Xia Xinyan found her thoughts oddly conflicted.

Just moments ago, she’d felt a flicker of jealousy toward Ling Mo. Now, watching him command the group with quiet authority, a strange pride swelled in her chest—like a parent watching their child step confidently into the world.

Maybe this was the quiet thrill of nurturing someone?

Not that she’d chosen it.

Still, she couldn’t deny she was starting to enjoy it.

Kind of fun, actually.

But rookies they were. Ling Mo’s earlier analysis had missed key details—like infections. Clearly, they’d overlooked the status bar…

Normally, all buffs and debuffs appeared there with clear descriptions. Even completely unfamiliar status effects came labeled. It was an intuitive system: vital not just for understanding dungeon mechanics, but for tracking your own condition in real time.

Rare exceptions existed, though.

If a status effect tied directly to dungeon difficulty, the game might withhold warnings entirely—forcing players to figure it out themselves. In her past life, Xia Xinyan had seen top-ranked players fail spectacularly from over-relying on the status bar.

A subtle test of adaptability, really.

Since they hadn’t noticed yet, she wouldn’t mention it. Let them sharpen their instincts. The worst-case scenario still fell within her acceptable risk range.

As long as the virus wasn’t instant-mutation or player-deployed, the game always granted a grace period—from the moment players *noticed* the infection status to finding a cure, not from initial exposure. Surprisingly humane.

So infections didn’t worry her. What did? The chaos once the city’s infected swarmed in numbers.

The others hadn’t thought that far.

Their full attention locked onto the immediate crisis—

Smoke curled from the car’s hood.

“Holy crap! Hood’s smoking!” Fatty yelled first. “Is this thing gonna blow?!”

Even Ling Mo lost his cool: “Has anyone noticed the car’s shaking?”

“Unbelievable. Should’ve asked if you could drive *before* we left,” Fatty grumbled. “Wrecked a perfectly good car in two moves.”

“How’s that *my* fault?!” Murong Yue snapped. “Who told me to drive?!”

“You were in the driver’s seat! How was I supposed to know you failed your driving test *four times*?!”

“You didn’t ask! If you’re such a hotshot driver, why didn’t you teleport behind the wheel?! Hindsight’s 20/20, huh?!”

Ling Mo cut in: “Enough. Arguing won’t fix this. Focus—what’s next?”

“Get out,” Fatty urged. “I’m not dying in a fireball.”

Murong Yue smirked: “Scared? Ever seen a smoking engine actually explode IRL?”

“Hello? *Game* logic!” Fatty shot back. “Aren’t women supposed to be sharp? Why you dropping the ball?”

“You…” Murong Yue gritted her teeth. “Sharp tongue on you.”

“Flattery, flattery,” Fatty nodded.

Ling Mo stared, stunned. *No wonder he never had a girlfriend in high school.*

Xia Xinyan stepped in calmly: “I agree—we should exit here. Even if it doesn’t explode, breaking down mid-route with infected everywhere? We’d be canned food.”

“Where to?” Murong Yue asked instinctively.

A faint unease prickled her toward Xia Xinyan. The girl seemed harmless… yet radiated quiet danger.

*Was it that message she sent earlier?*

“The next intersection,” Xia Xinyan pointed ahead.

They were one block from the lab. Navigation showed a direct alley route—ideal disembark point.

Ling Mo swiftly unzipped the backpack, handing Fatty and Murong Yue a handgun and riot baton each, sparing few bullets. “Ammo’s limited. Conserve it.”

“Plenty for me,” Fatty grinned. “Got my own tricks if needed.”

Ling Mo paused. “Right—what abilities did you activate?”

Xia Xinyan had mentioned early matches paired evenly skilled players. Everyone here should have one. He was curious.

Fatty paused, then smirked mysteriously. “My ability? Legendary. Know my title now?”

“Night-shift office drone?” Murong Yue deadpanned.

“Office drone my foot! Don’t interrupt.” Fatty clapped once, chest puffed. “I am the *Lord of Lightning*—technique’s just… rusty.”

“Weren’t *you* the office drone…” Murong Yue muttered, parking at the intersection. She chambered a round, tilted her head. “Move?”

Xia Xinyan stepped out first. “Go.”

Ling Mo circled to her side instantly—guardian mode activated. Fatty and Murong Yue followed as they sprinted into the alley.

Few pedestrians here. Lower risk. They crossed smoothly, reaching the lab entrance. Only one red-faced Tank ambushed them en route—Ling Mo turned it into light with one shot.

The lab gates stood wide open. Empty lobby. A map showed a single straight corridor to the inner research zone—no forks. Convenient.

But the inner door was locked. Required a staff ID card.

Fatty tugged the handle, shook his head. “Stuck. Ideas?”

Ling Mo scanned the room, brow slightly furrowed. “ID card’s gotta be inside. Standard game setup. Let’s search.”

“Boring,” Fatty sighed, heading to the nearest room. “One by one? Guess we’ll turn this place upside down to—”

*CRASH!*

The door burst inward. A female researcher lunged out—straight into Fatty’s chest.

She didn’t move him an inch.