Chapter 12: Breaking Down in Tears

“Could there be a new ‘Love Duel’ skill?”

Mo Qi hurriedly checked his phone, finding no updates in the app. So why did that little grass let him attack Xiang Zhuo?

Mo Qi took a risky move and brushed against the airborne vine… No, it should be called a grass tendril. With such skill, the tendril had a diameter of at least 0.5 centimeters, and being whipped by it would surely hurt.

At the moment he touched the tendril, a leaf sprouted, its edge as sharp as a steel knife, capable of cutting through Mo Qi’s fingers.

Luckily, Mo Qi was prepared and managed to dodge the leaf in time. He was puzzled; logically, Xiang Zhuo had already weakened the grass significantly, so why did this tendril now seem even stronger?

Xiang Zhuo was forced to retreat step by step under the pressure of the grass tendril. He shouted to Mo Qi, “I’m barely holding on. Do you have any idea what this thing is?”

At this point, Mo Qi no longer concealed the truth and admitted, “It’s my skill that caused this grass to transform like this.”

“But I’ve already weakened it. By the way, what’s your attribute value?”

“100,” Mo Qi replied.

“Only 3 points higher, that shouldn’t be!” Xiang Zhuo exclaimed. “How did you allocate your attribute points?”

In this situation, it didn’t seem appropriate to continue hiding, so Mo Qi honestly replied, “Besides an intimacy value of 100, everything else is 0.”

“Damn it!” Xiang Zhuo cursed. “My intimacy value is only 9. No wonder the backlash is so severe. This is the worst possible outcome!”

Without time to explain, Xiang Zhuo gritted his teeth and conjured a card from the air. The card transformed into an urn, which he raised and then slammed down toward the grass tendril. Countless ashes scattered onto the tendril, sinking into the soil.

This time, the grass stopped struggling. Its leaves drooped entirely, and with a strong pull from Xiang Zhuo, the grass was uprooted, collected into the urn with the ashes.

“My SR-ranked mission item…” Xiang Zhuo sat on the ground, beginning to wail loudly. His crying was so heart-wrenching that even Mo Qi couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him.

Mo Qi crouched down and patted Xiang Zhuo’s shoulder. “Take it easy.”

“Wuwuwu… I didn’t cry on purpose. It’s the negative effect of the item, ‘Mourning.’ If I cry for an hour, it’ll be fine… Wuwuwu…” Xiang Zhuo sniffled.

Mo Qi remarked, “The negative effects of SR-ranked items don’t seem too bad, then.”

Xiang Zhuo sobbed, “Wuwuwu… This is the advantage of mission item cards, wuwuwu…”

“Don’t cry. I… I feel like crying too,” Mo Qi suddenly felt overwhelmed with sorrow, remembering the constant threat of Liao Ruxue’s attempts on his scholarship. It was too much to bear, and tears began to fall silently.

“Ah, it’s because you’re affected by the effect after coming into contact with me that we’re crying together. It’ll be over in an hour,” Xiang Zhuo said.

Mo Qi remained silent.

Fortunately, Mo Qi didn’t directly experience the negative effects and quickly distanced himself from Xiang Zhuo. His crying wasn’t as miserable—he didn’t have a runny nose, and tears fell drop by drop, making him look quite elegant when crying.

“Is your item disposable?” They walked towards the student council while crying.

“It’s disposable, can capture a game monster for me to use. I hope this strange grass is strong enough, I’m likely in the future,

“This is all because of you. Why is your affinity value so high?” Xiang Zhuo punched Mo Qi, who cried even harder at his touch.

Looking at Mo Qi’s face, Xiang Zhuo suddenly said, “You look so beautiful when you cry. No, that’s not what I meant. I want to talk about skills. Among my attributes, my Construction Value is the highest and my Affinity Value is the lowest. Players with high Construction Values tend to have creation-type skills. My skill uses blood as a medium; it consumes the vitality of a living being and spawns new species from their remains.”

“Will these new species serve you?” Mo Qi asked.

“It’s not as good as that. The downside is that the new species have a strong aversion to individuals with low Affinity Values. They’ll attack players nearby with an Affinity Value of 10 or below, which includes me,” Xiang Zhuo sobbed uncontrollably.

“In this game, regardless of the skill, the ultimate goal seems to be to trap the players.”

