MMPS Ch. 20

Chapter 20: Opponents

Kao Pu seized Li Pu’s finger, lifting it threateningly as if to administer righteous justice with a flurry of punches. Suddenly, the motion froze. A presence loomed above.

Yu An leaned against the corner wall, half his body visible, his gaze fixed on them with mild astonishment.

“Oh? Another one.”

The left hand, caught red-handed, released Li Pu and turned to flee, but Yu An’s grip was swift, ensnaring them.

“Sewer elves, perhaps? And a pair, no less.” Yu An examined Kao Pu closely, holding it up like an artifact. “You’re quite beautiful, too.”

Kao Pu faltered, the tips of its fingers tinged with faint red.

Half an hour later.

At a self-service ice cream shop in a bustling mall, the glitzy right hand, covered with gold and silver, gripped the lever of an ice cream machine, pulling it with flair. Yu An held a cone beneath the spout, delightedly catching the swirl. The left hand lounged idly in a nearby seat, watching them lazily. Its middle and index fingers bore sleek silver-and-black metal rings—Yu An’s gift.

The left hand picked up Yu An’s phone and composed a message to Zhao Ran:

“Found a new master. Don’t wait for me. —Left.”

Without hesitation, it deleted the message record.

*

Grey Crow Game Studio, Guest Lounge.

In the distance, the members of the Emergency Order Unit whispered amongst themselves.

“Team Leader’s acting strange today.” one murmured. “He’s already shattered his phone screen twice and hasn’t budged from the window. He’s gone so pale, he’s almost translucent. Who could he possibly be this angry with?”

Xiao Qi, carrying a logbook, passed by unfazed: “With his own consciousness and personality. He just refuses to admit it.”

Hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway as the studio’s general manager, Chen, arrived at last—a short, stout man clutching a briefcase, his pace brisk and hurried.

“My apologies! So sorry for the delay!” Manager Chen’s hands came together in an apologetic gesture. “At four this morning, the Perceptive Eagle Bureau summoned me. I had to retrieve one of our streamers. The process got… complicated. Again, my deepest apologies.”

His gaze shifted to the team leader. “Ah, you must be Team Leader Zhao. A pleasure to meet you.”

Chen instinctively extended a hand for a shake but froze upon catching the frosty glint in Zhao Ran’s eyes. Hastily, Chen withdrew his hand, opting instead for a respectful nod. “With you here, I feel much more at ease.”

Zhao Ran tossed aside his damaged phone and exchanged brief pleasantries before cutting straight to the point. “Time is limited. Tell me about your situation.”

Chen bowed slightly, pouring tea for Zhao Ran. His hands trembled. “Where to begin… It’s been a nightmare. Our streamers have started protesting, demanding we abolish the midnight gameplay quota for horror titles.”

He sighed deeply. “It all began with a horror exploration game we released two years ago, Grey Crow: Haunted Manor. Players collected items to solve puzzles and escape the setting. Our demo, free for a limited trial, garnered millions of discussions online. Expectations were sky-high.”

“But during the official release’s first week, things took a terrifying turn.”

“Players were fine, but our streamers reported the scares were… off. Too clichéd. Jump scares everywhere—cheap and overdone. They felt let down.”

“That struck us as odd. Haunted Manor was supposed to be a psychological horror game, with fewer than five jump scares throughout. Yet, the complaints piled up. Then, we reviewed screenshots from players. What we saw—” Chen’s voice quavered. “It froze us to the bone.”

“The screenshots weren’t typical scary faces. They showed fully rendered creatures—models we’d never seen before. Monsters the game wasn’t programmed to include, seemingly self-generated and attacking players.”

“We halted the game, scoured for bugs—nothing. We were desperate. We added weapons to the game to help players defend themselves. A psychological horror masterpiece turned into a bizarre shooter. The reception and revenue plummeted.”

“This year, we launched a new title, Grey Crow: Toy House. We shared a demo with streamers to build hype, but disaster struck again.”

“Streamers reported hearing knocks while playing. Not through the game’s audio but faint, real ones. When they checked their doors, no one was there. Then, the knocking came from inside their homes.”

“One of our popular streamers, Huang Qi, reported a similar experience. However, unlike the others, his vision is remarkably sharp. While checking his security door in the living room, he turned his head and happened to see his bedroom computer screen. On the game interface, there was a person tapping the screen with the knuckle of their middle finger.”

Zhao Ran, who had been listening silently, spoke up for the first time: “The person in the screen? What did they look like?”

“He described it as a boy’s face—expressionless, with one golden eye and the other blue. But the face was so close to the screen that no other features were visible.”

