Chapter 75: Boundless Foolishness

Monsters spawned wave after wave...

It wasn’t quite like when Fang Ju first started, being trampled a hundred times over—after all, that had truly been a beating, while this was meant as training.

Still, it wasn’t much better. Ye Chao, just getting the hang of it, could hardly control the strength or intensity.

Though it wasn’t as brutal as the Soul of Cinder’s persuasion in Dark Souls 3, or the double giants at the gates of the Heart of Molten Fire, it was close enough...

So the students, much like Fang Ju at the very beginning, cried out in pain, stumbling and scrambling to dodge when they should, to counterattack when they could, surviving in a sorry state, resisting as best they could, all while desperately trying to figure out how this game was meant to be played.

It was pain mixed with joy, but not a single one chose to quit.

In truth, the waves of monsters themselves were not difficult; the real challenge was how to progress step by step, from simple to complex, guiding the players seamlessly to their own limits and urging them to break through again and again.

Thus, Ye Chao scrolled through the database, continuously compiling and perfecting the settings—

The monsters spawned in waves from the database Alpha Ji had compiled: Resident Evil, Diablo, Warcraft, Starcraft, Hearthstone, One Punch, Dark Souls, Cells at Work... wave after wave.

Regardless of the number of participants, the overall strength of the monsters spawned in each round would scale up or down accordingly.

As for special skills and effects, those could wait; artificial idiots might not know how to use them anyway. For now, base attributes—attack, defense, attack speed, movement speed, health—would suffice. A formula would calculate their total combat strength.

Each round, the total combat strength would increase by 10%, with the manner of increase chosen at random by the program.

The defense of the arrow towers remained unchanged; it should be enough at first, but as the monsters’ stats kept rising, it was bound to fall short—more and more so with each wave...

Hmm, to add some variety, the monsters could coordinate: spearmen with melee fighters, mages with tanks, the classic warrior-mage-healer trinity...

Artificial idiots couldn't strategize on their own; if left unprogrammed, mages would just rush in swinging their staffs rather than casting spells. But Ye Chao could set up simple tactics for them.

If a spearman’s health drops below 50%, then melee covers for the spearman; otherwise, just swing away—as if the hammer pairs with the fortress.

If the mage is attacked, then the tank charges the attacker; otherwise, attack freely—again, just like the hammer and fortress pair.

If the DPS’s health drops below 50%, then the healer restores them; otherwise, pull out the little sidearm and keep firing—just like the angel with the magic chicken.

...

After last night’s half-night battle, Ye Chao’s gameplay was still clumsy, but his understanding of the game had deepened considerably. At the very least, he now grasped the core idea behind team composition.

In fact, teams in this world were formed in much the same way.

It was just that the forms of power differed, so the combinations looked a bit different; but once you got used to it, it was all the same.

And Ye Chao’s new mode, whether more or less complex than real combat drills, was, at the very least, something new.

The key was simplicity, efficiency, and convenience.

Just set the program to spawn waves, let attributes balloon, and even artificial idiots could handle it.

Assessment was also straightforward.

How well did you perform? Did you grow stronger? It was clear at a glance by how long you lasted, by how many waves you held back.

As he constantly tweaked the rules and optimized the experience, ideas flowing like a spring, a sudden “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...”—several arrows struck him right in the forehead.

The students and the arrow towers had once again failed to hold the line; some were blasted away and vanished, while the rest were waiting to respawn at the fountain, and the enemy seized the chance to swarm in.

Of course, arrows couldn’t truly pierce here...

After all, this was Ye Chao’s world. If Alpha Ji was Pangu, he was Nüwa; if Alpha Ji was Adam, he was Eve; if Alpha Ji was heaven above, he was the little brother below.

In short, in the blink of an eye, several arrows were lodged, gleaming, in his forehead.

“Lit—” Fang Ju only had time to utter half a warning, staring blankly at the arrowheads sprouting from Ye Chao’s brow.

“Ow! That really hurts!” After half a second of stunned silence, the arrows managed to sink into his forehead.

Ye Chao fell, returning to the fountain.

With no one left to organize a defense, the town center fell.

Game Over!

The game lasted fifteen minutes, ending in the eighth wave.

==========

The Quality Square.

“Damn it, Ye Chao, are you even trying? You’re wasting our game time!”

“We know you’re weak, but camping at the fountain the whole match without moving? What was that supposed to accomplish?”

“Even if you can’t play, just standing up front would draw some attacks, right? It’s not as if you’d actually die here.”

“With that kind of attitude, you’ll lose us sooner or later.”

“Yeah, yeah, woof! Woof! Woof!”

Ever since the field trip, the classmates’ attitude toward Ye Chao had shifted somewhat.

Though the addition of a third stage had cost them points in the second, Ye Chao’s powers, while not overwhelming, had proven useful—everyone had experienced it firsthand.

In this era, being a bookworm obsessed only with studying was scorned, but lack of combat ability was not. Scouts, stealth specialists, purifiers, healers—these roles often lacked combat prowess, yet every standard team always reserved a spot for them. So Ye Chao’s performance during the internship had earned him respect, not to mention that he somehow possessed two lost volumes of Ghost Blows Out the Light...

But when it came to gaming addiction, everyone was equal!

A group of hot-blooded youths, in this strange new setting, teaming up to kill enemies, fighting side by side—just the thought was enough to stir the heart.

Yet here was Ye Chao, determinedly dragging them down, standing dumbly at the fountain, not even dodging when he should—how could anyone stand for that?

When the game ended, the group of adolescent boys unleashed a torrent of criticism, almost drowning Ye Chao in their spittle.

The Quality Square—it lived up to its name.

Fang Ju stared blankly at the group besieging Ye Chao, unsure how to intervene. His mind kept replaying the scene...

Those arrows had seemed to hit a frying pan, pausing midair, then—miraculously—regaining momentum and turning Ye Chao into a candied-hawthorn stand...

Well...

Given Ye Chao’s reflexes, that was about the best he could hope for.

Ye Chao himself was unaware he’d given himself away; his classmates’ reactions were, in fact, exactly what he wanted.

Juggling programming and gameplay, he was nowhere near as multitasking as Alpha Ji.

“I suppose I’m really not suited for such... intense games. You guys go ahead.” He simply declared his withdrawal, no longer dragging them down.

While the students quietly or openly celebrated, Ye Chao, with a sly turn, doubled the attribute scaling for the artificial idiots.

Since you’re all so full of spit...

Enjoy it, then—you can handle it!