EM CH37

Chapter 37: God of Grenades

“You even learned how to pick locks on other people’s bicycles now? Don’t you have Eagle Wings?”

Hauled into the living room for a lecture, Yu An had changed into his pajamas, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed while listening to the scolding.

“I always get the feeling that whenever I use a core, you can sense it.” Yu An stared down at the tips of his toes. “At Guxian Hospital, even though we hadn’t crossed paths, you knew I had linked with Goat Horns. And inside the beauty salon Illusion Chamber, you showed up right when I had overused cores and couldn’t swap anymore.”

Zhao Ran rubbed the tip of his nose: “…Next time, stick to using Eagle Wings.”

Monstrosity Core: Eagle Wings, acquired by slaying one of the Peeping Eagle Bureau’s mechanical eagles, granted Yu An the ability of high-speed flight, making evading municipal surveillance far easier. However, with less than twenty-four hours of usage remaining, it couldn’t be squandered carelessly.

“How did you know I picked someone’s bike lock? Did surveillance cameras catch me? Impossible.” Yu An lifted his eyelids, his tone confident and certain.

Currently responsible for tailing Yu An, Lipu guiltily cradled its fingers and quietly slipped out of sight.

“Keeping track of my intern’s whereabouts at all times is part of my duties.” Zhao Ran raised his wrist and rested it atop Yu An’s head. “Even if you’re resentful, suck it up.”

Clutching his mission order and streamer contract in hand, Yu An had no choice but to drop the argument with Zhao Ran: “Whatever you say… Still, can’t you swap this assignment out for another one?”

“Oh, so interns get to cherry-pick their assignments now? Even in my position, I still have to follow the boss’s arrangements.”

“You’re so rich—you have a house and a car. Why stay in Hongli City risking your neck for Underground Railway’s boss?” Yu An’s gaze swept over the expensive furnishings in the living room. “Isn’t hunting Aberrants way too dangerous?”

“I have my reasons for staying here. If you want to leave, the internship contract can be voided.”

Such a casual mention of voiding it, as though whether he stayed or left mattered nothing to him. Inside the diary they had been so intimate, yet in reality he felt like just one among countless apprentices passing through the man’s hands, replaceable at any moment on grounds of insufficient capability.

“Fine, I’ll stream. It’s just playing games anyway.” Brushing Zhao Ran’s wrist aside, Yu An walked straight into the bedroom, booted up the desktop PC, and logged smoothly into his game store library. “Not having to go into the office and just staying home playing games works too.”

Having succeeded with his reverse psychology, Zhao Ran secretly curled the corners of his lips upward. Resting his elbows on the back of the gaming chair, he stood behind Yu An watching the monitor.

As Yu An scrolled the mouse wheel, row after row of horror, thriller, and action-adventure game covers appeared on his purchased library page. The titles he had played went far beyond what was listed on his resume; aside from the ones where he held speedrun world records, there were over a hundred other games large and small, nearly all boasting completion rates above ninety percent.

Staring at the games on the screen, Zhao Ran suddenly experienced an epiphany regarding why not a single cent of the allowance he had wired over the years had ever been saved.

“You didn’t do anything else at university, did you? Just played these all day long.”

“I clear them fast; doesn’t take much time.” Yu An tilted his head up to look at him. “Otherwise, what else am I supposed to do when I’m bored? It’s not like I have a partner like they do.”

He clearly wasn’t making any exaggerated expressions, yet that burning gaze hooked at a person, making it nearly impossible to resist physical contact.

Shifting his eyes away, Zhao Ran looked up at the computer monitor. Yu An reached up to touch his neck, his fingertips flicking at the Adam’s apple bobbing under restrained tension.

“Which one do you want to watch me play?”

Catching his mischievous hand, Zhao Ran handed over a new phone: “Grey Crow assigned one of their streamers to guide you. He’ll walk you through setting up the software.”

Yu An took the phone, which had already dialed through, annoyance written plainly across his face. Ordinarily, he didn’t make a single phone call all year—even when ordering takeout, he left notes to drop it at the door solely to avoid speaking to the delivery rider.

…

On the other end of the line, Huang Qi slumped before his computer, sighing in despair.

Scared half to death at Xiliu Beauty Salon just days ago, he hadn’t grown a millimeter taller and had nearly gotten an eyeball gouged out instead. When luck turned sour, even drinking cold water chipped a tooth. Most haunting of all was that guy in black he met in the salon—every night the moment he closed his eyes, Huang Qi’s mind replayed the image of him popping out his own eyeball and rolling it around in his palm.

