novelODS Chapter 57 Don't Hinder My Job Change
Chapter 57 Don't Hinder My Job Change
The heavy desk was pushed over by several players and pinned against the cracked study door.
Xiaoyu and Xiaosiniu, along with several new players, were using any hard objects they could find to cut up the Persian carpet and mix it with wood scraps to create a makeshift tripwire behind the door.
"Damn it, this crappy game doesn't even have a blacksmith! What kind of amazing weapons did those two, Roasted Whole Lamb and Bucket Carrier, manage to forge in Rainbow Village?"
Birdsong and Fragrance, while wrapping rags around the iron sword in his hand to increase friction, cursed in the team voice chat, "Damn it... if you don't come back soon, we'll have to use that fat guy's chamber pot to smash people!"
"Stop talking nonsense, if you don't want to waste credit points, hurry up and move your stuff!"
The study was in chaos, and in the shadows of a corner, Lynn was trying to calm himself down.
The defensive line was temporarily set up, but the sand table simulation in his mind suddenly stalled.
He suddenly realized a problem: there was a fatal flaw in this 72-hour defensive plan—Pearl.
The brothel madam from that red-light district is still outside.
Pearl Harbor has now become a lawless zone, and the Fat Steward's search party will definitely purge her. If Pearl is left out alone, she won't survive the night.
Lynn's guiding principle was never to discard valuable pieces once they were used up.
Bringing her to the base and having her stay with these fearless players is currently the safest course of action.
Just then, a noise suddenly came from the pile of books in the corner of the study.
"Holy crap... how did I end up on the ground? The collision effects are so realistic! My back and waist are killing me..."
Having been disconnected and put into hibernation, and having just acted as an agent for a high-altitude corpse-dropping prop, he finally reconnected. He rubbed his neck, got up, stretched, and his stamina was now completely full.
Lynn's eyes flickered, and he directly generated a separate command in the background and sent it to the agent's emblem.
[Limited-Time Mission: Rescue Pearl]
[Mission Briefing: The perimeter is sealed off, and the target NPC's survival rate is rapidly decreasing. You need to infiltrate the red-light district and safely bring him back to the base.]
[Task Rewards: High NPC favorability, priority recommendation for first-tier promotion.]
The agent glanced at the panel, said nothing, and drew the dagger from his waist. He looked up at the brass ventilation duct on the ceiling, climbed up like a nimble cat, and disappeared silently from the study.
boom!
No sooner had the agent left than the heavy, brass-clad inner door of the study, along with the mahogany desk behind it, exploded into a shower of wood chips!
Several enemy warriors, all at the first tier, launched another powerful attack. Faced with this ferocious power that defied the laws of physics, the hastily erected defense line by the players was utterly laughable, as if made of paper.
"Kill them!"
The assassins outside poured in through the gap like wolves and tigers.
Even after being given red potion, the little snail's arms were still trembling uncontrollably from the previous blows. Charging in was a burly assassin with a menacing face, wielding a broadsword in both hands, who brought it down on the little snail's shoulder with a simple, unadorned blow!
There's no escaping it.
But in that instant, the little snail did not retreat; instead, it summoned the panel on the emblem with astonishing speed.
"Even if my hand is ruined today, you still have to give me back this experience!"
Just a fraction of a second before the blade touched her body, the little snail dragged the slider for the body pain threshold in the settings panel directly to the lowest limit allowed by the system, 20%!
"Pfft!"
The sharp blade sliced through the snail's shoulder blade without resistance, embedding itself deep into the bone. Blood spurted out instantly, splattering all over the assassin's face.
The assassin's face had just revealed a cruel smile, but the next second, that smile froze completely on his face.
Under his horrified gaze, the thug with half his shoulder cleaved open did not let out a shrill scream, but instead slowly raised his head.
The little snail's eyes instantly became bloodshot, turning completely red. As the red potion's effects were taking hold, the severed muscles at his wound site seemed to be writhing and tightening wildly, like countless buds of flesh, locking the blade tightly in place.
The system forcibly blocked the sense of pain, but the effects of the physical disability remained. The little snail found that he couldn't use his left hand, but he didn't care.
He grinned, revealing a maniacal laugh that resembled that of a demon.
