Seeing that, the two rogue players finally gave up the act and sighed in resignation.
They really hadn’t wanted to get involved with the official team.
“Sorry, okay? We just didn’t want to work with the Special Affairs folks. When we heard your self-introductions earlier, we made up our minds not to meet up—and planned to slip away tonight instead.”
Rubbing their bruised, blackened eye sockets courtesy of Dong Zi, one of them grumbled, “How were we supposed to know you guys would ambush us…”
Dong Zi, completely unrepentant, shot back, “Sorry, but what the hell were you doing inciting a riot?”
Qiu Yi chimed in with a nod. “Exactly.”
“What else were we supposed to do to draw the NPCs away?” one of them retorted. “We planned to sneak out through the emergency exit at the back of the mall, but there was a whole group of NPCs standing guard there. No way we could slip past them unless we distracted them first.”
Dong Zi’s voice turned icy. “And you never considered what would happen to us, mixed in among those NPCs, if your distraction caused a full-scale riot?”
The player shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “That’d be your problem, not ours.”
“Sure, and too bad your plan was just a little bit off—and we caught you,” Lin Shu rolled over in her wheelchair, coldly. “And now? Don’t even think about dragging us down with you…”
She hadn’t even finished her sentence when the noise among the NPCs began to die down.
“There’s no plant invasion!”
A man’s furious voice rang out. “Someone’s playing us for fools! Deliberately stirring up panic!”
Another voice shouted, “Move aside!” Then a few of them switched on several high-powered flashlights from the electronics section, flooding the entire mall in blinding white light.
All the panicked NPCs froze, stunned by the sudden brightness—and realizing that, indeed, there hadn’t been any plant incursion.
“Who was it just now that had us running in circles?! The world’s already ending—there are corpses piling up outside—and you still think this kind of prank is funny?!”
The man was livid, eyes scanning everyone in the area, trying to spot any guilty looks.
Fu Changxun’s sixth sense flared, a warning bell ringing in his mind. He whispered to Qiu Yi, “Call Song Zhenpeng back. Get everyone together. We might be exposed.”
At the same time, Dong Zi shoved the two rogue players face-down onto the ground.
But it was already too late.
A woman suddenly shouted, “Over there!”
“It’s them! I saw that guy out there—he grabbed someone and used them as a shield against the plants! And that voice yelling about ‘plant invasion’ just now—that was his too! I’m sure of it!”
The middle-aged woman pointed straight at one of the rogue players. Though Dong Zi had already pinned them down, their faces had been visible just seconds earlier—long enough for them to be recognized.
All the NPCs turned sharp, burning gazes toward them. The man who had spoken earlier looked suspiciously at the group of fifteen. “Why were you hiding him?”
“They’re in it together!”
Someone in the crowd shouted, and the NPCs immediately erupted into rage, storming toward them wielding makeshift weapons and knives.
The players: “…”
Great. Now everyone was tied to the same sinking ship, forced to flee as one.
“Run—!”
Qiu Yi kicked over a shelf, blocking the NPCs’ path momentarily, then hoisted an elderly man onto his back and bolted.
Another elderly person was scooped up by Song Zhenpeng. In that instant, the team’s coordination hit an astounding 90%—all the old, young, and vulnerable were protected by the adults.
Even the two rogue players ended up grabbing Lu Zhaodi and Lu Tiangan, one on each side.
And of course, Dong Zi had someone clinging to both his front and back once again.
[Truly worthy of Huaxia blood—never leave a teammate behind. And the children must survive!]
[Tearing up.]
[Damn, got a meteor in my eye. Us old folks can’t handle this kind of scene…]
[Everyone sing along: Unite—unite—it is strength…]
[WTF, how did this livestream turn wholesome all of a sudden? Isn’t this supposed to be a brutal battle royale? The kind where everyone stabs each other in the back?!]
[If only all battle royales could be like this. …Yeah, I know. Wishful thinking.]
The only hiccup was Lin Shu—she tried to roll her wheelchair, but it got stuck.
Lulu had already sprinted ahead two steps, then suddenly doubled back. “What about your chair?!”
Lin Shu replied calmly, “It’s fine. I can manage.”
She pressed a button on the side of the wheelchair, which instantly popped open a compartment.
Inside was a collapsible crutch. Lin Shu used it to push herself upright, while Lin Ze neatly folded the chair and picked it up to carry.
Lulu stared, wide-eyed. “Okay, that’s badass.”
But Lin Shu was still disabled, and walking with a crutch was far from easy.
Her right leg clearly ached, and the pain showed in her expression despite her efforts.
Lulu frowned, disapproving. Without another word, she snatched the crutch from her hand and tossed it to Lin Ze. Then, with a burst of strength, she scooped Lin Shu up in a bridal carry.
Lin Shu’s eyes widened in panic. “You—”
“Let’s go!”
Lulu adjusted her grip and took off running.
Back when Chen Lulu was a military medic, her brute strength was more famous than her medical skill.
In the army, whenever soldiers were injured or bedridden, it was Lulu who simply carried them to the infirmary. That habit had left a deep psychological scar on many impressionable young men.