Zhao Ran was skeptical: “From the living room to the bedroom? That’s quite a distance. Could he really see details like eye color?”

“Huang Qi’s uncorrected vision is 6.0. You can find that in his pre-employment health check report.” Manager Chen replied, wiping sweat from his forehead. “At first, he thought it was an Easter egg in the game, so he ran back to keep playing. But by the time he sat back down, the boy in the game had turned around. His back was to the camera, standing stiffly in a puppet-like pose in front of the screen, slowly lifting a bottle of poison.”

“That poison is a collectible item in a specific scene of our game. Huang Qi didn’t think much of it, but then the boy splashed the poison onto the screen. Green liquid splattered across the game’s view.”

“The next day, Huang Qi was rushed to the hospital. The diagnosis was severe facial burns caused by a toxic substance. This was a big deal. We immediately pulled the demo version. If you need a copy for investigation, I’ll provide one.”

Chen sighed, his expression grim: “Speaking of Huang Qi, I don’t know where he got this rumor about some Xiliu Beauty Salon being able to repair skin damage. He went there once, and it wasn’t enough—just yesterday, he went again and got detained by the police. I had to personally go and bring him back.”

“That kid was shaken. I’ve arranged for someone to escort him home to rest.”

Chen’s nose reddened as he exhaled heavily, running his hands over his sparse hair: “Toy House took eight years of effort from everyone in the company. Everyone has been pouring their heart and soul into this new game. If the same problems happen again, we might not survive this time.”

“I understand the situation.” Zhao Ran said after hearing the description. He nodded. “We’ll stay in touch once the investigation progresses. We may need your company might need to cooperate further. Don’t worry too much.”

“Yes, yes. We’ll fully cooperate with the Underground Metro’s work. Thank you so much.”

After wrapping up the investigation at Grey Crow Game Studio, Zhao Ran checked the time. His subordinate, Xiao An, approached with a black umbrella, shielding him from the sun.

“Team Leader, are you heading back to the Underground Metro or home for a break?”

“I’ll head home for a bit. You and Xiao Qi, follow up on the game company investigation. Gather the relevant information and report back to me.”

“Got it. Don’t worry, Team Leader. You must be exhausted managing the interns lately. And now, you’ve got to prepare for the intern evaluation meeting. You can’t lose to Team Leader Duan or Team Leader Yuan!”

Team Leader Duan Ke of the Rapid Response Unit and Team Leader Yuan Xiaoying of the City Patrol Unit were key figures in the Underground Metro hierarchy, their influence matching Zhao Ran’s.

Zhao Ran pulled a cigarette from his trench coat pocket, smirking as he lit it: “Them? How could they even compete with me? Do they have standout interns?”

Xiao An leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially: “I’ve done some digging. The Underground Metro recruited ten interns this year. Aside from Yu An, there are two others who are rumored to be formidable.”

Zhao Ran exhaled a puff of smoke, unimpressed: “Yu An cracked the Illusion Chamber on his own. Who are those two, and what are their tasks?”

:“Details are tightly guarded by Team Leader Duan and Yuan’s teams. No one’s letting anything slip. But I’ve heard from the big boss that this year’s evaluation is critical for bringing fresh talent into the Underground Metro. The process will be strict—rumor has it, only the top two will make it through.”

Zhao Ran shrugged: “That old man’s cunning. He always complains there aren’t enough talented young people. Limiting it to just two? That’s just an excuse to force us to push ourselves harder and give up our rest time to train the interns. He’s unbelievably stingy.”

Between others, it might have been tolerable. But the responsibilities of the Rapid Response Unit and the Emergency Order Unit overlapped significantly. Zhao Ran and Duan Ke had always seen each other’s teams as redundant, both angling to absorb the other’s subordinates into their own squads.

If the evaluation were turned into a ranking competition, the performance of each team’s interns would undoubtedly spark a storm among the higher-ups.

“A ranking, huh? Fine. Let’s take it barehanded. We’ll crush them.” Zhao Ran said, stubbing out his cigarette. He laboriously typed a message on his cracked phone and sent it to Yu An.

“Come to my place tonight. We’ll do make-up lessons.”

*

At noon, Yu An followed the instructions from his interviewer, entering the side gate of the Perceptive Eagle Bureau once more.

Officer Timon escorted him through the security checks, guiding him deeper into the towering Bureau building.

This time, Yu An noticed that after passing the second checkpoint, the room doors on either side were heavy steel, akin to those of X-ray rooms in hospitals, powered by electricity to open and close. These doors were nearly impossible to breach with conventional tools.

