Gunshots kept crackling in the distance. Darnell was trembling. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again.
He stared at Lin An's face. There wasn't a trace of fear on his handsome, refined East Asian features. He wasn't even nervous.
There was only that smile Darnell had seen before, growing more familiar by the day... polite and warm, like the smile a good student wore when answering a question in class.
But Darnell knew what that smile meant.
It meant Lin An was about to do something only a madman would do.
"Bro."
Darnell's voice trembled.
"You're not serious, right? You're joking, right? You just need to take a piss, right?"
Lin An had already turned around.
He walked along the wall at an even pace, as if taking a stroll in the park.
The Bullet Screen refreshed rapidly.
[Go, go! I want to see blood flowing like a river!]
[Go this way. Take the alley on the left; there's a low wall you can use for cover.]
[Streamer, are you crazy? Two gangs are shooting it out over there. What are you going over there alone for?]
[He's not alone. We're with him.]
[Right. We can see the whole battlefield.]
[What are we supposed to watch if the streamer doesn't get involved?]
Lin An stayed close to the wall and slipped through the narrow gap between two buildings. His steps were light, barely making a sound on the asphalt.
Darnell stood where he was, watching Lin An's back disappear into the shadows at the mouth of the alley. His mouth opened and closed, then opened again. In the end, he could only pat his chest and prepare to follow and keep an eye on things.
"Bro, you're lucky to have a good buddy like me... If you accidentally get hit by a bullet later, I'll rush over and drag you out. I won't let you die here."
Lin An walked along the wall for about fifty meters, then stopped behind a low wall.
It came up to his chest. He crouched down and leaned his back against it. The gunshots were ahead, about seventy or eighty meters away.
They crackled like firecrackers on New Year's, but sounded duller—and far more deadly. Every so often, a scream or curse cut through the noise, then scattered in the wind. It was hard to make out the words.
"Do me a favor, guys."
As Lin An spoke, he asked the Bullet Screen viewers to help him keep an eye on things. Then he opened his rewards list and started taking things out.
First, Lin An took out a pair of black tactical gloves. They had anti-slip grips on the fingertips and carbon-fiber armor on the backs of the hands. Besides their basic tactical functions, they would also keep his fingerprints from turning up where they shouldn't.
Then he put on a baseball cap and pulled the brim low, hiding most of his face.
[Streamer, you still need something to cover your face. I've got a mask I use for cosplay. Want it?]
"Yes."
[Diu Ni Rem tipped a mask]
Lin An took out the mask. It was made of silicone and designed to look like a skull. It covered the upper half of his face, hiding everything from his nose up and leaving only his mouth and chin exposed.
The mask was black, with a white skull design. Its eye sockets were two dark holes, making it look like a grinning skeleton.
All right. With the mask on, Lin An had everything he needed to conceal his appearance. Even if he showed up on camera or someone saw him, no one would know who he was.
As long as nobody got a close look at him, the police would have a hard time finding him, too.
Lin An took out a Glock 19 and checked the weapon. He loaded the magazine, then tucked the pistol into the back of his waistband and covered it with the hem of his T-shirt.
As he finished preparing to join the fight, the Bullet Screen began giving him live updates.
[The fight is at your ten o'clock, about seventy meters away.]
[The guys near the Church are the Crips, around seven or eight of them. They're wearing blue or black, and some have blue bandanas.]
[The other side is hiding behind cars and in alleys. They're wearing silver skull necklaces. They should be the Rainstorm Gang, and there are about as many of them.]
[The Rainstorm Gang guys are pretty fierce. One of them is standing out in the open by a car, shooting like he doesn't care if he dies.]
[One of the Crips has already gone down. He's lying on the steps at the Church entrance. No idea if he's dead.]
[The Rainstorm Gang has one down, too. He's sprawled behind a gray sedan and hasn't moved.]
[The two sides are at a standstill. Neither dares to charge, so they're just exchanging fire.]
Lin An's gaze swept over the battlefield.
He spotted the Crips. A Black man in a blue hoodie crouched behind a trash can, poked his head out to fire a shot, then ducked back down. A strip of blue bandana showed at his wrist. That was the Crips' sign.
He also spotted the Rainstorm Gang. A Black man with a silver skull necklace stood behind an SUV, his upper body completely exposed as he fired repeatedly toward the Crips. He only ducked back to reload after emptying a magazine.
A silver skull necklace.
Lin An narrowed his eyes. He remembered Darnell mentioning the sentry, but his expression didn't change.
Then he thought of something.
"Right, this is a good opportunity. Does anyone want to play a round of live-action Counter-Strike? I happen to have five Ni Ge corpses in the System Store. We can put them to use now."
