A Devil's Deepest Evil Doesn't Compare to One Ten-Thousandth of a Player's

Chapter 19: A Devil's Most Wicked Schemes Can't Hold a Candle to a Player's Cruelty

The little players logged off and immediately erupted into chaos on the forum, all of them eager to voice their thoughts and opinions on the matter.

The military map in Murphy's hands had also been recorded by them using their helmets' photo function. While the student and chatter factions flaunted their wild ideas, the prepared ones had already started making phone calls.

If there's one biggest difference between working stiffs and students, it's that the wage slaves, beaten down by reality, all understand the principle of leaving professional matters to professionals.

Everyone usually sits in an office. Even in a MOBA game with just three lanes, they'd argue over strategy. Clearly, they lack the professional knowledge and skills to plan a decent ambush operation in a 100% realistic game.

Not to mention the sheer disparity in strength between the two sides.

Fortunately, the best thing about this era is that the internet connects all kinds of people. For instance, you never know if the person pontificating on the other side of the screen is a human or a dog.

In this murky online world of truth and lies, there's never a shortage of hidden tigers and crouching dragons.

Meow Brother took off his gaming helmet, put on his Bluetooth earbuds, grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge, and walked to the balcony to turn on the treadmill.

He gazed at the bright lights against the night outside the window, stretched his body, and started his daily jog. Though he always called himself an old wage slave, Meow Brother was actually one of those people with "a bit of savings."

He ran his own software outsourcing studio. The four rowdy guys he'd pulled into the game were all employees who started the business with him. They had great relationships, and occasionally they'd even go out together for some "foot washing and shop-hopping" or whatever.

A dozen seconds later, the call connected.

"Yo?"

A groggy man's voice came through the earbuds, making Meow Brother chuckle. He kept jogging as he teased:

"Yo, big shot, it's not even that late yet, and you're already asleep?"

"Bullshit. Spit it out! I just finished a sandbox battle with a bunch of idiots, and I'm exhausted. I swear, if I ever play with morons again, I'm a damn dog!"

The other side was blunt, clearly the kind of impatient but harmless tone used only with old friends.

"I've got something I need your help with, bro. A tactical strategy. You'll definitely be interested. Here's the deal."

Meow Brother kept up his steady jog and explained his current situation to the other guy. After listening, the latter was silent for a few seconds. The sound of a lighter clicking and a cigarette being lit came through the earbuds, followed by a retort:

"Are you out of your mind? Full realistic virtual reality tech? What kind of joke is that? There's no mature tech on the market right now, okay?

Don't you know the current state of the AR and VR scene?

Impossible. You're a professional in this field!"

"I didn't believe it either. I thought it was a scam too, until reality slapped me hard across the face. Turns out this world never lacks for impressive people.

I can't really describe the feeling of this game to you right now, but I can tell you, this thing will absolutely blow your mind."

Meow Brother said with a sigh, then steered the conversation back. He asked:

"Just tell me if you can handle this. What's the point of you shooting blanks with a bunch of idiots all day? Wouldn't it be more fun to play for real this time?"

"Alright, for this 18-vs-200+ scenario, from my professional perspective, I've got two suggestions for you now."

The guy on the other end blew a smoke ring and said with a teasing tone:

"The easier one to pull off is for you all to collectively turn into Spartans, or for one of you to suddenly unlock the secret of Saiyan transformation and wipe the other side out with a Spirit Bomb.

The harder one is for you to honestly work on tactics, use every ounce of strength to try and turn the tide, and pray to whatever god you like that you actually win.

Are you kidding me, bro?

That's a ten-to-one numerical disadvantage! And your individual strength isn't even superior!

If this had even a shred of connection to reality, you'd know there's no way to win. This isn't something tactics can solve anymore.

Even if you summoned Han Xin or Xiang Yu back from the dead, they'd tell you this job's impossible and crawl back into their graves, pulling the coffin lid shut."

The other guy ranted:

"And from what you're saying, with all this talk of cold weapons and guns, even if I wanted to help, I'd need to see the terrain on-site, right? Here's the plan: send me that map first, and get me an invite code to log in and check it out.

Paying's no big deal."

"I don't have a damn invite code. I'll have to ask around for you."

Meow Brother grinned when he heard the other guy relent, knowing his buddy was interested.

He got off the treadmill, put on his helmet, connected to social media, sent over the saved map of the Transia region, and then logged onto the forum to send a private message to the admin.