As he passed one of the doors, he noticed an unusual warmth in the air.

Curious, Yu An touched the surface of the door—it was scalding hot. If anyone were inside, they would likely be cooked alive.

A sudden, thunderous sound startled him. Instinctively, Yu An stepped back. To his shock, a human face appeared as an imprint on the steel door. It seemed someone behind the door had slammed their head against it with such force that it deformed the solid metal.

The face imprinted on the door… appeared to be smiling.

“Don’t worry.” Officer Timon said, pulling Yu An behind him. “That’s just a suspect temporarily detained for interrogation. The cell is secure; he won’t get out. Walk on my left and don’t touch anything else.”

“Got it.” Yu An shoved his hands into his pockets, restraining his curiosity. But he couldn’t help being impressed by the strength of the detainees held here.

Once they left the detention area, the oppressive atmosphere gradually lifted.

Officer Ye was busy and couldn’t meet Yu An immediately, so Yu An sat on a public bench in the corridor, passing the time with a Core Analyzer.

The interviewer had loaded Aberrant Cores taken from the doctor couple into the device. With time to spare, Yu An examined them one by one.

Lifting the lid, Yu An’s eyes widened.

The analyzer contained three cores: one purple, one red, and one silver.

A silver core? How could there be a silver-tier core? Yu An’s interest was piqued.

Name: Healing Core – Scalpel
Source: Female Cosmetic Doctor Aberrant
Type: Common Variant
Grade: Tier 1 Red (Rose Red)
Primary Ability: Painless Surgery
Usage Limit: 100 cumulative hours
Description: The heart of a healer.
Resonance Requirement: Unknown

Name: Healing Core – Rapid Regeneration
Source: Male Cosmetic Doctor Aberrant
Type: Common Variant
Grade: Tier 3 Purple (Mallow Purple)
Primary Ability: Rapid Healing of External Injuries
Usage Limit: 60 cumulative uses
Description: The heart of a healer.
Resonance Requirement: Unknown

The first two cores were unremarkable. Treatment-type cores extracted from the doctors were only logical. Yu An wasn’t particularly fazed; with a Tier 3 Red X-ray core already in his possession, the novelty of red-grade discoveries had long since worn off.

But the third core—a faintly glowing silver orb, its pale light shimmering like moonlight on frost—arrested his gaze. Its presence seemed to radiate a quiet, otherworldly significance that demanded his full attention.

Name: Illusion Chamber Core – Picture Within the Painting
Source: Cracking the Illusion Chamber at the Beauty Salon
Type: Illusion Chamber Variant
Grade: Tier 1 Silver (Pale)
Primary Ability: Extract physical objects from two-dimensional images. Limitations: the object must come from a complete, life-sized image. Living beings cannot be extracted.
Usage Limit: Unlimited in both time and frequency.
Description: In the future, artistry and espionage collide. The rise of “Cyber Ma Liang” heralds an age where combat merges with creativity. Illustrators and modelers unite to form the invincible Poster Assault Squad—a force to be reckoned with, despite their infamous internal rivalries.
Resonance Requirement: Unknown.

“Holy sh*t.” Yu An snapped the analyzer’s lid shut, his breath quickening. His hands moved with urgent precision as he stashed the device into his backpack, ensuring it was secured like contraband treasure. This… this is too good. There’s no way the Eagle Bureau can lay hands on it. He patted the bag instinctively, like a thief guarding his prize.

The moment his precious cargo was concealed, a wave of blistering heat rippled through the corridor, stirring the air like a furnace being stoked. Yu An tensed, rising to his feet. As the heat intensified, he instinctively pulled up the hood of his dark jacket, shrouding himself in shadow. From down the hall, two officers clad in bulky protective suits emerged, escorting a figure.

The detainee was unnervingly young—barely out of his teens, with the cocky energy of a college athlete. Winter’s bite had no claim on him; his bare arms and legs were exposed beneath a flame-colored basketball jersey and shorts. Thick, reinforced restraints encased his wrists, but they didn’t seem to suppress the eerie phenomena he left in his wake. Every step he took burned itself into the floor, a trail of molten, smoldering footprints like the embers of a waking inferno.

“Listen to me!” the young man yelled, his voice sharp with defiance. “I’m telling you, I was saving someone! It was part of my internship mission! How much longer are you going to keep me here? If I miss the intern evaluation meeting, who’s taking the blame, huh? My mentor’s Duan Ke—did you call him yet? When’s he coming to bail me out?”