Life Game In Other World
Chapter 1380: The Dying Sun and Death (Request for Monthly Tickets)

Chapter 1380: Chapter 1380: The Dying Sun and Death (Request for Monthly Tickets)

The icy sword light cut through the setting sun, like a scythe in late autumn, scraping across the earth, harvesting life.

At first, it was just the clashing sounds of sword beams, mixed with mechanical roars and the jetting of tail flames.

But soon, this sound turned into the hiss of sharp blades slicing through metal, the sizzle of leaking electricity, and the booming sound of high-performance battery explosions.

In the blossoming flames, that blood-soaked figure stepped forward one step at a time.

This was not a battle, but a one-sided massacre.

The silhouettes charged towards the heavily wounded figure standing at the center of the battlefield without any hesitation, only to be cut down like straw by the shimmering Mantis Blade, scattering into explosive flames and shattered parts.

Streaks of flickering light flashed across the sky, the sound of micro laser cannons and plasma cannons firing.

These glimmers intertwined, almost forming a network of light in the sky, dazzling the world under the setting sun along with the explosive flames.

Yet amidst the dense lasers and plasma cannons, the blood-drenched figure continued to advance slowly, as if taking a leisurely stroll forward.

The beams of light seemed to deliberately avoid him, always missing him by a hair’s breadth.

The blood-stained cigarette flickered within the flames, while the Mantis Blade, torn asunder, flowed with weak arcs in the radiance.

Every swing of the sword light claimed a life.

So many advanced prosthetics, such elite weaponry; facing any full-fledged C-level Transcendent, if they dared to fight, they would be torn apart by the swarm.

But in front of this man, riddled with bullet holes, weak as if about to die, these sturdy and powerful prosthetics were as fragile as tissue paper.

When the explosion sounds gradually died down, when the charging roars retreated into the darkness.

At the end of the flame-covered square, two figures raised their palms, revealing the laser cannon muzzles in their palms, attacking the approaching blood-drenched figure.

The flashing lasers were like neon lights, grazing past that figure.

Zheng—

Accompanied by the crisp sound of blades tearing through metal, two booming explosions erupted in the square.

The slow and weary figure passed through the flames produced by the explosions, planting the Mantis Blade into the concrete at his side, taking out the cigarette from his mouth, and exhaling a puff of smoke.

Pa——Pa——Pa——

Clear applause came from ahead.

A gaunt figure walked out of the shadows in front, raising his head to look at He Ao, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Interesting, your strength seems to be more than it appears?"

"A talkative one has arrived, cough—" The thick smoke from the cigarette irritated his lungs, causing He Ao to cough up a mouthful of blood. He looked at the gaunt figure before him and asked hoarsely, "Are you with ’Moli’?"

"I don’t think I have an obligation to answer you," the gaunt figure shrugged while looking at He Ao. He raised his hand, revealing a golden mechanical wristwatch.

He glanced down at the time, then looked back up at He Ao with a smile, "Sir, the commotion you’re causing is a bit loud, the Secret Service Bureau is likely on their way here, and we don’t have much time,"

He took out an exquisite dagger from his bosom, shaking his head slightly, still maintaining a hint of a smile on his face, as twisted red glimmers covered his body, "I’ll try to design a decent ’suicide’ posture for you, how about it?"

Before he even finished speaking, his figure had already suddenly disappeared.

His speed was so fast, that ordinary eyes couldn’t even capture it.

In almost an instant, he was already right in front of He Ao.

A slight smile played on his lips, and the sharp dagger spun in his hand, the razor-sharp tip already nearing He Ao’s neck.

He stared at He Ao’s serene, somewhat dazed face, his eyes narrowing slightly.

He knew that the person in front hadn’t yet reacted.

At this moment, his body had already reached the level of a B-class, a concept entirely different from a C-class.

Not to mention, his speed was even faster than the usual B-class.

Most of the time, these C-level Transcendents had his blade lodged into their bodies before they even realized it.

He admitted that the guy in front indeed had some skills, able to kill so many mechanical bodies despite being severely injured.

But this was as far as it went, C-class was just C-class.

And just as his dagger tip was about to pierce the bloodstained neck, he saw that the eyes on that emotionless face, which had been staring straight ahead, had turned towards him unbeknownst to him.

The eyes might catch up, but could the body?—

Even before this thought could fully form in his mind, the blood-coated figure gently sidestepped in his vision, evading the dagger tip.

At the same time, a hand that had somehow ended up behind his own back flipped around, the wooden-handled rifle originally hidden behind him spun in the air, its muzzle pressing against his chin.

He wanted to react, but the other’s speed was so quick that the cold muzzle had already sunk into his skin before he could respond.

Bam—

With a clear gunshot, that hand pulled the trigger.

Blood blossomed from the back of that skull, painted gold by the setting sun.

Puff—

Accompanied by the dull thud of the body hitting the ground, He Ao raised his other hand, placing the cigarette he’d taken out back between his lips.