The Bullet Screen went quiet for half a second.
Then it exploded.
[Holy shit???]
[Live-action CS???]
[Wait, what did you say? Five corpses? When did you collect corpses?]
[You just got here today, didn't you? How do you not know about this?]
[You're gonna use them now?]
[Five people, each controlling a corpse, charging out with guns to fight the gang?]
[This is more thrilling than a movie!]
[I want to play! I want to play! I want to play!]
[Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!]
[I've got points, and I've fired guns in real life. Let me do it!]
Lin An watched the Bullet Screen, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. He waved his hand, and five corpses appeared in a neat row on the ground.
"Who wants to go first?"
[Me! Me! Me!]
[Let me do it. I've played FPS games for twenty years.]
[This isn't a game. These are real guns. Can you handle it?]
[I can. I served in the military.]
Lin An began grabbing comments and tossing them onto the corpses, one after another, five times in all.
The five corpses opened their eyes and climbed to their feet.
While the five players tested their limbs, Lin An didn't waste any time. He took out Glock 19 pistols. Each one had been fitted with a full-auto conversion device, allowing it to fire in fully automatic mode.
Of course, the modifications came with problems. First, the chance of a barrel blowout would increase. Second, accuracy would suffer. But would the players care about those little issues?
No.
Lin An also gave each pistol an extra magazine and thirty loose 9mm rounds. That meant each player could fire sixty shots, which ought to be enough for a good time.
Lin An called the players over to collect their guns and ammunition.
The first player, whose username was [Old Soldier Never Die], took the pistol. His movements were as practiced as a well-trained soldier's.
He checked the magazine, racked the slide, and made sure a round was chambered before tucking the pistol into his waistband.
The second was a viewer named [Arcade Gun God]. His movements were slower than [Old Soldier Never Die]'s. After getting the pistol, he turned it over several times, as if getting used to how it felt.
[This gun is a little lighter than I expected.]
He sent a comment.
Five corpses, five people, five fully automatic Glock 19s.
Lin An looked at them and nodded.
"Listen up. Your bodies used to belong to the Crips. If the Crips out there see you, they'll think you're on their side. Take out the Rainstorm Gang first. Once they're all dead, then take out the Crips."
"Got it," [Old Soldier Never Die] said.
"Good," Lin An said.
"Go."
The five corpses climbed over the low wall and charged out.
They didn't just rush blindly.
[Old Soldier Never Die] was at the front, keeping low as he moved quickly along the wall.
He was clearly the one with experience. He kept his gun steady as he advanced, his eyes sweeping over every possible threat.
[Arcade Gun God] followed behind him. He ran a little awkwardly, but he was fast enough.
He had handled real guns before, too. He wasn't as polished as [Old Soldier Never Die], but at least he knew how to reload and aim.
The other three—[New York Veteran Driver], [Nightclub Security], and [College Student]—were all beginners.
Their one advantage was that they didn't care whether they lived or died. As they charged out, they switched their Glock 19s to fully automatic and opened fire at every silhouette they saw, emptying magazine after magazine and spraying bullets everywhere.
Thanks to the surprise of their sudden appearance, the five-man squad actually managed to startle the Rainstorm Gang's shooters. Meanwhile, the experienced players began inflicting casualties.
Bang.
[Old Soldier Never Die], lying behind the hood of a car, opened fire. Fifteen meters away, a Rainstorm Gang shooter standing behind an SUV took a bullet to the forehead and slid to the ground, motionless.
[Arcade Gun God], right behind him, fired as well.
He fired two short bursts. The bullets hit the gray sedan where the Rainstorm Gang was hiding and shattered its windows.
A Rainstorm Gang shooter hiding behind the car got his face cut by flying glass. He screamed and ran out from behind it.
[ Nightclub Security], holding his gun one-handed as he stood in the street with his legs spread, seized the opportunity... More accurately, he didn't think about it at all. He just saw a moving target and instinctively held down the trigger.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
In fully automatic mode, the Glock emptied its fifteen rounds in two seconds.
Most of the bullets missed, but a few were bound to hit.
The Rainstorm Gang shooter who had run out took a bullet in the leg. He stumbled, then another stray round grazed his shoulder. He fell to the ground, rolled twice, and stopped moving.
[Two.]
New York Veteran Driver and College Student opened fire, too.
They both used fully automatic mode, firing magazine after magazine. Their bullets showered the Rainstorm Gang's cover in sparks, sending broken bricks and metal shavings flying everywhere.
They might not have been accurate, but their firepower was real... The Rainstorm Gang was pinned down so badly that no one dared even raise their head.
