City of Sinful Fog (Black Death), Chapter 130: The Web Weaver

They had set an ambush for a player two levels above themselves, yet the Orb Weaver showed no sign of joy, maintaining an expression dark and somber as ever.

On the battlefield, flames, iron rods, and blades converged in a deadly symphony. The guitarist found himself closely pressed, the situation turning heavily against him.

Had it not been for Zhao Xingluan and Ma Fushao drawing his attention at the Guan Shanting pavilion, how could he have overlooked the shadows surrounding him? Allowing these two to close in, while isolating his summoned Black Giant, was a grave mistake.

Gritting his teeth, the guitarist drew several trump cards, but all were effectively countered by his well-prepared adversaries.

Close-quarters combat was severely unfavorable to him—an irreversible reality.

Liao Yuan’s flames subtly constrained him, Gao Cheng’s iron rod followed like a shadow, and even Guan Shanting, wielding a blade, posed a significant threat.

The guitarist’s instrument shattered.

Shards cut into his hands, leaving him looking utterly disheveled.

Black mist churned violently, causing Guan Shanting to frown. He realized that the more he breathed in the black fog, the more agitated he became—filled with a desire to kill, to destroy…

As the guitarist was completely defeated, the black mist exploded outward. The three withdrew together from the temporary battlefield, leaving only the ominous haze behind.

This battle was finally over.

Meanwhile, in Wu Hui’s temporary residence,

He sifted through surveillance footage for a long time without success and was now contemplating alternative angles of analysis.

Wu Hui truly lacked experience in investigation. Moreover, understanding human emotions was a crucial step in the process, an area where Wu Hui’s foundational attributes were insufficient.

As he pondered, young Ke Wenbei looked at the documents in his hand and spoke: “This individual is highly educated, with extensive criminal experience, aged between twenty-five and thirty.”

Wu Hui turned to look at the boy.

He was the second brother’s cousin, a level-three player with exceptional intelligence—though still not quite on par with Wu Hui.

After all, he was merely in elementary school; who knew how much sharper he might become with age.

Judging by how he manipulated his cousin’s corpse for deduction that day, it was clear this boy frequently dealt with criminal cases.

The only concern was that Ke Wenbei was someone Wu Hui needed to be wary of.

Ren Yin, Wu Hui, and Li Xiaoyue had once killed Ke Wenbei’s brother in the game. Now, it seemed Ke Wenbei had learned this through some special ability.

“Have you also shaken off the mental influence?” Wu Hui adjusted his glasses.

Ke Wenbei nodded, devoid of the usual sweet and obedient demeanor he showed others: “Yes.”

“Then you know how your brother died?” Wu Hui didn’t mince words, addressing the most likely source of conflict between them directly.

Ke Wenbei, however, remained calm: “He died in the game.”

The game’s rules forced everyone into opposition; there was no clear right or wrong. Ke Wenbei had long understood this truth.

His special ability allowed him to see the last memories before a body’s death.

It was Li Xiaoyue, knife in hand, approaching Ke Wenjie—and then striking. That’s why Ke Wenbei had always harbored those emotions, and under the black mist’s influence, had genuinely considered taking action.

Given his acting skills and intellect, he might not have abandoned this idea yet—merely putting on a facade with Wu Hui.

Wu Hui observed him silently, offering no comment but passing over the files. He trusted that even if Ke Wenbei was influenced by the black mist and tempted to kill, he would assist him in this matter.

At all times, only by maintaining composure could one fully harness their intellect.

Ke Wenbei had deduced much from just a portion of the documents earlier. Now, after reviewing all the files Wu Hui had marked extensively, his keen mind whirred rapidly.

“These black mist outbreak points likely aren’t far from the suspect’s usual haunts,” Ke Wenbei said. “He is an extremely confident person who likes to keep everything under his control, with an anti-surveillance tendency.”

“He wants to witness the criminal acts firsthand. These counter-surveillance skills cannot be innate; they must have been honed somewhere.”

“Familiarity with the terrain suggests he’s either a native or has lived here for a long time.”

Ke Wenbei spoke fluently, elaborating at length.

“These shoes… don’t look branded. Perhaps handcrafted or some extraordinary artifact,” he added. “This could be a breakthrough.”

“Good,” Wu Hui nodded. “But this alone isn’t enough. It’s difficult for us to mobilize a large police force for a thorough sweep now.”

Ke Wenbei sighed: “I’m no deity. This guy hasn’t even shown his face. How are we supposed to find him?”

“Perhaps someone will come to us,” Wu Hui said. “Let’s head out. Your awakening might attract other players still engaged in the game. We should set up outside.”

They had numbers on their side: Ren Yin and Wu Hui were both level four, with four level-three players. If a level-five player arrived, they wouldn’t worry much. With preparation, they might even ambush a weaker level-six.

But if a level-seven player appeared—Wu Hui felt helpless.

Every strategy required power to execute.

The Orb Weaver’s web that trapped the guitarist depended on several level-fives and two level-sixes.

Thus, the intelligence that could raise one’s strength was truly the greatest intelligence. Figures like Guan Zhong, Xiao He, and Zhuge Liang, often overlooked in history for their contributions to logistics and national strengthening, were unfairly neglected.

Improvement could be personal or collective.

Wu Hui summoned Li Xiaojing and began setting explosive charges with the bombs he had previously given him. Ren Yin handed over two portions of dream fuel. The entire small villa was laden with dangerous explosives.

Ice began spreading in multiple places.

Summoned creatures braced themselves. Though the twins and Wang Xiaodie didn’t fully understand the reasoning, they followed Wu Hui’s orders.

Li Xiaoyue often appeared dazed, clearly just a step away from freeing herself from the influence. Though her psychic abilities and intelligence might be lacking, she had an edge in this regard.

Moreover, her and her sister’s shared skepticism of reality, like their feelings toward Wu Hui, could mutually amplify one another.

The twins’ ability was impressive; with it, both might have the potential to advance to senior player status, barely keeping pace with Wu Hui now.

Otherwise, they truly wouldn’t be suited for the game. Wang Xiaodie was far stronger than those two.

However…

Wu Hui turned to Ren Yin.

For some reason, Ren Yin, dressed head to toe in a maid outfit, looked at her while holding a rather large sniper rifle, pushing up her glasses as well.

After a moment’s thought, Wu Hui decided not to ask why the outfit Wu Tong had given Wang Xiaodie now adorned Ren Yin.

At this moment, Wang Xiaodie was sneezing beneath a blanket. Clearly, Ren Yin’s training was far from gentle.

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