"You piece of trash!!"
The little snail ignored the blade embedded in the bone. With his still-movable right hand, he gripped the broken sword tightly, took a step forward using the force of the opponent's slash, and thrust the rusty broken sword into the assassin's throat!
Blood flowed down the hilt of the sword. The assassin clutched his neck, his eyes wide with disbelief, and a gurgling sound came from his throat before he collapsed to the ground.
This group of flesh-and-blood zombies, who felt almost no pain and became more excited as they hacked and slashed, completely overwhelmed the first-generation assassins who rushed in later.
They are gangsters who live on the edge, unafraid of death. But they fear this monster who, even with its bones broken, can still laugh maniacally and stab you in the back!
"Kill them and we can unlock the job change! Kill them!"
"Steal the monsters! Block the entrance and kill them!"
Led by the little snail, the players, driven to absolute madness by their pursuit of the job change system, managed to plug that fatal gap with sheer numbers of lives and reckless, suicidal tactics.
…………
At the same time, in the dark alleys of the Pearl Harbor red-light district.
The flames of the riot had already lit up half the night sky, and the fat steward's search party was carrying torches, kicking down doors and searching house to house.
Pearl huddled in a corner of a stinking sewer ruin, soaking wet. She covered her mouth tightly, watching the torchlight getting closer and closer at the alley entrance, her heart pounding in her chest.
"It's not here, go get a hook from that ditch over there and poke around!" A member of the search team cursed as he walked toward the direction where Pearl was hiding, carrying a knife.
Ten steps.
Five steps.
Three steps.
Pearl closed her eyes in despair.
"Click."
A chilling cracking sound of bones breaking.
There were no screams, no sound of a heavy object falling to the ground. Pearl opened her eyes with trembling hands and saw a black-clad man, like a ghost of the night, gently placing the limp body of the search team member on the ground with one hand.
Czech public security agent.
He didn't have any fancy skills, nor did he unleash any dazzling sword energy. But with this 100% realistic physics engine, the agent discovered that those "spy movie CQC close combat analysis" and "practical joint lock disassembly" videos he had repeatedly watched on Bilibili and YouTube were incredibly useful when paired with his current body.
Combining the assassination techniques previously taught by Senior Night Owl with his current peak physical condition.
The agent didn't even draw his dagger.
He moved like a silent black panther, disappearing into the shadows. As the second search team member turned the corner with a lantern, the agent suddenly sprang into action.
He precisely cut into the opponent's blind spot, his left hand gripping the opponent's jaw like an iron clamp, while his right hand countered with a forceful strike to the cervical spine.
"Click."
With another soft, slight sound, the second body was silently dragged into the darkness.
To Pearl's shocked gaze, the silent man in black resembled a meticulously calculated killing machine. There was no anger, no pity, only utter ruthlessness and efficiency.
In less than three minutes, the five henchmen of the search team on the perimeter were completely wiped out.
The agent flicked his wrist, walked up to Pearl, and extended his hand, still stained with a little warm blood: "Come on, my boss told me to take you back."
Pearl swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand up against her fear of the cold-blooded killer.
The two moved swiftly through the intricate network of dark alleyways in the red-light district. Once they passed through the last long alley ahead, they could use the abandoned buildings as cover to circle back to the rear of the official residence.
The agent pulled Pearl along, walking very quickly.
However, just as they were about to step into the alley, the agent felt a sudden, inexplicable, absolute intuition.
He suddenly stopped and pulled Pearl behind him.
It's getting a bit windy.
But the air in the alley seemed to freeze in an instant.
At the front and back exits of the dark alley, several ghostly black figures had silently appeared without anyone noticing.
They weren't carrying noisy torches, nor were they dressed in the flashy gangster clothes worn by the fat manager's men.
They were all wearing dark, form-fitting leather armor, and each held a shadow dagger that reflected no light in their hands.
They even breathed in perfect unison, as if they had completely blended into the shadows.
No one spoke, and there was no shouting like when the villains appeared.
But a suffocating murderous intent had already gripped the agent's throat like a steel wire.
Bolton Group's last elite trump card, the Scavenger Flying Squad, blocked their last escape route.