Chapter Thirty-Three: Fate’s Jest

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From a certain perspective, combat techniques in Star Wars are actually more formidable than the skills themselves.

Skills are mainly designed for Controllers, Espers, and Mechanics, but the official skills provided are often subpar in real combat. For example, the level 25 Wind Controller is given an official skill called “Tornado,” which can be purchased from the e-book store. In reality, most Controllers at level 25 have already developed their own skills. A typical example is “Storm Dragon”—unlike the official Tornado, which lifts people into the air and drops them for fall damage, Storm Dragon unleashes a sweeping storm of flying sand and stones, inflicting much greater harm.

Combat techniques, on the other hand, are purely self-taught. This system makes each class uniquely vibrant. Warriors, in particular, have an edge in mastering these techniques. Though swords and blades may seem similar, the variations are endless. In Dream Star City, many players open martial arts schools, boxing gyms, or yoga studios, teaching swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat—all to enhance warriors’ skills.

Of course, Gunners, Mechanics, and Espers can also study combat techniques, but the results are less pronounced. Still, there are exceptions: Gunners can master quick draw and sharp shooting, Mechanics can deftly maneuver robots, and Espers can make creative use of their surroundings—all falling under the domain of combat techniques.

Now, watching Dragon Star Wild’s military dagger fluttering through the air like a butterfly, one could only be grateful that Belladonna was already dead. Had she witnessed this scene, she would have realized Dragon Star Wild had never used his true abilities against her.

After Murong Longcheng transformed into a Broodmother, he grew anxious—equipment, skills, and techniques were all useless now. He could only flail his hands like a beggar grasping for food. Though his strength and speed were formidable, he simply couldn’t land a single blow on Dragon Star Wild. Even he had to admit: this captain from Qimen Corporation was truly remarkable. If he hadn’t been infected, he probably wouldn’t last ten moves against Dragon Star Wild.

Dragon Star Wild’s footwork was peculiar—his steps tiny and movements minimal, evading fierce attacks with the slightest sidestep. His K17 military dagger seemed to possess a supple power, thrusting, slicing, hooking, lashing in seamless succession—relentless, flawless, drawing blood with every motion. Only when a strike was unavoidable would he roll or somersault away, but the dagger would immediately reengage and entangle his opponent.

Five minutes passed, and all the flesh on Murong Longcheng’s wrists was gone—only two skeletal claws flailed in the air. He had been slashed over seventy times, losing more than twenty thousand health points.

Qinmm watched with her heart pounding—this scene would make a perfect promotional video for the company. If Dragon Star Wild were caught even once, he would be finished, but he hadn’t been touched at all. If things continued like this, they might actually win.

But Wu Hua’s expression grew more and more somber. He hadn’t expected Dragon Star Wild’s combat technique to be this formidable. Yet, no matter who you are, after maintaining such intense focus and rapid movement, your endurance inevitably plummets. And after their long, exhausting sprint earlier, fatigue would soon breed carelessness and openings.

Wu Hua quietly nudged Qinmm and gave her a look.

She immediately understood: quietly start the car and prepare to drive off—could Murong Longcheng outrun a car?

After a few more exchanges, Dragon Star Wild flipped through the air and slashed Murong Longcheng’s skull, then kicked him flying. At that moment, the engine of the Mercedes army vehicle roared to life. Standing on the rear platform, Wu Hua shouted, “Get on!”

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Dragon Star Wild practically rolled onto the back of the vehicle, utterly drained. As soon as the car moved, he sprawled out flat.

“Bang, bang, bang…” Standing on the rear platform, Wu Hua decisively opened fire on Murong Longcheng, who was in hot pursuit. Every bullet was aimed squarely at his forehead.

“–988, –975, –964…”

To Murong Longcheng, who still had ten thousand hit points, this damage was negligible. After nine shots, six missed entirely—not just because the vehicle was moving.

Wu Hua lowered his gun, a vague suspicion dawning on him: the fatal weak point in every zombie’s forehead wasn’t just that little spot, but a tiny dot within it—possibly no larger than a bullet, with a maximum diameter of 12.68mm. Actually hitting it was incredibly difficult.

It wasn’t just about marksmanship; it required luck, timing, and countless subtle factors—gun sense, touch, even your mood—all the secrets of shooting.

Fortunately, the Mercedes military vehicle could accelerate to top speed in eight seconds. The moment Qinmm got in, she floored the accelerator without hesitation. Murong Longcheng’s wailing echoed through the tunnel, audible from far away.

“He seems pretty unwilling to let us go,” Dragon Star Wild gasped, sprawled on the steel floor.

As Wu Hua reloaded, he replied, “He didn’t expect your combat skills to be so strong.”

“It’s all thanks to this dagger,” Dragon Star Wild raised his K57 military dagger. “It has a special attribute—20% chance to ignore any defense.”

“Twenty percent?” Wu Hua was startled. He knew military daggers, being compact close-range weapons, were given strong assassination attributes by the system. Normally, a dagger with a 10% defense-ignoring attribute was terrifying enough. For Dragon Star Wild’s K57 to have a 20% chance—even among blue-grade equipment, that was top-tier.

Wu Hua fell silent, then asked, “Captain, how did you meet Belladonna and the others?”

Dragon Star Wild smiled. “No need to worry. If they ever come after you, just let me know. We went through life and death together this time—maybe we’re not brothers, but at least we’re friends, right? Every guy who joined this mission is a true man.” As he said this, his eyes shone. Wu Hua could see that he liked Tuqiao and the others—truth be told, he did as well.

The military vehicle sped through the tunnel. At last, the entrance to the harbor’s lift platform came into view. Wu Hua let out a breath. “Is it really over?”

“No, not yet,” Qinmm replied, stopping the car and pointing at the entrance. “Look.”

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Wu Hua’s heart sank again. The massive lift platform had already risen to the surface. Qinmm darted to the indicator lights and quickly flipped the power switch.

“Lift has been activated. Estimated arrival in 10 minutes. All passengers, please prepare to board,” a female voice announced from the screen by the indicator lights, as a countdown began:

“9 minutes 59 seconds”

“9 minutes 58 seconds”

“9 minutes 57 seconds”

...

The three of them turned, gazing into the distance. The tunnel’s pale yellow lights seemed anything but warm now—if anything, they made the place even more terrifying. All three had witnessed Murong Longcheng’s speed. If he hadn’t given up the chase, he could well catch up within ten minutes.

Qinmm’s hands began to tremble. She hadn’t been afraid when facing the Broodmother, but waiting for it to arrive filled her with dread. This feeling of anticipation was truly horrifying. She couldn’t help glancing at Dragon Star Wild, who gave a wry smile. “Is it fate playing a joke on us, or the system?”

It was clear he had little endurance left—his fatigue was at its absolute limit.

Wu Hua sighed. “Let’s just pray the zombie leader doesn’t catch up before we board the lift. I don’t even have a thirty percent chance against him.”

Qinmm sighed as well. After all they’d been through, to die here at the end—they might not even have the strength to cry.

“Let’s hope so,” she murmured.

But she was wrong. Not only did Murong Longcheng arrive, he was even faster than they expected—at four minutes and forty-nine seconds, he appeared at the bend in the tunnel.