No one present, not even Chen Meng, had expected Ye Shu to make the first move.

Li Dahai sucked in a shocked breath.

These were living, breathing people!

Had Ye Shu gone too far this time?

But as Li Dahai remembered the teammates killed by these people, his momentary pity vanished, replaced by a burning desire for vengeance. Their team was so young—the youngest only sixteen—dead at the hands of supposed survivors.

Most of them were first-time players in this deadly game; such scenes would normally have shattered them. But after so many infected slain, the shock only lasted a moment before they steadied themselves. Instead of fear, satisfaction gleamed in their eyes: justice done at last.

Backed by ample firearms and ammunition, they unleashed a wild barrage. Still, their aim was sorely lacking compared to Ye Shu, a trained soldier who stood almost casually amidst the chaos—a figure grown even swifter after her last game. They could hardly hit her, even standing still.

"Come on, we've still got weapons! That damn woman can't be unkillable!"

"Fire! ... Wang Laoliu! Why'd you shoot my ass? Take proper aim—did your language teacher teach you to shoot?"

Hiding behind steel doors, they riddled the corridor with bullet holes, barely seeing Ye Shu at all. Their clips rattled empty.

"We've got grenades! Toss 'em—now, now!"

The mention of grenades made faces blanch. The best weapons most of them had were steel pipes; charging in was certain death.

"Sister Ye, we’ll cover your retreat. Damn these animals—for trying to blow us up! Good thing we never let them come fully upstairs. Imagine the trouble if we’d raised a nest of traitors like that?"

Instinctively, the team rallied to protect Ye Shu. With a powerhouse like her, even if they lost the 80th floor, hope still remained as long as someone survived.

Chen Meng flushed with embarrassment beside them.

Chen Fan was her responsibility—not only had she brought him up, but he was her cousin by name.

"Stay out of my way. Don’t make this harder than it has to be," Ye Shu said, clearly annoyed. If she had to escort them, she'd need to protect them too.

The group fell silent.

They felt snubbed, but the leader’s words rang true. They could not argue.

A panicked man lobbed a grenade. The wall exploded, exposing a tangle of wires and rebar—no one could have survived a hit like that.

Chen Fan searched the wreckage for Ye Shu’s corpse, but found nothing but debris and ruined masonry.

"I gave you all a chance," Ye Shu said, her gaze settling on a young man across from her. Somehow, he seemed familiar.

"D-don’t kill me... We’re both players! You can’t kill me—I’m Cousin Meng’s younger brother!"

Realization dawned on Ye Shu. No wonder he'd always seemed familiar—a traitor in their midst!

"You—you..." he stammered.

"Just stop."

She stepped forward and slapped him hard enough to make his tongue stumble. Chen Fan was so terrified he nearly wet himself.

How did this woman's weapons never run out?

Had she raided a military stockpile or something?

How could anyone fight like this?

Chen Fan sputtered, unable to get a word out. Even with his metallic ability, he was still, at heart, a coward who hid behind others.

Ye Shu shook her head silently.

How could a man so timid think himself fit to betray anyone?

Seeing the youth fully clad in metal armor, Ye Shu experimentally poked his arm with her wooden sword.

"Aaaaaagh!" Chen Fan was dumbfounded. The sword he’d dismissed as trash turned out to be a lethal weapon—if only it were his, would killing this venomous woman be so easy?

Reading the malice in his eyes, Ye Shu jabbed the sword again, harder this time. Blood gushed, Chen Fan turned white as a sheet, snot and tears streaming down his face. The sight was so pathetic Ye Shu could hardly bring herself to kill him.

Since he was Chen Meng’s family, she decided to leave the matter for Chen Meng to solve. After all, it was their family affair. Besides, Chen Fan had murdered people on the 80th floor—a sin even Li Dahai, known for his peaceable ways, wouldn’t forgive.

Ye Shu bent down, picking up a shattered grenade shell. With a mere thought, she refined it, and within a heartbeat, a brand new grenade materialized in her hand.

That was the horror of her ability: as long as the barest trace of a thing remained—no matter how small—she could restore it to its best possible state.

This raid had been fruitful indeed: grenades, over a dozen pistols, and explosives, all replenished.

"Sister Ye..."

Through it all, Chen Meng hadn't left. Witnessing Chen Fan’s wretched state, she could do nothing but stand in thunderous silence.

How could he have the nerve to bring any of this up again?

The survivors were now paper tigers without their guns. There was no need for Ye Shu to even speak; the newcomers were promptly subdued by the team.

Scanning the shell casings strewn over the floor, Ye Shu had a bold new idea. Their own people lacked heavy weaponry—she’d gladly help herself to the stores of the 79th floor.

---

All morning, the 80th floor had been still after the opening explosions. Pei Yu knew the truth: Chen Fan had failed, losing even the guns he’d provided.

"Useless! Completely useless!"

"They said those people were all old, sick, or weak—no decent weapons! I gave them a crate of guns, even grenades, and they still failed…"

"Xiao Liu..."

Pei Yu’s fury boiled over; he smashed every cup on the table.

He called out again and again, but none of his men appeared. His rage masked how strangely quiet things had become.

Ranting and raving, he finally regained some reason.

Pei Yu was a seasoned player, a survivor from the previous game. He’d scraped by with a rare psych card, staying alive by sheer luck and cunning. For this round, fortune favored him early on—he’d recruited well and found someone who could craft mechanical weapons.

With hot weapons at his command, he quickly dominated the 79th floor.

When he learned the neighboring 80th had stockpiled supplies, he set his sights there—who could ever have too many resources?

He’d no sooner stepped out into the hall than he felt a chill on his neck. A watermelon knife pressed to his throat, tracing a thin red line across his pale skin.

"So you’re the turtle brat plotting against your grandma from behind," Chen Meng snarled.

When Chen Fan had revealed Pei Yu’s name, it all made sense to her. His power was special—rumored to be mental control. Otherwise, a gutless mudfish like Chen Fan would never have dared act on his own.

Still, that wasn’t enough for Chen Meng to forgive Chen Fan.

"Deputy Chen, I don’t understand what you mean," Pei Yu said, schooling his face into innocence.

Chen Meng grit her teeth. He knew her well enough to call her vice captain, but kept up the act.

Seeing pretense was useless, Pei Yu readied his ability, preparing to control her mind.

In this deadly contest, he’d lucked into a power to control hearts: one look in his eyes could turn victims into his pawns—though he could only use it once a day.

What he didn’t know was that Chen Meng was already on guard. His attempt failed.

Her hand slipped—too hard. She’d severed Pei Yu’s throat completely.

And just like that, the farce was over.

The team swept the 79th floor. Chen Meng executed a handful of rabid instigators; the rest were bound and dumped on deck.