World Mission Complete

"System, use 'Character Card: Wesley'. No skin overlay."

Host equipped 'Character Card: Wesley'. Countdown: 240 seconds. Timer started.

Equipping Wesley's character card, Russell noticed nothing different about himself. But the moment he deliberately accelerated his heartbeat and entered Bullet Time, a formidable power began awakening within him.

Wesley was an utter loser—no doubt about that—but his talent was top-tier. Even without training, his body would involuntarily slip into Bullet Time.

That alone made other assassins green with envy. If Wesley hadn't mistaken his condition for anxiety and long-term medication to suppress his racing heart, he'd have long become something like a minor Superman.

The pounding heartbeat filled Russell's mind. His heart, like a high-performance engine, pumped blood relentlessly, surging through every vessel in his body.

His senses were amplified to the extreme. With his mind hyperactive and his brain processing information at breakneck speed, everything around him seemed agonizingly slow.

His sharp eyes swept across the scene, catching every minute detail. Even the descent of each tiny dust particle in the air was broken down into a series of frozen frames.

Dynamic Vision MAX!

Intuition told Russell that Cross's character card was even more powerful, but he'd never triggered a lottery draw from Cross. He couldn't even unlock skills, let alone a character card.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Russell fired three shots through the gaps in the spiral staircase. He was using an M9 pistol; the rifle and Shotgun lay on the floor. Equipped with Wesley's character card, handling the M9 felt effortless, like an extension of his own limb. The gun transmitted an incredibly real tactile sensation to him.

If memory served, Wesley's go-to pistol was the M9. Clearly, when using a character card, the corresponding equipment mattered just as much.

The three bullets missed Sloan. The spiral staircase's design made it impossible for bullets to curve into such exaggerated arcs. This was merely a probe. The bullets' trajectories were already etched into Russell's freakish vision. Next came calculation, analysis, and plotting the most optimal path in his mind.

It took only two seconds for Russell to solve the equation and find the correct answer!

He pulled a Grenade from his chest, yanked the pin, and tossed it. Watching it bounce high off Ironhide, he threw a second Grenade.

The two Grenades collided midair, their trajectories deflecting. The unpinned Grenade, already beginning to drop, was nudged lightly and soared upward again, flying straight into the top-floor room.

Timing was perfect. The instant the Grenade cleared the iron staircase, it detonated with a roar.

Russell pressed against the corridor wall. Hearing the blast, he sprinted up the spiral stairs. The moment he peeked out, he sensed danger and halted. A bullet grazed past his scalp.

It was Sloan!

Sloan had been an assassin his whole life. Though he'd later moved to an office job, dabbling in corruption and embezzlement, his early years were legendary. Life-and-death trials had honed a powerful instinct—no scientific basis, but an acute sensitivity to danger.

Somewhat like Russell's ability, but Russell was born with it, while Sloan had scraped it together from a lifetime of walking the razor's edge!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang—

A fierce exchange erupted. Russell had fought hard to reach the stairs and wasn't about to retreat.

They traded roles of attack and defense, intercepting each other's bullets midair. Bullets arced, collided, deformed, and burst into sparks.

Wesley's character card was formidable, living up to its description: "Adrenaline in his veins." His talent utterly crushed Sloan's. He could slip into Bullet Time at will with no limits, unlike others who were considered skilled if they lasted ten seconds.

Sloan was barely a ten-second man. Though battle-hardened, that was in his youth. Now relegated to desk duty, with his physical condition declining, his legs were already wobbling before his magazine ran dry.

Ding!

The last bullets collided. Both magazines emptied simultaneously. Sloan reloaded while ducking into a blind spot at the corner.

Russell seized the chance to step out of the stairwell, reloading at the same time as Sloan. Between them stood the Loom of fate, as if they were being judged by destiny itself.

"Let me go. We have no blood feud. If you want money, take all of this!" Sloan leaned against the corner, forcing himself to recover. He was old; entering Bullet Time took effort now, requiring a long warm-up.

"Are you joking?"

Russell sneered. "If it were about money, I could take as much as I want after killing you."

Sloan's face darkened, his voice icy. "What do you really want? Why must you kill me?"

"Didn't I already tell you? Fate chose me to take out a traitor like you!"

"Bastard!"

The brief exchange ended. Tension thickened in the room. Both Russell and Sloan fell silent, knowing the next shot would decide the outcome.

Russell's heartbeat quickened. He gripped the M9 tighter, staying motionless, and picked up the sound of Sloan's heartbeat.

An irregular rhythm—Sloan was rattled...

Click!

Pulling the pin on a Grenade, Russell sidestepped to dodge a curving bullet, then tossed the Grenade toward Sloan's position. He rolled over, swinging his arm, and fired two arcing bullets in quick succession.

Sloan dodged the Grenade, lunging out from the corner. Midair, he spotted the incoming bullets and raised his gun to intercept—then stumbled.

Wrapped around his ankle was a strand of yarn...

"Shit!!"

Slap! Slap!

Two bullets struck Sloan square in the chest and abdomen, knocking him out of the air. Blood splattered as he crashed onto the floor.

Hit in vital areas, his internal organs damaged, Sloan's life force ebbed away. Dying was agonizing. Blood and foam bubbled from his mouth and nose. He struggled to raise a hand to cover the wound on his chest, but the once-easy motion was now nearly impossible.

The glaring red soaked his clothes and spread rapidly across the floor. The yarn, drinking Sloan's blood, turned a vivid crimson. At first glance, it looked like a bewitching red flower in full bloom.

Something eerie...

Russell came to Sloan's side, looked into the man's pleading eyes, sighed inwardly, and pulled out Fire Fox's M1911 pistol. He fired a single shot into Sloan's eye socket.

Bang!

The distance between life and death was short—for the finger pulling the trigger, rounding it off made it roughly zero.

He stared at the corpse at his feet and the treasure scattered around, feeling nothing but bitter irony. Fate gave you what you wanted, then took it away—or maybe, from start to finish, you had nothing at all.

Ding!

Host has come into contact with the storyline character Sloan, triggering the lottery draw. Draw now?

Host has come into contact with the Loom of Fate, triggering the lottery draw. Draw now?

Host has accumulated four lottery draws. Draw now?

Adding the two draws contributed by the Repairman and the Butcher, Russell had stacked up four draws. And it wasn't over yet—the system's chimes kept ringing.

Ding!

Host has completed the world mission, participated in the operation to destroy the Brotherhood, and personally terminated the leader Sloan. Calculating mission rewards...

Ding!

Rewards as follows: 3 free attribute points, 500 experience points, 300 wealth points, one lottery draw.

Ding!

Host has leveled up. Recalculating character attributes...

Host: Russell

Strength: 10 (7+3)

Physique: 8 (6+2)

Intelligence: 10 (9+1)

Level: 3

Experience: 150/1000

Wealth: 700

Ding!

Host has completed the world mission. You may end the world process immediately or remain in this world for a maximum of 24 hours. Please decide quickly!

"No rush to leave—I'll do a draw first!"

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