Life Game In Other World
Chapter 229: Gunshots (Double-Length - - Please Subscribe, Favorite, and Vote for Monthly Ticket)

Chapter 229: Chapter 229: Gunshots (Double-Length Chapter - Please Subscribe, Favorite, and Vote for Monthly Ticket)

The intense orange-yellow light illuminated the sky, the giant’s cheeks, and the pitch-black alley.

Heat waves swept out, and He Ao’s body was struck by the giant’s punctured corpse, falling from the sky.

At this moment, his vision was full of red warnings, with some damaged and overheating parts even scorching his skin.

He Ao shut down some of the damaged systems, then harnessed the mecha’s remaining energy to make a barely controlled adjustment to his posture with the power of the engines, allowing himself to land smoothly.

Boom—

The giant’s body hit the ground, emitting a thunderous noise.

The scorched hot air rose along the perforated body.

He Ao glanced at the remaining battery life, a mere 11% based on a single battery.

This was the total power of two batteries.

The last strike had nearly drained both batteries.

The state of the mecha was not good now.

He Ao felt that some areas were even slightly drafty.

So-called overclocking is actually operating the entire equipment with a power output exceeding safe limits.

It’s not that the device can’t operate at this power, but once it does, it exceeds the safe use limits of certain parts, which can lead to the damage of these components and consequently to the damage of the entire equipment, or even safety accidents.

On the Adam Model 1 mecha He Ao was wearing, some parts had now completely failed, resulting in the inability to use certain functions.

Little sparks of electricity leaked from He Ao as he walked slowly to the side of the already dead giant.

This was not the masked person who appeared on the interview program.

Although this masked person had a similar build to the one in the video and wore the same mask with special decorations on the face, making it look almost identical at first glance.

But in fact, there were many details that were different, such as this masked person not having noticeable scars on the mouth.

This was probably just a substitute.

And that mad masked person who appeared on the interview program, perhaps, was Chaos, the target of this mission for He Ao.

He Ao scanned the surroundings to ensure there were no ambushes, then turned his gaze to the charred wound on the giant’s body.

The weapon that caused this wound was not a laser cannon like Selena’s but a miniature plasma cannon developed by Vian.

This plasma cannon technology was not mature.

The energy needed to drive it was too great, even exceeding the limit that the mecha could bear, and it had to be overclocked to be released.

Of course, the power was considerable.

Plasma itself is colorless; the orange-yellow light that was released was the flame color reaction of the gun’s alloy.

This battle, in a way, was a stress field test for the Adam Model 1 mecha, which revealed many problems that perhaps could be improved upon once He Ao got back later that evening.

He Ao stood next to the giant’s corpse for a short while when a black sedan stopped at the intersection, and the silver-haired butler got out of the car slowly.

"Master Vian."

The butler approached He Ao’s side.

"Hmm," He Ao nodded slightly and pointed to the van embedded in the wall behind him, "Take inventory of the items inside and then make a list for me."

"Shall these items be returned to the Nord Bank?"

The butler asked in a low voice.

"Contact their respective losers."

He Ao shook his head.

Most of the stolen goods were valuable items deposited by customers at Nord Bank, not actually belonging to the Nord Bank.

He Ao then added, "Remember to introduce those customers to the Nolanka Bank’s valuables custody service, as well as deposit and financial services."

Those in need of a valuables custody service were generally big clients.

"Alright."

The butler nodded lightly.

"By the way,"

He Ao called out to the butler, who was about to summon people, "Find out the information of the person who planned today’s interview program."

——

"The person isn’t on that street? Okay, I got it, so what’s being broadcast right now must be a recorded video."

Director Jelang was a large, imposing man.

He wore a somewhat ill-fitting police uniform and stood at the forefront of the crowd.

He turned off the walkie-talkie in his hand, put it into his coat pocket, and signaled for the officers behind him to bring up the lightweight hydraulic hammer.

The hydraulic hammer was quickly activated, aimed at the wall, and the office building’s management staff watched from the side; this wall was not load-bearing and could be knocked down.

Director Jelang did not opt for the method of cutting through the welded-shut iron door with a thermal lance, which would take too much time.

