Chapter 1975: The Strategist
Xu Huo and another therapist named Zhang Xian were taken hostage. The player who captured them used some unknown props (daoju), carrying one person in each hand as he flashed past the base players like lightning, and for a moment, no one could keep up with him.
In just a few seconds, they reached the exit specially left by the base, successfully broke through, and soon left the medical base far behind.
This player took a winding path, twisting and turning through several routes, before bringing Xu Huo and the other therapist to a zoo.
The zoo had a sign saying "Temporarily Closed for Ticket Sales." It was daytime, so there were few people around. Although they were caught by surveillance cameras when they entered, no abnormal alarms were triggered.
The three went straight to the zoo's control room, a spacious area that could display hundreds of projection screens in a loop. But the people inside were clearly not zoo staff—they were about a dozen fully armed players, and in the middle of them were all uniformed psychotherapists, twelve in total.
The East District players weren't up to the task, huh. They actually let so many psychotherapists be snatched away in one go.
"He's here," said one tattooed burly man, tilting his chin toward the player who had grabbed Xu Huo and the other.
"Move it!"
Xu Huo and Zhang Xian were pushed into the middle, forced to squat down with their heads in their hands like the other psychotherapists.
At that moment, the tattooed man exchanged a glance with a player beside him who was wearing a hoodie and a mask. Then he stood up, walked in front of the group, and said in a loud voice, "You're ordinary people. The Rebel Army doesn't kill ordinary people indiscriminately. We brought you here for only one purpose—to find out who performed the surgeries on the players."
The psychotherapists here were all older people. These old-timers had lived dignified lives for most of their years, and now, suddenly crammed together in such a sorry state, hearing that the Rebel Army had a request for them, one of them spoke up: "You lawless thugs, and you still have the nerve to call yourselves good people? How many innocent people have died by your hands? Can you close your eyes at night when you sleep? Aren't you afraid the ones you've killed will come for you?"
The Rebel Army members just stood there listening to him curse, showing no sign of anger. Only after the psychotherapist finished his tirade did the tattooed man silently draw a short knife from his waist, walk over, and drag the man out. Ignoring the man's terrified shouts, he slit his throat without hesitation.
The body was thrown back into the crowd. The terrified therapists scrambled backward, but they didn't dare stand up, so they ended up bumping into each other and falling over, completely losing their composure.
The tattooed man wiped the blood off his knife. "Whether the Rebel Army is good or not is not for you to judge. You're not even from Jade Spring City—you're just dogs who've taken over someone else's home and are throwing your weight around on someone else's turf. What right do you have to judge us?"
"I'll say it again: who performed the surgeries on the East District players?"
"Rumor has it that you rely on a potion called 'White Blood' to boost player strength, but we've already figured it out. Every East District player has undergone a craniotomy. They're calmer, more ruthless, and have faster reaction times than ordinary people. These should all be effects of the surgery."
"Agor Corporation has gone to great lengths to cover for this person, but there's no way you don't know about it, right? After all, every East District player has to undergo a psychological evaluation."
His eyes swept over the people squatting in front of him like a hyena. "Don't say I'm not giving you a chance to live. Spill the name now!"
The psychotherapists huddled together. One of them bravely asked, "If we tell you, will you really let us go?"
"The Rebel Army keeps its word!" the tattooed man declared.
"Are you the leader of the Rebel Army?" another person asked. "What if you say we'll be released, but someone else quietly makes a move?"
"Here, my word represents the leader's word," the tattooed man said coldly, staring at them. "I think you're deliberately causing trouble to stall for time!"
With that, he grabbed another person, put a knife to his throat, and demanded, "Talk or not!"
"I don't know!" the captured therapist shouted frantically. "I've only been on the job for two months. I only deal with players on a daily basis. I have no idea about any surgery, and I've never heard of this 'White Blood' either. You've got the wrong person!"
But the tattooed man killed him without even blinking.
As the body hit the floor, he reached for a third person. At that moment, the masked player stopped him, stepped forward, and said to the group, "Everyone, I am the Rebel Army's strategist. Bringing you here under duress has cost us a great deal. Do you think we want to meet under these circumstances? It's just that circumstances force our hand. Since both sides have suffered losses, why not cut our losses in time?"
"You should all have heard of my identity. I believe I am enough to represent the Rebel Army. As long as you give me a specific name, I promise to let you leave alive. No one from the Rebel Army will harm you again, or they will be considered traitors to the organization."
He raised his head and looked around. "Did you all hear that?"
"Yes, Strategist!" The dozen or so Rebel Army members, including the tattooed man, answered in unison.
"Is that enough?" The strategist turned back to the therapists.
The old-timers looked at each other. At this point, they had no choice but to believe him. But betting was one thing—if they survived, how would they explain this to Agor Corporation when they returned?
After several moments of hesitation, one person slowly stood up. "I... I can tell you... but you have to keep it a secret..."
Before he finished speaking, this therapist, who had seemed as timid as a startled bird just a second ago, lunged at the strategist like lightning. At the same time, he threw out over a dozen props (daoju)—some for self-defense and to force back the tattooed man and his crew, but most were for controlling and killing the strategist, including small explosive props (daoju)!
Although the small-scale explosion wasn't very lethal, being too close was hard on the ears. After a loud bang, everyone nearby had their ears ringing. At that moment, the player disguised as a therapist also unleashed a jamming prop (daoju). As a piercing shriek rang out, all the Rebel Army members present instinctively reached for the anti-jamming devices in their ears—the strategist included.
Then the East District player seamlessly followed up with a vibration jammer. This time, everyone present except himself went blind for a moment.
His target was clear: the strategist. But what he hadn't anticipated was that just as he was confidently about to take the strategist's life, the man who had been clutching his head in pain suddenly stood up straight, facing him as if nothing was wrong. A metal spear flying in from behind pierced straight through his heart.
The East District player fell to the ground, full of unanswered questions.
The strategist straightened his clothes, walked back in front of the therapists, and said in a low (dichen) voice, "Time is limited, everyone. Don't cause me any more trouble." (Chapter End)