Chapter 801 - 675: Statue

Sss—

The doors of the metro train slowly opened, and a bustling crowd stepped off the platform, most wearing down jackets or wool coats, holding cups of coffee.

Among the crowd was Balalaika from the Russia GRU Department. She appeared to be in her early thirties, dressed in a double-breasted red suit with a wool military coat over it, and a PB silencer handgun strapped to her waist.

Scars from explosive burns covered her neck and half of her face, giving what should have been a beautiful visage a cold and sinister look, especially with an unfiltered Makhorka cigarette dangling from her mouth, her eyes hidden behind swirling smoke.

Curious glances from passersby went unnoticed, as her gaze quietly fixed on the arched dome of the metro platform, adorned with a massive mosaic depicting the epic of Russian military heroes.

Russia, Moscow, Komsomolskaya Communist Youth League Station Subway.

She was all too familiar with this place, having passed through it daily over thirty years ago when she used to work for the KGB.

The dark granite mosaic floor that foreign tourists must photograph, the Baroque-style relief patterns, the 68 marble octagonal columns, were long since tiresome.

"You’re wondering why you find yourself here, and where the watch originally on your wrist has gone, right?"

A voice, slightly tinged with static, sounded behind her as Balalaika turned her head to "see" a radar wave-formed indistinct human figure.

The normal visible wavelength of light is about 380 nanometers to 750 nanometers, which is the visible spectrum. But millimeter-wave radar far exceeds the visible spectrum, effectively making it invisible to the ordinary eye.

"Matrix... sir. It’s an honor to meet you."

Balalaika put down her cigarette, nodded slightly, and cautiously asked, "Where is this?"

In the player forums, people cursed Whale Song Guild every day, some saying the forum was too commercialized, with too many ads, making it unusable,

while others complained that the board administrators had double standards, arbitrarily deleting posts, fostering a foul niche, and abusing public power,

with the only consensus being "Matrix, when will you die, damn it."

Such words were never dare said to other big guild leaders, because unlike others who were elusive, not involved in the mortal world and difficult to meet at Level 40,

Matrix was unexpectedly active, occasionally roaming the forums, warmly answering some network technical questions and announcing the latest research advancements of the Whale Song Guild.

He seemed to have some humanity left—although he shed his human body long ago.

Matrix, in electromagnetic waveform, gestured casually and said indifferently, "This is Earth. And also the top layer of Four Realms Mountain.

Each second on the top equals seven seconds on the second layer, forty-nine seconds on the third layer, and three hundred and forty-three seconds on the fourth layer.

All Level 40s are forcibly ascended to the top layer, including you—the GRU used special technology to temporarily elevate you from Level 39 to Level 40?"

"Cough, yes."

Balalaika coughed and replied, as the think tank of Russia’s official department, GRU, researched and judged that in the Song of Kings tournament, full-level players might receive different treatment.

They used a secret technique to temporarily promote Balalaika to Level 40 without changing her strength.

Unexpectedly, they were right in their prediction.

"It’s both Earth and Four Realms Mountain, what does that mean?"

Matrix didn’t answer but stepped out of the subway station and nodded towards the distance, "Literal meaning."

Balalaika also reached the surface, her pupils contracting suddenly.

Statues, Tsarist Russia Era’s bronze statue of Peter the Great, Soviet Era’s concrete worker statue, Russian Era’s steel soldier statue, Eastern Orthodox Church’s marble angel statue.

Many statues contradicting her memory, scattered around Youth League Square,

as if sensing Balalaika’s gaze, they slowly, with creaking sounds, turned their heads.

Then, opened their eyes.

————

"Zzz zzz zzz, awesome."

On a smoothly driving heavy-tracked tank, Gray Rain was excitedly teasing a few machine dogs with a fishing rod dangling a lithium battery.

Or rather, machine dogs with human brains installed.

"..."

Don Juan looked at this bizarre and horrifying scene, unable to suppress himself any longer, whispered to Li Cheng, "Don’t you have a better spare body to replace for these members of the Execution Committee’s exploration squad?

Machine dogs with human brains are just too... strange."

Li Cheng, who was researching the brain structure of the Horror Maggot Beast, did not turn his head and said, "Firstly, we need to race against time to the settlement. Machine dogs certainly save more space than human form, making them easier to carry.

Secondly, spare body parts, what do you think the Star-casting Anvil is, some Myanmar North black clinic."

Isn’t it?

Maxwell and others had odd expressions; they were not newbies but pillars of their respective guilds, and knew very well how profitable the Star-casting Anvil was,

its profit margin crushing seemingly high-end industries in the slum.

Securities finance—The supply of currency in the killing field is limited, you can’t freely print money, plus it’s under neighborhood committee supervision;

Arms dealing—Too many competitors, anti-materiel sniper rifles, tank cannons, and even armored vehicles are all dirt-cheap, relying on small profits but quick turnover;

Scrolls and magic potions—Relatively high profit but most profits go to scroll artists and pharmacists, begging the latter not to defect;

Even the seemingly lucrative nightclubs under Evil Science Alliance have to consider venue rent, employee training, and equipment depreciation.

Only Star-casting Anvil, actuaries combined data, including receipts found from trash cans at the door, repeatedly calculated, and came to a jaw-dropping conclusion—

This shop doesn’t have a damn cost!

Materials for making items or gadgets, organs for transplantation and enhancement, all provided by customers.

Out of 100 units of materials, 60 used for designated purposes is considered good; the rest are all siphoned off,

even the original organs left after customer transplants are all collected by Pifu,

under the guise of medical waste needing disposal.

Actually, their whereabouts are unknown, as a customer named has a body burned by Hell’s sulfur fire, needing skin replacement, in Star-casting Anvil ordered the top-tier so-called Extraordinary Life alien cultivation epidermal membrane live skin transplantation service,

Which claimed to be extracted from divine beasts, without rejection reaction, capable of enhancing as the player grows in strength, automatically adapting to the muscle movement of those in close combat professions.

After the transplant, looking in the mirror, discovered having pig nipples...still two rows...

The extremely furious customer furiously condemned on the forum, found the Slum 1818 Gold Eye program team to demand justice,

Then, the Slum District 7 Court, sent the Market Supervision Administration for door-to-door investigation,

Dead Soul Song of the Side of Truth, who was also the head of District 7 Market Supervision Administration, pretended to inspect and determined there was no issue—just say whether a Freljord wild boar is a divine beast.

Along the way, gave Star-casting Anvil a "Model Enterprise Award," "Honest Merchant," "Quality Service Merchant Award," and took a group photo.

The ordinary forum users all exclaimed "The sky turned dark", "Unintentionally ventured into the celestial household."

In short, Star-casting Anvil makes money comparable to a money-printing machine, and has someone backing it, no wonder Pifu can rise at the speed of a meteor...

While pondering, the tracked tank had already reached below the cliff. There was no wooden door, replaced by two massive stones smeared with fluorescent paint.

"Here it is. Between the two stones, perfectly aligned."

Li Cheng jumped off the tank, the space of the Broken Land intertwined, sutured, and pieced together, allowing teleportation to distant places through seemingly impassable barriers.

Everyone else jumped off the vehicle too, Maxwell sent a fiber optic drone flying towards the gap between the two stones.

Thunk!

Half of the drone’s body passed through the space rift and disappeared, suddenly jolted, with broken blades falling to the ground.

And from the drone’s last transmitted footage, it didn’t seem to be artificially destroyed but crashed into... a wall of trees.