TBR CH209

“I said, don’t fall into my hands.” The Demon King spoke softly and slowly.

The kiss undeniably had a profound effect on him. Kriesmeier’s eyes were red, his hair disheveled, and his aura became even more formidable and powerful.

Primal desire stirred within him. The Demon King curled his fingertips, a flicker of satiation in his dark golden pupils, but then an untamed greed ignited.

The human had walked past the starving beast again and again, yet remained elusive. This intensified his hatred; he had held back for this moment for too long.

Black flames erupted from his fingertips, spreading like lightning in the direction of his outstretched hand.

These flames, upon touching living matter, would incinerate it to ash; even merely being too close, as now, would cause scorching. The blade at Roland’s neck further constrained his movements.

The Demon King faced the human with utmost vigilance. His inhuman pupils, capable of staring for long periods without blinking, were now fully engaged.

Roland felt like sighing and laughing at the same time. Kriesmeier had, in a matter of seconds, turned their reunion into a smoke-filled battlefield. He used all his might; even outside the demon palace, the formidable power of this ruler could likely be felt—all because he thought Roland was trying to escape.

“My dear,” Roland slowly raised his hand, “don’t be so nervous. I can’t run away anyway.”

He knew how vulnerable he was now.

He could feel the fire elements intensely filling the space he occupied; only the other party could manipulate them. He had lost the ability to use magic.

“You have no credit to speak of with me,” Kriesmeier said coldly, gripping Roland’s wrist from behind.

When the demon’s fingertips touched the human’s pulse, the Demon King paused. The faint yet definite heartbeat proved the reality of the person before him. There was no human more alive than this—the way he smiled, the way he spoke to him, the emotions in his eyes; no replica could simulate even one percent of it.

Precisely because of this, he absolutely could not treat him with the same casual attitude he used with nightmares.

But why was his heartbeat so faint?

“Objectively speaking,” Roland allowed him to hold his wrist, speaking calmly, “You probably don’t know yet, but the staff ‘Nova’ has been shattered. Think about it, what else do I have to contend with you?”

He added with a slight smile, “I am now utterly powerless, reduced to this. Tying myself to Lord Lust was actually to climb up to the Demon King’s high branch—”

To prove the truth of his words, in the next second, the staff “Nova” appeared in Roland’s hand.

For a long time, this staff had been the symbol of the Archmage. The binding contract from deep within his soul ensured that “Nova,” even damaged, could still respond to Roland’s summons.

Kriesmeier stared at the dim gray gem, looking utterly skeptical and wary. After a long moment, he enveloped his fingertip in demonic power and cautiously touched it.

Even though he deliberately restrained the flames at his fingertip, that gem, once possessing incredible power, seemed on the verge of shattering into dust.

“What did you do?” Kriesmeier’s voice sounded even darker, and he pressed “Demonic Eye” a few more inches deeper.

He seemed even less able to accept this fact than Roland.

“More or less…” Roland said flippantly, in a jesting tone, “Saved the world?”

As soon as he finished speaking, he finally couldn’t control himself and turned his head to cough, as if he had been suppressing it for a while.

The human’s fingers couldn’t hold “Nova”; the staff slipped from his hand and fell to the floor, making a crisp tap on the demon palace’s obsidian ground. Kriesmeier stared at “Nova” with an unpredictable expression.

Roland coughed a few times, then pressed his lips together, pretending nothing had happened.

“I promised you, so I wanted to come back alive to see you,” he said, feigning lightness, “but my staff clearly wasn’t so lucky. Actually, that’s not the most regrettable thing; the feather you gave me also burned away, leaving not even a speck of ash…”

He wasn’t telling the truth.

Kriesmeier thought, seeing the poorly hidden regret in the human’s eyes as he looked at “Nova.”

Young Roland had tried every means to obtain a staff, but met with setbacks everywhere. The legendary Archmage had always prided himself on pure light magic. He was born with the talent to learn magic.

“Cannot be restored?” the Demon King interrupted him.

Roland looked up, surprised, his amber eyes hesitant: “I think not.”

“I don’t believe it,” Kriesmeier said.

This statement, for some reason, made the human’s heart tremble.

Kriesmeier bent down and picked up the staff from the floor. His dark golden pupils intently reflected the lusterless gem. The demon didn’t comment further.

“Do you want to keep it as a souvenir?” Roland asked, composing himself. “That’s up to you too.”

