Chapter 11: I Wish to Die for Love

At this moment, crouched behind a tree on the hillside was a player whose ID read “Jian Chen.” He had once been a professional gamer—one of the strongest, standing at the very summit of his field. That was, until the day he encountered a girl.

Back then, he was the famed sniper god of “Sky’s End.” Yet, against that rising new star, he lost. And after the first defeat, the second inevitably followed. From the day she bested him, victory eluded him forever.

In the prime of his career, unable to withstand the pressure from both the world and his own heart, he chose a silent retirement.

Years passed. He watched that girl grow, witnessed her forge her own legend. He was not her equal—this thought echoed in his mind countless times.

Now, today, he was a father. The ambitions and passion of youth had long since faded. Gaming was merely a part of life now, a pastime rather than a profession.

But tonight, when he logged in and saw that once-familiar ID appear again—killing again and again, reaching a match-high of seventeen kills—his old fighting spirit stirred.

His teammates were already wiped out. Having luckily picked up an airdrop, he didn’t indulge in the thrill of battle as he once would have. Instead, he deliberately avoided fights, aiming to make it to the final circle.

He knew she would be there.

He wanted one more fair duel.

But just moments ago, he’d witnessed two squads clash and caught sight of her among them. She was still terrifyingly strong.

As they prepared to move, Jian Chen hesitated, torn. In the end, he fired, though it was hardly an honorable victory.

But in doing so, he fulfilled his final wish.

Yet, after that last shot, satisfaction eluded him. Instead, he felt only a deep sense of loss and melancholy.

Had he truly come to this? Had it come to needing an ambush to defeat her?

No…

He hadn’t won.

Though he hated to admit it, Jian Chen knew the truth. Regret even crept in for having taken that shot. In that moment, he felt as though something inside him was gone.

Disheartened, he prepared to retreat.

But then—

He froze in surprise, seeing another player recklessly charging straight toward him.

A cold smile tugged at Jian Chen’s lips. He admitted his inferiority to Lin Zijin, but as a former pro—one who had stood at the pinnacle—he still had his pride. Not just anyone was worthy of challenging him.

A sharp report rang out as Jian Chen locked onto his position, glancing sidelong at the rushing Yang Hao, and pulled the trigger.

In the blink of an eye, Jian Chen executed the entire process: flick, scope, fire. The bullet shot out like lightning.

But almost immediately, Jian Chen frowned. It seemed he had missed.

Had his aim slipped?

His mind replayed the shot, even as the enemy drew closer. He grew restless. Switching to a rifle would have been more effective now, but as an old sniper, he preferred the feel of the long-range weapon in his hands.

He watched the man running, calculating, weighing, waiting for the perfect moment.

Suddenly, dressed in his ghillie suit, Jian Chen moved.

Another shot—this one faster than before.

Gunfire rattled from afar as Jian Chen ducked back into cover right after firing. Had he been spotted?

Anxious, Jian Chen waited. No notification of a downed enemy appeared. He was stunned; his aim had been perfect, he was sure.

Another burst of gunfire—this time much closer, clearly from the man charging in.

A warning shot?

As his opponent closed in, Jian Chen knew it was no longer wise to use the sniper. Instantly, he switched to a fully outfitted M416, shifting his position to set up a fatal blow.

But he knew he only had one opportunity, as two others were covering him from afar.

He waited.

They were here.

As footsteps neared, a smile crept across Jian Chen’s face. As soon as his foe appeared, he would give him a nasty surprise.

Jian Chen opened fire, the recoil so intense he nearly lost control of the M16 in his grip.

Blood gushed from his opponent, and gunfire echoed from a distance—those two covering players were shooting as well. Jian Chen ducked back behind cover in a hurry.

The man still ran forward, though his health was running low. Unhurried, Jian Chen reloaded, waiting for the kill.

With his opponent under suppressing fire, Jian Chen held his ground, waiting for the decisive moment.

After so many years, an old battle rush unexpectedly surged in his veins.

He finished reloading, ready for a head-on showdown—when suddenly, he realized…

The man had holstered his weapon, closed the distance, and was now holding something else—something that made Jian Chen’s heart lurch.

“Damn you for killing my wife!”

Boom!

With those words, a deafening explosion tore through the air.

“Eternal Heart killed Jian Chen with a grenade.”

“Eternal Heart accidentally hurt himself with a grenade.”

Back-to-back system notifications left Jian Chen utterly bewildered.

He had never expected his opponent to pull out a grenade at such close range—hardly the optimal weapon for the situation.

Had the enemy thrown the grenade from a distance, Jian Chen was confident he could knock him down in the act—the throwing motion left a brief window of vulnerability, but that was more than enough for Jian Chen.

But instead, his opponent had run up and offered himself as a human bomb.

He was completely caught off guard.

Annoyed, he wondered how, after all those shots, he’d failed to kill the man.

For the first time, he doubted his own marksmanship.

Meanwhile, in the distance, Ling Xue’er and Lu Ziqi, who had been providing cover, were at a loss.

He’d actually rushed alone and managed to blow up Jian Chen. Of course… he’d managed to blow himself up, too.

Realizing this, Ling Xue’er and Lu Ziqi hurried over to revive Yang Hao, who’d been felled by his own grenade.

Yang Hao quickly got back up, but instead of healing, he ran toward the spot where Lin Zijin had fallen.

There, a loot crate lay on the ground.

“My love, your death was in vain!” Yang Hao’s voice quivered with sorrow and despair as he gazed at the box.

Lin Zijin’s face darkened.

Ling Xue’er and Lu Ziqi were stunned, while Shen Muxi, watching from the sidelines, stared wide-eyed.

Then, they saw Yang Hao pull a grenade and prime it on the spot.

A few seconds later—

Boom!

Another explosion.

The women watched in disbelief as Yang Hao, freshly revived, was once again knocked down by his own grenade.

They were all speechless.

Not just Ling Xue’er, Lu Ziqi, and Shen Muxi—even Lin Zijin was dumbfounded.

“What are you doing?” Ling Xue’er asked, exasperated. “Don’t move, I’ll come revive you.”

Yang Hao had been knocked down and revived so many times, Ling Xue’er was starting to feel it was second nature.

“Don’t come over!”

“Just leave me!”

“My wife is gone—there’s no point in living.”

“This game holds no meaning for me anymore.”

“Let the chicken dinner go—I don’t want it!”

“Let me follow her in death!”

Yang Hao’s mournful voice echoed, leaving Ling Xue’er and Lin Zijin exchanging helpless glances.

Is this even a way to play?

Shen Muxi, off to the side, felt that Yang Hao had elevated this game to a whole new level.

A battle royale, yet played out as an epic love tragedy.

Glancing at Lin Zijin, Shen Muxi couldn’t help but laugh softly.

At that moment, Lin Zijin, face flushed with embarrassment, glared at the figure of Yang Hao lying prone on the screen.