A Game for Everyone: God-Level Talent is Achieved Through Rolling In.

Around the stars, the darkness flowed like water, surging and swaying, creating a rushing sound.

The sound of the water was ever-changing; sometimes it faintly revealed the sound of crying, and sometimes it sounded like the wailing of death. The sounds were not loud, just rustling and whispering, making them difficult to hear clearly.

It is precisely because of this unreality that these faint sounds evoke boundless fear.

Upon hearing these sounds, Lin Jianlu recalled the many things that had happened when she was trapped inside the fear projection, and frowned slightly.

Could it be that those teenagers are not the most devout heirs of the concept of fear, and that there are other heirs hidden in the shadows watching them from afar?

Otherwise, how do you explain this now seemingly more sophisticated field of terror?

Or were those teenagers deliberately fattened up...?

There was no time to think further; the darkness before my eyes and the various sounds in my ears had completely suppressed my thoughts.

What I saw and heard stirred a sticky, glue-like fear within me, dulling my thoughts. My teeth chattered involuntarily, my body trembled uncontrollably, and my soul felt as if it were being ripped from my body, yet being ripped out also seemed like the best way to escape this situation…

In the midst of the confusion, Lin Jianlu heard a crisp collision sound.

It was exceptionally crisp, like two pieces of glass colliding with each other.

After the crashing sound, there was a loud crackling sound of shattering.

It was like glass shattering silently, or like a piece of plastic foil being gently crumpled.

All those suggestive rustling sounds were crushed by the sound of breaking.

The original dimness was overwhelmed by a deeper and more intense darkness.

A drop of thick ink falls into thin ink, and everything that was before pales in comparison to this newly unfolding field.

An overwhelming pressure and boundless nothingness devoured everything, and the endless, spiraling staircase continued to collapse in the new darkness.

Tianxing spread its wings and flew and roamed above the collapsed staircase, then flew deeper into the building under Nie Wan's guidance.

In the deepest part of this darkness, two figures were bound together. They struggled desperately, even releasing beams of silver-blue light, but to no avail.

Before the silver-blue light could even land, it solidified in mid-air, transforming into the robot's mechanical heart, before being crushed by the boundless darkness. With a bang, it emitted black smoke and fell to the ground, turning into powder and disappearing completely halfway down.

Nie Wan approached the two people and carefully examined them.

These were two typical Caucasians, around forty or fifty years old, with blond hair and blond eyes. Their features didn't resemble those of Anglo-Saxons; they looked more like Junkers. However, judging from their muttered curses, they were likely citizens of the United States.

The information Tianxi Changyi had gathered was correct; the officials of the Anglo-Saxon region were indeed backed by people from the United States.

The moment Tianxing approached, the man on the left who had been cursing incessantly suddenly changed his expression, his panicked look turning into a ferocious smile.

A crack appeared in his chest, from which a tentacle as thick as an adult's arm emerged and circled around Nie Wan.

Nie Wan simply swung her whip, the silver streak swirling as it sliced ​​through the suction cup at the very front of her wrist, all the way to the player's chest.

The player's eyes widened, almost unable to believe that he had suffered such a crushing defeat.

But the silver streak loomed directly before him, its chilling light overwhelming everything else.

The fear of death was imminent. Cold sweat poured down his back as he desperately tried to back away, but he was bound by the surrounding darkness and could not move.

The more than twenty-meter-long tendrils were evenly split in two, hanging limply from the man's chest.

Drip, drip, blood trickled down the roots of the limp tentacles and flowed into the ground.

The silver mark was stuck to the man's cracked chest, the top of which was only a hair's breadth away from his cheek. If it had been just a little closer, it would have cut his entire face in half.

However, the silver mark did not move forward, stopping at just the right distance.

The man, ecstatic to have survived the ordeal, gasped for breath, yet dared not move too much, lest the sharp silver light slash his flesh if he leaned forward while panting.

Nie Wan pulled on the reins, letting Tianxing slowly approach. She raised her right hand, her remaining fingers gradually closing together.

The silver mark also closed up, shrinking into a thin spot of light about the length of an index finger, and entered the male player's chest.

The male player froze again, staring at Nie Wan in utter terror, wondering what he was up to.

He didn't realize that as he was enveloped in fear, the area of ​​fear within a hundred meters of him collapsed even faster.

He hadn't completely lost yet; there were still areas where he was holding on.

But now, he himself has succumbed to his own fear, and he no longer has the qualifications to control that field.

As a result, he and his field suffered a complete defeat.

After the silver mark traveled through his body for a moment, it scraped hard at his heart.

The man was in excruciating pain, sweating profusely, and foul-smelling, discolored blood gushed from his torn chest.

Silver Traces flew back to Nie Wan's eyes, scattering what they had wrapped around.

Nie Wan stretched out her palm, and the thing floated and landed in the lines of her palm.

It was a jet-black, spider-web-like thing.

With the help of the concepts of peace and memory, Nie Wan could see that this was a gift from the concept of fear, one of its permissions.

The concept of fear itself is termed "unnecessary worry."

In other words, these fears do not originate from external sources, but rather stem from the many fears that plague a person's own mind.

Children alone at home fear the faint sounds in the dark; adults walking at night fear a different kind of footsteps in the darkness; those who have done wrong fear missing the day when their mistakes will be exposed; those with deep obsessions fear that one day everything will vanish like a dream, and they will no longer be able to hold on to their obsessions...

Everyone has their own fears, and everyone is driven by those fears to take action. But often, most of these actions only deepen the fear, making people sink deeper into despair.

This is the true meaning of this permission.

However, during the collision of the domains just now, the terror that was flipped up in the terror domain was only the most basic level, and it was far from reaching this level.

Nie Wan seemed to be deep in thought. She raised her eyes and shifted her gaze from the man on her left to the man on her right.

Compared to the person on the left, this person remained silent and offered no resistance whatsoever.

But Nie Wan's eyes could see, and his heart also beat with similar yet different permissions.

This person is more composed and knows better how to endure and lie low than the one next to him.

But patience and lying low are meaningless in front of Nie Wan.

She did the same thing, scraping the same amount of silver marks from the man's heart.

The silver mark cut into his skin with the same difficulty as cutting into copper or iron, but with a single flow, it transformed into a fine needle that pierced through.

The player on the right froze for a moment, a hint of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes, before returning to normal and silently watching the authority fall into Nie Wan's palm.