Despite the human’s words, he could sense the Demon King’s caution. In the staff’s current fragile state, even a slightly stronger surge of magic would likely break it in two, and the light materials it was made of resisted the Demon King’s touch.

But it remained perfectly intact until Kriesmeier, expressionless, tossed it into his demonic spatial pouch.

Kriesmeier’s dark golden pupils then looked at Roland with displeasure.

The human didn’t know what had angered him again, but now the answer to appease him was very simple.

“I’m right here,” Roland said. “One hundred percent the real me.”

He swayed forward slightly, his moist breath brushing against the Demon King’s face, his voice sounding obscure and excited, “My dear, didn’t you say you wanted to lock me up—or keep me confined airtight, or sever my neck? Just do it. Anything you do to me now is allowed.”

In the Demon Lord’s eyes, dark golden dust seemed to rise from the dark tide.

The black flames had already extinguished.

Instead, a chain, seemingly just forged from fire, coiled around the Demon King’s fingertips.

It gleamed silver, surely made of some special metal, otherwise it wouldn’t make sense for it not to melt in the scorching demonic flames. It seemed Kriesmeier had prepared this for a long time.

Roland had long anticipated this.

Before they could settle down and properly air out their past grievances, they first had to completely satisfy Kriesmeier’s twisted possessiveness… although, to that extent, he also quite liked it.

The chain in Kriesmeier’s hand didn’t look ferocious; it even possessed a certain artistic elegance. But it wasn’t until its cold touch fell upon Roland that the mage couldn’t help but shiver, realizing the true purpose behind its creation.

It was made of an extremely special and precious insulating metal.

The candlelight in the hall fell upon its surface, yet was silently swallowed whole. Roland tried to sense the surrounding air; all traces of elemental existence were erased. He found himself completely unable to detect the presence of magical elements.

If the shattering of “Nova” had stifled his power at the level of an artifact, then the chain severed his ability to cast spells at its very source.

“A clever move,” the Archmage praised, assessing the shackles.

He consciously raised his hands, making it convenient for the Demon King to shackle his wrists.

Kriesmeier paused, then lowered his eyes, focusing on the chains.

He meticulously fastened the chains to his wrists and ankles. His cold fingertips, through the thin robe—yes, Lord Lust had only dressed the human in a white outer robe, now somewhat disheveled—gently touched his skin.

As Kriesmeier bent down to adjust, Roland leaned his head onto his shoulder.

The Demon King’s scent was not pleasant.

Blood, cold steel, and cruel slaughter. All things ordinary people would want to avoid.

He leaned in, and Kriesmeier didn’t push him away, allowing him to rest there, fully concentrating on adjusting the chains until the silver lock clicked, and a bell-like chime heralded the restriction of the human’s freedom.

In the demon’s dark golden eyes, an indescribable sense of fulfillment emerged, yet also a hint of disbelief that everything had gone so smoothly.

He had craved this for too long. Kriesmeier unhesitatingly bent his knees, half-kneeling on the demon palace floor. The demon didn’t care about bowing his head before a human, nor what this gesture might mean to humans. His vast wings spread across the ground with the movement, and Roland, emboldened, stroked his feathers.

At the same time, Kriesmeier’s long, pale fingers wrapped the chain around the human’s ankle. This posture was convenient, just as the human had done to him moments ago.

However, the sensation was different.

The human carried a fragrant, sweet scent—he must have picked up too many incense aromas from Lord Lust. But a deeper scent was still uniquely his: parchment, books, and distant stars.

Roland felt a tickle at his ankle and couldn’t help but inhale.

It felt as if some predator had set its sights on his most vulnerable flesh and was intently about to pounce and bite.

Ugh, bite if you want.

The Archmage thought magnanimously. He was now indulging the Abyss Demon to an incredible degree.

Kriesmeier finally straightened up. The tyrant of the abyss still had his lips tightly pressed in a cold line, but his dark golden eyes, unable to hide their satisfaction, likely betrayed his emotions.

“Satisfied?” Roland asked, smiling, as if being strictly confined made him happy.

“No.”

With half the prey secured, the darker part of Kriesmeier’s heart expanded endlessly. He gazed sinisterly at the shackled Roland, his dark golden pupils narrowed, slowly weighing the pleasure this scene brought him, and the greater unease hidden behind that pleasure.

He roughly tugged the chain, and Roland stumbled involuntarily.