Exhaling a puff of smoke.

He glanced down at the gaunt man’s corpse.

At this moment, the gaunt man’s body was visibly decaying and disappearing at a rate visible to the naked eye.

Another one dabbling in Grace.

He Ao’s gaze fell on the dagger on the ground. With a slight lift of his toe, the dagger spun in the air before landing in his hand.

Then, using the rifle, he picked up a still-intact black garment from the scattered debris, slung the rifle back over his shoulder, and began walking step by step toward the park’s exit.

There lay a wide road.

And just as he stood at the exit, he looked back, his gaze falling on a dark alley on one side of the park.

A slight smile played on his lips.

A faint purple glow flickered in his eyes.

The setting sun bled at the city’s edge, stretching long shadows through the buildings and vehicles.

The next second, a speeding vehicle crossed the road, and his figure vanished into thin air.

——

A tall man in a black suit walked out of the dark alley, his eyes sweeping across the scattered machinery and blood before raising his head to gaze at the empty park exit.

The blood-drenched figure seemed to still stand there.

At one moment, he could have sworn he felt an overwhelming pressure, like an ant facing a human.

A similar pressure he only felt when confronting the Director of the Federation.

And it’s likely that the director is a true Angel.

He had no doubt that if the other party wanted, they could kill him in an instant.

He also had no doubt that he had indeed been discovered by the other party earlier.

But why did they not make a move?

Could it be that because he didn’t attack the other, the other didn’t attack him in return?

Was he really an assassin?

Would an Angel come to act as an assassin?

Then what was with the injuries he had, or was it that he wasn’t an Angel, just temporarily reaching a similar level using some sort of Extraordinary Items?

But whether or not they were truly an Angel, they possessed the power to easily kill him.

If he was truly an assassin, why didn’t he act?

Staring at the desolate intersection, he felt a chill run down his spine.

He didn’t actually stop; he saw with his own eyes the ’assassin’ kill the gaunt figure and walk towards the park exit.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the assassin had deliberately waited for him.

His actions were all under the other’s control.

But now, he placed a hand on his communicator, "Target’s lost. Contact Denno City’s authorities to lock down all roads for inspection immediately—"

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as a hand landed on his communicator.

His muscles instantly tensed, filling up his previously somewhat loose suit completely as he lifted his head to look ahead.

A slender figure wearing glasses appeared in his field of view.

"The President is still in danger now. The fighter jets are ready, and the President needs to return to Ains, where there is better treatment." The figure with glasses slowly withdrew his hand from the communicator and spoke.

"Who are you?" The man in the black suit ignored the other’s words and directly asked.

In the glow of the sunset, a pitch-black badge flipped open before the man in the black suit’s eyes.

Looking at the contents of the badge, the man in the black suit slightly furrowed his brows.

The figure with glasses had already withdrawn the badge in his hand, looking at the man in the black suit and said calmly, "We’ve already identified the assassin. His name is Paxiu, originally a Wilderness Wanderer from the southern wilds of Denno City, who acquired Federation status through the Dawn City Wilderness Wanderer Immigration Act as the first batch to obtain such status."

He paused slightly in his speech, "He also received the Blue Heart Medal personally awarded by Dawn City Mayor Christos. This matter concerns Dawn City and Christos. You should return to protect the President and leave the rest to us."

Upon hearing his words, the man in the black suit slightly opened his mouth, hesitating to speak.

The expression on the figure with glasses gradually turned cold, "It’s the Secret Service Bureau’s duty to protect the President. You’ve already failed once. Are you planning to fail a second time?"

The man in the black suit’s face stiffened. He looked up at the man with glasses, then turned and walked toward the alley from whence he came.

As the man in the black suit completely disappeared into the shadows, the man with glasses turned around and looked toward the park exit. He took out a small black communicator from his jacket and spoke hoarsely, "Deploy all defenses in the city, even if it’s a lizard in the crevices; I want it pulled out, and—"

He looked down at the blood and wreckage on the ground, "Send a team to me,"

A mechanical head, shimmering in light, rolled to his feet as he expressionlessly raised his foot and stepped on it with his boot, "There are traces of a battle here. I want to know what happened here just now."

Boom—

With a sudden force downward, his unidentifiable-material boot crushed the mechanical head beneath it.

——

Boom—

Lying on top of the truck’s cargo hold, He Ao raised his head, looking at the fighter jet soaring across the sky with a massive airflow, flying northeastward.

That was in the direction of Ains.

"Cough—"

He removed the cigarette butt from his mouth, exhaling a cloud of layered smoke, and coughed again.

He glanced at the blue-glowing blood in his palm, with faint traces of purple light shimmering in its depths.

At this moment, besides the near-death pain, he could feel another sensation—a kind of intense, almost as if being bitten by thousands of ants, a feeling of ’tearing.’

Since Super Memory elevated to Angel, there have been some additional ’changes.’