Soon, Alpha's reply came back.

Alpha: [You want an invite code for your friend?]

Meow King: [Yeah, he's a tactics specialist. Used to be in Africa. Mm, as an instructor. Now he does sandbox wargaming. Pretty famous in his circle. I figured bringing him in could help complete this test run better. If nothing else, give him a trial account so he can check out the terrain on-site.

I want to push things along faster in the game so we can get to open beta sooner. I can't stand having something this good in front of me but only getting a tiny taste each time.]

Alpha: [I'll have to apply to the dev team for that. The current temporary server should be able to add a few more testers.

Have your friend submit an application. And remember, don't give him the 'guided' answers this time. Falsifying data will lower the weight of his feedback.]

Murphy gave a few instructions, then fell into thought inside the carriage.

He still had five test invite codes left over from the last mission reward, but Murphy had planned to save those for emergencies.

Fifteen little players were just right for now. Any more would cause chaos.

At this stage, quality mattered more than quantity.

After careful thought, Murphy decided to give Meow Brother's friend an invitation code.

If he was truly a professional, it meant this little group of his would at least have a commander candidate—even a third-rate one would do.

A third-rate was still far better than his own complete amateur status; he understood the principle of leaving professional matters to professionals.

A few minutes later, Murphy saw another long message in his private chat from Meow Brother—a detailed review of the game helmet. It not only explained the helmet's operation process and the functions of each subprogram but even figured out the built-in air conditioning and multiple energy modes.

It looked like the only thing left was to take the thing apart and reassemble it, making Murphy silently praise Meow Brother for being truly professional. He heard the guy did software outsourcing in real life, maybe even came from a software testing background like himself.

Alpha: [Great, I'll submit this report to the hardware development team. If they approve it, they'll use it as a template for an official guide, and the in-game physical rewards will be sent to you when the next phase starts.

But Meow Brother, you're so professional—why not quit your job and come do game testing with us? Laugh]

Meow King: [Really? Any requirements? I'm in the same field, and I'm pretty interested in your company's tech. Can I visit?]

Alpha: [emmm, a visit is definitely out. If you join, you'd have to sign a confidentiality agreement + a lifetime non-compete, relocate to the company headquarters, and strictly follow a militarized daily schedule. Also, make sure to talk it over with your family—you might not get a single day off for two or three years, but the pay is negotiable.]

Meow King: [Sweating. About what I guessed. Sounds like a state-level project. I get it, won't ask more. Thanks for the offer.]

While Meow Brother was frantically probing the admin's attitude and the two were locked in a tug-of-war, Yang Hen, looking haggard from staying up all night, just poured herself a cup of coffee.

Still in her pajamas, she brushed her hair aside and glanced at the battle plan she'd listed on her computer. After staring blankly at it for a few moments, she decided she must have been out of her mind when she wrote it, deleted the whole mess, and casually clicked open a special friend group labeled "Mensa."

"My brilliant darlings, your adorable little Yang Hen has run into a problem. Here's the deal—"

She posted the issue to the group of seven. A few minutes later, someone with the ID "Cement Heart" replied:

"Give up!

Tactics and strategy only work best when both sides are evenly matched or close to it. If so-called clever schemes were really that powerful, there wouldn't be only a handful of classic battles highlighted throughout human history.

Given the 18 vs. 200 power ratio you listed, if you're really going through with a bait mission, taking losses or even a total wipe is the most likely outcome. Strategy and tactics are useless to you now.

But I think you can switch tracks.

For example, approach it from a problem-solving angle."

"???"

Lumina's eyes widened. She quickly set down her coffee cup and humbly typed:

"@Cement Heart

Sis, can you be more specific?"

"Heh, why should I explain it to you? You're still leisurely playing games while I'm totally fed up. The three new grad students under me are all idiots—the same experiment gives five different results, and a paper's been revised for a week without finishing.

I'm so annoyed.

This isn't a trash bin! Don't dump any garbage on me."

This fiery-tempered "Sister Cement" joked with Lumina:

"How about you become my grad student instead? Little Lumina, your IQ is a bit lower than everyone else in the group, but you're more than qualified for grad work.

Playing games all day is a total waste of time, and your advisor is completely squandering your potential."

"Sis, be normal, okay! I've got one year left before I graduate and go back home. Let's talk nicely—tell me your idea, and I'll treat you to a meal another day?"

"Tch, do I need your meal? Fine, I'll say a few words.

