In the streets of Fog Town, thick gray fog slowly writhed as though it were alive.
Ruined walls lay everywhere, along with the horrifying traces left by Mutants feeding on corpses.
[I'm Not Jiahao] and [God Never Laughs] wore dark red robes caked with blood and reeking of filth. With their hoods pulled low, they limped along the edge of the ruins.
To make their disguise more convincing, Jiahao had even made God Never Laughs drag a broken length of chain that had just dropped from a cultist, producing a teeth-grating clatter against the flagstones.
"Boss Jia, this game's taste and smell systems are fucking unreal..."
[God Never Laughs] lowered his voice and launched into a furious rant:
"The blood on these clothes smells like it's mixed with dead rats. It's so pungent I can barely keep my eyes open!"
"I don't even need to lose Sanity at this point. The smell alone is going to make me puke."
"No pain, no gain."
Jiahao kept his hands tucked inside his sleeves and his back hunched, but his tone still carried the arrogance of a self-proclaimed elite:
"What's a little immersive stench?"
"This is an unavoidable loss during the initial capital accumulation phase. Once we've mapped out the cultists' troop deployments, we can sell the intel to the combat team. We should charge them at least five coins each."
As he spoke, a fully armed patrol of cultists approached from an intersection ahead.
"Shh. Heads down. Against the wall."
Jiahao gave the orders without hesitation.
The two immediately pressed themselves against the wall, playing their roles convincingly. God Never Laughs even let out two meaningless growls, looking every bit like a low-ranking fanatic brainwashed by the Evil God.
The cultists merely gave their two "low-ranking brethren" a cold glance before hurrying