“Only chains,” the Demon King said in a low voice, looking towards the deeper corridors of the demon palace, “I don’t believe that’s enough to match the severity of your lies.”

Kriesmeier was like constantly locking an already secure safe.

Roland thought this, but also found it harmless. It didn’t affect him anyway; it was just going from having no power to having absolutely no power.

In a sense, this was actually the safest place in the entire Mirar Continent.

Before long, Roland witnessed firsthand the meaning behind the Demon King’s words.

“Oh my God—”

The human was pulled by the Demon King into the inner chambers, and in an instant, he felt that the delicate chains on his wrists and ankles were nothing.

After all, most of Kriesmeier’s inner chambers were filled with rare treasures, impossible to find elsewhere. Expensive ornaments and exotic sharp objects were scattered everywhere. Each sparkling gem was the size of a pigeon egg. Roland even saw a radiant, iridescent moonstone.

“Tell me,” Roland murmured, “this wouldn’t happen to be the one from my statue in the kingdom square… Well, I guess I won’t ask.”

Kriesmeier’s gaze said it all.

The demon’s gaze was chilling. He led his spoils deeper into the treasure hoard—or rather, the spoil himself was even more excited than him.

The human eagerly walked ahead, and if not for the chain held by Kriesmeier, he would have walked even faster.

But this didn’t stop him from getting a first look at Kriesmeier’s masterpiece.

In the very center of the treasures, there was a cage.

A massive cage, cast from pure gold and mithril.

The cage was practically the size of a room, yet incredibly exquisite, with lines forming fluid and beautiful arcs that then converged at the top, an unparalleled work of art.

Inside the cage, there was a fluffy carpet that went up to the ankles, crimson pillows embroidered with gold thread, enormous luminous pearls for illumination scattered around, and large clusters of blood-red blossoming flowers.

This was practically a lair built according to a beast’s aesthetic.

Kriesmeier once again looked at the human with his gloomy and dangerous gaze, seemingly ready to see him flustered or remorseful.

“You will never escape,” he declared. “It’s too late now.”

He bit off “too late now” with murderous intent.

“This is the prison I’ve prepared for you, the price you’ll pay for your transgression and offense. I will never allow you to leave my side again.”

But the human didn’t seem worried.

Not only not worried, Roland smiled and turned to face him.

He could, of course, tell that this was a gift specially prepared for him. Everything, like a crow liking to bring back shiny objects to build its nest, this was a massive lair meticulously crafted by Kriesmeier.

And the owner of the lair, Kriesmeier, the Demon King of the Abyss, had undoubtedly placed his most precious treasure at its center.

“This is truly—” Roland exclaimed, then gently pressed a kiss to Kriesmeier’s cheek.

“This is truly so romantic, Kris.”

Undoubtedly, the Demon King slowly rotated his startled dark golden eyes, dazed by the human’s kiss.

The rain in Licheng stopped in the latter half of the night.

When the sun rose in the morning, it quickly swept away the dampness that had lingered for days.

People woke up normally, going to work, studying, or simply going for a walk. Bathed in the bright, soft light, they felt a sense of loss for some reason, yet also found it precious just to breathe the fresh air.

The witch held a mobile phone in her hand, which vibrated slightly, displaying a dialog box.

Hilda looked cautiously at this strange electronic device entrusted to her by her mentor before he left.

What appeared on it… was a completely black interface?

“DONE!” The page first displayed this sentence, then suddenly a picture of “black cat bouncing.jpg” popped up. No matter who was on the other side of the chat box, it was definitely excited now. “The two worlds will no longer collide, and there’s no danger of destruction. However, I’ve specially kept a secret passage for you, Roland, you can go back now—”

“Wait,” the Black Book stared blankly at the witch, “Where’s the Archmage?”

Hilda, truly the Chief Witch, remained calm in the face of strangeness: “Although I don’t know what you are, Master has already left on his own.”

Black Book: “?”

“Just last night,” Hilda described with difficulty, “when there was still a huge rift in the sky, he climbed to the top and engaged in a struggle with the opposing force that I couldn’t quite see clearly, and then he just jumped in… probably. Since he just saved the world, Master should know what he’s doing.”

The world consciousness was almost crashing in that instant.

It swiftly jumped to the Mirar Continent to investigate—after lifting system control, it could now easily do so—good, although Roland’s aura was faint, it was clear that the Archmage was doing well on the other side.