The trauma had landed him in the hospital for three consecutive days. Barely discharged, having missed days of required streaming hours and skipped company offline events, the agency assigned him to cooperate with Underground Railway’s investigation under the pretext of offsetting his losses, even having him sign a formal non-disclosure agreement.

While framed as assisting an investigation, Huang Qi’s actual instruction was to help a rookie streamer get up to speed—commonly known as duo-queue boosting.

This wasn’t some private coaching session; it meant interacting live in front of over a million followers. If the newcomer happened to be talkative and funny, able to catch whatever banter was tossed his way, the pressure wouldn’t be too bad. But if the guy turned out to be a deadpan dummy who understood nothing and blurted nonsense on stream, Huang Qi’s own losses would be catastrophic.

Furthermore, a rookie streamer’s skill level was unpredictable. If he kept wiping on the same stage or losing consecutively in competitive matches, the poor broadcast entertainment would drive away viewers in droves and tank his own fanbase’s impression.

The phone on his desk buzzed abruptly. Scrambling to answer, Huang Qi verified the number Manager Chen had provided, delivered a polite self-introduction, inquired about the other party’s PC specs, and listed the software required for streaming.

Chattering incessantly was an innate streamer skill, yet after Huang Qi rattled off a whole monologue, the newcomer merely let out an indifferent “Mm.”

“Uh.” Huang Qi hesitated, only to hear the rookie speaking to someone else in the background: “Ever eaten Boletus luridus mushrooms? They bruise blue the second you touch them—how come you turn red the instant I touch you?”

Huang Qi felt struck by a bolt of lightning.

This bastard was straight-up flirting! Although he had braced himself for the rookie lacking professional etiquette, this level of brazenness was way overboard.

Cooperating with the investigation. Huang Qi chanted the phrase silently three times before swallowing his irritation.

Whatever. Just wing it and get through the shift.

Adjusting his camera angle and checking his network connection, Huang Qi went live as usual.

Viewers gradually poured in, bullet comments thickening from sparse trickles into dense waves—some marveling at the sudden return of a missing person, others asking after the streamer’s health.

“Thanks for the concern, everyone. I really did spend a few days in the hospital, but I’m totally fine now!” Huang Qi’s on-camera professionalism was undeniable. Facing the audience, he instantly switched into a bright, lively persona. His features were genuinely refined, particularly his slightly drooping puppy-dog eyes, making him both photogenic and endearing.

“Today I’ll be co-streaming with a brand-new streamer, ID ‘Coal Blackie.’ Anyone interested can drop him a follow first.” Clasping his hands together with an innocent, goofy grin, Huang Qi added, “Orders from the big sponsor—they want me to show a newbie the ropes.”

Better draw a clear boundary with this Coal Blackie upfront; if a broadcast disaster happened, he refused to get dragged down with him.

“Drop whatever games you guys want to see in the chat! Several titles I played recently are super fun.”

“No more horror games? What do you wanna watch—shooters? CS, PUBG, Battlefield, or Rainbow Six all work.”

“Of course, I’m a pro—is there any game I can’t handle?”

“Oh, Coal Blackie is here, connecting voice chat now.” Seeing the notification on his phone, Huang Qi hastily linked up with Coal Blackie. “Hello, hello!”

Thinking his mic had glitched, he fiddled with settings for half a minute before realizing Coal Blackie simply hadn’t spoken a word.

The atmosphere turned slightly awkward, viewers growing impatient. Wiping away sweat, Huang Qi kept up his cheerful smile to smooth things over: “Everyone gets nervous on their first livestream; I was the exact same back in the day. No worries! Chat says they want to watch a shooter—which ones do you usually play?”

After a long pause, Coal Blackie finally spoke: “Anything.”

His voice was cool, aloof, and palpably reluctant.

The bullet chat erupted in cheers; guys with pleasant voices were always popular, without exception.

Playing the icy, standoffish cool-guy persona, huh? That archetype always crashed and burned hardest. Huang Qi secretly disliked types like that, so wanting to take him down a peg, he proposed a 1v1 arena duel—just a casual exhibition match for fun.

Coal Blackie: “Sure.”

Simultaneously, Huang Qi’s phone buzzed with a private message from Coal Blackie: “Should I win or lose?”

