Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes

Taking action now would help both Iwasaki and himself, forming a kind of defensive alliance between the two.

Taki didn't answer, his eyes sharp, and he drew his sword to kill.

Samurai against samurai!

Snapped.

As soon as they started fighting, Ethan found himself struggling.

In this battle, which is purely a contest of skill, he is destined to be at a disadvantage. Even if he uses his blood energy, he can only delay his defeat.

But that's enough.

He just needs to buy enough time so that Yui has time to reap the rewards.

In the midst of this intense back-and-forth battle, suddenly, all players' virtual interfaces vibrated simultaneously, and a system announcement popped up:

[Silver Cup Manor will launch precisely at midnight in the East 9th time zone. All players, please be prepared.]

Each player needs three play attempts per game, and the game is automatically unlocked at midnight every day until the game is completed.

[Countdown: 00:59:59]

Time seemed to have been paused, and all the players froze in place.

This includes the two wooden swords that Ethan and Taki used to cut each other.

The crops in Taoyuan Village are related to points, so they are certainly important.

However, games involve more rewards and are the source of their abilities, making them incomparable.

Therefore, with the release of the new game, the current conflict immediately became unnecessary.

Swish.

In this brief silence, the tomatoes in Yui's field ripened perfectly, radiating a rosy glow.

At the same time, a blurry tri-colored figure darted out of the shadows like a ghost; it was none other than the acting village chief, Sanhua.

It moved swiftly and accurately snatched away several of the plumpest tomatoes, disappearing into the night before anyone could react, leaving only a triumphant whimper.

"."

Nobi took a deep breath to suppress the dizziness and turned his gaze to Iwasaki on the watchtower.

"Let's call a ceasefire."

"it is good."

This battle, which had lasted for more than ten days in Taoyuan Village, has thus come to a temporary end.

With the efforts of both sides, the "Taoyuan Village Ceasefire Agreement" was quickly reached.

They've come to realize that investing so much energy in Peach Blossom Village just to steal vegetables is more driven by emotion than by profit.

Although, in terms of pure profit, the players' association suffered greater losses.

But if we really take this seriously, at least the mutual aid association has the advantage of numbers and can keep Iwasaki and the others stuck here.

Both sides attached several treaties to the ceasefire agreement.

For example, from now on, crops that have been ripe for less than 10 minutes will not be allowed to be stolen.

This essentially eliminates the possibility of stealing crops, unless the player happens to be completely unable to free up their time during that specific time period in real life.

This can at least significantly reduce the risk of conflict between players.

However, this treaty can only regulate players, not the Fox Village Chief.

However, once they no longer need to guard against other players and stop attacking each other, they are confident that they can hold off the Fox Village Chief.

The smoke of battle in Peach Blossom Village has temporarily subsided. Yui quietly harvests the tomatoes and then follows the main group back to the player lobby.

Upon returning, everyone's attention was drawn to the three solidified black mists that had appeared on three previously unoccupied chairs next to the round table in the hall.

Even nicknames are provided, displayed above the black mist:

Arthur

Lucio Dubois

【Park】

Uesugi blinked, thinking he was seeing things.

Is that Lu something-bo's full name?

There are even players who choose to register their real names online. If that's the case, they'll probably be locked out before they even finish the first game.

Although there is an unspoken rule among players that they are not allowed to reveal other players' information, she does not believe that all players will abide by it.

"Two Westerners and one East Asian."

Ethan thought for a moment, then took the initiative to speak and explain that he didn't mind doing a favor in matters that weren't directly related to his interests.

"Dubois is a typical French surname, most likely from France or the French-speaking part of Canada."

"If nothing unexpected happens, Arthur will be from an English or French-speaking country."

"Park is a common surname in the Southern Dynasties, but it is also quite common in Japan."

Nobita nodded slightly: "The new version's players will no longer be limited to Tokyo; there will be players from all over the world. I just don't know about the language..."

He turned to Muramasa Taki and tried to quickly say a few everyday greetings in the English he had learned in his life.

"."

Muramasa Taki hesitated, unable to speak. She understood English, but couldn't understand Nobita's accent. Yet, his words somehow managed to enter her mind in a despicable way.

“I know you’re speaking English, and I understand what you mean directly. I’ve done experiments with Uesugi before, and in games, language isn’t a barrier; the game system will automatically translate for us.”

She still didn't complain about Nobita's accent.

There's half an hour left in the countdown.

Everyone remained in the hall, quietly waiting for the new game to begin.

Chapter 268: The Heart of Revenge

(This chapter has no real-world implications.)

Half a day ago.

Seoul.

Park Min-woo stood quietly at the entrance of the farewell hall, waiting.

