Bai Liu left Tai Shan Station and went to the site where they had been placed, only to find that Fang Xiaoxiao—the one they had dug out of the ice crevice—had disappeared.
"Fang Xiaoxiao took the rest of the team with him, too." Tang Erda's face darkened.
Mu Sicheng looked at Bai Liu. "So… are we going to find them next? Where would they go?"
"I think I know why Edmond left and where they're heading." Bai Liu exhaled a cloud of white breath as he stared across the sparse snow toward the edge of the Antarctic continent, shimmering in the gray sunlight.
Bai Liu offered a relaxed, slightly teasing smile. "It seems the other player has put a lot of pressure on Professor Edmond, the boss at the bottom of the level, forcing him to abandon his experiments on us for a while and focus on that player instead."
Liu Jiayi, always quick to react, turned to Bai Liu. "Was it Spades? What did he do?"
"Go on the game's main quest." Bai Liu looked at her with a faint, almost plaintive expression. "To… make the globe warmer."
-----------------
Pure white snow stretched across the Ross Ice Shelf.
In the waters around Leah Land, the salinity was so high that the freezing point had dropped well below zero.
It was the coldest time of year, when Antarctic waters collided with the frigid polar night. A person could fall in and die of hypothermia in fifteen minutes.
And in these waters, the sight of a human sinking like a whale amid the ebb and flow of icy currents was striking.
On the shore, a tent-like structure made of haphazardly stacked snow blocks contained tinned food, rashers, a pair of neatly arranged socks, and a sled. A drying rack rested atop the sled, where a pair of oversized boxer briefs hung in a regular pattern above two burning, solid-alcohol lamps.
It seemed they had decided against wearing the panties they had found in the observatory, instead drying them for reuse.
Atop the snowy tent, a small red flag swayed violently in the sea breeze. Its material emitted a peculiar fluorescent glow, conspicuous in the approaching night.
In the water, a man floated and sank, moving at an unnaturally fast pace—faster than the seals and orcas, which were already feeding heavily in preparation for winter.
Even as the two creatures hunted him tentatively, he made only a slight stroke, turning effortlessly in the water and slipping beneath their open jaws in the blink of an eye.
Bubbles escaping his lips were the only indication that this man was human, not some cold-blooded humanoid monster of the icy seas. Even the seal hunting him probably wondered why this prey emitted no body heat.
Like ice. Colder than ice.
Before they could react, the cunning "prey" swept past their fangs again, kicking his legs and narrowing his eyes slightly as he dove deeper into the invisible depths.
Ten minutes later, Spades emerged, dragging a tide gauge weighing several hundred kilograms to the surface.
He strode barefoot across the ice, his left hand pulling the massive orange-framed instrument through the snow in a long trail. Water froze on his eyelashes and hair before dripping, and he casually wiped it away with a handful from his right hand.
This would be dangerous for anyone else—risking eye injury, skin damage, frostbite, or contusions—but Spades seemed unaffected.
The shards of ice clinging to his skin looked like small, unpolished diamonds, refracting light over his taut, smooth body. His frame was lean rather than muscular, but the proportions from shoulders to waist and waist to ankles were perfect. Thin, tough muscles covered every joint and bone, as if calculated to maximize both strength and aesthetics.
His skin, not green from seawater, shone with a polished, marble-like translucence—like a masterpiece refined billions of times yet still perfect. Only a small part of his face was obscured by hair, revealing a jaw that matched the artistry of his body.
Spades dragged the heavy gauge steadily over the icy terrain, melting snow and ice beneath his body heat and eyeballs, until he reached his destination.
He casually slammed the hundreds of pounds of apparatus aside with one hand, knelt on it with one foot, and bent close to examine its inner lining. Without hesitation, he drew his whip, gripping it backhanded like a dagger, and stabbed.
Immediately, he realized his mistake and let out an "Ah."
—[This is a whip, not a dagger! Not a long knife! Nor an awl or crutch! It's meant to be swung, not stabbed!]
Spades reflexively recalled the new teammate who had just transferred over—the Reverse God—breaking down and hissing in his ear.
—[Use the whip properly! Don't try to treat it like every other weapon! Show respect for the form! Do you know how many points the guild spent last year maintaining your weapon?]
—[Stabbing with the handle without care—doesn't your conscience ache? Do you know how expensive the materials inlaid on it are?]
Spades hadn't known this. He had just won the game and cared about nothing beyond victory. He remembered his reply to the new teammate back then:
—[It's okay to win.]
He was skilled with multiple weapon forms, and it was unclear why the whip had been fixed as his personal skill's final form.
Spades wasn't particularly fond of the whip; he preferred a short blade or an awl. But he made do, using the whip effectively and even turning other weapons into powerful attacks when necessary.
Ultimately, he always achieved his main goal—winning.
So he never worried about it. But the Reverse God cared—a lot.
No matter how many times the Reverse God warned him in tears of despair, Spades continued using the whip his own way.
So the Reverse God unleashed his skills and prophesied Spades' fate, wickedly threatening him:"Spades, if you don't practice proper whip technique, you'll lose the league to someone even better with it than you!"
Spades cared only about winning and losing, so he paid just enough attention to listen this time.
Since entering the game, Spades had been a moderate flailer—neither perfectly skilled nor completely incompetent.
For a moment, his movements went smoothly, and the handle of the whip jabbed straight through the liner of the tide gauge.
The annoying new teammate wasn't there to witness the gruesome scene, so Spades paused only briefly. He proceeded to pry open the steel casing with his whip and extract a thermometer wrapped in layers of waterproof plastic.
He tore away the tarp and discovered a small metal box vibrating inside.
It was a curious little device, trembling erratically in all directions, emitting a high-pitched, piercing vibration that could shatter bones if held for too long.
Spades closed his fingers around it, leaving a clear fingerprint on its surface. He crushed the box slightly, then pressed his thumb against the side, flexing his fingers inward to puncture it.
Pressing his fingertips against the hole he had made, Spades carried the small box back to the snow-block tent.
Dusty particles banged against his fingers, and his nail beds were bloodied. It should have hurt—but he barely felt it.
He bent over, hooked off the dried boxer briefs, and rummaged through the tent with one hand until he found a glass bottle of strong acid. He held the box directly over an alcohol lamp.
His eyes stared motionlessly into the flame. His breathing was shallow. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow across his eyes, and the rigid, cold metal of the box gradually warmed under the lamp.
The metal was heated to an incredible temperature. Its outer surface glowed faintly red, and Spades' hand felt the heat—but he seemed indifferent, holding it steadily.
The dust inside the box vibrated faster and faster as the heat intensified, sending Spades' entire arm into a frenzy of tremors.
After an unknown amount of time, the shaking subsided. The particles inside seemed "cooked" by the constant heat. Spades finally withdrew his hand, opened the hole he had been holding, and without hesitation poured the strong acid from the bottle into the box.
The acid reacted violently, spitting gas and forming a dark oxide film across the surface.
Spades looked down at the box as his system announced:
[System Alert: Congratulations to player Spades for destroying the Particle Weather Reactor (521/600)]
[The game is nearing its end. Please keep up the good work!]