The Dragonfly's Little Trick

A hundred meters away.

Dragonfly lugged its toolbox, huffing and puffing as it arrived at a pure white corridor.

“Oh,” it said, looking at the rows of rigid human bodies lining both sides of the corridor, its mouth twitching downward in surprise.

“Where did so many corpse-sticks come from? Quite a spectacle.”

Dragonfly stepped forward, using a cane it had somehow pulled out of nowhere, and tapped one of the naked male corpse-sticks hard.

“Tsk. How are you things even made?”

“What kind of background does Ji Xiting have to get his hands on stuff like this…” Dragonfly smacked its lips, “…from the Snowy Domain?”

“Mr. Dragonfly,” the corpse-stick it had tapped said, its body stiff, its eyes moving with effort, “please follow me. I’ll call the internal affairs department to have a pseudo-human open the door for you.”

Dragonfly’s compound eyes studied it curiously as it casually strode forward on its silver legs, following behind.

“Oh, oh, fine,” it said, squinting and giving a sly, mocking laugh. “Roughly what level are the creatures in here, by the way?”

The corpse-stick’s thoughts moved sluggishly.

Its joints wouldn’t bend, and its legs swung forward like two wooden poles stomping against the ground.

“Most are between level five and six, supposedly higher than 99% of players. Why do you ask, Mr. Dragonfly?”

Dragonfly only laughed more gleefully.

“Nothing at all,” it shook its head casually. “And what level are you?”

“Level twelve,” the corpse-stick answered quickly this time. “An awkward level, really. At this tier, my mental attacks are still underdeveloped, while my body grows increasingly rigid—almost like a real zombie.”

As it spoke, it stopped, raised its stiff hand, and slammed it hard against the tiles.

“Open the door!” it shouted at the tiles. “I need to speak with the head of logistics… Is anyone there?”

Dragonfly folded its arms in smug amusement.

The corpse-stick got no response. After a moment, it switched its communication target.

“In that case, please connect me to the Head Chef’s workstation. Is the Head Chef here?”

The corpse-stick’s hoarse voice came from one of the tiles on the wall.

Zhu Yan carefully rotated the blade embedded in the Head Chef’s body, savoring how it trembled slightly from fear.

This tile was rather interesting.

A remote communication gadget, perhaps?

“I asked you a question,” Zhu Yan threatened, half-lidded eyes narrowing. “Are you there?”

The Head Chef’s face was taut.

With its life on the line, it didn’t dare defy Zhu Yan—it wanted to avoid annihilation.

If that blade shifted even an inch further, it would be completely destroyed.

“I’m here,” the Head Chef said loudly, glancing at Zhu Yan.

Without Zhu Yan’s express direction, it wouldn’t dare say a single extra word.

“Mr. Dragonfly has come to install surveillance equipment and is now outside,” the hoarse voice explained.

“The logistics department head didn’t answer, so I’m troubling you—please send someone to open the door and let Mr. Dragonfly in.”

“…Do we really have to install the surveillance?”

“Yes.”

“It’ll interfere with my work. If I object…”

“Apologies. You don’t have the right to object.”

The corpse-stick cut off the Head Chef’s struggle: “At Boss Ying’s request, he wants to watch the entire process of the Hunter being captured and killed.”

“We’ve already sealed off the Kitchen. So please send someone to open the door and let Mr. Dragonfly in to install the equipment.”

Dragonfly suddenly stretched out an insect leg and tugged at the corpse-stick.

The corpse-stick had no choice but to turn its whole body to adjust its line of sight.

Before it could ask what was going on, Dragonfly spoke with a menacing tone.

“You’d better hurry up, Head Chef.”

It was ecstatic, absolutely thrilled.

From the exchange so far, Dragonfly had figured it out.

The Head Chef was likely genuine—the Hunter’s disguise ability wasn’t high enough; if the Hunter had been impersonating the Head Chef, Dragonfly would have instantly caught the voice being off.

But the Head Chef was making endless excuses, refusing to come open the door—clearly hiding something.

That was suspicious.

Thinking back to the level-13 saber Dragonfly had given to the Hunter…

The Head Chef was obviously being threatened by the Hunter!

Dragonfly’s voice carried a note of gleeful anticipation: “I’ll warn you—these creatures outside you call corpse-sticks are level twelve. Every single one of them outranks you!”

Yes, yes—all below its level-13 saber.

Even if it had to cut them down, it wouldn’t be a problem.

A delightful scenario was taking shape in Dragonfly’s mind.

They wouldn’t give it a vacation, right?

They wanted it to work for free, right?

When the time came, it would fake being knocked out in the hallway and just sleep on the spot!

The corpse-stick shot a grateful look at Dragonfly.

“We await your arrival. Goodbye.”

The irritating voice vanished from the tiles, and the Head Chef’s eyelids drooped in despair.

There was no way out now.

The Hunter—wasn’t that the very person standing behind it?

The Head Chef had no doubt.

If the door had to be opened, the Hunter would kill it and then stall for as long as possible… probably.

Its stiff face remained expressionless as it faced Zhu Yan, but Zhu Yan could somehow read fear in it.

“I’m still useful,” the Head Chef stressed. “I swear I haven’t lied to you—I still have value.”

The cold blade hovered near its Laughing-Crying Heart.

The human player in front of it raised an eyebrow, nudging the blade a little toward the center of its chest.

“They wants the Head Chef to serve the dishes in person,” Zhu Yan said.

The Head Chef immediately emphasized, its stiff facial muscles beginning to spasm.

“That previous table-service department was lying to you…”

The blade shifted again, and the Head Chef shouted in panic.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’ll come clean!”

“Talk.”

“There’s always a theme for the banquet. The creatures attending will cover their faces and wear themed costumes. The Head Chef does too.”

“And?”

“So, so… Ah, the Land of Bliss. This time’s theme is angels, because in the upcoming Chaos Game, they plan to play the role of saviors for the players.”

“Mm.”

“As per tradition, I’ll wear a halo—a literal angel halo. My Land… why are you moving the weapon again?”

The Head Chef’s voice distorted with fear as it instinctively shifted aside, trying to put more distance between its heart and the knife.

But that only pulled the chest wound wider, and thick blood started oozing out.

“It’s really an angel halo! I swear!”

“I know. But where is the halo?”

The Head Chef shuddered.

A terrible premonition washed over it. After struggling with itself, it reluctantly raised a hand and pointed at Zhu Yan.

“It’s… inside the Head Chef’s coat pocket, the one you put away. You… you…”

Zhu Yan smiled at it.

The Head Chef desperately fought for its life: “Everything I’m saying now is the truth.”

“Your weapon is enough against me, but against them, its level is too low.”

“Those things might be level twenty… actually, no one knows exactly what level can enter the Eye of the Abyss.”

“Anyway, I don’t know the boss’s exact level either. But this weapon definitely won’t be enough.”

“Your disguise will be seen through as soon as you go upstairs.”

Zhu Yan cut him off.

“Less of that useless talk.”

His hand gripped the handle tightly, and he could feel a faint tremor traveling up from the blade.

The Head Chef’s muscles were twitching uncontrollably.

It was a passable performance, at least—under such fear, it was hard for this creature to keep lying.