"Someone's behind us!" a Rainstorm Gang shooter shouted, his voice full of fear.
"They're shooting at us from behind!"
"It's the Crips! They've got reinforcements!"
"How many?"
"Can't tell. At least five or six!"
The Rainstorm Gang began to panic.
But panic or not, few people who had survived on these streets until now were easily frightened. And the ones gathered here were the Rainstorm Gang's elite.
A bald Black man crouched behind the gray sedan was the first to steady himself. Three silver skull necklaces hung from his neck, and he held a sawed-off shotgun.
He shouted at the men beside him.
"Don't fucking panic. It's just a few guys. Push them back!"
He suddenly leaned out and aimed the shotgun at the low wall where New York Veteran Driver was hiding.
Boom.
At a distance of thirty meters, the nine pellets from the 12-gauge shotgun spread out into a circle as wide as a washbasin and struck the low wall, spraying broken bricks everywhere.
New York Veteran Driver was crouched behind the wall, changing magazines. One pellet grazed his shoulder, tearing open a gash. Blood sprayed out.
[New York Veteran Driver] looked down at his shoulder, and a comment appeared above his head.
[Holy shit, does it hurt?]
[You're controlling it from a distance, so you can't feel pain, right?]
[No, but my body feels kind of loose, like the parts in this thing aren't working right.]
He didn't have time to dwell on it. The Rainstorm Gang's second round of fire came in.
The first to shoot was a tall, thin Latino man hiding behind the SUV. He crouched beside its front end, gripped his gun with both hands, and aimed at Nightclub Security, who was standing in the most exposed position.
Bang, bang, bang.
Three shots. Two hit.
Two holes opened in [Nightclub Security]'s chest. His body swayed, but the Glock 19 in his hand kept firing. Its aim had gone completely wild, and all the bullets flew into the sky.
Comments refreshed above [Nightclub Security]'s head.
[I've been hit. My body's not doing what I want.]
[You've got two holes in you. It's a miracle you're still standing.]
[Can you still move?]
[Yeah, but this body's about to give out. I can feel my time running short.]
[Old Soldier Never Die] glanced back and cursed inwardly.
[Hold them off! Lay down suppressing fire!]
Arcade Gun God was the first to react.
He crouched and ran out from behind cover, crossing an open stretch before taking shelter behind an abandoned van.
He wasn't especially fast, but he picked a good route. All the Rainstorm Gang's bullets struck the ground behind him.
[Nightclub Security] didn't move.
It wasn't that he didn't want to. His body simply couldn't take it anymore.
Blood was still flowing from the two bullet holes. His legs felt weaker and weaker, like he was standing on cotton. Gritting his teeth, he loaded his last magazine, stood up, and fired a full burst at the Rainstorm Gang.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat... Fully automatic. All fifteen rounds were gone.
Stray bullets flew everywhere. One struck the SUV's windshield, spiderwebbing the glass and blocking the driver's view.
Another hit the lanky man in the calf. He let out a scream and dropped to one knee, the Ruger P89 falling from his hand.
But Nightclub Security paid a price too.
The bald Black man popped his head out again, his shotgun aimed at Nightclub Security's chest.
Boom.
All nine pellets from the 12-gauge shell tore into Nightclub Security's chest. He toppled to the ground, the Glock 19 in his hand landing on his leg.
[GG, I'm dead.]
College Student saw Nightclub Security go down and panicked instinctively.
He was the youngest of the five, and the corpse he controlled was also the skinniest. Crouched behind a trash can, he trembled, and so did his gun.
[Open fire!]
[If you don't want to play, get out and let me take over!]
College Student didn't move or fire. He was completely stunned.
On the Rainstorm Gang's side, the lanky man knelt on the ground, bound a bandana tightly around the bullet wound in his calf, then picked up the Ruger P89 and kept shooting.
His aim was sharp. His first shot hit the top of the low wall where New York Veteran Driver was hiding, missing his head by just a little.
New York Veteran Driver ducked back and shifted to a different position.
Blood was still seeping from his shoulder, but it wasn't too serious. He wasn't going to die just yet.
He leaned out from the side of the low wall and fired a burst toward the Rainstorm Gang... full-auto, ten rounds. Eight went wide; only two hit the SUV's door, clanging against the metal.
Things were completely different on the Crips' side.
They had been watching the battle the whole time.
They'd seen hope from the moment the five "friends" suddenly appeared. Now that those five lunatics had drawn most of the Rainstorm Gang's fire, the Crips thought their chance had come.
"Charge!"
A Black man in a blue hoodie leaped up from the steps at the Church entrance, an MAC-11 submachine gun in his hands.
