Chapter 221: There’s Always a Way
[Yeah, coming over to Leng Feng’s place works too. Boss Leng is building a second-tier city over there. It feels pretty oppressive, but it’s still better than your place where you could die at any moment.]
[Sigh, it’s really hell with Boss Leng. I stand on top of the cabinet, and spikes still grow out from under my feet. It’s not about height at all—no matter how high up you stand, the spikes will connect with your flesh.]
[You get used to the pain after a while...]
[My side’s not bad either, the only problem is the smoke everywhere. It’s hard to breathe.]
...
Each human-created dungeon has its own quirks, and these quirks are precisely the flaws most people can’t accept.
Now people joke online, saying the world has long since lost its original shape.
No one dares go out; the places we live are no different from the places we once feared.
The only difference between here and the Evil Spirit dungeon is that here, there are a lot of people—wherever you look, it’s all humans, not the bleak emptiness of the Evil Spirit dungeon.
In today’s human dungeons, just surviving is exhausting for many. Either there’s no threat to your life, or there’s something strange lurking around.
Everyone shares their dungeon stories, complaining about their current predicament.
Everyone’s breaking point is different—some people think spikes under their feet are nothing, others demand privacy and can’t stand the ever-present eyeballs watching them.
[Constantly being watched? That’s just how you feel. Even if the surveillance is turned into a gigantic sky screen, nobody actually pays attention to your part of it.]
[It’s even worse for me. In my dungeon, I have to share my biggest secret with strangers every day.]
[None of yours are real hardships—there’s no actual harm. In mine, strength is everything, and the weak have to agree to anything the strong demand...]
...
Everyone keeps ranting about their dungeon environments, and the most common thing people say is: If only I could swap places with you...
That’s what everyone wishes for. Quite a few are already planning to leave before the Dark Forest creeps in.
No one deliberately builds a Life Bridge to lure the Dark Forest’s devouring, so as long as the Dark Forest hasn’t invaded yet, there’s a chance to leave—and to change dungeons for a new life.
Watching the chatter, Flying Eagle frowned. He’d already heard that overcrowded dungeons attract the Dark Tree.
The best solution is to drive out half the people.
As for what happens to those who leave the dungeon—that’s not his concern.
What puzzled him was that Leng Feng’s organization always shares any news with everyone as quickly as possible.
But this time, he’d already started cracking down on those trying to snatch his dungeon, and still hadn’t received any news from Leng Feng’s side.
Why?
No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t figure it out. Still, just because Leng Feng isn’t acting doesn’t mean he won’t make his own moves.
He was already deep in crisis, and now more than ever, he’d never give the Dark Forest a chance to eat him alive.
He turned off his phone screen and glanced at the corpse at his feet.
Next to him, an eyeball floated, but it wasn’t quite the same as the ones hovering above the heads of the other residents here.
As the dungeon’s master, the eyeball circling him was filled with blood-red veins, and even the pupil inside was a deep, dark crimson.
Behind the eyeball, vein-like tendrils snaked into the void.
If you looked closely, you’d see each dungeon resident’s floating eyeball had a phantom red thread trailing behind it.
Like everyone else, the first time he stared at this eyeball, it made his skin crawl.
This was his own dungeon, but even he couldn’t escape the fate of being watched by these eyes.
After some research, he’d figured out a few functions of his dungeon.
Other than surveillance, he could also broadcast live inside the dungeon through the eyeball in front of him.
But only he could use this feature.
The dungeon was crowded. He kicked the corpse aside and went to the bathroom.
The walls were splattered with blood, and the mirror was filthy.
Flying Eagle turned on the faucet, washed the blood off his hands, and tidied up his hair and clothes in the mirror.
His damp hand ran through his hairline, smoothing the messy hair against the side of his scalp.
Once everything was ready, he walked to a clean sofa and picked a tidy background.
The bloodshot eyeball aimed at him. He sat upright, extended his finger, and reached toward it.
His fingertip touched the pupil lightly; the crimson iris contracted sharply, then dilated.
At that moment, everyone in the dungeon noticed the eyeballs above their heads floating quickly to their fronts.
A gap opened between the countless eyeballs, and a beam of light shone from that split lid.
A tiny screen appeared in front of everyone; on the translucent lightscreen, Flying Eagle sat stiff and straight.
He felt the vision in his mind. After confirming everyone was watching, he gave two light coughs.
"Hello, everyone. I am Flying Eagle, the Lord of this dungeon."
As soon as Flying Eagle finished speaking, he noticed a few people’s lips curl into sneers when he called himself Lord.
He memorized their coordinates but made no immediate move.
"I know many want to leave, and now you have a chance to do so."
"I get it—people can’t stand being watched every moment."
"I’m sure you all smell that tinge of blood. For my own safety, I had no choice but to deal with a few Survivors," he said, spreading his hands in mock regret.
"From today, my territory is exit-only—no one enters."
"If you leave, no one will ever block you."
"But if you choose to stay, and I see any funny business, I’ll deal with you without mercy." He squinted, never mentioning the Dark Forest invasion.
Because he was still puzzled why Leng Feng hadn’t warned everyone yet.
As another high-tier human with his own territory, he wouldn’t mess up someone else’s plans without cause.
For cautious types like Leng Feng, every move has its reason.
As expected, Flying Eagle’s words provoked an uproar.
Voices burst out from everyone’s mouths at once—the dungeon echoed like thunder.
His live broadcast had no comment function; Flying Eagle sighed in disappointment, unable to read anyone’s reactions.
"Ring ring ring—"
A subordinate carried in a mobile phone, handing it to him.
Flying Eagle paused, then grinned wide—turns out it was the Mayor’s hotline!