Chapter 1 Start Override

A beam of red laser moved to the forehead of the man beside him. With a thud, the semi-viscous plasma mixture splattered onto his wrist.

This is the first scene in front of him when he wakes up, and it's as bad as a nightmare.

With a blank mind, he sat on the chair and stared at the man whose head was knocked to the ground. This man's eyes were just like his own, and they were wide open.

"This is what happens when you try to force your way out of the [altar]."

Along with the noise in his brain that resembled an out-of-tune signal, he heard a very holy voice, like singing in a church.

He found that his reflexes were abnormally slow, and it took a lot of energy to even shift his gaze to his wrist.

The wrist was seriously injured, the flesh was everted, and the mechanical bones and hydraulic joints inside were exposed. The blood of the person who was killed 30 seconds ago flowed along the arc of his wrist, at a slow speed, towards the silvery bone gap with metallic luster.

My hands were shaking, couldn't stop it.

He raised his hand and rubbed the hem of his clothes, trying to wipe off other people's blood, but he didn't feel the pain of the wound rubbing against his clothes. The black T-shirt on his body seems to have been stained with a lot of blood, but he can't see clearly.

Looking around, there are a few unknown people around. Facing the people who died in front of them, everyone's expressions are different. Some people can see obvious fear on their faces, while others only have numbness.

When he cast his eyes, several of them avoided their gazes, as if they were afraid to meet him.

He wanted to see these faces more clearly, but his vision seemed to be immersed in water, and his eyes were sore. The next second, tears rolled down without warning. He raised his hands to dry them in confusion.

The voice appeared again.

"Congratulations to the survivors for entering this round of the game, let's settle the results of the previous game first."

"Or, you can meet a new round of friends."

As soon as he finished speaking, he heard a very subtle "di" sound from the white noise in his brain, and the next second, a virtual holographic projection panel appeared in the left field of vision, which seemed to display information about himself:

[Variable name: An Wu Jiao

Attribute: Male, 20 years old

Game rounds: 5

...

Win Rate: 100/100

Danger class: SSS]

Peace of mind.

Seeing these three words, a huge amount of information is poured into the brain like an overload of data in an instant: the face of this world and the way the deformity works, all the memories from birth to adulthood, every passing face on the street. , chaotic red light districts, artificial blue skies and endless acid rain.

The huge amount of information made An Wu Jiu breathless, a new projection panel appeared on the right side of the angle of view, showing that he had obtained 10,000 holy coins.

All the initial impressions began to piece together some outlines of the matter - he seemed to have entered a game, where the winner could settle for the so-called holy coins, and lose the game...

Thinking of the man who just fell to the ground, he just didn't follow the rules, and the result of losing is probably the same.

The five senses are real, and he can clearly sense the pain caused by the injury. Is this some new virtual reality game?

Soon, An Wujiu realized that his amnesia seemed to be less conventional, more like it had been edited artificially, with only part of it incomplete.

He remembers his time in a world where administrative structures were disintegrating, national borders were blurred, and almost anyone could become a commodity. He even recalls the handful of people at the top, the business giants big enough to stomp the state machine under their feet.

What about himself?

All the pictures in memory are like this

warm

, is a real and clear first point of view, and there is the same person in it. The beautiful and gentle woman hugged him as a child, put him to sleep, taught him to read and write, and smiled at him.

Frame by frame, she is gradually aging, but her care for him is consistent. She softly calls him An An, which is his nickname.

But everything ended in front of the hospital bed. She was dying on the bed, her body was covered with transparent and slender tubes, and the breathing mask concealed the smile she tried to show.

This is his mother.

From childhood to adulthood, all the memories associated with it, the love he truly received, flowed back into this body.

The mother at the bedside seemed to be trying to tell him something.

The picture starts shaking and everything becomes distorted.

She moved her lips, and the sound she made was completely masked by the sharp noise in An Wu Jiu's head.

Passively withdrawing from the memory fragment, An Wujiu was in constant pain, the veins on his neck burst out, and his temples were still beating faintly.

He wondered if the hippocampus in the brain had been destroyed, or something else had been inserted. An Wu Jiu wanted to check if there is a neural interface on his body, there must be some kind of microprocessor stuck in it, but the severely injured right hand is difficult to lift, probably because the bone is broken, and the hand is still shaking.

