The end of the world is approaching, I'm handing myself over to the country.

Lin Mo stood nearby, quietly watching this scene.

After a moment, he muttered to himself, "The parasites of 'Wasteland Era' really seem impossible to eradicate completely."

His voice was soft, yet carried a metallic quality, standing out starkly in this false darkness constructed of data.

The release of the sin value feature did indeed solve a lot of overt problems.

Those players who committed arson, murder, and looting, with scarlet numbers above their heads, are like rats that everyone wants to kill wherever they go.

But there will always be someone who can find loopholes in the rules.

Just like this "Tianhu Credit Loan," it disguises itself as a legitimate transaction, but exploits human weaknesses and despair to carry out the most vicious exploitation.

It does not directly commit evil, but it can drive people toward destruction.

Lin Mo was engrossed in watching, but quickly came to terms with it; after all, there are all sorts of birds in a big forest.

Besides, without bad people, where would good people come from?

only......

These trashy games squeeze every last drop of value from players, and even extend their reach into the real world outside of Wasteland.

Lin Mo's patience was running out.

He didn't want to watch this clumsy and disgusting show anymore.

"Sparrow, fast forward for me."

Lin Mo's voice rang directly in my mind, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, as cold as a block of ancient ice.

[Fast forwarding...]

The scene in front of Lin Mo accelerated instantly, with all the figures and scenes turning into blurry streaks of light that rushed backward.

Time was highly compressed.

He saw how Lin Xiu, after leaving that house, rushed into the wilderness like a madman.

He stopped dodging and stopped planning his route. Like a wounded beast, he charged at the low-level monsters in the most primitive and savage way, exchanging his battered body for a pitiful amount of source crystals.

The scene changes.

Lin Xiu curled up in a dilapidated sewer and opened his personal panel.

He stared intently at the section on the loan agreement, where the numbers were scrolling wildly at a suffocating speed.

The daily interest, in a moment he didn't notice, quietly multiplied several times over.

In the contract terms, a line of text so small it was almost invisible was now magnified by the system, flashing with a blood-red light: When the borrower fails to repay the interest within the stipulated time, a penalty interest rate will be automatically triggered.

Lin Xiu's face first showed anger, then disbelief, and finally, only a deathly despair remained.

He was outmaneuvered.

From the very beginning, the other party never intended for him to pay it back.

The scene changed rapidly again.

This time, it's not a scene from Wasteland Era.

Collection has begun.

Those people were very clever; they strictly adhered to the rules of Wasteland Era and never attacked or harassed Lin Xiu in any way within Wasteland Era.

But offline, in the real world where there are no sin-value rules to protect them, they will stop at nothing.

Nuisance phone calls ringing incessantly late at night.

The photo, which was photoshopped with insulting words, was sent to all his friends and family.

And those furtive figures lurking downstairs at his house.

Lin Xiu's world is being dragged step by step into the abyss.

The air around Lin Mo seemed to freeze.

That chilling anger almost materialized.

"stop!"

He uttered a single word.

The rapidly changing scene came to an abrupt halt, all the light and shadow froze for a moment, and then shattered.

Lin Mo's spiritual body seemed to penetrate a thin water curtain, and everything around him quickly transformed from ethereal to real.

The stench of decaying data has vanished.

Instead, what remains is the unique smell of dust and dampness found in old residential buildings in the real world.

He stood in front of Lin Xiu's parents' house.

This is a narrow and dimly lit corridor. The motion-activated light is malfunctioning due to aging, making a faint buzzing sound.

A pungent smell of paint still lingered in the air.

Lin Mo's gaze fell on the door.

The once brand-new security door now resembles a disfigured face, ugly and unsightly.

In the very center of the door, two large, crooked characters were sprayed in glaring red paint.

Pay me back!

The paint wasn't completely dry yet, and it was slowly flowing down the cold door panel, leaving thick, blood-like streaks.

The hallway was deathly silent, save for the old, dilapidated motion-activated light that occasionally emitted a faint buzzing sound, its light flickering erratically.

Lin Mo stood in the shadows, like a lifeless sculpture, blending into the gloom.

A moment later, a series of hurried but deliberately hushed footsteps came from the bottom of the stairs.

A group of five or six men walked up, each with a strong build, their T-shirts taut, revealing their bulging muscles.

They carried a pungent smell of sweat and tobacco, which dispelled the original paint odor in the air.

The leader was a bald, burly man with a thick gold chain around his neck and a scar on his face that stretched from the corner of his eye to the corner of his mouth. As he exhaled smoke, the scar twisted and turned, making it look particularly ferocious.

Behind him, a young-looking blond man, clearly wanting to show off in front of the new leader, rushed to the door, raised his fist, his knuckles cracking, and was about to smash it down.

A muffled "bang" was heard.

But not by smashing it against the door.

The bald, burly man grabbed the blond-haired man's wrist with such force that the blond-haired man instantly grimaced.

"What do you want to do?" Scarface's voice was low, yet it carried an undeniable air of authority.

"What if you knock on the door so loudly and disturb the innocent neighbors?"

"We're here to collect a debt, not to disturb the peace. Don't you even know the rules?"

Huang Mao was stunned by the scolding. The sharp pain in his wrist prevented him from arguing back. He could only plead aggrievedly, "Brother Long, if we can't even knock on the door, what other options do we have...?"

"Use your brain, where's your brain?" The scarred man, known as Brother Long, released his grip, a sneer full of superiority appearing on his face.

He reached out and patted the blond-haired man's shoulder with the force of patting a small dog.

"Watch closely, kid."

"I'll only teach you this once. You'd better be smarter from now on."

After saying that, he gave a wink to his men around him, and they immediately understood and formed a semi-circle, blocking him and the door in the middle, with their backs to him.

Under the incredulous gaze of the blond-haired man, Brother Long slowly unbuckled his belt, the metal buckle making a crisp sound.

Then, he squatted down on the ground.

A rustling sound echoed in the narrow stairwell, accompanied by a foul stench that quickly overpowered the smell of paint.

The blond-haired man's face turned from flushed red to deathly pale, and his stomach churned violently.

"Ah...no, Brother Long, what you're doing..."

"Still looking? Turn around." Brother Long snapped without turning around, his tone full of disdain.