Card Draw Again

Over the next ten days, Lin En used Thirty Days to play guerrilla warfare against those cultists in the underground caves, holding out for ten days until it was finally time for a new round of card draws!

He was chased by dogs, chased by mad dogs, and chased by a bunch of mad dogs with bloodshot eyes, which really was a Khorne-forsaken experience.

His new Astra Militarum gear had a bunch of holes in it, and he had even lost his helmet.

He didn't even have a tier-one helmet anymore, sob.

His backpack strap was broken, tied together pathetically with a rag.

He was miserable, truly miserable.

Don't bully a young man in poverty, don't bully a middle-aged man in poverty, don't bully an elderly man in poverty.

As soon as his sister came back, he was going to slaughter the lot of them.

The screams of the cultists still echoed from behind, dark red psychic lights flickering in the tunnel.

Lin En rounded a corner in the darkness, found a rock crevice to squeeze into, turned off his light, covered his mouth, and waited for that group of cultists to run past him.

The footsteps of the cultists thundered past him like rolling thunder.

He could even feel the wind stirred up by the running cultists blowing across his face, dust drifting past the tip of his nose, making it tickle a little.

Yet he held on desperately without moving at all.

The cultists ran past.

The footsteps faded away, and he waited for about ten seconds before standing up.

Damn those bastards, the card draw time was coming up immediately, and once his daddy rolled a combat skill, he would slaughter the lot of them!

He really, really hoped to roll a combat skill so he could turn around and scrap with those cultists.

Just as he was thinking this, the long-absent "ding" suddenly echoed in his mind.

Then came the system's voice, which he hadn't heard in ages:

[Fifteen Days draw cooldown has ended.]

[Current available draw count: 1.]

[Draw now?]

Yes, he had finally waited for it!!!!

Lin En shouted excitedly, "Draw! Draw now! Draw immediately! Draw right now! Please give me a combat skill! Give me something that can actually fight! I swear I'll turn around and scrap with those cultists—!!!"

The system said unhurriedly: [Very well, the card draw begins now.]

The roulette wheel appeared.

It was still that huge roulette wheel suspended in his consciousness—white, green, blue, purple, golden, colorful—divided into many tiny segments, glowing layer upon layer.

Lin En stared intently at the roulette wheel.

Combat skill, combat skill, combat skill, combat skill—

He needed a combat skill, even a blue one would do.

Something that could deal damage, something that would keep him from having to run for his life like a rabbit—

He had been running for ten days, ten days!

Did they know how he had spent these past ten days?!

He ran while eating hardtack, ran while drinking water, and could only doze off leaning against a rock wall for a moment when sleeping, only to be startled awake by the footsteps of the cultists and run again.

Damn it, this was no way for a human to live.

He really didn't want to run anymore. He wanted to fight too, wanted to act like a badass webnovel protagonist, turn around, point at the noses of that group of cultists, and act cool by saying, "You've chased me enough, haven't you? My turn."

Then punch them one by one, kick them two by two, and beat those cultists until they cried for their mothers.

The pointer on the roulette wheel began to spin.

Lin En's gaze followed the pointer as it spun: "Combat skill, combat skill, combat skill, combat skill—"

The pointer swept past white.

Past green.

Past blue.

"Stop!!!"

The pointer stopped instantly, landing on—purple.

Purple!!!!!

An SR had dropped from the heavens!!!!!

This was a very high-tier trait obtainable outside of the starter pack!!!!!

Before Lin En could even get excited, he heard the system announce:

[Congratulations to the host for obtaining the trait: Danger Sense]

[Grade: Purple (Epic)]

[Effect: Passive skill. Within a radius of 300 meters, whenever any unit with hostility toward the host approaches, the host will receive advance perception, with the intensity of perception proportional to the intensity of hostility.]

[Remarks: You feel someone watching you—not because they want to make friends, but because they really want to hack you to death.]

"...?"

Lin En suddenly felt a bit dizzy and his footsteps staggered.

He steadied himself against the wall.

"...What?"

[Danger Sense.]

"Danger Sense?"

[Danger Sense.]

"Not an offensive skill?"

[No.]

"Not even a defensive skill?"

[No.]

"It's just a—danger warning?"

[You could understand it that way.]

Lin En finally lost his grip: "Danger Sense?! Danger Sense—?! What kind of skill is Danger Sense, you tell me? Why on earth is it a purple grade?!!!!"

Passive, Danger Sense.

Such a useless chicken-rib skill.

He had been chased by cultists like a dog for ten days, and it all resulted in such a chicken-rib skill?!

The system raged: [Don't look down on Danger Sense! Do you know how many big shots dream of having Danger Sense?!]

The greatest use of Danger Sense was to defend against assassinations.

It provided advance perception of assassins within 300 meters, making it impossible even for Crow King Corvus Corax to assassinate the host silently ever again.

"But what I want right now is a combat skill! Those guys aren't assassinating me at all, they're straight-up murdering me in broad daylight!!!" Lin En yelled louder than the system.

[What can I do about it?! You drew it yourself!!!]

"Aahhh!!!" Lin En threw a tantrum, wanting to threaten the system into taking back this trait and letting him draw again.

Yet immediately he held back, because the cultists were shouting from behind again.

"He's over there! There's a sound!"

Lin En ran for his life.

As he ran, he realized something was wrong.

Wrong.

One hundred thousand percent wrong.

This skill... hss... this skill seemed actually kind of useful.

When he sprinted into a side passage, a warning suddenly flashed through his mind.

Ding-ding-ding, like someone pressing a bell inside his head.

--There are people ahead, many of them, strong hostility, don't go over.

Lin En slammed on the brakes.

He squatted down, turned off his light, pressed himself against a stalagmite pillar at the corner, and pricked up his ears.

Sure enough, just a few seconds later, the footsteps and voices of cultists came from the corner ahead.

There really were people, and not just one or two. Quite a few—a line of seven or eight burly cultists holding dark red psychic lights were walking in this direction.

If he hadn't had that intuition just now, if he had kept running forward, he would have collided face-to-face with this group of burly cultists, followed by a gang beatdown.

Hss.

Lin En drew in a sharp breath.

One hundred thousand percent wrong.

He ran another stretch.

Ding-ding. This time, a warning flashed in his head again.

It was weaker than the previous one, the hostility wasn't as strong, probably a stray cultist—

He slowed his pace, stopped at a turn, and poked his head out to take a look.

Sure enough, a lurking cultist was crouching in the shadows of the tunnel ahead.

Lin En silently bypassed them from another fork.

Hss.

Lin En drew in another sharp breath.

This thing, this thing... actually seemed kind of useful.

The system stated: [I told you so.]

"But when you hand it over, can't you phrase it in a way that makes people happy?! Like, congratulations to the host for acquiring an epic survival divine skill or something!"

[Congratulations to the host for acquiring an epic survival divine skill.]

Lin En: "..."

Fine.

He suppose it wasn't too much of a chicken rib either. It was quite useful for escaping and extremely helpful for detecting enemy movements, allowing him to run away a step ahead before the enemy arrived.

Yet he still really wanted an offensive skill QAQ!!!! Right now, he was still purely a mortal in terms of combat power, and mortals in Warhammer 40,000 weren't even considered ants—they were merely meat paste ground down beneath the clashes of gods.

Just like Archangel Sanguinius being hammered into meat paste by Horus during the Horus Heresy.

Lin En wept as he ran.