Black Trojan scanned the art room in the art building with his flashlight, sweeping it back and forth.

The art room wasn't exactly spotless. Wooden easels were scattered in various corners. A wooden table to the left of the art room held many oil painting palettes, paint bottles, and a few unfinished oil painting sketches. On a wooden table to the right, there were plaster statues like *David* and *Voltaire*, along with plaster cubes and spheres. Many marble statues stood at the back of the art room.

Although Black Trojan was an outstanding programmer and a no-nonsense kind of guy, he had read quite a few art books during his university days. He did this in an attempt to pursue a senior from the art department, so he could recognize the original forms of these plaster statues.

This is *David*, this is *Dying Slave*, this is *Rebel Slave*, this is *Aphrodite of Milos*, this is *Saint Mark*, this is *Struggle of Hercules and Antaeus*…

Black Trojan's artistic appreciation skills were quite good. The exquisite craftsmanship, delicate techniques, and high artistic achievement of these statues seemed completely out of place in the cluttered art room. It was like finding a case of '82 Lafite in a roadside vending machine.

Most peculiar was a white marble statue in the center of the group; Black Trojan couldn't recognize its original form. It depicted a woman kneeling on a pedestal, hands on her knees, her posture elegant. She radiated grace and sanctity, wore a floral wreath, and her gentle, veiled face showed neither joy nor sorrow, only a tranquil forward gaze. It was a marble statue, yet the veil covering "her" face seemed so soft and translucent, as if a real silk scarf were draped over it.

Black Trojan had read about *The Veiled Woman* and *The Bride* by Italian sculptor Raffaelle Monti (1818-1881). (These two are considered among the most outstanding sculptures in history.) However, this female statue in the disorderly art room inspired an even deeper sense of awe in Black Trojan. Even someone with no artistic understanding would be moved by the pure beauty of this man-made artistic creation when standing before "her."

Anomalies often signal trouble, Black Trojan thought. He suppressed the urge to put "her" in his backpack and silently retreated a few steps. He activated the detection function of his Code Observer glasses, looking at the statue. Streams of green data flowed across the lenses, but they showed no abnormal data associated with the nameless statue.

Am I just being paranoid?

He frowned, rubbed his dry eyes, and muttered to himself, I wonder how Li Rising is doing…

Suddenly, his eyes flew wide, as if he were being choked, and he stared rigidly at the statue.

In the instant Black Trojan blinked, "she" seemed to move. Her hands, originally on her knees, were now inexplicably on the statue's base. It looked as if "she" were about to stand up.

This was no illusion. As an experienced gamer, Black Trojan knew that any slight "anomaly" in a scenario mission could hide a lethal threat.

Keeping his gaze fixed on the nameless statue, he took out his Casio calculator, named "When Mathematician Realized He Was Wrong." He aimed the front of the calculator at the nameless statue, his fingers hovering over the reset button. The item's cooldown was a long fifteen minutes, offering only one chance to attack in a life-or-death struggle. If Black Trojan misjudged, he could lose his biggest trump card in the upcoming scenario mission.

In the somewhat disorganized art room, man and statue faced each other in a silent standoff. The sun was sinking, about to disappear behind the mountain ridge. Black Trojan felt a surge of anxiety and impatience. One hand still held the Casio calculator, while the other drew an old, short-barreled, copper-colored handgun.

[Name: Simple Disposable Handgun]

[Type: Weapon]

[Quality: Rare]

[Attack Power: Medium]

[Special Effect: Fireworks Scattered. Fires dozens of lead pellets, inflicting Fire-attribute damage in a fan-shaped area.]

[Consumption: 5% total Stamina]

[Cooldown: None. Lead pellets and gunpowder must be manually loaded.]

[Equipment Condition: Strength Attribute ≥ 6]

[Note: This ancient handgun, traceable to the Yongle Era of the Ming Dynasty, possesses considerable lethality. However, the flames erupting from the muzzle during use will also scorch the user's hand. Thus, the words "To injure another, you must first injure yourself" are engraved on the weapon.]

This ancient handgun, which looked like it belonged in a museum, was another Rare-level piece of equipment Black Trojan carried. Despite its seemingly fragile appearance, it packed a significant punch. When the trigger was pulled, a fan-shaped burst of flame erupted from the muzzle. The lead pellets within the flames could even damage Spiritual Bodies. The only drawback was its cumbersome reloading process. After each shot, he had to manually load lead pellets and gunpowder—truly, "a second to fire, a minute to reload."

Black Trojan, holding the short-barreled handgun, slowly approached the statue. The moment he reached the weapon's maximum effective range, he pulled the trigger.

BANG! The decrepit-looking handgun spat out a shower of lead pellets, like raindrops, striking the marble statues at the back of the art room. These statues, veritable works of art, were struck by the pellets. Fragments flew as they swayed and toppled backward. The fan-shaped flames erupting from the muzzle scorched the remaining standing statues, turning them a filthy, grayish-black.

Firing the handgun was a blast; once he started, he didn't want to stop.

When the flames and dust settled, Black Trojan, exhilarated from using the handgun, staggered back half a step in shock. For character sheets and glossaries, visit *.

At the back of the art room, where there had been only one nameless statue, there were now two. And "they" were no longer kneeling. "They" had stood up and were reaching their arms toward Black Trojan.

It was as if… "they" were trying to embrace him.

Black Trojan felt a chill run down his spine. He barely even registered the stinging, burning pain in his hand.