“Another issue with this skill is that if the target is a player or an entity related to a player, and the Affinity Value difference exceeds tenfold, the new species will be cannibalized in reverse. My skill then becomes a nourishment for the opponent, inadvertently boosting their strength,” Xiang Zhuo lamented tearfully.

Mo Qi asked, “So, did the little grass secretly devour the purple flower and inherit all its abilities and personality, and thus particularly dislike you with an Affinity Value of only 9?”

That explains the second attack, but what about the first attack? Mo Qi felt there was still a mystery to unravel here.

“That’s right. Why is your Affinity Value so high? All your other attributes are zero. Aren’t you too specialized?” Xiang Zhuo asked tearfully.

“I don’t know what’s going on either. I’ll try to use my skills less in the future,” Mo Qi sighed, a tear rolling down. “We’ve dealt with a big problem, but there’s another one ahead of us.”

“What trouble?” Xiang Zhuo looked at Mo Qi with tear-filled eyes, his intellect seemingly not exceeding 80 at this moment.

Mo Qi wasn’t sure if Xiang Zhuo could handle this task, but she leaned in and instructed him nonetheless.

Together, they arrived at the student council office. Liao Ruxue had left the door for them. As Xiang Zhuo entered, he covered his mouth, trying not to cry out loud, only managing to sob softly, looking particularly pitiful.

Mo Qi instructed him to tread lightly and stay close behind her.

Approaching the office door, which was slightly ajar, Mo Qi didn’t enter but gently knocked.

“The door isn’t closed. Why not come in?” Liao Ruxue’s voice came from inside.

“I dare not enter,” Mo Qi said. “Could the president please hand me the documents?”

“The documents are on the computer. You can come in and print them yourself,” Liao Ruxue said.

Mo Qi was certain there was some kind of mechanism waiting for her inside. She wiped away a tear, lifted her foot, and forcefully kicked the office door. They heard a metallic clang as something fell inside.

“It seems there’s a knife hanging on the door, ready to drop as soon as someone enters,” Mo Qi remarked.

The door to the student council automatically locks from the outside when closed. Mo Qi knocked on the door, “President, I accidentally locked the door. Could you please open it?”

“You really are troublesome,” Liao Ruxue grumbled, finally opening the door.

Mo Qi nodded to Xiang Zhuo, who had been hiding beside the door. As Liao Ruxue opened it, Xiang Zhuo darted forward and hugged Liao Ruxue tightly around the waist.

Brandishing a sharp, bone-chilling knife, Liao Ruxue, seeing that the person rushing towards him wasn’t Mo Qi, frowned and said, “Get lost. I’m not interested in anyone except Mo Qi,” sobbing all the while.

Caught off guard by Xiang Zhuo, Liao Ruxue suddenly remembered Mo Qi’s plea not to harm him. His sadness turned into tears, making it difficult for him to hold onto the knife.

Taking advantage of the moment, Mo Qi deftly flicked her finger and effortlessly snatched the knife away. She instructed Xiang Zhuo, “Keep him from causing trouble until I find the documents. Go cry in a corner. You’ll get a share of the documents later.”

“I understand. Mo Qi, who is he to you? Why does he want to kill you?” Xiang Zhuo asked through tears.

“It’s just a side effect of an SSR-level mission,” Mo Qi sighed as tears streamed down her face.

Liao Ruxue struggled a bit against Xiang Zhuo’s grip but couldn’t break free. Instead, he surrendered to his sorrow and began crying loudly, “Mo Qi, I like you so much! Why won’t you let me kill you? Sob, sob…”

Upon hearing his words, Xiang Zhuo, with tears in his eyes, asked, “Do you also like Mo Qi? Why do I feel like I like her too? Sob, sob…”

Liao Ruxue replied amidst tears, “If you like her, do you want to kill her too? Sob, sob…”

“I don’t want to! I just wanted to talk to her more. How could I fall for someone who initiated the mission? My life is so bitter, sob, sob…”

“If you don’t want to kill her, why do you like her? My life is so bitter, sob, sob…”

The negative effect of “mourning” seemed to amplify with the increasing number of people affected. As they each spoke, their sadness deepened until they were finally sobbing with their heads in their hands.

Mo Qi turned away in silence, focusing intently on finding the documents on the computer. A surge of desire to destroy this broken world welled up within her.