CHAPTER 477: CHAPTER 165: DARK RACE TREASURY, DEATH POINT ALLOCATION

The result was that An Shui simply couldn’t kill all the players entering the field.

Outside, there were already several long lines.

No matter how many players were killed, there would always be new players arriving through the Spatial Array to fill the gaps.

Lucky players breaking through An Shui’s slaughter began to loot wealth, while unlucky players were killed by An Shui as soon as they entered, not having time to loot any resources, and returned to Emperor Zhao, ranting on forums that An Shui was targeting them.

This was a characteristic of the Monster World in the eyes of the players.

In normal games, event, tasks, and reward distribution mechanisms would be designed to be relatively fair, allowing every player to enjoy the fun brought by the events.

But the events in Monster World were purely about luck.

Unlucky players could die twice in a row without getting a tiny bit of resources, while lucky players might enter Dark Race Space at the start and never die.

This disparity always left lucky players smiling with joy and unlucky players ranting.

During this time, someone aspiring to become the Destroying World Demon King felt their heart bleeding.

Watching resources disappear, yet being powerless to do anything made him mentally unbalanced.

What terrified him more was that his spiritual power was continuously drained by the slaughter, fearing he couldn’t endure much longer.

Thinking of falling into the hands of these greedy people again, An Shui’s mood plummeted.

"Kill!"

In desperation, An Shui chose to continue the slaughter, venting his emotions in this way.

Several hours later, An Shui didn’t know how many Player Clan members he had killed.

He only felt waves of dizziness in his head, unable to maintain his Dark Race Battle Statue form, persisting purely through willpower.

Finally, he stood still, halting his slaughter.

The Battle Statue formed by the dark red Dark Race Energy on his body scattered into starlight and disappeared.

The weakened him was exposed to the crazed players.

But to his astonishment, even though he had lost his ability to resist, the nearby Player Clan members disregarded him.

It was as if he was just an air wall.

Whether he was there or not did not evoke any emotional reaction from the players.

"What a great shame!"

The players’ actions made An Shui feel incredibly aggrieved.

As a king of a clan, he had never experienced such an encounter.

Even the Black Tide Commander who destroyed his Hometown World had given him a second look, and he had even communicated with the Evil Spirit Warriors of the Black Tide.

Yet these weak players completely ignored him from start to finish.

Even after he had killed tens of thousands of their clan, he still couldn’t catch their eye.

An Shui, feeling humiliated, reached out to stop a player with a greedy look on their face, and harshly spoke:

"I killed tens of thousands of your clan, why do you not hate me?"

"Get lost, hate you? I hate you for blocking my way right now."

With that, the female player stopped lunged forward, kicked the weakened An Shui aside, and then dashed toward the third scene, shouting:

"Leave some soup for me, I’m coming!"

An Shui, having been kicked aside, stared blankly.

As Energy Battle Statue form faded, the fear of death that surfaced in his heart was completely filled with the humiliation brought on by the Player Clan members ignoring him.

He once fought in the Dark Race Crystal for 78 generations, each one documented in history.

In the long years of conquests, he led his clan to shatter countless world barriers, An Shui’s name thundered through countless worlds.

As a Commander of a legion, he was even hailed as the "Destroyer."

Yet at this moment, in this unfamiliar world, he faced unprecedented, extreme humiliation.

He was defeated by a mysterious War Corps, and though he hated it, he knew he was outmatched.

Failure had no excuse, only due to weakness.

But these ants who called themselves the Player Clan kicked him, a Demon King traversing multiple worlds, aside like trash.

Such humiliation, he had never before experienced.

Looking up, the eyes of the players passing by swept over him without any ripples, as if he were air, the most insignificant speck of dust in this world.

This disregard was like a sharp ice blade, stabbing directly into his soul, a humiliation more unbearable than being slashed a thousand times.

His fists clenched involuntarily, bones creaking, the last of his Qi-Blood Energy surging angrily:

"I will... kill you all...."

Before he could finish speaking, a figure passed by him, kicking him in the face, sending him flying aside, with a disdainful expression:

"Get lost, you damned thing blocking my way to riches."

The rage in his eyes turned dazed again after that kick.

The pride in his heart was shattered by that kick.

The destruction of his Hometown, the death of his people, his own near-death... now humiliated by an ant-like force, a weakling faction not even worthy of conversation with him before.

Under consecutive blows, An Shui’s emotions completely collapsed.

He lay on the ground, staring blankly at the passing players, his eyes dull.

Players swarmed like locusts, leaving devastation wherever they went.

An Shui lay quietly on the ground, watching helplessly as the resources of several connected spatial scenarios slipped away like sand in an hourglass, irretrievable.

These greedy looters continued to surge in like a tide, every pore of their body exuding desire for wealth.

The once-radiant Spirit Crystal Mountain was now being frantically grabbed by greedy hands.

This wealth was part of what the Dark Race Crystal had plundered from the heavens and worlds, not swallowed by the Black Tide, but its brilliance was dimming amidst the scurry of ants.

The Spirit Plant stored on the Spatial Spirit Field was uprooted, even the Spiritual Field Soil wasn’t spared, rapidly disappearing under the looter’ crude treatment, leaving only the herbal fragrance lingering in the air.

Even the War Weapons in the arsenal weren’t spared, recklessly contested by the looters, weapons once crafted by the Dark Race’s craftsmen, now clashing with each other, letting out wails of lament.

Yet An Shui was as if struck by an immobilization spell, staring blankly at everything.

There was a desire to salvage, but utterly powerless.

The headaches from the depletion of spiritual power made him feel incredibly heavy.

His throat seemed clogged, wanting to shout but unable to make a sound, the anger within crashing against his reason like raging tides, trying to arouse his fighting spirit, but crushed by deep-seated impotence.

Even the liquid Spirit Marrow forming the Dark Race Space on the ground wasn’t spared by these greedy guys.

They kept pounding the ground and digging out the Spirit Marrow, their greed seemingly wanting to devour the whole Dark Race Space.

Watching helplessly as the Dark Race Space turned into a mess of ruins, he had nothing to stop it from continuing.

Gazing at the Player Clan members whose faces were glowing with greedy smiles, the scattered spirit light of various resources deeply etched their "ugly" forms into An Shui’s mind.

"I hate!"

He was filled with immense regret.

He could have escaped in another way, but chose what he thought was the smartest plan.

Thinking of this, An Shui lay powerlessly on the ground.

Allowing the tears to hover in his eyes, unable to change this cruel reality.