Player Reload

Since Mr. Pifu, who dares to elbow the Bell Tower at level twenty-something, and is suspected to be an outer member of the [Wild Laughter Troupe], who is a madman with the president of the Evil Science Alliance and his father from the Side of Truth, did not call for immediate attack,

The other people naturally followed suit, agreeing and starting to examine the house.

This house is really strange. First, the floor is made of planks spliced from white oak, red oak, hard maple, hickory, etc., with varying degrees of wear and diverse origins,

and uniformly coated with a layer of wood wax oil on the surface.

Next is the wallpaper, brown, made of non-woven fabric, printed with Damascus rose patterns. Some damaged parts are meticulously repaired using fabric of the same shape with hand-drawn patterns of the same style.

Compared to the patchy and makeshift floor and wallpaper,

the other furnishings seem abrupt and luxurious.

The sofa is made of genuine leather with black walnut, the coffee table, TV cabinet, wine cabinet, and bookshelf are made of ebony wood.

"The Sony 100-inch TV on the TV cabinet, yet there’s no power cord connected behind it. As for these books..."

Maxwell took off the grim mask, revealing a childlike appearance, carefully flipping through the books, "They come in all categories, languages, and eras.

From Middle Ages’ knight literature to lottery prediction teachings. From success study courses to quantum mechanics popular science.

The only common point is their good upkeep, even books on success with no nutritional value whatsoever, are wrapped in hand-bound leather paper covers.

This shows the collector’s treasure.

And each book’s text is readable, the sentences fluent and logical, indirectly proving this is no Illusion Realm."

Whether books can be read and whether they are logical is an important indicator for identifying illusions.

And Maxwell, a genius cultivated with great efforts by the Prometheus Guild, could understand intricate, profound, obscure quantum mechanics content.

Don Juan, wearing the same cloak as a superhero, walked to the window and drew the curtains, "Um... the glass itself is protected by an unknown force, unopenable,

with a layer of dust and grime on the outside, making it hard to see."

He flicked at the window with his hand, making a stone-hard clanging sound, "Additionally, the wooden door is in the same situation, it can’t be broken from the inside. There isn’t even a keyhole."

"The biggest clue must be this skeleton in pajamas, standing one meter eighty tall."

The indoor air is stuffy and hot, with beads of sweat appearing on Mei Wenyi’s forehead. She raised a hand to wipe her sweat, "Mr. Pifu, are you able to reconstruct what this skeleton looked like based on the skull, using anatomy?

I saw something like that in a Flynet strategy video before."

Highlighting the charming attribute, relying on a glance back with many charms, hoping to capture the script boss with a blink is impossible.

Reading between the lines, being socially adept, and psychological speculation are also basic skills for players in the Charm Flow.

’Pride is the hardest of the seven deadly sins to overcome.’

Mei Wenyi’s brain was rapidly turning, ’Mentioning Pifu’s proud operation now would surely make him secretly pleased... What is he doing suddenly?’

Li Cheng took two steps forward, took out a phone, pointed the camera at the skeleton, then leaned toward the receiver and shouted, "Dou Bao, Dou Bao, reconstruct this skeleton’s appearance for me based on its skull and anatomy."

"Okay, generating an image for you now."

The app in the phone spun for a while, immediately generating an image of a Caucasian male with a high nose bridge and deep eye sockets in middle age.

Is this even possible?

Hold on, aren’t you supposed to know the Skull Reconstruction Technique yourself??

Mei Wenyi and the others opened their mouths but fell silent again.

"Don’t you have phones?"

Li Cheng turned and shook his phone, "Skull reconstruction itself is a technique based on anatomy and statistics. It is built on a large number of statistical results regarding the thickness of facial soft tissues, five senses’ shape, and the skull relationship.

I’ve deployed a specially trained AI program locally on my phone, which can calculate and illustrate forcefully, thus reducing workload.

I want to focus my energy on the strategy."

Is this even feasible?

Don Juan’s eyelids twitched slightly, couldn’t help but glance at Gouchen (the two had worked together before), a look meaning something like ’is this guy just talking nonsense? And why is Dou Bao involved?’

’Not talking nonsense.’

Gouchen felt deeply helpless. He once really hated Pifu for plundering the mysterious key and cutting off his chance.

When his elder brother Zhongtian Beiji advised him not to go against Pifu anymore,

he suspected that Zhongtian Beiji was encouraging others while diminishing his own prestige until the subsequent video images of the London battle streamed incessantly, and he had to accept it.

’As for why Dou Bao, maybe it’s because Dou Bao is easier to talk to.’

"Because Dou Bao has a nice way of speaking."

