Beyond that, there wasn’t much useful intel online. At best, their phones were only good for navigation now.

Xia Xinyan even tried calling emergency services—but all lines were busy, just like the passerby’s attempt.

Honestly, that was expected.

If anything, getting through would’ve been the real anomaly.

The passerby NPC ultimately chose to stay at the inn too. Though wary of Ling Mo and the others, the outside world was far more dangerous. Picking the least terrible option from a pile of bad ones? That was the smart move.

He took the ground-floor room closest to the entrance. Xia Xinyan kept a subtle eye on him—for now, the guy showed no signs of anything off.

For the rest of the day, the four held a quick team-building session—frankly, there was nothing else to do.

They mainly showcased their abilities. Fatty’s had been shown once before: simply put, he controlled lightning. But it wasn’t a standard superpower. His ability precisely involved *casting spells* to generate lightning.

Meaning Fatty was a bona fide mage.

The core difference between spellcasting and innate control? A medium. Spellcasting required an extra step, making it harder to master. But it drew more deeply from the world’s ambient elements—granting it a higher ceiling than self-generated power systems.

In his past life, Fatty had climbed into the leaderboard’s top thirty with this ability. But Xia Xinyan hadn’t met him this early back then—he’d started straight in battle zones. By the time they randomly crossed paths later, they were in completely different circles. High school friendship aside, they could never reclaim that old closeness; at best, polite acquaintances.

Even after she later used her overpowered ability to rapidly climb the ranks, their circles were already fixed—little room for real connection.

So seeing Fatty now left Xia Xinyan with a strange, quiet feeling.

It was the first time she *viscerally* felt her current weight—

A speck of dust capable of reshaping the entire future.

If she chose to.

Such power—something even emperors might never hold—could easily corrupt a heart. But having died once already, Xia Xinyan took it lightly. Beyond a faint sigh, she felt little else.

Ahem. Getting off track.

Murong Yue’s ability, like Xia Xinyan’s, was beast transformation.

But her type was [Leopard].

Murong Yue’s own description was brief: boosted strength, enhanced speed, hands shifting into natural leopard claws. Nothing else seemed special.

Truthfully, Xia Xinyan now knew Murong Yue’s ability better than Murong Yue herself.

Leopards had explosive power—and so did this ability. Once matured, activating Leopard Form could grant a hundredfold boost in specific areas—sounding almost *more* broken than Ling Mo’s ability.

And it was true. In her past life, Murong Yue peaked at rank 57, yet in that state, she could challenge top-ten players—and actually had a shot.

But she only ranked 57 because of a major flaw.

Leopards burst hard but faded fast. Her ability mirrored that: overwhelming power for a brief initial window, then a sharp decline to a stable, modest level—too weak to even crack the leaderboard.

Hence the nickname someone gave her back then: the “Three-Second Powerhouse.”

—He later ended up in the ICU.

Now, unfamiliar with her ability, Murong Yue’s expression clearly read *this sucks*—definitely weaker than Fatty’s earlier explosive strike.

Ling Mo was even harder on himself, especially when he pulled out a brick to demonstrate his ability.

Which was why Xia Xinyan kept saying it: in this game, no ability was weak—only players who hadn’t unlocked or mastered theirs.

Take Murong Yue: powerful? Yes. But if she only fought *after* the “Three-Second Powerhouse” phase ended, she’d never touch the leaderboard.

Take Fatty: strong ability, sure—but if he tried playing melee mage, even *current* Xia Xinyan could’ve beaten peak leaderboard Fatty into the ground. His close-combat skills were pathetically weak. Bulk aside, he had nothing.

Take Ling Mo: blaming the computer for missing software when he couldn’t even code.

That probably fit Xia Xinyan too—she still hadn’t cracked her cat transformation’s true use.

She’d mostly figured out the succubus aspect… but genuinely didn’t want to use it.

It just felt like it would lead her astray…

Evening fell quickly. The four returned to their rooms. Fatty finalized the watch schedule and volunteered for first shift.

Their rooms were clustered together for fast reaction to emergencies. Fatty grabbed a chair and flashlight from the front desk, then settled into the second-floor hallway for the long night.

The inn’s rooms were decent: twin beds, spacious, comfortable mattresses—and crucially, the bathroom had frosted glass.

After Ling Mo and Xia Xinyan entered their room, his eyes kept drifting toward the bathroom.

Heaven only knew what flickered through his mind.

Strictly speaking, this wasn’t their first shared night. In the last dungeon, they’d squeezed into a tent—and the position they woke in had left him awkward for ages.

But this time was different.

At least, the *vibe* was.

Back then, survival dominated his thoughts; game curiosity masked his virgin awkwardness. Now, with the game better understood, he focused more on the *experience*—yet that lingering awkwardness remained unchanged. Facing a scene that looked exactly like a couple’s hotel stay… his nervousness was palpable.

The only “regret”? This wasn’t *actually* a romantic getaway. No way they’d be showering or sleeping normally tonight.

…No, no, no—not “regret” at all.

*Ahem*. What was he even thinking…

“Mo Mo, want to shower?” Xia Xinyan’s voice suddenly came from behind him, laced with barely noticeable teasing. “Hot water’s still running…”

Ling Mo froze. “?!”