Then it slipped back into Roland’s phone.

“That’s right,” the Black Book confirmed the witch’s statement, “I sensed his aura in the Demon King’s City.”

Hilda offered a very formal smile.

“As expected,” she nodded. “Master entrusted me with the aftermath. Most of the magic circles have been washed away by the rain. I checked the residual traces on the ground and dealt with all possible magic disturbances that could cause adverse reactions. So, are you here to send me back now?”

“Uh,” the Black Book said, “you could say that.”

Actually, the situation was a bit better than expected. After the system disappeared, the world consciousness took over The Abyss, which it had used to connect the two worlds back then, and found the secret passage the other party had reserved for itself. Therefore, the Black Book didn’t even need to expend extra effort to create an additional passage.

However, only those who had traveled between the two worlds could use the passage.

Counting them all, there were only three: Roland, Kriesmeier, and the witch standing before him now.

“Can I not go yet?” The purple-haired witch’s words were startling.

The world consciousness was forced to face the problem of “those who should leave don’t leave, and those who shouldn’t leave rush back” after resolving the system. Although—Roland had helped it a lot in the end, almost sacrificing his life, as long as the reason was valid, it certainly didn’t mind giving a backdoor to someone related to the Archmage.

On the chat window under its fingertips, the “typing…” cursor blinked for a while.

“Do you have any unfulfilled wishes?” the Black Book asked, clearly relenting. Hilda smiled, the kind of smile a student who had consistently earned the title of “Excellent Disciple” for ten years in the distant Mirar Continent would show. She said cheerfully, “Oh, I have two things I absolutely must do.”

“Such as?”

“First, I have to go to the library—sorry, they call them libraries here—there are so many new books I’ve never seen! I’ve never seen such a place rich in research significance. Unfamiliar fields should not be allowed to exist; this is the conduct standard for our mage tower apprentices. I must spend time reading them all. I think it will be very interesting.”

“And… then what?”

“I heard the Hero lives nearby,” the witch’s smile became subtle. “Since I’ve made a special trip here, how can I not go see him? After all, we’ve known each other for a long time.”

The last few words were bitten off heavily, clearly indicating some personal grievances.

Bai Shi woke up from his stupor with a splitting headache.

He stretched out an arm with his eyes closed, seemingly knocking something over. Semi-congealed red oil trickled down his desk, spilling onto his shirt and stickying the dorm floor.

A sour, pungent smell assailed his nostrils, but failed to form a coherent thought.

When was his last memory?

He tried to recall if he had simply fallen asleep because he was too tired. His head felt as chaotic as if it had been electrocuted, a tangled mess. His fingers tightly clutched something.

That’s right, today was the day he truly became the protagonist.

Just now, he had a long dream.

In the dream, the real world and the Mirar Continent merged, and he, an ordinary-looking and unpopular person in this world, became the savior alternately praised by both worlds.

He dreamed that he enjoyed the adoration of the masses, that those who once looked down on him were stripped of all their glory with a mere flick of his finger; any slight offense against him would be severely punished, and he received the fervent admiration of many.

The dream lingered in his mind, and Bai Shi could barely see the reality before him.

Not to mention the countless concubines in the Mirar Continent, he especially liked the pure and lovely human princess, but the elves and knights who were deeply infatuated with him were also good. He even dreamed that the malicious witch was also conquered by him, though, of course, she would never receive his true affection.

Beyond that, in the real world, he also played both sides.

Recalling the contents of his dream, Bai Shi involuntarily curled his lips into a smile. Such a future was within reach, just waiting for him to open his eyes.

At this very moment, he must be in the splendid guest chambers of the palace. Opening his eyes, he would see a magnificent chandelier, and his ears already seemed to hear melodious music. His nose automatically interpreted the scents as delicacies. His heart soared.

This fantasy continued until someone slapped his shoulder heavily.

“You knocked over the instant noodles,” the voice suddenly dragged him back to reality. Bai Shi opened his eyes. The desktop before him was a mess. In the center was a computer, surrounded by an ocean of instant noodle bowls and various used trash and tissues piled high.

The half-congealed red oil he had just spilled was on the floor. His roommate, Shan Bin, clapped his back from behind. “Hurry up and clean it up, don’t step all over it later.”

Bai Shi stood there, bewildered, looking at his hands.