There were only three minutes left in the countdown from twenty minutes.

With a powerful thrust, the hydraulic hammer caused a dent in the wall.

Another strike followed, and the wall crumbled, revealing a hollow.

The officers rapidly detached the hydraulic hammer.

Upon seeing the wall collapse, the trapped staff and presenters swarmed out, fleeing in a panic.

Meanwhile, Jelang pushed against the flow of people and squeezed into the broadcasting studio.

Following the source of the countdown, he arrived at a wall.

After listening carefully for a moment, he punched through the wall, revealing an empty cavity within.

And a,

clock that was loudly counting down.

Jelang’s mind went blank, he reached out and snatched the clock, prying open the back cover.

The inside was indeed the most ordinary clockwork mechanism; there was no explosive.

"A prank?"

He turned off the clock and walked out of the studio, somewhat dazed.

The outdoor staff were anxiously calling their families to reassure them, all except for the neatly dressed presenter standing among the crowd, looking dazed and lost in thought.

Jelang didn’t concern himself with these people and simply instructed the officers to look after their emotions, leading everyone away from the studio before lowering his head to examine the clock in his hand.

He vaguely felt something was amiss; the person on the video appeared to be an unscrupulous thug, so why would he only play a prank?

Just then, his wristband vibrated.

It was the twenty-minute countdown he had set.

Boom——

Accompanying the vibration of his wristband was the thunderous roar of an explosion; the entire floor seemed to tremble.

A few workers who had escaped were frightened by the explosion into screaming, while Jelang nearly lost his balance and fell, but he grabbed a nearby worker and asked,

"What’s the room above?"

"Storage, studio, everyone should have been evacuated..." The worker spoke halfway and then paused abruptly, "The Boss is still in his office upstairs."

"Someone’s there?"

Jelang released the worker and dashed into the fire escape, scrambling up the stairs.

Several officers followed suit.

There were fewer people maintaining order on this floor.

The sounds of phone calls quieted down, and the staff who had just escaped death had mostly reassured their families; low murmurs of conversation began to spread through the crowd.

Presenter Jet, who was beside himself with shock, leaned at the edge of the crowd, his mind blank.

The studio was not without internet; in the ten or so minutes he had been locked in the studio, he had logged onto the TV station’s website and seen the station’s "live" show about him.

His embarrassment and his desperate appearance had been seen and mocked by millions of viewers.

"I’m done for, I’m finished,"

He staggered to the edge of the vent, muttering to himself.

The rustling sounds of the crowd surrounded him.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying.

It seemed as though everyone was mocking him, shaming him.

His career as a host had ended.

From now on, everyone would think of him as a clown.

He no longer had a future.

He violently lifted his head, looking at the slender man closest to him.

This man was usually the most eager to flatter and ingratiate himself with him.

And at this moment,

The man was laughing!

He was laughing!

Jet violently grabbed the man’s shoulders, his eyes bulging, red blood vessels filling his eyes,

"What are you laughing at? What are you laughing at? You think you have the right to laugh at me? You filthy, lowly poor people, you think you have the right to laugh at me?"

"I was on the phone with my kid! Are you crazy?"

The man struggled free from his grip, roaring back angrily.

"You think you have the right? You think you have the right?"

Jet let go, staggering backward until he leaned against the open ventilation window.

His clothes were disheveled, his hair somewhat chaotic, "You think I’m going to give you the opportunity to laugh at me!?"

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

He clung to the edge of the ventilation window, then took a leap—

This was the 27th floor.

——Four minutes earlier——

"Open the door! Open the door!"

The man, dressed in formal attire, violently pounded on the office door, trying to twist the doorknob, pulling at the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

To his left, there was a television turned on, displaying a blood-red countdown.

Tick-tock— Tick-tock—

The crisp sound echoed in the narrow yet opulently decorated office.

The man picked up the phone on his desk, trying to make a call, but all he got was an endless busy signal.

He then picked up his bracelet, which displayed ’no signal.’

All means of communicating with the outside world had been severed here.

He could only knock on the door, trying to attract the attention of someone nearby, but there was no response to his knocking.