Of course, Lin Shu knew none of that. She was still reeling from the shock of being princess-carried by a girl who looked even younger than her. Her jaw nearly dislocated from how far it dropped.
Even though players generally had better stamina than NPCs, carrying a whole group of elderly, infirm, and children was bound to slow them down.
Fu Changxun lay draped across Dong Zi’s back, occasionally glancing behind them. Every few steps, an NPC would stumble and fall.
No one noticed the subtle reason for it. No one saw how Fu Changxun’s eyes glowed red—an eerie flush that spread wider and darker with each blink, until streaks of blood-tears slid down his cheeks.
He knew full well how dangerous it was to use his ability this often. But with the NPCs gaining ground, he had no choice but to resort to his last resort—distorting their perception.
To the NPCs, the floor ahead seemed smooth and clear. In reality, Fu Changxun had made them perceive an illusion. The moment they stepped forward, they tripped on hidden obstacles.
Dong Zi’s breathing suddenly grew heavy. He said sternly, “Ah Xun, are you using your ability again?”
“You could… tell from that?” Fu Changxun let out a soft laugh. “It’s fine. I’m alright.”
But his voice was tinged with exhaustion.
Dong Zi didn’t answer. He simply tightened his grip on Fu Changxun’s leg—and picked up the pace.
As the group reached the emergency exit and burst into the underground parking garage, Dong Zi came to an abrupt stop and turned around.
The NPCs were still chasing them, but the two massive, warped iron doors behind Dong Zi suddenly began to slide toward each other—and within three seconds, slammed shut.
Just like that, the view between both sides was completely severed.
The players heard the noise and stopped, staring at the sturdy iron doors.
“They can’t open it,” Dong Zi said. “I used my ability to move the doors into place and jammed them against the frame. They’re thick. Without specialized tools, they’re not getting through.”
Sure enough, angry roars and furious shouting echoed from the other side—but it was all in vain.
The players sank to the ground, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath.
They were safe.
At least, for now.
Lulu gently placed the flushed Lin Shu back into her wheelchair. Dong Zi also set his two burdens down.
Xiao Xiao immediately handed him a towel. “Dong-ge, wipe your sweat. Ah—gege, what’s wrong with you? You look terrible!”
She looked at Fu Changxun in concern. He waved her off with a tired smile. “I’m fine. Just a bit carsick… from riding on Dong-ge’s back. I’ll be okay after a short rest.”
Xiao Xiao blinked, confused. “That’s… a thing?”
After resting for a few minutes, Fu Changxun got to his feet and began inspecting the underground parking structure.
His fatigue hadn’t come from running, but from overusing his ability—rest wouldn’t help much.
But after just a few steps, something on his personal game panel caught his attention.
Cautiously, Fu Changxun made sure his livestream room was closed—he’d shut it before using his ability on Dong Zi’s back—then opened the panel.
There it was, different from before:
[Ability: Hypnosis (Evolvable)]
His ability had changed. It had evolved from localized “Cognitive Distortion” into full-fledged “Hypnosis”.
Even people with zero background in psychology knew—hypnosis was a powerful and terrifying technique. Many therapists used it as a tool in patient treatment.
And Fu Changxun had, of course, tried it before.
Unfortunately, his attempts at hypnosis had never been particularly successful—at most, he could manage a mild suggestion.
For a psychologist, that was good enough. But inside the game, it had practically no value.
Now, though, things were different. Fu Changxun could feel it—he could actually influence others’ thoughts about certain things, maybe even their fundamental perception of the world.
Take Xiao Xiao, for example. She didn’t like broccoli. But if Fu Changxun hypnotized her to believe she liked it, then she’d willingly eat broccoli on her own.
A perfect cure for picky eaters—truly a must-have for every household (not that that’s the point).
So abilities really could evolve. And the trigger seemed to be… overuse?
Fu Changxun felt like he was starting to grasp something—but he wasn’t sure yet. Hesitating, he continued walking a few more steps.
Then suddenly, he stepped on something. As he lifted his foot, his pupils contracted sharply.
Lying on the ground was a badly mangled corpse, clearly rotting for four or five days. That meant it had died on the very first day the plants mutated.
The person had died mid-run. Judging by the wounds, they’d likely been trying to reach their car for shelter, only to be impaled from behind by a thick vine. Even then, they hadn’t died immediately—there were scrape marks where they’d dragged themselves forward for a few meters before finally succumbing to blood loss.
Their outstretched hand was reaching toward a seven-seater van. It was probably their vehicle.
Fu Changxun quietly muttered an apology, then searched the unrecognizable body and found a car key. He inserted it into the lock—and it worked.
A small van rated for seven passengers.
They had a vehicle now. A huge thanks to this nameless deceased soul.
But there were fifteen of them. Even if the kids squeezed, ten was the limit at best.
“What now?”
There were no more bodies nearby, and certainly no keys just lying around.
Plenty of cars in the lot—but without keys, they couldn’t drive a single one.
Fu Changxun only thought for half a minute before striding up to the two rogue players and saying, in a dead-serious tone: “This is a robbery. Hand over your car keys.”
Everyone else: “??”