An unchanging world, and an unchanging self. The mirror reflected a face covered in acne, his bangs greasy. No matter how he looked, it wasn’t the handsome hero with irresistible charm he had fantasized about.

He suddenly stumbled towards the window.

Shan Bin’s eyes widened. He yelled from behind, “Hey, I told you not to step everywhere… Oh my God, I’m not dealing with this, you clean it up yourself later.”

Bai Shi just stared out the window, his face pale. After the rain stopped, the sky was as if washed clean, a spotless azure mirror high in the heavens, without a single crack.

Looking down again, people’s faces showed no particular surprise or panic.

It seemed like just another ordinary day.

“How is this possible?!” Bai Shi muttered. “This isn’t possible. How could nothing have happened? I clearly, I clearly should have…”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shan Bin shrugged. Even he, a good-natured person, decided it was better not to bother with Bai Shi. “You’ve been like this for days, staring at the computer from morning till night, not even going to class. The advisor can’t reach you either. You already failed many courses last semester. I’m just reminding you, this can’t go on.”

Bai Shi ignored his words.

His fingertips trembled slightly. He shouted the system’s name loudly in his mind. The memories of last night finally flooded him late, and he remembered that imposter, that voice that pretended to be the system to deceive him.

It was that voice that tricked him into betraying the system.

Now, the system… the system wouldn’t have abandoned him, would it?

Then all those things in his dream, his future, his numerous concubines—

At this thought, Bai Shi felt the world spin around him. He stumbled back to the computer, frantically typing the password with trembling fingers, trying to log into Abyss Continent, while anxiously calling out for that cold, mechanical voice. Without realizing it, he even yelled out loud.

The young man shouted to himself in the dorm, his eyes bloodshot.

“Oh my God,” Shan Bin backed away a step, carefully closed the dorm door, and left his seemingly mad roommate, saying with lingering fear, “I really don’t know what’s wrong.”

At this moment, Bai Shi finally unlocked the computer.

He was ecstatic to find that the Abyss icon was still on his desktop. Just as he moved the cursor and was about to press the button, he suddenly stopped as if electrocuted. He quickly pulled off his Bluetooth headset, throwing it to the ground, staring at it as if it were a venomous snake.

It was as if this action gave him some comfort, making him feel that he could still do something, and things hadn’t gotten that bad. Bai Shi nervously moved his gaze from the headset on the ground little by little to the screen.

The familiar login interface.

The account and password were already filled in by default. Bai Shi pressed the Enter key, and the game loading screen appeared before his eyes as usual, everything seemed unchanged.

Only, the original icon in the loading bar had changed to a black book with pages fluttering in the wind.

Bai Shi, of course, paid no attention to such small details. He held his breath. The moment he logged into the game, his face flushed, and he suddenly let out a heavy sigh of relief. No matter how bad the situation was, seeing the blonde, blue-eyed knight appear on the screen again always gave him a sense of relief that the system hadn’t completely abandoned him.

Bai Shi skillfully tapped a few keys.

What popped up was his game cheat system, including various divine sets and artifacts that greatly boosted levels and charisma, followed by several pages of favorability systems, with pink favorability bars next to the icons of many young admirers.

The situation wasn’t that bad—

Just as he was thinking this, his mouse suddenly moved on its own. Bai Shi rubbed his eyes furiously, thinking it was an illusion, but the moment he blinked, the interface before him suddenly underwent a drastic change.

The interface, originally filled with various data, suddenly seemed to split and fold, fanning out like pages, then was drenched in black ink, covering all existing content.

Black text on a white background, the appearing words made Bai Shi disbelieve his eyes:

“Player Bai Mingchen”

“You have been detected engaging in violations such as unauthorized use of cheats, modification of game data, and reduction of game difficulty. Your account will now be subject to corresponding penalties, and all unlawfully acquired benefits will be revoked. Do you agree to accept the corresponding treatment measures?”

“Agree / Disagree”

The two options on the screen looked so stark that fear filled his heart. Bai Shi gripped the mouse, shaking it frantically. However, the mouse did not regain his control because of his movements; on the contrary, the cursor before his eyes slowly and unequivocally moved towards “Agree.”

“Click”

Although he had already thrown away his headphones, Bai Shi still heard the sound of the mouse clicking as if it were an illusion.

“Player confirmed.”

He released the mouse, dazed and disbelieving.

It was him… he accidentally pressed the button while struggling for control.

