Esoteric Buddhism: To live as king in America

Mian had a hard time explaining how he got here.

He seemed to simply move forward in that endlessly looping corridor, then stop and turn around at what he deemed appropriate, and the looping corridor would collapse in a way he couldn't comprehend, exposing the staircases leading to other floors.

Taking another step up the stairs, without needing any extra steps, Mian directly crossed several floors and arrived at the 5th floor, at the place where the mysterious man in the black cloak was about to commit the crime.

The opponent wielded a sharp blade, and beneath his black cloak was a twisted, beast-like figure, while the robust veteran Shirley lay on the ground, covered in blood.

?

Seeing the dire situation before him, Mian almost broke out in a cold sweat.

His instincts reminded him that the person before him was undoubtedly a monster whose essence transcended that of ordinary people, like that eerie mist.

He was just about to praise the cheat system for being so reliable, not making him guess and directly leading him out of the endlessly looping corridor, when he was suddenly transported to the enemy's doorstep.

Dude, are you just going to let me take on the other side one-on-one like this?

For safety's sake, Mian had already taken off his clothes when he saw the circular corridor, allowing the armor that His Majesty the King couldn't see to fully function. But in the end, this armor was just something that would run out of power after being hit by a dump truck.

Even if the armor can block the opponent's attacks, Mian still lacks a way to kill.

Fortunately, Mian brought a gun.

Since Shirley had obtained permission from Wang Yuanli to carry a gun, Mian naturally did not hesitate to carry the handgun she had taken from the gang.

Or rather, the reason Shirley, who didn't have a gun, asked Wang Yuanli that question was to pave the way for Mian.

This was originally a small precaution to guard against the unscrupulous businessman Wang Yuanli. However, because Mi An carried the gun close to his body to conceal it, it wasn't lost in the 21st-floor room like other tools during the floor transfer; instead, it remained with him the whole time.

Even so, it was clearly too much of a stretch to fight against what was obviously a non-human creature in front of them.

However, there was no other way.

Facing an enemy so close and of unknown strength, running away is suicide. To survive, one must rely on luck and acting skills.

He realized the other person was wary of him; clearly, his sudden appearance had put considerable psychological pressure on them. To survive, he had to take advantage of this.

Mi adopted a calm and composed demeanor, concealing the gun behind his back, and began a silent standoff.

Waiting is more unbearable than sudden death.

Mian could see the fear on the other person's face, but only he knew that he was the only one truly on the verge of death.

Mian couldn't tell how long the standoff had actually lasted. Was it minutes? Seconds? Or just a fleeting moment that she had subjectively stretched out?

The pressure was building rapidly, and Mian knew she couldn't keep up the act of remaining calm and collected forever. Fortunately, the enemy made a move before she gave herself away.

The enemy was moving so fast that Mian could barely see them.

The air tore apart in an instant, but before the gale hit her face, the first thing that appeared was the shadow that Org cast on Mian's face.

In the moment of life and death, people always reveal many traits that are usually hidden, and Mian discovered at that moment that he might actually be an incurable gambler.

He struggled to move the arm holding the gun, while a forced, slight smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Mian knew he wasn't the hunter, but the other person didn't know that. To the prey, every move of the hunter always attracts attention.

This is a scam that's impossible to pull off; it's just a trick exploiting information asymmetry. Success means survival, failure means death.

And Mian won this gamble.

With a clang, the invisible armor that had been protecting him seemed to finally reveal its vulnerability, allowing the flying dagger to leave a wound on Mian's arm.

If Mian had gone a little further with his opponent's original move, his entire arm might have been ruined. But in the end, his opponent chose to back down in this contest.

Are you smug? Smug that you saw through my disguise? Your movements are a little sluggish, is it because you were injured from the sudden braking just now? Anyway, now it's my turn.

The gun barrel was pointed at the enemy's head, the trigger was pulled, and the gun was fired in a straight line.

The recoil from the gun traveled through his wrist, causing his slender frame to tremble slightly. The bullet, to the enemy's astonishment, struck him squarely in the head.

The opponent withstood the attack, as expected. However, he was forced to retreat, suggesting that the firearm wasn't entirely ineffective against him.

Several more bullets were fired. The enemy seemed completely unprepared for Mian to pull out a pistol and hurriedly dodged.

In the narrow stairwell, bullets bounced back and forth, splattering paint and cement.

Mian grinned and sneered:

"Good dog, really a good dog. What are you expecting? Are you expecting me to use some kind of magic against you?"

Mian, mimicking a villain he'd seen in movies, snorted and fired, watching the panicked enemy flee with amusement as he spoke:

"Spells should be reserved for those who deserve them, and for a good dog like you, mortal weapons are sufficient."

As if completely unconcerned about ammunition consumption, Mian emptied his gun. The vast majority of the bullets were fired randomly, and coupled with his arrogant words, this made Org feel an unprecedented sense of humiliation.

"Are you trying to humiliate me?"

Stopping his clown-like evasive maneuvers, Org roared, only to be met with the indifferent laughter of his formidable enemy.

"Yeah, that's to humiliate you, you good dog."

As he spoke, the Great Enemy dropped his weapon, clapped his hands, and, despite being naked, walked towards Org with elegant steps, like a seasoned devil.

"I've always wondered what level of impact my body can withstand. Come on, good dog, I grant your request. Use all your strength to attack me again."

"Grey Rat" Org is always full of confidence, and he never hesitates to give the cruelest revenge to those who dare to humiliate him.

His clenched fists were filled with rage, making him want to rush forward and kill the arrogant enemy before him. But why? Why was his body motionless? Why was he afraid of someone who looked completely ordinary? Even if he were a more powerful spellcaster, at this close range, as a "minion," he shouldn't be afraid of him, right?

Why? Why?

The pressure was building, his muscles were trembling. Suddenly, Org felt a wire snap in his brain.

His cleverness was exposed, and the pressure of being humiliated by ordinary weapons eventually broke him.

The once confident "Grey Mouse" Olger is no longer confident, and the heartbroken "Grey Mouse" Olger runs away.