Chapter 1670 - 423: I Am a Natural Disaster—What Is There to Fear? (3)

Chapter 1670: Chapter 423: I Am a Natural Disaster—What Is There to Fear? (3)

In the next moment, an invisible force pierced through Taunt’s body, causing it to explode with a deafening roar.

That gaze, branded into his heart, was more impactful than any words.

Every time he recalled it, it made his heart tremble.

He survived, led the team out of the siege, and completed the mission.

But "Taunt" remained forever on that land.

Since then, the burden on his shoulders had become increasingly heavy.

Every decision was like walking on thin ice, repeatedly calculated.

He feared seeing that gaze again, knowing that a neglect of his could make a brother who depended on him leave.

This had also become the source of the most profound pressure deep within his heart.

He had to become stronger, more cautious, leaving nothing to chance...and he also had to protect each remaining teammate carefully.

He drained the blue liquid from the glass.

He found himself no longer able to easily turn away with the initial mindset.

His gaze skimmed across the dim lights and shadows of the bar, landing on the silent silhouette of Black Snake beside him, as Yang Xiu sighed silently in his heart.

This heavy responsibility was both a motivation and a shackle.

And how far could he lead these brothers?

While Yang Xiu was lost in thought, a pale hand gently picked up the empty glass in front of him.

Refilled it with liquid that glowed faintly blue.

It was Black Snake.

She was a stark contrast from the calm and decisive, top-notch long-range killer who could hit with every shot in the mission.

Only beside him, Black Snake would retract all her sharp edges, reverting to a girl with a touch of dependence and admiration.

She gently pushed the glass back in front of Yang Xiu, her fingertips lightly brushing against the rim, then tilted her head slightly, her slender ears slightly twitching, a playful smile appearing on her face:

"Boss, the glass can be refilled when it’s empty, but if your brow stays furrowed for too long, it’ll leave marks; I mean internally."

Yang Xiu, upon hearing this, shifted his gaze from the glass to her face.

Meeting those smiling purple eyes.

He moved his mouth slightly, wanting to say something, but it ultimately only turned into an almost inaudible sigh.

Reaching out to take the glass, he rebuked softly.

"You and your chatter."

Black Snake playfully stuck out her tongue, retreated half a step, and continued to stand quietly by his side.

Yang Xiu watched the blue ripples again swirling in the glass, understanding in his heart.

How could he not understand Black Snake’s feelings?

The feelings gradually sprouted amidst blood and fire, becoming clearer, he felt them deeply.

Her playfulness at this moment, wasn’t it also a cautious probe, a bid to dispel the pressure in his heart?

This sincere affection appeared so precious in the ruthless environment of Death City, yet also so heavy.

He was not stone-hearted, he too could be touched.

But he was more acutely aware that his "legitimate player" identity was like an invisible barrier standing between them.

He couldn’t promise the future, not even being sure when he might suddenly "leave."

Accepting this feeling might not bring solace, but rather deeper harm.

This wasn’t even a barrier of identity, but a barrier between reality and illusion.

Yang Xiu lowered his head, looking at the swaying blue glow in the glass, his thoughts drifting far away.

He thought about the widely discussed "two-dimensional wives" in the real world.

Exquisite drawings, captivating voices, carrying countless fantasies and affections, but everyone knows they will forever live on the screen.

At this moment, Black Snake stood beside him, breathing audibly, her gaze sincere, able to laugh and tease.

He could even touch her.

With delicate emotions, more real than the two-dimensional wives.

But she wouldn’t appear one morning, with body warmth, at the bedside in his real world.

There remained an unbreakable barrier between them.

The loves and hates, life and death dependency he experienced here, once disconnected, returned to a game pod full of nutrient fluid, everything would be isolated.

The deeper the involvement, the more painful the loss.

Thus, he could only pretend not to know, choosing to evade.

Many thoughts in his heart, he couldn’t share with his teammates, only press them down in his heart, turning into a sigh.

He picked up the glass again, taking a big sip, apart from the cold, adding an indescribable bitterness.

Occasionally, he’d spare a moment to glance at the Player Forum or the internal chat channel of Divine Hall Guild.

Inside it was lively, brothers jokingly bantering, bragging about the latest spoils, or complaining that Earth Thought Bully was being annoying again, yet again.

The recent discussion was about Earth Thought Bully leading all players to the new map for "looting and plundering," an exhilarating experience throughout.

Between the lines, it carried an air of carefree ease.

That was the player life he was familiar with.

No life-or-death pressure, no trepidation over every decision affecting teammates’ lives.

Back then, following the great leader Divine King through emotional revenge, if defeated, they could recklessly fight, and if they died, they could curse at the Resurrection Point and start over.

Every day was simple and pure, with the biggest worry perhaps being not having enough sacrificial power, needing to spend wisely to improve their strength.

Dreaming that someday, following Divine King, they’d trample Earth Thought Bully underfoot, making it kneel and call them daddy.

That kind of reckless ease, treating everything as a game, now in hindsight, seemed extravagantly like something from a previous life.

Now he drinks alcohol that can numb the nerves, holding the future of 52 living lives on his shoulders.

Finding that the joy belonging to players had long since, unknowingly, been corroded with holes by the responsibility of being "the boss."

Leaving only exhaustion, and a solitude that couldn’t be spoken of.