Chapter 8: The reality of death—defense increased

Mike was the first to react when he heard the shout.

He was the director of the lab, forty-five years old, dressed in a white lab coat with a noticeably receding hairline.

“Move!” he barked, shoving aside the staff member in his way as he quickly knelt down to examine Li Anping.

He checked the man’s pupils, then leaned closer to test his breath.

A look of regret crossed his face.

The man was completely dead.

“They actually went through with it…”

Mike stood up, his expression grim as he looked around at the tense, shocked faces of the surrounding staff.

“Everyone, get back to your posts. Stay alert!”

After giving the order, Mike removed Li Anping’s black wristwatch and handed it to the assigned technician.

The technician, still visibly shaken, trembled as he accepted the device.

“Put it on. Try entering the game,” Mike instructed.

The technician hesitated, clearly wanting to refuse, but Mike shot him a sharp glare.

“Do it. Now!”

“Yes, sir!”

The man didn’t dare protest.

He quickly strapped the black watch onto his wrist and lay down on one of the vacant beds, calling out the activation command.

Nothing happened.

“As expected… it doesn’t work,” Mike said, disappointment in his voice.

Their team had already spent a lot of time studying the beta test terminal.

But they hadn’t made any real progress.

It was like technology from the future—

Or maybe… alien tech.

All they truly knew was that each beta test terminal could only be bound to a single user.

Once bound, it couldn’t be transferred.

Li Anping’s unexpected death gave Mike a rare chance to test this theory.

Unfortunately, even after the user’s death, the device still couldn’t be reassigned.

The terminal was now completely useless.

“Forget it. Take him to the morgue and prepare him for autopsy,” Mike said with a sigh.

He turned and strode toward the other beds to check on the remaining beta players.

Once he confirmed that all their heart rates were stable, he finally let out a breath of relief.

If all the players here had died… he might have been next.

***

“Director, it’s been over an hour. Their heart rates are still completely stable.”

A man dressed like a doctor spoke up.

They had been monitoring the players’ heart rates remotely using specialized equipment ever since the beta test began.

It was a complicated setup, but necessary—because the black cocoon surrounding each player was indestructible.

At least by conventional means.

Unconventional ones, like high explosives… were out of the question.

“Even when Li Anping died, his heart rate remained stable,” the doctor added.

“That’s odd,” Mike frowned.

“I thought so too. A person’s heart rate shouldn’t stay steady when they’re dying. But right up until the second he died, everything appeared normal and not just him. The rest of the players are showing no signs of emotional fluctuation either. It’s like… they have no emotional activity at all.”

“Maybe it’s due to the black cocoon’s special properties,” Mike suggested.

“Or maybe… their consciousness is completely detached from their bodies while inside the game.”

“I think both theories could be valid,” the doctor replied uncertainly.

“We won’t know for sure until they come out of the game.”

Mike lifted his eyes and stared at the pale ceiling above.

“Hopefully, someone makes it back…”

***

Inside the game.

Boyang slowly retreated, his nerves stretched to the limit.

If his guess was correct, Li Anping had been killed by the cactus.

If those deadly things could kill Li Anping, they could kill him just as easily.

Until he figured out the attack mechanism, Boyang didn’t dare linger.

Li Anping’s horrifying death replayed over and over in his mind.

Up above, a few players who had followed them vomited mouthfuls of water, clearly uncomfortable.

But worse than the physical discomfort was the psychological blow.

All players who entered Nightmare Space knew that dying in the game meant death in the real world.

But until they actually faced the threat of death, that fact never truly felt real.

Some players even chose to ignore it.

Like that thug Zhao Gang, for example.

Meanwhile, someone had already begun to notice something strange about this game.

It was as if some mysterious force was keeping their emotions stable, preventing them from panicking or succumbing to fear—enough that they could still perform under pressure.

Of course, when danger truly struck, no trick of the mind could change the outcome.

Right now, Li Anping’s death had triggered a deep, instinctive fear of dying in the hearts of everyone who witnessed it.

Recovering from that shock wouldn’t be easy.

After a while, Boyang finally climbed back up.

He felt as if he had just fought a battle that lasted all day and night—his arms were so sore he could barely lift them.

“Everyone, follow me back.”

He had no intention of resting.

This place was far more dangerous than they’d imagined.

Staying any longer would be suicidal.

***

Elsewhere, Ye Lian had just finished crafting a set of armor and a forehead guard from the tail of the Grey-Armored Crocodile.

“I’m exhausted… If I hadn’t added two points to Spirit, I would’ve collapsed by now. Guess my stat allocation wasn’t wrong after all.”

Letting out a deep breath, he looked at the two newly crafted items with satisfaction.

Their design wasn’t anything fancy—simple and practical.

The gray surface had a faint metallic sheen.

He casually named both items with the prefix “Grey,” which sounded lazy but was honestly the best he could do.

After all, coming up with names for new equipment every time was exhausting.

Especially since most of these would get replaced soon anyway—there was no point wasting effort on names.

Once equipped, Ye Lian checked his status panel.

His defense had increased by a full 35 points!

“Perfect. I can handle myself now.”

As long as he didn’t run into high-level monsters, he should be able to kill anything he encountered.

“The armor is surprisingly light. It felt heavy while I was crafting it, but now that it’s done, it’s much lighter.”

‘As expected of divine-tier alchemy!’

Feeling the change in his body, Ye Lian was a bit surprised.

Even though the game didn’t have an official weight limit, wearing heavier gear definitely took a toll on movement.

Heavier gear meant slower reactions and more effort.

“Looks like I’ll be able to move freely even with a full set of armor. Not bad at all!”

He nodded in satisfaction.

Then, with one smooth motion, he drove his spear into the Grey-Armored Crocodile’s corpse, slicing it open to search for valuable materials.

“Huh?”

After more than two minutes of cutting, Ye Lian found a bean-sized white crystal inside the creature’s skull.

The moment he picked it up, the system notification rang out again.

[You’ve obtained a White Spirit Crystal. Check the system info for details.]

“Looks like a rare item.”

He quickly opened his status panel to read more.

“So that’s what it is… This thing is a core currency in the game. It can be used as a multi-purpose crafting material and also functions as money.”

“Too bad the shop hasn’t opened yet. Can’t spend it even if I want to.”

Ye Lian placed the Spirit Crystal in his backpack and was about to close the panel when he noticed a new module had appeared.

“Leaderboard…? Who unlocked this?”

Curious, he tapped on the leaderboard and scanned the information.

When he saw the top player’s level, his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

The number one ranked player was already at level 10!