Volume 1, Chapter 11 – It Wasn’t Me, I Didn’t Do It, Stop Making Things Up

Anran had a very clear grasp of the situation. Even though both of her sneak attacks had succeeded, injuring Scarface’s hands and knocking away the gun, the greatest threat in the room, her dangerous predicament had not eased by much.

Even if she distributed her remaining 9 free attribute points in the most reasonable way between Strength and Agility, Anran’s physical abilities would only put her at the upper end of ordinary people. Compared with an elite like Scarface, she was still a full tier below him.

On top of that, Scarface was battle-hardened and highly skilled. In close-quarters combat, there was no way Anran could beat him, even if he was fighting one-handed with his right hand injured.

If she wanted to end this in one stroke, she could only rely on that ownerless pistol now lying on the ground.

One shot would decide it. Scarface’s body would not be able to withstand a bullet.

“I’m going to catch you, torture you properly, and then throw you into the military camp. Those fresh recruits are bound to be very grateful to me,” Scarface snarled.

He was strong, and Anran was weak.

That was why he had made a mistake out of arrogance before. But now that he was serious, Scarface believed victory was guaranteed.

Whoosh!

Scarface moved first.

He lunged forward in a single step, sweeping a kick straight at Anran’s face.

His tight pants wrapped around his legs, the knotted muscles bulging high, combining both power and speed. A strip of fabric sliced through the air with a sharp howl as it came at her.

If that kick landed on her head, Anran might die.

But fortunately, Anran was extremely glad that Scarface was a brute. He might be powerful, but he liked direct, hard-hitting fights with fists and flesh.

Anran rolled, stretching out her right hand toward the pistol on the ground.

The bullet was already chambered. The red reticle was lined up. Next would come the trigger pull. It did not matter where the shot landed. As long as it hit Scarface somewhere, the tide of the battle would reverse instantly.

That was Anran’s plan.

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But things were never going to go that smoothly. Scarface sharply sensed Anran’s intent.

He reacted at once and kicked the pistol away.

“Nice thought. Too bad I saw through it.” Scarface raised his foot.

It’s over.

The pistol was too far away. That earlier distance had already been a stretch. Now there was no way Anran could reach it.

Just as Scarface was about to stomp down, a gunshot suddenly rang out from the distance.

Bang!

Anran immediately saw a vivid burst of blood spray from Scarface’s thigh.

“Ah! My leg!” Scarface crashed to the ground, crying out in pain and rolling around.

Seeing her chance, Anran hurried to the corner, picked up the pistol, and aimed. The player-exclusive crosshair locked onto Scarface’s head. Anran had no idea why a reticle would appear when she held a gun, but it was not a bad thing.

Her finger settled on the trigger. Just as she was about to pull it, another bang rang out, and blood blossomed across Scarface’s chest.

“Guh…”

That shot seemed to have injured his lung. Scarface’s screams were immediately replaced by wet gurgling sounds.

Then the third shot rang out, and Scarface slept forever.

Who?

Anran immediately swung the muzzle around. The bullets had come from the collapsed room next door.

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“Easy, easy. I mean no harm.” A fully armed man walked in. There was a rifle slung across his back, a pistol in his hand, and a short blade at his waist.

What the hell is this?

Anran was a little stunned. She still did not lower her gun.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a forward operative from the Special Operations Team of Twinmoon City’s Security Department,” the newcomer said, introducing himself first. “I’ve already cleaned out the Resistance in the tunnel. It’s very dangerous here. You should leave immediately.”

Huh.

Anran froze for a moment. Resistance?

So the woman next door was a member of the Resistance. No wonder she had been so sensitive to the word “Empire.” After all, No. 1886 belonged to the Elimeria Empire.

The Resistance opposed the Empire’s rule. On the surface, they looked like a group of “natives” holding fast to their beliefs, but the way they acted was decisive and ruthless, completely like terrorists.

Why think so much about it? Since she now had a chance to slip away safely, there was no way Anran was going to stupidly stay behind.

“Thank you.”

Anran leaped forward and jumped into the tunnel, brazenly “breaking out of prison” right in front of a member of the Security Department.

Bang bang…

Rat-tat-tat…

Gunfire thundered behind her. Anran bent low and hurried forward. Every now and then, the tunnel shook and dirt rained down. It was not stable, but fortunately, she had not gone far before she saw the light of the exit.

She touched the pistol tucked at her waist.

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[1886 Hermit Pistol: Quality – Green. Magazine: 11/12]

That was the information Anran received at a glance.

Setting aside the thrilling scene just now, being screwed over into coming here had actually brought her a rich haul.

Not only had she successfully unlocked the Mechanic class, she had also gotten a pistol. Once she got back and used [Basic Analysis], she would be able to obtain the blueprint for this relatively simple handgun soon enough. At that point, she could mass-produce 1886 Hermit Pistols, giving herself some security and making them to sell as well.

A Mechanic still could not neglect personal ability, but more often than not, they fought by relying on all kinds of machinery. Firearms were only one part of that.

Especially after fighting Scarface, Anran felt more and more that she really should follow the Mechanic path. It might not sound as hot-blooded as a martial artist who fought with fists and flesh, but it offered much greater security, and its late-game strength was not lacking at all.

NPCs only had one life. If Anran were a player, she might have gone and become an assassin instead.

…

Light suddenly shone across her face. Anran raised a hand to shield her eyes. She had finally walked out of the tunnel. After letting her eyes adjust to the brightness outside, she began to look around.

The tunnel opened onto a small hillside behind the police station. From here, she could see that the station had been blasted into a wreck, smoke drifting into the air. Shouts sounded from time to time, but the battle was no longer as intense as it had been at the start.

Bang bang! Gunfire suddenly rang out from inside the tunnel.

Holy shit.

Anran quickly found cover and hid behind it.

What the hell now? How had the Resistance suddenly fought their way back through this tunnel?

Had that Security Department guy died?

“Bombs, bombs, hurry, hurry!”

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Anran recognized the voice of the woman from next door, anxious and uneasy.

Rumble!

The huge blast made Anran cover her ears at once. When she lowered her hands, she heard the woman speaking rapidly with someone else.

“We got careless. I didn’t expect Jian to get killed by that little girl in the room next door. We almost did not make it out.”

“This operation was too rushed. In such a short time, this was all the manpower we could bring.”

“So it’s only the two of us left. Good thing we got the deployment map back.”

“Damn it. She dared kill one of our Morningstar people. I’m remembering this grudge. When we get back, find out who she is. Jian cannot have died for nothing.”

“Move. Stop talking.”

The voices gradually faded. The two of them never noticed Anran at all as they fled.

Hiding behind a rock, Anran pulled a bitter face and tightened her grip on the gun in her hand.

It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it, stop making things up.

Can you not go around slandering innocent people out of thin air?

Sure, I wanted to kill that scar-faced guy too, but I was not the one who actually killed him!

If you’re going to take revenge, at least pick the right person!

***

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