The absurd game of a performance artist

Chapter 57
War, oh, to be precise, it is a war game, it should be a planned and strategic thing.

This is definitely not a job that can be understood by relying on enthusiasm and reckless energy [following the trend].

The plan, everything has to go according to plan.

No planned war, just a bunch of cucumbers mixed with tomatoes and put in the juicer. ——War Artist Mo Zhen
In this mighty war, everyone is dominated by the battle in front of them and the emotions in their hearts.

Sanity has become the rarest luxury in this final battlefield.

At this moment, Mozhen is undoubtedly the richest nobleman here.

Reason, planning, logic, these things have never been lost since the beginning of the war.

He has a clear purpose and plan, unlike those guys who swing their weapons and slash at the enemy in front of them, he knows what he should do, and he can effectively and powerfully end this war.

The plan guides Mo Zhen to move in a certain direction, but moving in this crowded battlefield is a hundred times more difficult than moving in the morning rush hour subway in Tianlong City.

At first, Mo Zhen could barely move. He was not a war madman. When he was mixed with a pile of pickled cucumbers, Mo Zhen really couldn’t get high, and [Ran Le] could bring him little blessing.

Only true spiritual happiness can make Mo Zhen's [Burning Joy] flare up.

Fortunately, Brother Jing was still shouting and drumming non-stop, allowing this guy to get a group buff that gained a buff.

But after a period of time, Mozhen found that his actions became smoother, and it felt like someone had secretly added lubricant on the battlefield.

Obviously this is closely related to the efforts of some people.

But who these people are, Mo Zhen neither knows nor is too lazy to find out, he only knows that he is one step closer to the success of the plan.

Of course, in addition to people with plans, there are more people without plans on this battlefield.

People who have no plans can be divided into two categories, one is those who want to win, and the other is those who want to survive.

Of these two types of people, the latter is more common.

In this final battle, surviving is no easy task.

Either you have to have a strong ability to forcibly kill a bloody path on the battlefield.

Either you have the foresight to keep up with the lawn mower bosses and make sure you don't get caught up in it.

Either you simply become a dog with a crooked mouth, well, a creature like a dog is not yet within the scope of the racial revolution beyond the empire.

But Quicksand's situation at this time is more embarrassing, and he doesn't care about any of the above conditions.

At this time, he was about to clenched his teeth, waving a big stick and struggling to support.

The zombies around him washed away his body and spirit like a flood. Every swing was an effort, and every second of persistence was like a year.

This battlefield is really too difficult for him.

Among all the players present, he is the only one who is still in the [Palpitation] position, and even Mo Zhen, who was originally with him, had an epiphany breakthrough in the apartment.

"Is the war over yet?"

"Why isn't it over yet?"

This is what echoed the most in his mind.

However, the reality is cruel, and this is a battle destined to last until dawn.

Mr. Xu has his own work to do, so he has no time to take care of him. The others are immersed in their own battles. The battlefield is too huge to notice his existence at all.

At this moment, Quicksand deeply understood his own incompetence, and his fear and uneasiness soaked him like culture fluid.

After the fear reached its limit, hysterical anger was triggered.

Why do I have to fight here!

Why can't I lie on the bed quietly and live my own dull and boring life!
You baffling bastards, go to hell with me!

In his rage, he frantically hardened his body, swung his big stick and kept colliding with the zombies rushing around him.

But his body was forcibly hardened only by temporary emotional support.

Without enough strength, but a head-on confrontation with a powerful enemy, the result is to leave a series of bloody scars on the body.

90%, 80%, 70%…

Quicksand's life value kept dropping, and the madness gradually subsided.

"Damn it! Don't come here!"

A pure white beam of light poured out crazily with a cavity of anger, and the zombies in front of him were swept away.

Quicksand's spirit is incomparably hollow.

Is it all over?

No, the army of zombies was still pouring towards him, and the vacant places were filled in an instant.

After the anger disappeared, Quicksand's body was filled with despair.

Bitter tears fell in the wind, and he was knocked to the ground exhausted.

Countless attacks fell on his thin body, and after the last moment of resistance, his whole body went limp.

Mud, a puddle of mud.

After a continuous attack, all the zombies ignored the quicksand and continued to move forward.

The later zombies didn't pay much attention to him anymore, they just trampled over him as if nothing had happened.

But Quicksand was still alive, yes, he was completely limp into a puddle of mud, nothing could hurt him anymore.

Mud and crooked dogs do not belong to the category of racial revolution beyond the empire.

In the moment of falling and softening, the quicksand rose.

He changed from [hesitant decision maker] to [numb habituator].

New personality information flowed into his brain.

[Player Code: Quicksand]

【Character: A numb habituator】

【Gate: Qualitative】

【Personality · Habit (11%): It doesn't matter, just get used to it.Your body and spirit are as limp as mud, get used to everything, adapt to everything, and greatly reduce the damage caused to you by physical attacks and negative emotions]

Maybe, this is life.

Rather than imitating the stones on the roadside, which are full of edges and corners and bumping against all kinds of things that trample on them, it is better to be like the soft mud on the ground and live a life of nature.

An incompetent trash is doomed to compromise with the world.

Whatever other people want me to be, that's what I will look like, at least this way I won't get hurt...

Comforting himself in his heart, a sense of ease and relaxation filled his limp body, and a relieved smile appeared on Quicksand's face.

Even if the iron hooves of countless enemy troops trampled on him, they could not cause any effective damage to him.

Everything became completely soft, and the quicksand did not even cause any psychological discomfort due to trampling.

As long as I completely accept my fate, nothing can hurt me anymore, that's great!

Looking at the dark night sky and countless feet trampling on him.

Under the night, Liusha laughed and cried.

(End of this chapter)