For some reason, he had a hunch that he felt an almost mocking emotion on the pitch-black page before him. The text on the page dissipated like a receding tide, and the black book folded up, disappearing from Bai Shi’s sight.

His pupils once again reflected the familiar cheat menu.

Bai Shi’s gaze nervously scanned the data and the items in his inventory. So far, nothing had changed. Before he could even sigh in relief, the ghostly cursor once again moved on its own.

Wait, wait.

What was it going to do?

Bai Shi desperately tried to control the mouse again, to regain control of the cursor. But it was no use. Right before him, the cursor cheerfully clicked open his game inventory, first approaching his divine artifact, “Hero’s Sword.” Right before the young man’s eyes, a “Delete” option popped up next to the artifact.

Bai Shi felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave from head to toe.

He desperately thought of a way. The mouse was useless, which meant he couldn’t stop any of this.

The keyboard? He was almost smashing the escape key, but the screen remained still.

At this moment, the “Hero’s Sword” in his inventory flickered, then permanently disappeared from its slot. The cursor seemed elated, twirling briskly twice before him. Then, it began to delete other things.

Right before Bai Shi, it emptied his inventory item by item.

Bai Shi felt as if he was being roasted over a fire. After all these days, for him, his real life was no longer as important as The Abyss. He had spent so much time in the game, living his ideal life, and eagerly awaiting the day the game became real. But what he got in return was the scene before him.

His eyes were bloodshot with rage; he wished he could dive into the screen to stop everything that was happening.

But the cursor continued to delete his in-game equipment one by one, completely beyond his control. Then, it began to move towards another page.

—The Favorability page.

At this time, the left side of the screen showed the hero’s appearance in real-time. He looked very disheveled. His sword was gone, and his clothes were reduced to the original linen. His formerly tall and handsome appearance now looked cramped.

Bai Shi watched helplessly as the cursor clicked open the favorability page before him.

He suddenly realized something. As if grasping at a last straw, he swiftly reached for the power button. However, no matter how desperately and forcefully he tried to shut down the computer, the page before him was vividly reflected in the center of his pupils.

One, two…

Favorability plummeted rapidly. The hearts originally displayed next to the avatars dramatically cut into a gray, shattered animation: from one hundred to ninety, then to eighty, seventy… forty, thirty…

This was absolute torture for Bai Shi.

His heart was bleeding; he could barely imagine that the scene before him was actually happening, and he could do nothing. He shouted the system’s name loudly, uncontrollably pressing his hand to his chest, otherwise he would faint the next second.

But the expected savior did not descend.

Everything that had happened in the past, that cold, mechanical electronic voice, now seemed like nothing more than an absurd joke. Although reality was even stranger than a joke, he watched with his own eyes as every piece of his equipment, every accumulated progress bar, was reset to zero.

After deleting the last piece of data, the cursor before him rotated once, as if waving at him.

It must be over now, Bai Shi thought. Then he saw the cursor move to the world chat channel in the lower left corner of the game, clicked broadcast, and the text automatically filled the input bar, making the young man’s heart beat faster and faster. He hastily scanned a few lines:

“I, Bai Mingchen, player ID 268978, used cheats in violation of rules during gameplay, and now apologize to all players on the server…”

He blacked out.

When he woke up again, Bai Shi felt a moment of disorientation. He trembled as he re-pressed the mouse, then realized that he had finally regained control of the game. The data-related screens had disappeared.

A magnificent chandelier, silk pillows, jewel-studded accessories…

This was the palace where the hero resided.

Before he could fully come to his senses, the palace door was pushed open. A solemn royal maid entered, likely having knocked but received no response. After all, Bai Shi wasn’t wearing his headphones at the moment.

“Hero,” she said, “His Majesty the King requests your presence—You, you’re not wearing any clothes?”

The maid’s expression suddenly changed.

“You’re not the Hero, who are you?” she whispered. Then, the guards outside the door rushed in. Seeing the scene inside, they also looked greatly alarmed. Bai Shi hadn’t even reacted when the character on the screen was halted by sharp long spears.

“I am…” Bai Shi muttered, his face ashen, then realized something. He quickly adjusted the camera angle to bring the hero’s face, which he was controlling, into view.

He almost fainted again.

The hero’s face in the game, that face he had meticulously created, was gone.

The character he was now controlling actually looked exactly like him, the real him, in the present moment.