"They're distracted in the rear! Push through!"
He charged out first.
Three other Crips followed behind him.
One carried a Smith & Wesson semi-automatic pistol, another a sawed-off Double-barreled Shotgun, and the last had nothing but a .38 Revolver... six rounds, an ancient model, but still lethal at close range.
The four of them charged out from the little plaza at the Church entrance, advancing along the left side of the street toward the Rainstorm Gang.
Their thinking was simple: the Rainstorm Gang's attention had been drawn to the five "friends" behind them, so there had to be a gap in their front line.
As long as they charged through and got into a close-range firefight, it wouldn't matter how many Rainstorm Gang members there were.
The Rainstorm Gang spotted them quickly.
"The Crips are charging from the front!" someone shouted from behind a gray sedan.
The bald Black man turned and saw four men in blue rushing toward them. The one in front had already passed the flower bed and was less than thirty meters away.
He cursed, shifted the shotgun to his left hand, and drew a Glock 17 from behind his waist with his right.
"Three of you, fire at the ones in front! Don't let them get through!"
The Rainstorm Gang adjusted their formation. Three kept suppressing Old Soldier Never Die and the others, while another three turned their guns toward the charging Crips.
The firefight grew fierce in an instant.
The Crip with the MAC-11 opened fire first.
He reached the flower bed, crouched, braced the MAC-11 on its edge, and unleashed a burst toward the Rainstorm Gang.
The MAC-11, chambered in .380 ACP, had an extremely high rate of fire. Its thirty-plus-round burst was emptied in seconds.
Bullets struck the vehicles where the Rainstorm Gang was hiding, the wall, and the ground, keeping the gang members from raising their heads.
The three Crip gunmen behind him opened fire too.
Pistols, a shotgun, and a revolver all fired together. Their fire wasn't as dense as the Rainstorm Gang's, but they were close, making them dangerous.
On the Rainstorm Gang's side, a gunman was grazed on the ear by a stray MAC-11 round. Half his ear was torn off, and blood poured down.
Clutching his ear, he screamed and stumbled back behind a car.
The bald Black man didn't retreat. Standing beside the SUV, he aimed his Glock 17 at the Crip with the MAC-11.
He fired another three-round burst. Two shots hit.
The Crip with the MAC-11 took one in the chest and another in the shoulder. He jerked backward and fell behind the flower bed, the MAC-11 slipping from his hands and hitting the ground.
But the Crip gunman wasn't dead. He struggled to his feet, picked up the MAC-11, and opened fire again.
This time, though, his aim was off. Every round went skyward, and he stopped after two seconds... his magazine was empty.
"Reload!"
He shouted.
The others rushed forward to cover him. The Crip with the Smith & Wesson semi-automatic pistol ran ahead of him and fired repeatedly toward the Rainstorm Gang.
His aim was poor, but his burst of fire was fierce enough to keep the gang from peeking out.
The Crip with the Double-barreled Shotgun charged up too. He ran to the other side of the flower bed, raised the shotgun, and fired toward the Rainstorm Gang.
Boom.
The shot slammed into the SUV's body with a deafening bang. More than a dozen small holes appeared in the metal, but the Rainstorm Gang gunman behind the car wasn't hurt... he was crouched low, and the bodywork had stopped most of the pellets.
The bald Black man saw his chance. He crouched and spotted the Crip gunman's feet beneath the car.
He raised his Glock 17, aimed at the feet, and fired repeatedly.
A bullet hit the ankle of the Crip with the Double-barreled Shotgun. He screamed and fell, the shotgun flying from his hands and sliding into the middle of the road.
His companion rushed over to drag him back, but the Rainstorm Gang's fire was too fierce. Bullets struck the flower bed, sending gravel flying, and he didn't dare raise his head.
The battlefield now looked like this.
The Rainstorm Gang had six men left, their fire divided. Three were shooting at Old Soldier Never Die and the others, while three were shooting at the Crips charging from the front.
The Crips had three and a half men left... the gunman with the MAC-11 had reloaded and rejoined the fight.
The Crip with the Smith & Wesson semi-automatic was still firing, and the one with the revolver was still shooting too. The one with the Double-barreled Shotgun had hurt his foot and was sitting on the ground, loading shells into the shotgun so he could keep fighting.
On the players' side, Nightclub Security was dead. College Student was still crouched behind the trash can, unmoving. New York Veteran Driver's shoulder was wounded, but he could still fight. Arcade Gun God was hiding behind the truck, while Old Soldier Never Die was behind the frontmost cover, busy loading bullets into a magazine.
Lin An crouched behind the low wall, watching it all.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
Then he started moving.
Before you continue