Chapter 272 - 37: Caught a Big Fish

Eight hours later.

A variety of fried chicken was now ready. The multicolored pieces of chicken were as dazzling as a rainbow, as vibrant as little mushrooms popping up on a mountainside after the rain.

Looking at all the fried chicken, Flora felt her stomach churn. "I swear, I don’t want to eat a single piece."

"Miss, now is not the time to be a picky eater," the Maid advised earnestly. "Here, here comes the airplane!"

"How old do you think I am?!"

"Sixteen, but I just want to play a little game with you where you’re the baby. It always brings out my maternal instincts and makes me feel needed."

"Don’t tease me right now."

Watching the exasperated Flora, Duan Fei couldn’t help but comment, "How pitiful."

"So envious," Cuihua muttered to himself from the side.

Duan Fei’s eyes widened at Cuihua. Realizing he’d misspoken, Cuihua finally managed to add after a long pause, "Really... envious."

"Alright, we get it, you’re the quiet-but-intense type. The car’s here. Let’s go."

At the entrance, the car the Godfather had promised arrived.

It was the latest model from Ford, its custom-fitted trunk packed with firearms.

Although they were all old models, half a trunk full of guns still projected an intimidating aura, giving them a sense of security that came with ample firepower.

Flora stepped forward, skillfully pulled a submachine gun from the trunk, and checked the safety and barrel. Satisfied, she said, "Very good. Quality stuff."

"Why are you so good at that?" Duan Fei asked, puzzled. "Isn’t your character supposed to be the clueless rich girl?"

"If you weren’t my best friend’s best friend, I would’ve punched you by now," Flora said, annoyed.

"Does Jinghong know she’s your best friend?"

"...Shut up. My Profession is Gunsmith. Why else would I be carrying around three grenades for no reason? Alright, let’s go. Who’s driving?"

Bystander A, whose sub-profession was driver, got into the car and sat in the driver’s seat.

Bystander A felt a thrill as he touched the leather steering wheel.

This classic car already had the makings of a modern vehicle. The gearshift and dashboard were polished to a gleam, exuding the mechanical beauty of the era.

Touching the steering wheel, Bystander A’s Professional Skills activated.

Due to the instance’s restrictions, he couldn’t achieve a state of being one with the car, but he could still skillfully put it in motion and race toward their destination: the old factory.

The classic car, with a top speed of 60 mph, couldn’t compare to modern vehicles, but in this era, it was practically a sports car. It carried the five of them as it raced toward the old factory like lightning.

Behind them, Johnson watched the car drive away and silently made the sign of the cross.

Thunder rumbled, and a bolt of lightning tore across the sky, briefly revealing their surroundings.

The road to the old factory was silent. The streetlights along the way were mere decorations, their broken bulbs unable to shed a single point of light.

In the darkness, the car’s headlights were like two swords piercing the gloom, charging toward the destination before stopping some distance from the old factory.

Although it was late at night, the old factory was still brightly lit. Inside, the clowns were reveling wildly, engaged in some meaningless celebration.

They were clowns.

They were madmen.

They were the outcasts of this era, yet through violence and madness, they had found their own sense of purpose.

Guzzling fine wine and gorging themselves on food, there was no difference between man and beast at this moment. They were all seeking the greatest madness in their finite lives.

Amidst this joyous atmosphere, five fully armed players stepped out of the car, gnawing on fried chicken.

With the exception of the Maid, every player had changed into a black gangster uniform, complete with a white scarf and black gloves.

Although it was a bit warm, the players’ senses weren’t particularly sharp, so it was something they could just endure.

There was no other reason for doing this. The only reason was to look cool.

As they ate the fried chicken, various buffs surged through them, causing each person’s Attributes to increase dramatically, pushing them beyond the limits of ordinary people.

Before them, the gates of the old factory were sealed shut. The factory inside had been converted into the Clown Gang’s headquarters.

Even now, two hundred clowns were active here.

After confirming their numbers with binoculars, Bystander A deployed his shield. With a single charge, he smashed through the factory gates, rolled into the factory, and then ducked behind cover, protecting himself with his shield.

Flashing a middle finger at the others in a universally understood gesture, Bystander A then activated his Skill, [Taunt].

Taunt was an essential Skill for a Close Guard. Its original effect was to force others to attack him while reducing the damage taken, but here, it could only serve to attract their attention.

Even so, the Skill’s effect was more than good enough.

Provoked by Bystander A’s taunt, the nearest members of the Clown Gang flew into a rage. They grabbed their violins, charged at him, and smashed them violently against his shield.

The violins shattered on impact. But immediately after, a storm of gunfire erupted. The petite Flora walked in, a piece of fried chicken dangling from her mouth, her Chicago Typewriter beginning to spray bullets wildly, indiscriminately mowing down everyone around her.

Her bullets seemed endless. Each magazine appeared to hold three times the normal number of rounds, and her rate of fire had more than doubled.

This was the professional effect brought by the Gunsmith’s Professional Skill, [Gun Mastery].

Flora was also familiar with firearms in reality, and she had trained her [Gun Mastery] to the Master Level, which granted her effects like triple magazine capacity and double the rate of fire.

Combined with the effects from [Precision] and the gourmet fried chicken, she single-handedly laid down suppressive fire on the unprepared Clown Gang, keeping their heads down.

Some of the braver ones grabbed their weapons and tried to approach from behind, but the Maid standing guard by Flora’s side was no pushover.

The Maid had already put on her boxing gloves. Whenever someone got close, she would throw a punch and send them flying.

Whether they were tall or short, fat or thin, all were equal before her.

But the most eye-catching of all was Cuihua.

He had found a new way to use his Katsuo Stick. He wielded the staff so skillfully that it formed an impenetrable defense, flipping up and down as if it were glued to his body.

He charged into the enemy ranks alone. The Clown Gang members around him fell as soon as he touched them; none could withstand a single blow.

Even though it was night, even though it was a sneak attack, and even though the fried chicken provided buffs, these four players were still like wolves unleashed upon a herd of sheep, beating the disorganized Clown Gang so badly that none were left standing.

Watching his companions fight like celestial gods descended to earth, Duan Fei thought, ’Looks like there’s nothing left for me to do.’

But in the next moment, he felt a gaze from above.

He looked up and saw someone standing on the top floor.

Thunder cracked, and lightning flashed. In the bright light, Duan Fei saw a player with the ID "clown" above his head standing on the factory roof, looking down at him coldly.

Duan Fei let out a whistle.

’I’ve caught a big one.’