This Man Was No Simple Matter

In the cramped, stifling space, the pungent smell of disinfectant mingled with rotten wood, making people nauseous. A dusty, yellowed plaque reading "Miraculous Hands, Spring Returns" hung on the mold-speckled wall at the front.

A group of people sat crowded on Wooden Chairs behind the registration desk, cautiously observing the surroundings.

The atmosphere grew increasingly restless. A tall, powerfully built man in a floral shirt standing in the corner cursed under his breath.

"This is the first time I've encountered an exam like this. We've been here for nearly an hour already. Forget the exam starting—not even all the Players have arrived."

No one else dared speak. Even Newcomers who had never experienced the game before were beginning to fear this so-called exam.

Just moments ago, a drunken woman in a short skirt had been unable to bear being confined any longer and shouted that she wanted to leave. Yet the instant she stepped out of the room, she melted into a puddle of Blood Water. Even her shrill scream had been choked off in her throat.

At the same time, the pre-exam instructions that had been floating before them began flashing red.

(Warning: Before the exam begins, Examinees must not move about freely. Please wait until all other Examinees have arrived. Once you hear that the exam has begun, Players may officially start answering the questions.)

As everyone wore different expressions, the Proctoring System's notification sounded—

(The rule-breaking Examinee has been eliminated. All Examinees have arrived. The exam will begin in ten minutes. Please prepare yourselves.)

As the voice faded, someone suddenly appeared in the room.

A tall, handsome Youth.

The Youth was tall and lean. His black trench coat outlined his straight, sharp figure. Sunlight streaming in through the window cast half his body into shadow, lending him an intensely dangerous air.

As he walked forward, his entire face was exposed to the air, drawing a collective gasp.

The Youth possessed strikingly standard Eastern features, with cold white skin and ink-black hair tied half-up. His Deep Purple Eyes were narrow and long, while the tear mole beneath one eye made him appear even colder and more aloof, yet also highly aggressive. His presence was imposing, carrying an untouchable sense of distance.

Everyone's eyes widened.

Wasn't that face far too unfair? Could someone with looks like that really exist in the real world?

Flower Shirt Man narrowed his eyes. His arms unconsciously folded over his chest as he fixed his gaze on the Youth, alert and guarded.

Naturally, it was not the Youth's appearance that put him on guard, but the state he displayed.

He was far too calm and composed—perhaps even too relaxed. It was as if this was not an Exam Venue filled with danger, but his own garden for a leisurely stroll.

Something was Not Right. Very Not Right.

Wang Yong frowned and examined him more closely. Then, as though peeling away layers of silk, he noticed the Youth's movements, and alarm bells suddenly rang in his heart.

He had discovered what was wrong. The Youth before him had clearly undergone training—extremely brutal training. Even his seemingly casual footsteps had been perfectly planned, as though rehearsed tens of thousands of times, leaving him ready to counterattack at any moment.

Not simple!

This person was definitely not an Unable to Trivially Fowl Newcomer. At the very least, he was a Veteran Player like Wang Yong who had cleared several instances.

It was not only Wang Yong. Everyone present had their eyes fixed on the Youth—some fearful, some astonished, some wary, some curious. In response, the Youth calmly looked back at them.

Those swept by his gaze felt as though something had pricked them. An indescribable chill spread through their hearts, carrying an Extremely Strong sense of oppression that nearly left them unable to breathe.

This person was definitely not someone to provoke.

The Youth being watched by everyone was Bo Shuo. His body was tense; though he looked calm and unhurried on the surface, his palms were soaked with sweat.

All that danger and power, that overwhelming presence... it was all fake.

He was pretending.

Even his expressions, demeanor, bearing, and aura had all been practiced one-to-one according to scenes of Big Shots showing off from various films and the system.

This included, but was not limited to, cold gazes, movements infused with presence, inscrutable curves at the corners of his lips... He had even drilled the fan-shaped chart of novel eye expressions.

Three parts cool detachment, five parts casual indifference, two parts amusement—he had practiced every last one of them over the course of a single year!

All of it was for earning Emotion Points.

Just as 007 had said, what kind of person could evoke the greatest Emotional Fluctuation in others?

A ruthless villain? A rule-abiding level-clearer? Or perhaps a compassionate Saint Mother?

No! None of them. The Emotional Fluctuation an ant could stir up was far too limited, and this was an Infinite Flow world filled with danger.

Furthermore, after drawing lessons from the deaths of the previous six people, he knew that being too weak would get him devoured without even scraps left behind.

From the very beginning, Bo Shuo needed to establish the image of a powerful Big Shot, or at least appear utterly impenetrable on the surface, making others fear him from the bottom of their hearts.

That way, he could earn Emotion Points.

(Emotion Points from Xu Yi +100 +99... Emotion Points from Gu Baiyu +50...)

007 said, "Lower your head a little more. Yes, yes, yes. Look toward the northeast, tilt it slightly... Perfect!"