The occupants of the nearby floors had been evacuated within the last twenty minutes.

As for why he wasn’t evacuated,

Once the explosion occurred, the studio equipment would be destroyed, and then he could pick up the camera to record the scene at the first opportunity.

That would mean an unknown amount of traffic.

Moreover, his office had been specially reinforced and was very safe.

The mini high-definition camera on the desk was flashing a red light, capturing his appearance in the lens.

He had just prepared to take out the camera to check its status when he found the door to his office had somehow been locked tight.

And on his television appeared a bloody countdown.

"Bastards, bastards, useless mongrels! Someone save me!"

The crisp countdown was like a death curse, relentlessly crushing his psychological defenses.

All doors and windows had been locked tight; he tried to break the glass, but the reinforced tempered glass didn’t budge an inch.

And on the other side was a full-length glass curtain wall, breaking it meant facing the heights of the 28th floor.

He staggered to the ground, tears and snot flowing freely.

"Someone save me."

The countdown on the TV approached the final ten seconds.

Bang—Crack—

A silver-black radiance descended from the heavens, shattering the glass curtain wall.

The fragmented glass reflected the streamlined figure of the mecha, casting its image on the cheeks of the man kneeling on the ground, sobbing bitterly.

It was like the advent of a savior.

He Ao landed on the ground, his scanner quickly locating the bomb hidden inside the wall.

Then he smashed the wall with a punch, pulled out the bomb, and broke the window, tossing the bomb to the end of the corridor.

The entire process was smooth and without the slightest hesitation.

The roar of the explosion echoed through the entire floor.

At this moment, the mecha’s energy was almost depleted.

He Ao could still operate the mecha using physical strength, the mecha could maintain a certain level of defense, but moving would be very exhausting, like a soldier wearing heavy armor on the battlefield.

Eventually, He Ao retracted the mecha, turning it back into a silver-gray briefcase.

"Who are you?"

The man looked at He Ao with confusion.

Vian was not the kind of famous playboy who often appeared in the papers, and he rarely participated in events, resulting in his status as the controlling shareholder of Nolanka Group being relatively unknown in Kaye City.

"Just a good Samaritan passing by,"

He Ao gave him a glance, picked up the camera on the desk, and found that it was still recording normally.

He saved the recording, entered the camera’s editing interface, and deleted the part of his entrance.

Then he found the part where the man was crying desperately for help had also been recorded.

He brought his wristband close to the data transfer port of the camera, then transferred the recording into his wristband.

"This footage would probably attract a lot of traffic if it were broadcast on your channel, wouldn’t it?"

He placed the camera back on the desk and casually pressed the record button.

"I don’t understand what you’re saying,"

The man reached behind himself, shaking his head in confusion.

He Ao turned and started working on the computer on the desk,

"You live-streamed those pitiable people being threatened by the bomb just to attract traffic, right? Logically speaking, if I upload your footage, it should also attract a lot of traffic. What’s your computer password?"

"3576, but let’s not do that; if you upload it, I’ll never be able to show my face again."

The man glanced around, no one was nearby, then looked at the window that had been smashed open.

Anything falling from the 28th floor would be a bloody mess.

A pitch-black pistol was slowly drawn out.

As long as he made it look like he was robbed at gunpoint when the time came, with the help of a lawyer, it was very likely he could get off the hook.

If that footage got out, his career and reputation would be ruined.

He had built a persona of the gentle and refined gentleman.

His gaze flickered toward the silver-gray briefcase on the floor.

He was actually quite grateful to this person who had come to his rescue, but alas, the guy was a bit stubborn.

Although he didn’t know much about the mechanics industry, that kind of portable, pocketable mecha was obviously worth a lot of money at just a glance.

He had never seen such a lightweight mecha, and not just the mecha itself was valuable, but its technological structure was also of great value.

Arms dealers like Yiwis Space System Group have been buying advanced equipment like this at high prices to reverse engineer it.

It was a highly profitable business with no cost involved.

He Ao was focused on operating the computer, apparently unaware of his motions.

Bang—

Jelang, struggling to get past the rubble from the explosion, heard a gunshot ahead.