Tickled into laughing out of exasperation, Huang Qi typed back: “Just play your best. Pick the weirdest weapons possible—that makes for better stream entertainment.”

Coal Blackie: “Okay.”

Huang Qi equipped only a P1911 pistol fitted with a red-dot sight. Bringing an assault rifle to a casual exhibition was boring, and more importantly, without knowing the newcomer’s skill level, crushing him too hard would bore the audience and earn him a scolding from Manager Chen.

Still uneasy, he pulled up Coal Blackie’s stream on his secondary monitor to keep tabs on whether the rookie’s feed looked normal and ensure his camera didn’t capture anything compromising.

Although Coal Blackie had his camera turned on, his face wasn’t in frame. Only the keyboard and mouse setup appeared in the bottom right corner: a pair of slender, clean hands resting over the keys, launching the game, entering the arena, and selecting gear.

Everything looked normal enough—until on screen, Coal Blackie rotated his horizontal keyboard ninety degrees on the desk, turning it completely vertical.

Huang Qi suddenly felt his initial assessment of the newcomer might have been slightly off.

Coal Blackie brought no firearm at all, gripping only a single frag grenade in hand.

“Folks in chat, in a match like this, whoever brings the less weird weapon loses—so I’ve already lost, friends.” Since Coal Blackie refused to talk, Huang Qi could only work overtime to keep the energy up.

Bullet comments flooded the screen screaming “pro player.”

The arena was filled with shipping containers and cover spots for players to maneuver. In a 1v1 duel, first to twenty kills won; if they stalemated too long, whoever held the higher score when time expired took the match.

The duel began.

Huang Qi played by his standard playbook, sweeping along container cover while peeking half his hitbox around corners. His aim was sharp, and he rarely embarrassed himself in 1v1s against other streamers.

Yet he couldn’t find his opponent anywhere.

Just as he began suspecting Coal Blackie had fat-fingered a key and glitched out of bounds, he glanced over at the monitor displaying Coal Blackie’s stream.

On screen, Coal Blackie’s character was winding back an arm to hurl a grenade.

And the terminal point of that grenade’s arc was directly above Huang Qi’s head. The moment it entered lethal blast radius, it detonated midair, sending Huang Qi straight to the respawn screen.

Chat roared with laughter, spamming “God of Grenades” and “Nice catch.”

A faint sense of dread crept over Huang Qi. Respawning, he rushed to seize high ground behind cover, yet another cooked insta-grenade landed squarely at his feet, exploding the exact millisecond it rolled into range without granting Huang Qi even a fraction of a second to strafe clear.

“Damn, cruise missiles?!” Rolling up his sleeves, Huang Qi got serious. This newbie was actually something else.

Yet even after turning serious—going so far as to stream-snipe his opponent’s monitor in the late rounds to triangulate his position—he was still swiftly farmed for all twenty kills by Coal Blackie, ending with a score of 20 to 1.

Curious viewers hopping back and forth between both streams returned to report: “Coal Blackie only picked up twenty-one grenades the entire match. One bounced off a wall and blew himself up—that’s where your single point came from.”

With the stream buried beneath walls of hahaha, Huang Qi leaned back into his chair, thoroughly stunned, scratching his head.

…

Coal Blackie’s follower count skyrocketed exponentially.

Letting go of the keyboard, Yu An rubbed the sweat off his palms. In truth, every single sentence he spoke left his legs trembling uncontrollably and his voice quivering faintly.

Finally over, he swiftly muted his mic and killed the camera. Crouching up onto his chair, he wiped his sweaty palms on his pajama pants, staring blankly into space as though his brain had crashed.

“Not bad, Coal Blackie.” Leaning over the backrest of the chair, Zhao Ran looked down with a teasing smile, pressing the back of his hand against Yu An’s cheek. Surrounded by rowdy, enthusiastic bullet chat, some people didn’t show color when flustered, yet their skin was practically sizzling hot to the touch.

“That’s enough warmup. Play this game next.” Zhao Ran slid a fresh USB flash drive across the desk before Yu An. “The updated build of Grey Crow: Dollhouse provided by Grey Crow Company, with several additional scenarios unlocked.”

“Stay alert for any anomalies while you play.” Zhao Ran instructed softly, “This Friday, the Security Technology and Mechanical Logistics teams begin calibrating the linking apparatus. I may attempt linking into the game environment first, so I’ll need you to clear the path ahead for me.”