"Hey, hey—that kid actually challenged the unbeatable game!"

"Huh? Seriously?"

"Seriously! I saw him exchange tokens and head straight for the machine in the back!"

"Wanna go check it out?"

"Mhm. I’m dying to see that kid run off crying!"

"You’re such a sadist…"

Two high schoolers in uniforms, glued to their own games, snapped their attention toward Ouyang Ge the moment one spotted his path.

No blame there—the game was this arcade’s *Divine Technique*. Since opening day, no one had ever cleared it. It’d become legend among regulars.

Ignoring the stares from every corner, Ouyang Ge walked steadily to the machine.

"A pistol…"

He slid a token into the slot and gripped the gun-shaped controller with small, steady hands. Memories surged—not his usual model, but the weight of a weapon still soothed him deep down.

[GAME START!!]

The voice announcing the start snapped him back. Ouyang Ge raised the controller with both hands, aiming squarely at the screen—

*BANG!*

A pale yellow bullet fired from the on-screen character’s gun, swelling rapidly as it closed in—just like human vision.

*So slow…*

A flicker of disappointment crossed his mind, but his finger was already pulling the trigger.

The first bullet vanished.

"Huh. This kid’s not even flinching. Not bad."

"Don’t act like *you* could do better."

The two high schoolers behind Ouyang Ge watched, arms crossed, nodding in approval. But as the game progressed, their calm shifted to surprise, then panic, and finally—terror.

*BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!*

Nonstop gunfire. The screen flooded with virtual enemies, all firing. Pale yellow bullets rained from every direction at different speeds.

*Slow… So slow…*

Ouyang Ge kept shooting down bullets, his face utterly blank. His hands stayed rock-steady on the controller, as if swatting trash, not dodging death.

A crowd had gathered behind him, faces twisted with shock, curiosity, disbelief—all wondering the same thing: *Who is this kid?*

This shooter was designed to break human reflexes. Bullet count and speed escalated with time, until no human could track them all.

But—

"Too slow. *Way* too slow!!!"

Expressionless, Ouyang Ge spat out words dripping with disdain—and his score backed up every syllable.

His wrists flicked minutely before each shot, adjusting aim with surgical efficiency. Wasting no motion. (Amateurs swung their whole arms wildly.)

*OHHH!*

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Ouyang Ge had just shot down a *silent* sniper round—one that fired without sound. Normal players struggled with audible bullets; this ambush would’ve ended them.

More silent shots came. Then three at once, from different angles.

*Down. Down. Down…*

[YOU WIN!!!]

The victory chime rang out. Ouyang Ge set the controller down calmly.

Applause started slow, then swelled until the whole arcade was clapping. Cheers erupted—he’d shattered the unbeatable game.

"……"

Ouyang Ge glanced around, puzzled. *Why’s everyone so worked up over a game?*

"Kid…"

A giant of a man—over six-foot-three, muscles bulging under his shirt—parted the crowd and knelt before him.

Ouyang Ge’s eyes narrowed. *Threat assessment: possible assault.*

"Congrats, kid."

The man’s smile was warm, not hostile. "You cleared the final stage."

"And?"

Ouyang Ge tilted his head, wary.

"Truth is, I bought this machine to *never* be beaten. It’s the shop’s guardian—*as long as the shop stands, this machine stands*. Today, you broke it." The man snapped his fingers. Two burly men behind him vanished instantly. "I owe you a reward. Come with me."

He took Ouyang Ge’s hand and led him toward the manager’s office.

………

……

"Whoa…"

Ouyang Ge’s breath hitched stepping inside—but his face stayed blank.

"Hah! You’re something else, kid." The man laughed, pouring vodka into a glass as he sank into his leather chair.

No wonder Ouyang Ge was stunned. The office walls were *covered* in guns. Real ones.

*Holding this many firearms openly? Reckless.*

"Go on. Pick one up. They’re yours to look at." He downed the vodka in one gulp.

"………"

Ouyang Ge nodded, lifting a sleek black pistol from a rack.

*Click-clack.*

The crisp sound of disassembly filled the room.

"These haven’t been maintained."

"Oh? How’d you know?" The man stood up, startled.

"Like this."

In ten seconds, the casually dressed child reduced the pistol to scattered parts. He held up one piece. "See this? Oxidation’s started here. Neglect it, and this killing tool becomes scrap metal." He set it down gently, scolding like a disappointed teacher.

"………"

The man’s lazy grin vanished. He stared at Ouyang Ge—*really* stared.

"Fascinating… You’ve seen bloodshed before, haven’t you?"

"……"

Ouyang Ge’s eyes narrowed. Killing intent flickered deep within them. His mind mapped thirty silent ways to end the man right there.

"*That* look… I know it well. Told you I was right."

"What do you want?"

"Me? Hah! You’ve got it backwards, kid. I just wanted to give you a prize. But now?" His expression hardened. "I’ve changed my mind."

The air turned sharp, prickling skin—thick with killing intent.