Black Spider logged on.
She was the executioner of the Duke of Storm's tribunal organization and the highest commander of the secret intelligence agency, so naturally, she still had plenty to do in the real world.
The incident involving the Junlin Aerial Fortress being shot down had yet to be fully resolved even now, and the technical investigation was still ongoing.
Although the Aerial Fortress had crashed, its systems had been forcibly erased, and the raging flames had burned everything inside to ashes, there were still countless doubts: there were no corpses.
"Guildmaster, it's been confirmed. In Multiverse Number 8, every player you kill gives you 1 point," a Storm Guild member said. "Light of the White Race has now killed 12 players, so his score has increased by 12. If someone could organize ten thousand people to enter the instance and trigger its mechanism, then have everyone let the same person kill them, that person could very likely hold first place on the leaderboard every month."
Someone nearby sucked in a breath. "Why is Light of the White Race—"
"Hasn't he come out yet?"
Outside the tree hollow in Multiverse Number 8, Black Spider waited calmly.
Over the past day or so, she had left several times and returned several times, but Light of the White Race's status had remained in the multiverse the entire time. It had not changed at all.
What made everyone uncomfortable was that when he cleared Multiverse Number 136, people outside could still see Light of the White Race's progress. This time, they could not even see his progress. No one knew what the hell he was doing inside.
According to members of the four major guilds, including passersby, several thousand people had entered over the past two days, and the number was about