He raised his left hand and stretched it behind his ears and back of his head, only to realize that his hair had grown to his waist, but he didn't know it.

He really didn't want to let his hands shake like this, An Wu Jiu bit the tip of his right finger, frowned and glanced at a guy wearing a mask.

This man was standing farthest from him, tall, wearing a black trench coat, looking like a young man. He did not show his true face. He wore a mechanical mask made of some synthetic material on his head. The surface was as smooth and white as the long-lost sweet white glaze, with a warm luster, but the mask retained traces of block splicing.

The front of the mask is the appearance of Guanyin, with downcast eyes, slightly raised corners of the mouth, a little red in the center of the upper eyebrows, the assembly line divided horizontally and vertically and the metal buckles connecting the back of the head, making this Guanyin image a subtle sense of fragmentation and mechanical sense.

Seemingly unable to touch the interface, An Wu Jiu put down his left hand.

He was extremely puzzled by everything here. He remembers every bit of how he got along with his mother, how he grew up, his father died early, he and his mother depended on each other, and he had a lovely younger sister.

At this time, I should accompany my mother in the ward, why did I appear here?

"As before, before the official battle begins, we have prepared a warm-up game for you. Survivors who win the warm-up game can gain a game advantage or the right to choose a single-player or team format."

The white void in front of him began to flicker when the sound appeared, such as a color bar flashing when the screen malfunctioned. In front of them appeared a round table with eight surrounding high chairs.

"Please take a seat."

Everyone else sat down according to the instructions, An Wu Jiu didn't want to be shot to death when he didn't understand, so he sat down with him as required.

At the moment of sitting down, digital pulse bars and highly saturated color afterimages appear on the surrounding pure white background. After the flashing, they were on the rooftop of a skyscraper. The dark sky was dazzled by the mixed neon beams. The aircraft, the orbits that were staggered near the high-rise buildings, and the holographic projections of advertisements as many as pollution were dizzying. .

An Wu Jiu felt that his eyesight was also damaged, he squinted slightly under the stimulation of light, he could see part of the huge holographic projection 30 to 40 meters high in his field of vision.

They were at the very top of the world, and all they could see were the lights and sounds of the bustling, gutter-free slum chemicals, piles of discarded prosthetic limbs, and rotting, unnoticed corpses in the corners.

Looking back, the people on the round table looked at each other, each with a different vision. Compared with the sensual dogs and horses outside, this place is much simpler - eight people, eight seats, with a display screen embedded on the table in front of each seat, and nothing else. No.

At least not a game that requires force to decide the outcome.

An Wu Jiu thought about his own injury, and looked at others.

The other seven people are of different ages. At first glance, they don’t have the same characteristics that were selected. From right to left, they are a young woman wearing a cheongsam, a strong man, a blond old man with a western face, a man wearing a mechanical Guanyin mask, and a thin man. There was a middle-aged man in a suit, a boy with freckles on his cheeks and black-rimmed glasses, and a red-haired boy who looked only fifteen or sixteen years old.

An Wujiu frowned.

Why was he the only one injured so badly?

The noise in his head became louder and louder, causing him a headache. He turned his face and looked to his left.

Sitting on his left is the boy who looks very small, with red hair like fire, wearing a loose and worn baseball jacket and a black hat. His eyes were large, staring at the old Rubik's Cube that kept turning in his hand.

An Wujiu began to observe almost instinctively, and saw that his two feet were on the edge of the chair, his whole body was bent, his fingers were flexible, there were no thick calluses, his body was thin, his arm muscles were not obvious, he should not be very good at fighting and using weapons.

An Wu Jiu stretched out his left hand towards him, "Hello."

He wanted to say "get to know me", but the moment he spoke, he found that his speaking rhythm was very problematic, as if he had a language barrier.

The boy was stunned, still holding his Rubik's Cube in both hands, his fingers were still, like a bionic rabbit that was simulating eating but stuck.

"What's wrong?" An Wu Jiu said softly, he didn't think his attitude was scary, not to mention he hid his bloody right hand under the table.

