheng’s eyes held not a shred of fear.
Pure, rational, even somewhat provocative.
The hostility in Yu Huaiting’s eyes involuntarily shifted to interest.
His peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly, and he unscrupulously scanned Fu Songcheng from head to toe, his tongue pressing against his upper palate.
“Not bad-looking.”
Yu Huaiting closed in until the distance between them shrank to less than half a meter.
He lowered his head, almost pressing against Fu Songcheng’s ear, his tone arrogant and full of threat: “But no matter how good-looking you are, if your hands aren’t honest, they’ll get chopped off. I’m warning you—don’t touch that doll again.”
Fu Songcheng didn’t retreat a single step.
Even though the other man’s thick scent of blood and scorched flesh nearly enveloped him entirely, Fu Songcheng’s grip on the dagger remained steady as a rock.
“I can accept not using that doll to boost attributes.”
Fu Songcheng lifted his chin slightly, gazing straight into Yu Huaiting’s wild peach-blossom eyes, his voice cold as ice. “On the premise that you don’t act like a suicidal mad dog in instances and drag me into getting hurt for no reason.”
Hearing “mad dog,” Yu Huaiting laughed in fury.
He suddenly struck, grabbing Fu Songcheng’s wrist that held the blade.
Yu Huaiting’s grip was immense, clamping down on Fu Songcheng’s sports wristband like an iron vise, the rough calluses of his fingertips grinding heavily against the fabric.
“Drag you down?”
Yu Huaiting yanked Fu Songcheng sharply toward himself until their noses nearly touched. “It’s not like I didn’t compensate you with money!”
Fu Songcheng’s wrist ached from the grip. He didn’t struggle. Seizing the moment, he twisted his wrist in reverse, pressing the dagger directly against Yu Huaiting’s waist and abdomen. The tip of the blade easily sliced through the trench coat’s fabric.
“That’s not enough.”
Fu Songcheng sneered, pressing the tip of the blade in another fraction. “I share your damage, which adds uncontrollable lethal risk in instances. Can money buy life?”
Yu Huaiting glanced down at the dagger pressed against his abdomen.
That little sting wasn’t even as good as a scratch to him.
Instead, he pushed forward, letting the blade tip cut into his skin, and glared at Fu Songcheng through gritted teeth: “When you were stroking that doll, didn’t you drag me down in my instance? While I was fighting for my life in there, you were pulling that stunt on me?”
The two locked in a standoff.
One gripping the other’s wrist, one pressing a dagger to the other’s abdomen.
The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, the taut tension ready to snap at any moment. Even their breaths intertwined and heated in the narrow distance.
Fu Songcheng loathed this feeling of his life being outside his control. “Cut the crap. Since you don’t want to be affected by me either, is there a way to dissolve the lover relationship?”
“Can’t be done.”
Yu Huaiting released Fu Songcheng’s wrist and irritably scrubbed his own hair. He strode over to the bed and sat down, his blood-stained combat boots stepping on the pristine white sheets. “This is the new identity system the game just updated. Right now, with the shop and the items available, I can’t dissolve it.”
Hearing that answer, Fu Songcheng’s gaze sank completely.
If even the number-one big shot said there was no way, then this path was a dead end for now.
“Then let’s find a compromise.”
Fu Songcheng put away his dagger. “We stagger our instance times. When one person enters an instance, the other stays in the loading zone to recover. At least that way, we won’t both die in an instance together.”
This was the most reliable plan Fu Songcheng could think of at the moment.
However, Yu Huaiting looked at him as if he were an idiot and let out a scoffing laugh.
“You think this is a kindergarten shift schedule?”
Yu Huaiting didn’t mince words. “Different instances have completely different time flows. It’s possible I fight in there for half a month while only five minutes pass out here for you. Or I go in for ten minutes, and a whole month has passed on your side. You can’t stagger it at all.”
The last path was blocked too.
Fu Songcheng stood in place, the air pressure around him dropping to its lowest point.
His gaze turned utterly dark, the madness in his bones being forced out.
He looked at Yu Huaiting sitting on the bed and suddenly let out a soft laugh.
“Since we can’t unbind and can’t stagger the time.”
Fu Songcheng walked step by step up to Yu Huaiting, looking down at him, his tone calm enough to make one’s skin crawl. “Then let’s die together.”
Yu Huaiting froze, a flicker of astonishment crossing his peach-blossom eyes.
“Next time, whether you’re fighting an S-rank boss or running for your life, I’ll take out that doll and interact with it to my heart’s content.”
Fu Songcheng looked at him. “I guarantee you’ll die before I do.”
The entire room fell deathly silent.
Yu Huaiting stared into Fu Songcheng’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if Fu Songcheng was joking.
“Fuck.”
Yu Huaiting cursed under his breath and shot to his feet.
“I’m number one on the rankings,” Yu Huaiting’s tall frame closed in again, his eyes fixed on Fu Songcheng with a sinister glare. “My life is precious. I will absolutely not be dragged to death by a burden like you.”
As he spoke, he swept his hand.
Clatter—!
A crisp clinking of glass rang through the room.
Countless potion bottles radiating high-tier light appeared out of thin air, crashing down at Fu Songcheng’s feet like a small mountain.
Hemostatic potions, potent recovery liquids, even rare items for instant healing—they covered most of the floor.
“Listen carefully.”
Yu Huaiting’s tone was forceful. “From now on, if you get hurt in an instance, you take medicine! Don’t you dare touch that doll again!”
Fu Songcheng lowered his eyes, swept a glance over the expensive potions covering the floor, and raised his eyes coldly. “No.”
“What the hell else do you want?!”
Yu Huaiting instantly turned irritable.
“Interfering with my instance pace and clear rate.”
Fu Songcheng looked straight at Yu Huaiting, not yielding an inch. “You think just giving me some medical fees is enough?”
“You—”
Yu Huaiting laughed in anger. He had truly never seen anyone extort him with such self-righteousness.
“You’d better know when to stop.”
Yu Huaiting’s eyes turned completely cold. “If you’ve really got guts, go earn it yourself in an instance.”
With that, Yu Huaiting no longer had the patience to spend another second with this “lover” who was impervious to both soft and hard tactics and full of schemes.
He turned around and stepped onto the windowsill he’d opened.
The night wind stirred his arrogant white hair.
Yu Huaiting looked back and gave Fu Songcheng a deep look—a look mixed with the fury of being provoked and an unshakable irritation.
Then his figure flickered and leaped into the night, vanishing without a trace.
They parted on bad terms.
Fu Songcheng stood alone in the messy room.
He looked down at the floor covered in hemostatic potions and high-tier recovery liquids, each bottle worth a fortune.
“Hot-tempered, arrogant, and conceited.”
Fu Songcheng bent down and expressionlessly picked up a recovery potion, weighed it in his hand, then stored it in his backpack space.
Leave a Reply