Chapter 7: The Death Lottery
“To find the perfect headshot line with the AK, you must be familiar with the recoil and bullet trajectory of your weapon. For example, this Jasmine AK has a slightly stronger recoil than a standard AK, and its bullet pattern rises in an S-shape. When you’re controlling the spray, make sure to keep the muzzle down!”
“For this triple jump onto the high crate, the first two jumps must be executed smoothly, or you won’t make it up on the last try.”
“And another thing…”
Li Xin spoke with great enthusiasm, sharing his experience with Zhang Yufan. Though the boy’s tender age left him unable to fully grasp everything, his instincts told him this older brother was undoubtedly a master. His theories were well-developed, his shooting was sharp—he was simply outstanding. At one point, Zhang Yufan even felt that Li Xin’s shooting style resembled that of his idol.
In just a few minutes, Li Xin had taken a commanding 30–7 lead. This, even after he’d spent the opening minutes exploring the game system and had been killed five times in a row by Li Lai. The other two deaths happened while he was teaching Zhang Yufan some tricks. Otherwise, given Li Lai’s skill, Li Xin could have easily trounced him 60–0.
“Damn, can’t you give me a break?”
“Come on, man, aren’t you a bit too good? This is just bullying a kid!”
“Please, boss, have mercy!”
By the end, Li Lai was nearly in tears, drenched in sweat. After winning two weekly championships at the internet cafe, he’d grown a bit cocky, convinced he was unmatched in the northern suburbs. Today, he finally understood that in every field, there’s always someone better.
No, this was simply the level of a professional sharpshooter.
He was still young, not yet mature enough to handle pressure and setbacks, so his reaction was understandable.
“I’m done, I quit!” Li Lai flung his mouse down and stood up in exasperation. “What’s the point of playing if you’re this good? I give up.”
“Giving up?” Li Xin frowned, a bit displeased—he was in the middle of analyzing the game’s attributes. After a moment’s thought, he smiled and said, “If you finish this round with me, I’ll teach you the triple-tap technique.”
He added, in case Li Lai refused, “The most precise triple-tap, exactly like ‘One Murky Water.’”
Sure enough, Li Lai’s interest was instantly piqued—after all, that was his idol.
“You really know it?”
“If I’m lying, I’m a bastard!”
“Alright!” Li Lai’s spirits soared. “Let’s do it. So what if I lose? I’ve lost plenty of matches before; one more egg on my record won’t matter!”
Li Xin smiled with satisfaction. “Give it your best.”
“Don’t worry!” Li Lai’s eyes shone with determination. Nothing could surpass his desire and passion for the triple-tap.
The match continued. Li Lai pulled out all the stops, darting nimbly across the map, his golden AK spewing bullets recklessly. But no matter what, the outcome was always the same: a single shot to the head.
“Damn, I really feel like giving up—this is just too humiliating.” Li Lai grumbled, but his gaze grew clearer. He knew that sparring with a master was the surest way to improve.
Failure wasn’t frightening—what was frightening was failing to learn from it and never getting back up.
Li Lai’s motto was a line from the famous xianxia novel “Renegade Immortal”: For cultivators like us, why fear a battle? He had adapted it for himself: For gunners like us, why fear a defeat?
Listening to Zhang Yufan’s earnest whispers of introduction, Li Xin began to take an interest in this foul-mouthed kid. His perseverance and conviction were no less than Li Xin’s own when he was younger.
But now was no time for distraction; he was still immersed in comprehending and analyzing “King of Games.”
In the past few minutes, his excellent performance had ensured a steady recovery of HP. As he had suspected, the higher his HP, the better his proficiency and control over the game. Now, with his HP finally restored to the full 100, something unexpected occurred.
The robotic eyes vanished into thin air, but instead of returning to reality, Li Xin’s vision shifted: he was now inside the game’s transport ship scene.
To put it simply, he had truly entered the game—he was now a member of the SEAL Team.
As he marveled at this strange sensation, the alluring, curvaceous Lynx Operator—beloved by countless male gamers—suddenly leapt from the side passage, appearing five meters away in midair. Perhaps sensing her opponent’s brief distraction, Li Lai grinned knowingly and rapidly fired three shots in succession.
After suffering a crushing 25–0 defeat, Li Lai had finally found his first real opportunity, and he grabbed it eagerly. As long as he could take down his opponent, his confidence would be restored.
“Here it comes!”
The SEAL Team operator gave a faint smile and swiftly raised the Jasmine AK, firing a shot. The bullet streaked out, and he himself slid quickly from the high platform to the ground, losing three HP in the process.
Ding!
[System Message]: Current HP: 97/100, Reality-Virtual Fusion state deactivated.
After the prompt, the scene before Li Xin’s eyes reverted to the robotic interface, and the seamless unity of man and game faded away. Though a twinge of disappointment arose, he wasn’t discouraged.
Because with that shot, he had precisely blown off the Lynx Operator’s head, boosting the score to Defenders 48, Attackers 7.
“Damn it!” Li Lai cried out in fury, unable to believe Li Xin’s lightning-fast reflexes. At a range of five meters, with bullets moving at such speed, the exchange might not have even taken 0.01 seconds. His reaction time was simply inhuman.
“Hey, cut the yelling—hurry up and shoot me.” Li Xin’s sudden words left both Li Lai and Zhang Yufan utterly baffled.
Was he trying to kill himself?
Exactly. He was.
It was time for the final test: HP zero.
Li Xin wanted to see for himself what dire consequences would occur when this spiritual body reached its end.
Perplexed, Li Lai killed Li Xin for the first time. Though it was clear his opponent was going easy, Li Lai only cared about the result, not the process.
After six exhilarating headshots in a row, Li Xin’s HP was down to just 11.
Bang!
The seventh bullet struck. HP reached zero. The ethereal spiritual avatar collapsed completely.
The computer screen flashed, and the SEAL Team operator respawned in the spacious defender’s room. But Li Xin’s vision underwent a dramatic change—the central area faded to white, with only the attribute panels remaining on either side.
Ding!
[System Message]: Game character dead. Player has entered cooldown status. Current cooldown time: 47:59:59.
[System Message]: As the player has entered cooldown status, the system will score this game session immediately.
Ding!
A pleasant chime resounded, and in Li Xin’s mind, a large golden letter A descended.
[System Message]: This session is rated A. You have gained 600 growth experience points.
Ding! You have leveled up.
Li Xin: Spirit of the Game
Level: 4
Growth Experience: 300/400
Attribute Points: 10
Special Skills: None (Note: One will be unlocked every ten levels, at each title promotion.)
The succession of crisp, melodious prompts left Li Xin a little overwhelmed. For now, he paid little mind to the results, startled instead by this “cooldown” status. Forty-eight hours—two whole days during which he would be unable to activate “King of Games” at all.
It was the golden period for rapid growth, when early level-ups required little experience; two days of cooldown meant any time spent playing the game would be wasted and yield no progress.
But just then, another prompt sounded.
[System Message]: As a reward for your first successful binding and level-up, you have earned a chance to spin the prize wheel.