The boy's eyes showed defensiveness and he didn't answer, but An Wu Jiu saw him glance uneasily at a middle-aged man with glasses sitting diagonally across from him. At the end of the line of sight, the man looked at least 40 years old, his cheeks were sunken, and his eyes were shrewd.

"What's the matter?"

Before waiting for An Wujiu to say anything, the middle-aged man pushed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, and folded his arms in a very typical defensive posture, "An Wujiu, you killed so many people with your ruthlessness, now you pretend to be innocent, you think there will be people believe you?"

After speaking, the rest of the people at the table also looked at An Wu Jiu, as if they were waiting for something.

"I don't... remember." An Wu Jiu answered truthfully, speaking at a very slow pace, and the punctuation was not quite right.

In the eyes of others, this long-haired man was born with an excellent skin, but he was so beautiful that he was completely natural, without the slightest sense of artificiality. He was fair-skinned, as clean as the moon over the city when there was no pollution, but his face was poor and his lips were pale.

His eyes were pure and soft, slightly out of focus, and his fingers trembled slightly, feeling frightened, but it didn't seem to be, the trembling looked more like anxiety or other mental disorders.

This look doesn't look like the bad embryo in Yang Ming's mouth, and it doesn't look like someone who can win in the [altar].

An Wujiu lowered his eyes in thought. Judging from the boy's reaction just now, long before the man opened his mouth to say these words, the people here had already recognized the fact that [An Wu Jiu is very dangerous].

Whether the man is telling the truth or not, this situation is not good for him.

The middle-aged man sneered, "This time it's pretending to have amnesia?" He put his hand on the tabletop, raised his eyebrows, and said word by word, "Don't take people for fools."

"You're a stubborn guy. It was the same before. With a pretty face, he pretended not to know how pure he was, and he won over others to form an alliance. In fact, anyone could take advantage of them by any means."

For this description, An Wujiu felt a sense of disconnection that did not belong to him, and felt a little helpless.

But he noticed that the mechanical Guanyin on the opposite side was resting his chin with his hands, leaning forward, as if he was very interested in the accusation against him by that person. This seems to be the first time he has seen this person move since he came in, otherwise he would suspect that the other person is a machine.

The middle-aged man put his hand on the table into a fist, "I met him in the last round, and that round was a bloody gambling house. An Wujiu vowed that he could save everyone's life and let many people join his camp. , but in the end he figured out the rules by himself but didn't tell everyone, just watched all the people who believed in him die one by one, and finally survived alone with all the chips in their camp!"

Between the words, there was a trembling in his voice, which seemed to be because of fear. He pointed at An Wu Jiao excitedly, "If you don't believe me, you can check the holy coins that he settled in the last round, it must be ten times more than mine."

After saying this, An Wujiu felt more and more bad.

"It turns out that your last round of battle was so intense?"

This sentence came from An Wujiu's right side.

He turned his face, and to his right sat a young woman in a pink cheongsam, with a snake-shaped necklace around her neck, beautiful and moving, and thick and beautiful black curly hair with a natural, not artificial luster. It's a rarity in this day and age.

With a smile on her lips, she stared at the nail polish on her fingertips, then turned to look at An Wujiu, trembling deliberately, "It's so scary, it seems that handsome guys can't be trusted."

An Wujiu had some thoughts because of her last sentence.

With the battle being so fierce, it should not be easy for those who also survived.

"In any case, the winner of this game can't be blameless. The rest of us have to pull together to get him out first, or anyone could fall victim to him."

He spoke loudly, and the others fell silent for a while, as if tacitly.

An Wu Jiu knew that what he said at this time was useless.

Because it's a really exciting proposition. Although the next game and rules are unclear, it is of course the best to be able to erect a public target, otherwise the muzzle is likely to go to any of them.

At this moment, the voice appeared again, "Since everyone has taken their seats, let's get acquainted with each other's names first."

As soon as the voice fell, a blue light appeared in front of everyone, and the light gradually changed into characters, which were their respective names.

Looking at it from An Wujiu's point of view, his name was suspended in the dark night, almost overlapping with the name of the person on the opposite side.

The noise in my head stopped for a moment.

[Shen Ti]

It is the mysterious mechanical Guanyin.

Volume 1 Warm-up game guessing numbers