When was the last time I came to the funeral home?

No, after searching his memory for a long time without finding any fragments, he realized that those seemingly real scenes were just things he had seen in movies and TV shows.

In reality, he never personally visited the funeral home, the place where a person is formally removed from society.

His family had never had any close relatives or friends. His mother was missing, and his grandparents had passed away before he was born, so he had never attended any funerals since he was a child.

It's quite unusual for someone his age of twenty.

However, the most obvious thing in his chaotic thoughts at this moment was his assessment of the surrounding environment.

It's quite clean and quiet.

It has a faint smell of cleaning agents, with a slightly pungent odor.

His hands were covered with a black cloth. Police officers stood on either side of him, their faces expressionless.

The electronic ankle bracelet was a little uncomfortable, and he unconsciously rubbed it.

After waiting for more than ten minutes, the hall door in front slid open silently.

There was a single coffin inside, all alone.

A staff member in a dark suit stood in the corner in front of the microphone on the control panel and nodded to him.

"The farewell ceremony for Mr. Park Cheol-woong is now in progress. Relatives are invited to pay their last respects."

The officer on the left patted Park Min-woo on the shoulder.

"Ten minutes, don't make things difficult for us."

Park Min-woo nodded absentmindedly, then stepped into the farewell hall like a robot.

Whose funeral was this again? He seemed to know, yet dared not know.

He couldn't quite hear what the host was saying; it was like a muffled noise filling the air. He leaned against the coffin, slowly moving, his eyes following the deceased's clothes upwards. That peaceful face seemed so familiar.

"dad."

This dream felt so real. Was it really a dream?

Ah, it's not a dream.

Park Min-woo seemed to suddenly come to his senses.

The accumulated time of the past month, in the instant he realized it, was like strands of light, forming a tunnel that transported him from one end to the other.

It's as if he, before his consciousness collapsed a month ago, has traveled to a month later, after his consciousness has already shattered.

Yes, this is not a dream.

Everything he experienced during this period was real.

The fog that had been obscuring my mind was suddenly sucked away. The scene was still the same, the memories were still the same, but everything felt different.

He used to be able to cover his head and pretend he knew nothing, but now, his father is dead.

If it weren't for him, my father wouldn't have been fired from his company because of public opinion, wouldn't have desperately tried to earn money to get him bail and a lawyer, and wouldn't have died.

Crack! He heard the sound of his brain shattering. The shell he used to protect himself was broken. Reality rushed in, gripping his throat and making it impossible for him to breathe.

boom.

His legs went weak and his head hit the coffin, but it didn't hurt much. What bothered him more was the tightness and bitterness in his throat.

"Park Min-woo? Mr. Park Min-woo, please accept my condolences and don't be too sad. I'm sure your father wouldn't want this either."

When he finally recovered from the pain, he was slumped on the ground, and the host gently comforted him. Two police officers stood beside him, blocking the light.

"Next, we will arrange a mock roadside memorial and cremation for your father. Please rest assured, we respect every deceased and living person. Please trust our professionalism."

Seeing that his complexion had improved, the host breathed a sigh of relief and continued speaking.

Park Min-woo looked up at the police officer beside him, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and pleaded, "Can I go to the crematorium with you?"

The officers exchanged a glance and gently shook their heads: "You've committed a serious crime. Unless there are special circumstances, the court won't let you out. It's almost time."

Park Min-woo's eyes gradually lost their luster, and he slowly lowered his head: "I understand."

He slowly got up, took one last look at his father's remains, and numbly allowed the police officers to help him out of the farewell hall, or rather, to half-support him.

He walked with his head down, his mind becoming increasingly clear, while his hatred for the instigator was also accumulating layer by layer.

His chest swelled almost uncontrollably, and his body trembled slightly, but because he had his head down, the two officers thought he was still lost in grief.

Reaching the entrance of the main funeral home building, and listening to the faint sounds of commotion filtering through the glass doors, a police officer muttered, "Damn, their intelligence comes fast."

"Heh, it's not the first time." Another officer looked at Park Min-woo with a slightly disdainful gaze.

The two exchanged a glance: "Keep your heads down and hurry up."

They simultaneously increased the pressure on their hands, practically dragging Park Min-woo along as they rushed towards the exit gate.

The automatic door opened promptly.

The deafening roar, carrying with it the scorching air and blinding sun of midday in August, formed a tsunami that seemed to belong only to the land, crashing down upon them.

Sweat began to be secreted almost instantly.

Park Min-woo raised his head and looked at the crowd that had been blocked.

The sharp sound pierced the eardrum:

"Those who rape women should be deprived of their ability to have children!"

"That's him! The woman rapist!"

"Go back to prison and die!!"