38: Chapter 38 Welcome to the Real Hell

The sky over Seoul still displayed a sickly neon purple.

The data rift was like a murky eyeball, coldly overlooking the ancient city.

Ghost Captain hovered in mid-air, his exoskeleton armor glowing with an ethereal blue not of this era.

Even though a tingling pain shot through his knee, making his scalp numb, he merely dismissed it as an erroneous current feedback from the system.

He looked down and saw that although there was a bullet hole in the armor on his knee, the blue energy shield was still active, and his health bar remained full.

“Foolish.”

He sneered in the public channel, his voice amplified infinitely through the broadcasts scattered across Seoul.

“Don’t you understand? In this world, I am God. Your so-called ‘pain’ is nothing more than irrelevant data streams to me.”

He raised his hand, and the palm-mounted energy cannon began to charge. The blinding white light forced Jack below to squint.

“Su Yun, is it? Since you want to play, I’ll just melt this entire city.”

A flash of white light erupted.

A thick energy beam slammed into the center of the street, instantly vaporizing several old wooden houses.

A two-meter-wide, bottomless charred trench was left on the ground.

The shockwave from the explosion flipped Jack’s jeep twice.

Dai Dai screamed as she tumbled to the roadside, the apple in her arms rolling into a drain.

“Hahahahaha! See that! This is power!”

Ghost Captain cackled, controlling his back thrusters, preparing for another shot.

Just then, a crisp gunshot shattered his laughter.

Bang.

It was the distinctive, muffled yet powerful sound of a Mosin-Nagant, an old World War II sniper rifle.

Ghost Captain’s left shoulder jerked violently backward.

He looked down and saw a small hole there. His health bar hadn't budged, still locked at 100%.

“It’s useless...”

Before he could finish, an indescribable, sharp pain suddenly exploded from his left shoulder, shooting up to his skull like a mad dog along his nerve endings.

It wasn't the vibration feedback of being hit in a game; it was the real, unmitigated, excruciating pain of a bullet tearing through muscle and lodging in his collarbone!

“Ah—!!!”

A shrill, distorted scream echoed over Seoul.

In the real world, inside a hidden high-tech studio.

The man who had been chatting and laughing in his gaming chair suddenly convulsed, curling up like a shrimp, making wheezing sounds in his throat.

His teammates nearby were still operating their keyboards, not noticing his abnormality.

In-game, Ghost Captain immediately lost his flight balance, plummeting like a kite with a broken string.

He crashed heavily onto the roof of a two-story building, sending tiles scattering everywhere.

“My hand... my hand is broken...”

He rolled in the rubble, cold sweat instantly soaking the shirt inside his armor.

He tried to call up the system panel to lower the pain sensation, but to his horror, he found that

the slider, which he could normally adjust at will, had turned gray and was firmly stuck at “200%,” with a blood-red lock icon next to it.

[System Prompt: Real War Rules have taken effect.]

[Current Mode: Physical Collapse Judgment.]

[Pain Synchronization Rate: Locked.]

[Exit Game: Forbidden.]

“Captain! What’s wrong with you?”

In the sky, another hacker code-named “Mjolnir” noticed something was wrong. He descended, wanting to help his companion up.

“Don’t... don’t touch me! It hurts!”

Ghost Captain shrieked, pushing his teammate away.

That fall made him feel like every bone in his body had shattered, and every inch of his skin was burning and being cut by knives.

At this moment, on the street below, Jack poked his head out from behind the jeep.

He shook the dust from his head, watching the “God” who had been so arrogant just moments before, now writhing like a maggot in the rubble.

“What’s wrong with this guy? Is he acting?” Jack pulled the bolt of his rifle, puzzled.

Brother Bao next to him seemed to understand something. His gaze became strange, even tinged with pity, but more so with the exhilaration of revenge.

“Jack, shoot his legs,” Brother Bao whispered.

“Don’t hit his head, don’t hit his heart. Just hit his legs, his arms.”

“Why? Wouldn’t a headshot finish him off?”

“Didn’t you hear what Su Yun said earlier?” Brother Bao picked up a stone and weighed it in his hand.

“Cage the dog and beat it. If the dog dies, it’s not beating it anymore.”

Jack paused, then a cruel smile spread across his lips.

Bang!

Another shot.

This time, it hit Ghost Captain’s thigh.

“Ugh ahhhhhh!!!”

The man with futuristic armor, protected by a full health bar, let out a shriek more horrifying than a pig being slaughtered.

Due to the health lock, the damage caused by this bullet was forcibly judged as “ineffective” by the system, meaning his wound wouldn’t bleed him to death, and his health wouldn't drop to zero.

But he could feel the scorching bullet burrowing into his flesh, shredding his thigh muscle, and then firmly embedding itself in the bone.

