Deceitful Game

Chapter 81 The Unseen Blood Letters

Chapter 81 The Unseen Blood Letters

"However, if that's the case..."

Mingpo tapped her fingers lightly on the armrest of the sofa, lost in thought. "We're both somewhat lacking in direct combat ability. I do have the title 'Werewolf,' but it belongs to the Realm of Slaughter—judging from your experience in the last game, if you help the Deceiver of the Realm of Slaughter, you'll become a target yourself. So, forget it."

He himself doesn't care about being targeted.

However, Mingpo would feel annoyed if her mistakes dragged down her teammates.

This is also why he doesn't like playing MMOs.

In MMO raids, there is almost always a similar mechanism: if one person makes a mistake, the whole team is punished.

If he were the one who made the mistake, Mingpo would probably be so annoyed that he would slap himself hard; but if it was another teammate who made the mistake, he would feel obviously unhappy.

This is also why Mingpo enjoys playing single-player games. Because in single-player games, he won't drag others down, nor will he be dragged down by others. If he dies, it's because he wasn't strong enough, entirely his own fault.

"—Then let's play an adventure game."

While Mingpo was pondering whether the two of them could play a competitive game, Ai Shiping gave a straightforward answer, ending Mingpo's internal struggle.

He could tell that Mingpo was now seriously considering how likely their team, lacking combat power, would be to encounter a disadvantageous situation if they participated in a competitive game, and how they could make up for that disadvantage.

Although that was just a hypothetical scenario, Mingbo would never admit that "I am too weak."

Mingpo has always had a strong personality.

He was unwilling to admit defeat, much less to acknowledge his weakness. This stubbornness became even more apparent in front of his friends.

Ai Shiping remembered that when Mingpo was playing Devil May Cry 5, there was a scripted death at the beginning of the game.

Nero at this stage doesn't have a mechanical arm, so he can't use any arm-related skills, nor can he allocate skill points to learn new ones. This is clearly a scripted death scenario where defeat is inevitable.

However, because the attacks can indeed whittle down the opponent's health, and the opponent's moves can indeed be dodged—although the damage is so high that it is unbearable, it can indeed be defeated.

Therefore, even though she knew it was definitely a plot-driven death, Mingpo still refused to give up and spent more than an hour forcibly defeating the plot-driven boss without taking any damage.

Then it skipped directly to the ending CG.

You can even get a refund after you've cleared the game.

So Ai Shiping gave Mingpo a way out, telling him that he wanted to play an adventure game.

"I'm too weak right now."

Ai Shiping said with a smile, "I haven't played many competitive games yet. At least give me an aggressive title! No game has two support characters looking for someone to PvP with, right? That's obviously unfair."

"————Alright then."

Mingpo readily agreed: "Then let's take the risk."

However, as she thought of this, Mingpo suddenly remembered something.

He pointed to the flowing blood-red countdown in the living room and asked Ai Shiping, "In your opinion, how much time is left?"

"—What?"

Ai Shiping was taken aback: "When?"

"Can't you see the red countdown?"

Mingpo countered with a question.

Ai Shiping's expression turned serious. He leaned closer and looked carefully for a long time, but still couldn't see anything.

Seeing his somewhat bewildered expression, Mingpo changed the subject: "It's alright, it was just my imagination."

He walked to the door and threw a fake gold coin into the "Adventure" game.

With a clang of a coin being inserted, black and red rose patterns spread across the door like rust.

A golden sun emblem appeared in the very center of the doorway.

Below the sun emblem, two buttons appeared.

One of them is a black skull; touching it gives the message "Ghostly Phantom".

The second button is a blank square tile; touching it prompts "New Game".

Mingpo turned around and asked seriously, "Can you do supernatural dungeons? Or should we start a new one?"

As he spoke, he tossed another fake gold coin of the sun towards Ai Shiping.

Ai Shiping reached out and easily caught it in mid-air, exclaiming, "Boss, you're so generous!"

"Is it a supernatural world—meaning a worldview with ghosts?"

"Hmm, it really is ghostly. There are scares, puzzles, and chases."

Mingpo gave a simple answer and then asked, "I remember you're afraid of horror games, right?"

"Hey—you don't understand. The faster our reaction speed is, the more afraid we are of horror games."

Ai Shiping stubbornly insisted.

Then came incomprehensible phrases like "My cabinet moved" and "I'm not playing anymore."

"So you're not playing?"

Mingpo asked.

"Play."

Ai Shiping said honestly.

He walked over and placed his chips in.

Seeing Mingpo's mocking gaze, he sighed and explained, "Fear comes from the unknown."

"If I play this supernatural game, I'll know that ghosts really exist in this world, and I'll know that there will be scares and chases, so the outcome might actually be better—"

"But if we queue up for a new dungeon, it might not look scary at all at first, but then something terrifying suddenly jumps out at the back, that would be terrifying!"

Mingpo smiled but didn't say anything more.

After Ai Shiping placed his bets, he pressed the first button.

A piece of information surfaced in his mind.

—Worldview: Ghostly Phantoms has been launched.

Then he opened the door.

Outside the door was a gate shrouded in thick fog, like a black vortex. Mingpo took the lead and walked in.

Ai Shiping picked up his mask from the living room table, looked at the broken glass on the floor, and grinned bitterly: "Oh dear—who should sweep this? It can't be me, can it? I definitely didn't do it—oh well, I'll sweep it back."

He sighed in distress and put on the mask.

As he stood before the pristine living room walls, he fell into deep thought.

"—A red countdown?"

Beneath the mask, Ai Shiping's brow furrowed slightly: "What exactly is Aper talking about?"

He clearly can't see anything.

Unfortunately, Mingpo clearly didn't want to talk to him about this—so Ai Shiping didn't want to ask either.

Mingpo had many secrets he hadn't told Ai Shiping. For example, what his family did for a living, why he lived alone in the country, why he had come to travel alone in the first place, and where he went when he disappeared for periods of time.

However, as long as Mingpo didn't say anything, Ai Shiping didn't ask.

It's extremely impolite to force someone to talk about something they don't want to say.

But Ai Shiping kept this matter firmly in his heart.

The red countdown —

This kind of thing sounds unsettling.

Ai Shiping then stepped into the vortex of mist.

"Hehehehe————"

Just then, a little girl's clear laughter, echoing hollowly, rang out from the mist: "Finally, I've found you."

—126:45:08

126: 45: 07

The blood-red countdown in the living room suddenly emitted a piercing, wet tearing sound.

It was as if a wound was being slowly torn open, and blood slowly seeped down the word "1"—the tail of the number "1" slowly extended downwards by more than half a meter.

In the living room, even though no one was visible, footsteps could be heard.

Then, the numbers suddenly changed rapidly.

—122:23:43

—121:21:07

117: 23: 10

Each time the footsteps sounded, the numbers on the wall immediately decreased by one.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped.

Just then, the rapidly decreasing countdown stabilized again.

At this point, more than ten hours had passed since the numbers were displayed.

—113:59:59

113: 59: 58

Accompanied by the creaking sound of the door closing.

The living room door suddenly closed.

Downstairs, a middle-aged man sitting in his car monitoring the neighborhood had just yawned when he suddenly heard a voice behind him.

—But he was clearly sitting in the back seat of the car!

In that instant, his body stiffened.

It sounded like a little girl's voice, yet it was ethereal and gentle.

She asked with interest, "Uncle, what are you looking at?"

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