Li Cheng enthusiastically explained, "I asked it how to dispose of a 70-kilogram animal carcass placed in the living room, and it told me to turn myself in immediately.

I asked it how to evade cameras and escape the city, and it told me to turn myself in immediately.

I asked it how to flee the country, and it told me to turn myself in immediately.

I told it I had already landed in the United States, and it immediately recommended West Coast lobster pizza and seafood platters.

Business is business, very humane. Quite suited for a killing field environment."

Having said this, Li Cheng used a little knife to cut open the skeleton’s pajamas, discovering a substantial accumulation of dry black substance in the chest cavity and abdomen.

Underneath the skeleton, the mattress clearly showed human form stains in green, brown, and black.

"The cheekbones, ribs, spine, tibia, and several other places are densely covered with cracks and healing marks. Before death, the victim was either an extreme sports enthusiast or engaged in high-risk professions such as deep-sea fisherman, bomb disposal soldier, or firefighter.

As for the human-shaped stains at the bottom of the mattress..."

"Body fluid."

Maxwell’s eyes sparkled, "Do you need my help identifying it?"

"Go ahead."

Li Cheng turned slightly, having heard of Maxwell’s name; the person looked like a ten-year-old child with a legal Earth age... approximately three and a half.

His mother is a behind-the-scenes shareholder of Prometheus, coming from a wealthy family in the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

These old money families accumulated immense wealth over the past centuries through industry, real estate, and finance,

and when facing the arrival of the killing field, their perception was extraordinarily sharp, knowing full well that guarding wealth and status cannot rely solely on political and commercial connections without Extraordinary Power.

Thus, they put forth three counterstrategies: first, investment, madly funding countless small and medium guilds and startups, even at the cost of being deceived, losing money on nine out of ten is not an issue.

Second is marriage alliance, family members proactively marry promising new Lv5 and Lv10 individuals, utilizing political and commercial connections amassed over the past centuries to aid newcomers in advancing in various guilds.

As for the third strategy, it is recruiting people.

Desperately searching for blood relatives, rummaging through family trees, even distant relatives over five familial generations and a hundred years without contact are found,

whether they are impoverished vagrants or ordinary civilian chemistry teachers, they are provided with money and privileges, sent to the best training camps.

Qualifying candidates are gifted player qualifications.

Meanwhile, within the family, they encourage childbirth, offering money according to the number of children.

Lovers, surrogate mothers, test-tube babies, all are irrelevant. In a sense: "Heroes do not ask the source, children do not ask the origin."

Maxwell’s biological mother is a hedonistic rich heiress, his biological father a physicist and physical adept from Princeton,

the two never met; family managers handled the matter, spending lavishly to purchase reproductive cells, birthing Maxwell via test-tube and surrogate methods.

The latter was sent into a catalysis chamber right upon birth, matured to six years, then received the finest education training, infused with knowledge and skills, successfully selected to obtain player qualifications at seven.

Therefore, Maxwell’s Earth age is three and a half, surface age ten, actual work experience twenty years (sixteen years of consciousness world training education, along with four years of script task honing).

On a side note, during cultivation, the family specially hired the finest child psychology experts, nursery teachers, and babysitters, aiding a family distant relative’s grandmother to raise Maxwell.

They curated a "loving" childhood for him, thus not overly concerned with Maxwell rebelling after mastering Extraordinary Power.

After all, even Transcendents need love.

"Pa."

Maxwell wore none of the naive innocence of a child in his expressions, his gaze was resolute as he donned protective gloves, taking out scissors and tweezers,

first cutting off the sponge mattress, placing it into a test tube, pouring in organic solvents for shaking extraction,

then inserting it into a centrifuge, extracting the upper layer liquid, nitrogen blowing to dry,

finally placing it into a gas chromatography-mass spectrometry instrument for testing.

"The skeleton surface shows no apparent external injuries or struggle marks; age is around forty-five. If he died from poisoning, even if the decomposed liquid contains only a few nanograms of toxins, it will be detectable."

Maxwell was full of confidence, only to hear a sizzling sound, the chromatograph crashed to a halt, lights extinguished, releasing faint puffs of smoke from its seams.

"Hm? What’s going on?"

He hastily opened the chromatograph, discovering numerous electronic components burned.

"Electromagnetic pulse, my phone is fried too."

Li Cheng glanced at his black-screen phone, suddenly noticing the light outside the window, turning off the flashlight immediately.

Brilliant starlight pierced through window grime, it was not stars but glowing meteors containing radioactive elements.

Meteors floated chaotically along different trajectories, only then did everyone realize the entire house was suspended in the void, with no land beneath.