The most terrifying part was that, because he couldn't die, his body maintained its most acute neural activity, clearly transmitting every ounce of pain to his brain.

No shock protection mechanism.

No fainting mechanism.

Only conscious, continuous, inescapable agony.

“What... what the hell is this! Let me out! I want to log off! F***! I want to log off!”

Ghost Captain broke down.

He frantically clawed at the air in the ruins, trying to summon the exit menu, but that button was also grayed out.

The other hacker teammates finally realized the seriousness of the problem.

Mjolnir tried to fly away, but the players on the ground had already reacted.

“Brothers! These bastards can’t be killed, but they’ll keep hurting!”

Someone shouted, though it was unclear who.

The Volunteer Army players, whose morale had been low due to despair, had the fire rekindled in their eyes.

If you can’t die, then we’ll make you hurt to death!

“Charge!”

Hundreds of players surged out from behind cover.

They had no heavy weapons, only their worn-out type 38 rifles, only their dull bayonets, and even entrenching tools and stones.

Mjolnir had barely flown three meters high when he was dragged down by a dozen hands.

“Let go of me! I am a god! I have a shield!”

He frantically pulled the trigger, his energy gun sweeping down a swath of players. Those players vanished into white light, but the ones behind them showed no fear, rushing forward in waves.

A burly Northeastern man directly straddled Mjolnir’s neck, swinging his entrenching tool at the glowing helmet.

Clang!

“Ouch, f***!!”

Mjolnir cried out in agony.

Although his helmet wasn’t broken, he felt as if his head had been smashed into his chest by a sledgehammer, his brain trembling.

The dizziness and intense pain from the blunt impact instantly incapacitated him.

Immediately after, countless fists, rifle butts, and shoe soles rained down on him.

This was the most primitive form of mob beating. No rules, only rage.

In the real-world studio, alarms blared.

“Quick! Cut the power! Get them out!”

The supervisor frantically pounded on the glass door. But the scene inside chilled him to the bone.

The hackers wearing top-tier VR helmets were now violently twitching in their chairs like epileptics, foaming at the mouth, eyes rolled back,

their fingers tearing the expensive leather armrests of the chairs to shreds, their fingernails ripped back.

Technicians rushed over, trying to forcibly unplug the data cables from the helmets.

Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle—

A burst of sparks erupted from the data port.

“No! The neural connection is locked! Forcibly disconnecting will cause permanent brain damage!” The technician was drenched in sweat.

“This isn’t a regular data stream at all, this is... this is viral neural hijacking!”

The supervisor collapsed to the ground. He looked at the live broadcast screens, which were originally meant to humiliate Chinese players, but had now become their own execution ground.

In-game, on the streets of Seoul.

Ghost Captain, who had been the most boisterous earlier, was now being dragged to a broken wall.

Jack stood before him, looking down at his face, which was still at full health but distorted with pain.

“God?” Jack nudged his calf with his toe.

Ghost Captain recoiled as if electrocuted, snot and tears smearing his face: “P-please... kill me... give me a quick death...”

“That won’t do.” Jack squatted down and picked up the apple Dai Dai had dropped earlier.

The apple was covered in mud, but he carefully wiped it clean with his sleeve.

“Your health bar is still full, killing you would be a waste of system resources.”

He tucked the apple into his pocket, then drew the bayonet from his waist.

The bayonet was dull and chipped.

“That shot of yours just now wiped out half of my company.”

Jack’s voice was soft, yet it made the air around them solidify.

“You call it data, but I saw people.”

“Our squad leader was right, American Imperialism still harbors thoughts of destroying us!”

“It’s been decades, and they’re still pulling this stunt!”

Pfft.

The bayonet plunged into Ghost Captain’s palm, pinning him to the wooden board on the ground.

“Ahhhhhhhh—!!!”

“Don’t scream, this is just the beginning.” Jack slowly twisted the hilt of the knife.

“This is a real battlefield. On the battlefield, as long as you’re not dead, you have to endure it.”

Not far away, Dai Dai was squatting next to a hacker who was still twitching.

The man had been tied up like a zongzi by several players and thrown into a freshly dug shell crater.

The hacker looked at Dai Dai in terror, mumbling pleas for mercy.

Dai Dai held an entrenching tool, looking at the pit with some hesitation, then at the health bar that wouldn't drop no matter how much he was hit.

“Jack...” Dai Dai asked weakly.

“Um... if we accidentally bury him, will he just keep hurting?”

Upon hearing this, the hacker’s eyes widened like brass bells, and he couldn’t catch his breath.

He was so scared that he fainted—but under Su Yun’s rules, he would be forcibly reawakened by the intense pain the next second.

Jack looked back, then at the city full of ruins and smoke.

“Probably.” Jack stood up, dusting off his hands.

“Then bury him deep, so he doesn’t disturb the company commander’s sleep.”