The sinister factory was steeped in a ghostly aura.
Dust filled the air, and the dim glass lamp overhead swayed uneasily. All sorts of shipping containers stood inside the factory. A tall, slender man sat casually atop one of them, toying with a Swiss Army knife in his well-defined fingers.
The instance system's icy voice suddenly rang out in their ears.
"Congratulations, players, on arriving at the Hope Factory. Workers have recently been disappearing without explanation, causing the boss considerable distress. We hope all players will work hard to resolve the boss's troubles."
Resolve the boss's troubles?
So how many players were there in total?
Were there any traitors among them?
Hopefully there weren't too many newcomers. Having them constantly drag everyone down was a pain.
Wei Yanchi yawned, thinking idly that the NPCs hadn't appeared yet, so he could relax for now.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, then abruptly looked toward the door.
Someone was coming.
With a creak, the rusty iron gate opened, and moonlight spilled in like water.
Wei Yanchi's hand paused over his knife. For an instant, his entire body stilled-even his breathing stopped and his heart skipped a beat.
Entering through the gate alongside the moonlight was a tall man with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, dressed in a dark leather coat. His long, silvery-white hair seemed even softer than the moonlight. Shadows partially obscured his features, but their cold, severe lines were still visible. His skin was a cool, pale white, and his beauty held something dangerous and profoundly mysterious.
Indeed, just as System 455 had said, some people only had to stand there to make you feel it would be a shame if they ended up as cannon fodder.
Wei Yanchi pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, fighting the urge to whistle as he unabashedly looked the man over. Was that silvery-white hair real?
Was he a foreigner?
A veteran player or a newcomer?
He took the initiative to greet him, an unrestrained smile curving across his handsome face. "Hello. Care to get acquainted? I'm Wei Yanchi."
The man seemed to notice him only then and raised his head slightly. His eyes weren't pure black; they held a faint green tint, a deep, inky green. Narrow and upturned, they scrutinized him with a sharp, indifferent gaze that made no attempt to hide its aggression, then shifted away.
"39."
His voice was low and slightly husky.
Incredible. Wei Yanchi felt himself suck in a breath. Well, the man had somehow hit him right in his kink.
"Thirty-nine?" He jumped down from the container and smiled slightly. "A pretty good number. So should I call you 39?"
"Yes."
A number instead of a name? It was an odd setup. Wei Yanchi couldn't remember any organization in the world that used numbers in place of names. Was it a new one? But would a newly established organization have someone with 39's bearing?
Or was some long-established organization testing the waters again?
Mr. 39 clearly didn't enjoy talking. He stood there quietly, waiting for the other players to arrive.
His head was slightly lowered as he looked at the floor, silver strands sliding softly over his shoulders.
Quite well-behaved, actually.
Wei Yanchi couldn't help looking him over. His hands itched to touch that silver hair, and he could almost imagine its silky texture brushing his fingertips.
Mr. 39's eyelashes and eyebrows were silver too. So hair like that really existed, and it wasn't albinism-white and silver were very different, after all.
With those eyes and such deeply set features, he was probably of mixed heritage.
As though annoyed by his scrutiny, the man pulled a phone from his clothes and walked aside without sparing him a glance.
Amused, Wei Yanchi folded his arms, entirely at ease, and made no effort to rein in his gaze.
His eyes traveled from the long silver hair to the lean, strong waist beneath it, its outline faintly defined by a belt.
455!! Help!
Stop playing dead! If you don't tell me what to do next, I'm going to die here.
Xie De gritted his teeth, keeping his expression unchanged as he quietly moved farther away from the protagonist and repeatedly called for 455 in his mind.
Of course the protagonist was handsome, with the sort of beauty that felt like a warm spring breeze. Gentle and modest, yet free-spirited and flamboyant, he wore a white shirt and sneakers and looked just like a courteous scholar.
Xie De thought bitterly, He's only about on par with me as I am now.
At the thought of those three months of accelerated hellish training, Xie De couldn't help wanting to tremble and bawl his eyes out. It had been utterly inhumane, beyond all imagining. Just remembering it made his heart quiver. 455, that lunatic! That lunatic!!
He hated himself for not taking it seriously back then.
Now it was as though 455 had fried the nerves responsible for his facial expressions with electricity.
Was he going to be stuck with a permanently expressionless face?
"Host, ٩(◦`꒳´◦)۶, stay steady. You're doing very well."
"(ง•̀灬•́)ง, those three months of training really paid off. Host, you've improved so much. You can actually stay this calm when you see the protagonist."
Calm, my ass! Don't think using emoticons to act cute makes you adorable.
"Haven't you noticed the protagonist keeps staring at me? What does he want? Is he going to kill me?"
455 offered a brief analysis. "That's possible, because you don't look easy to mess with right now, and you seem like a villain? But according to my analysis, the protagonist won't kill you for the time being. The instance is dangerous, so you need to cooperate."
And whose fault was it that he'd ended up like this?
Without answering, Xie De put his phone away.
The protagonist was still watching him with a smile. "There's no signal here," he said gently. "Are you a new player?"
"Yes."
Xie De watched him warily.
The protagonist moved a little closer. His fair, healthy complexion was like a piece of warm jade. There was absolutely no sign of the ruthless killer 455 had used to scare Xie De-the one who would kill without blinking and eat people without even adding salt. His voice was gentle too.
"Mr. 39, are you an agent from the national team?"
An agent??
Could he get any more overdramatic?
Xie De was rather baffled. Why would the protagonist ask that? But he neither denied nor confirmed it. Following the principle that the more he said, the more mistakes he would make, he let the protagonist guess.
Wei Yanchi looked at the aloof, guarded man before him. He really was just like a long-haired North American Maine Coon.
His hands itched. He wanted to pet him.
"Then you must know about this so-called instance escape game, Mr. 39?"
"I do."
"We call this instance escape game Life-Extending Soup. There are plenty of opportunities here. If you want, you can even do whatever you please."
Wei Yanchi spoke with a smile.
"For you, Mr. 39, it should be very easy."
Easy? Xie De felt the protagonist was mocking him.
Just then, several more people entered through the gate one after another.
Every one of them looked grim and unhappy, and they eyed one another warily. There were five in total: three men and two women.
Wei Yanchi looked them over, and a pleased smile curved across his lips. They were all veteran players, so it seemed Mr. 39 was the only newcomer.
The bespectacled man who looked somewhat aged was called Old Eugene.
The quiet, efficient woman was called Yue Xiamo.
The sweet-looking girl with an expressionless face was called Beiwei.
The muscular man with powerfully built limbs was called Li Luohan.
The short, gloomy man was called Fang Jueshan.
Wei Yanchi smiled slightly and took the initiative to introduce him. "Long time no see, everyone. This is our newcomer, 39."
At the sight of Wei Yanchi, they all tensed and went on guard, like mice spotting a cat.
Beiwei's gaze swept over 39's figure, paused briefly, then quietly withdrew.
Someone with that kind of presence actually existed?
He was probably another dangerous one.
Before you continue