You're stuck in a rut. Try elevating the problem to the decision-maker level. In the game, your task is just to destroy the target.

That's clear.

Even though you split into a bait group and an execution group, there's really no difference. Instead of trying to solve an impossible problem with your own strength, keep it simple.

Divert the trouble!"

Even though she was typing on a computer, the nonchalance in "Sister Cement's" words was obvious as she coaxed Lumina:

"Swap the roles of your two sides. Draw the enemy's attention to the stronger execution group, then your light cavalry moves in, turning the tables to destroy the main target.

Backstab!

That's the optimal solution to this problem.

If you're clever enough, you can even bury the truth while completing the mission. Think about why the dev team gave you a group of powerful NPCs?

They're guiding you in this direction to deepen this damn game's so-called realism and freedom. If it's really as amazing as you say, then you can't treat it like an ordinary game.

I think I've said enough. Use your brain for the rest.

Otherwise, you'll degenerate into a bimbo with a big chest and no brains."

"Sister Cement is awesome!"

Lumina felt her mind suddenly open up. She excitedly replied in the group:

"No wonder you're the smartest one in this seven-person group!"

"Heh, you'd have to subtract at least 55 from my IQ to classify me as 'smart.' As for you, just subtract 15 to 20.

I'm starting to think letting you into this group was a mistake—you can't help everyone improve. But considering everyone in this group except me is basically useless, this little mistake doesn't matter."

Sister Cement wasn't impressed and sneered:

"Learn more while you're young. Even through the computer, I can tell your head would make a pathetic hollow echo if tapped. Alright, I'm off to slack off happily in the lab."

"Talk next time."

"Sister Cement, would you like to fill out this application?"

Lumina didn't want to let go of this big shot. She sent an application over and explained:

"The game I'm playing now is really different. It's not just a time-killer. You'll know once you try it—it's black tech you'll definitely be interested in! Super black!"

"Forget it."

The other side replied coldly:

"I don't have time to play house with a kid like you. Seriously, have you considered coming to be my grad student? If you nod, I can talk to your advisor. That old lady should give me the face.

Write your expected salary yourself. Just don't go overboard."

"But I'm going back to my country. Spare me, please."

--

At noon, a day and two nights later, Miss Femis's convoy reached the predetermined location, waiting only for tonight's terrain reconnaissance before starting the operation tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Murphy gathered all the small players currently under his command for a meeting.

He planned to hear their tactics first, and if they didn't work, he'd go with his own ideas.

This time, sixteen people showed up, counting the five unlucky ones who'd just revived and the first-time online "Banzai Happy Stick"—that abstractly named guy was the professional friend Meow Brother had pulled strings to bring in.

But such an abstract ID made Murphy start doubting his professionalism.

"Holy crap! This lighting! This resolution! Holy crap, this immersion! Holy crap, this smell—ugh, this smell is so strong, are we by a swamp?

This smell reminds me of the rainy season in Central Africa."

The latter started yelling the moment he logged in, in the low woods by the Filthy Swamp, even crawling on the ground to inspect the details of the low shrubs.

The other players paid him no mind.

They'd all been like that on their first login. Since they'd embarrassed themselves, they had to let the newcomer go through this "traditional routine."

"You guys chat first. We'll take him to scout the terrain and pick an ambush spot. We'll finalize the tactics tonight."

Meow Brother felt a bit embarrassed, quickly hoisted his friend off the ground, and led his Four Heavenly Kings and two middle-aged old-man bros to escort the rookie.

Once that group left, only eight student-party members remained.

The six dorm brothers looked at each other, unable to come up with a plan, their faces lacking confidence—clearly, they hadn't discussed a decent optimal solution during their dorm bull sessions.

The burly Niu Niu didn't care.

He was a jock, responsible for charging and fighting. Even if he wanted to join the thinking, no one would trust him.

"Um, Lord Murphy!"

Lumina looked left and right. Seeing no one speak, she walked over to Murphy and whispered:

"I don't have a proper tactic or plan, but I think our problem-solving approach is wrong. With our strength, even if we pull off fancy tactics, we can't avoid casualties. So, I have a small, immature idea."

"Hm?"

Murphy looked at the only female player from the closed beta, wondering what trick this little player had up her sleeve.

He showed an interested expression and waved his hand:

"Let's hear it."

Big brother's new book recommendation, a good story with an engaging background. A tender sprout, gently pluck it, add a bookmark and water it while waiting for it to grow.