A C-level body, theoretically, cannot withstand the Soul of an Angel.

In fact, even a B-level body cannot withstand it.

During his elevation, the power of Super Memory overflowed from his soul, reconstructing and upgrading his body, probably one reason why.

The result of stuffing an ocean into a cup is simple—the cup bursts.

Not to mention this is still a severely injured, near-death C-level body.

Theoretically speaking, at the moment He Ao’s soul descended, this body should have burst and twisted apart, but perhaps due to the system or some other reason, there was a sort of ’buffer’ during the descent.

At He Ao’s current stage, he has realized his soul and body are not completely forcibly integrated.

His soul, at this moment, is actually ’associated’ with this body.

He speculates, in the sense of Mysticism, this body is his body or, in Mysticism, now, he is Paxiu himself.

This peculiar association formed a kind of ’buffer,’ reducing the repulsive force between his soul and body and preventing this body from instantly bursting due to the soul’s force.

But this doesn’t mean this body can accommodate He Ao’s soul.

The flow of angelic-tier strength from the soul continues to pour into this body, tearing at his flesh.

Even without He Ao actively using angelic-tier power, this body is swiftly moving towards death. If he tries to slightly trigger the soul’s power, this body might explode instantly right before him.

He needs to find a way to quickly elevate to B-level.

A B-level body can at least withstand the force of the Incomplete Angel Level, avoiding the risk of dying at any moment as it is now.

In some sense, the system is utilizing his own power to increase the difficulty of the Copy World.

A slight purple glow emerged from He Ao’s palm.

Of course, this doesn’t mean he’s completely unable to use the Super Memory ability.

Even if he suppresses his soul’s power, refrains from using Super Memory, avoiding immediate self-destruction, the spilled over power alone provides him many additional abilities.

For example, within a certain range around him, without marking, he can directly ’sense’ the surface thoughts of people nearby, unless covered by high positional grade power, he can more or less perceive it.

Upon contact, he seemingly can also channel power into an enemy’s body, altering their thoughts in a very short time, achieving the effect of ’Ease Thought.’

Moreover, due to the micro-power from the spilled out Super Memory, his physical fitness exceeds that of ordinary C-level.

Though not entirely reaching the B-level, with his Martial Arts skills, dealing with ordinary B-level individuals isn’t an issue.

Of course, his current body, laden with all sorts of negative states from severe injury, is nearing its limit.

The reason for causing such commotion in the recent battle was to await the arrival of that Secret Service Bureau’s B-level personnel, entering the range of his abilities, checking if the person is related to the assassination.

Yet it appears the person is merely fulfilling protection duties, unaware of the assassination.

This makes things interesting—’Paxiu’ and his friend ’Moli,’ knew the President’s route days in advance.

As for the emaciated men and those mechanized body soldiers, they seem to be some kind of special ’death warriors,’ only following orders without knowing true allegiance, preventing being read by mind from the source.

"Cough—"

He Ao coughed lightly again, looking at the surrounding streets.

In the distance, the television screen was broadcasting the President’s assassination video, with a young and pretty news anchor quickly reporting the city government’s issued traffic restrictions.

Just then, the truck slowly pulled over, causing He Ao’s body to roll to the edge of the truck’s cargo hold.

The old truck quickly maneuvered its body, aligning with the open shutter door of the warehouse. The driver got off the vehicle and opened the cargo hold door.

Then, he curiously glanced at the top of the truck, "Why do I feel there were movements on this truck?"

He fetched a ladder, climbed atop the cargo hold, and saw nothing but an empty rooftop.

——

Standing in front of the tightly closed rusted iron door, He Ao casually flipped a blood-stained jacket to its non-blood-stained side hanging it on the door handle.

It was a jacket from those mechanized body soldiers he just picked up, which helps prevent blood from staining the truck’s cargo hold.

He lifted his head, gazing at the tightly shut iron door before him.

Inside echoed faint sounds, seemingly a comedy show playing on TV.

He Ao gently knocked on the iron door.

No sound comes from behind the door.

Then he grasped the door handle, wrapped in the jacket, and applied slight force.

Bang—

Accompanied by a crisp sound, the iron door deformed slightly and was pushed open.

Taking the coat hanging on the door, He Ao looked inside.

Upon entering is the living room; the living room is arranged extremely simply, nearly devoid of decorations.

Only a small dining table, a single-armchair with the back to the door, facing a small TV directly positioned facing the entrance.

At this moment, the TV was showing a comedy show, with laughter emitting.

"Moli?"

He Ao gently called, but got no response; the room remained motionless.

He slowly moved forward, reaching beside the armchair.

Seated on the sofa was a bald man wearing a red and white striped shirt, jeans, and round-frame glasses watching the TV direction.

His eyes wide open, mouth agape, seemingly seeing something extremely terrifying.

The last glimmers of daylight passing through the window illuminated his body, reaching He Ao’s face too.

The corpse on the couch had been dead for some time.