A distance of several hundred ters can be crossed in just one second.
By calculation, the ti from the Fierce Ghost being obliterated to the bullet hitting its target should theoretically be between one hundred to three hundred milliseconds.
And Wen Yan, step by step, locked the little deer ornant as the focus of hatred.
When Little Mustache turned around and saw Wen Yan, a layer of transparent shield appeared, enveloping him inside.
The transparent shield was about two ters in diater, and a high-speed rotating bullet was stopped against the outside of this ghostly shield.
The bullet's spinning speed rapidly slowed, and finally, it fell from the air.
Shock appeared on Little Mustache's face.
He was shocked by Wen Yan's appearance, shocked that he had just sensed his anchor had disappeared, and at the sa mont, a bullet appeared.
This was for the purpose of killing him.
He was definitely exposed long ago, and for the other side to hide it from him, there must have been no one monitoring him, avoiding any channels he could discover.
He saw the phone placed on the table and realized—it was surely this that exposed his whereabouts.
But he still didn't understand how he was exposed, or how the other party devised this plan without him noticing anything.
How did Li Ming get exposed?
How did they know what his anchor was, and why did they know Li Ming was the most critical?
In an instant, Little Mustache's mind was flooded with doubts.
But then, he cald down; hiding within the transparent shield, he coolly stared at Wen Yan.
Wen Yan felt a tinge of regret.
He had co up with several plans—this was the first one.
He anticipated what might happen to Little Mustache after losing his anchor.
First, his previous save points would no longer work, and the new save would be forcibly set to the current ti.
In this situation, according to Wen Yan's calculations, a hundred to three hundred milliseconds after the new save point, Little Mustache would be killed.
So, when faced with a sniper within effective range, one who never misses—
No matter how many tis Little Mustache dies and automatically reloads, those re hundreds of milliseconds are absolutely not enough for him to do anything aningful.
Even if it happens ten thousand tis, he's still dead.
When Wen Yan first heard stories about the Fla Emperor from Water Monarch, he realized that reloading must have a limited number of uses—there was no way it would be unlimited.
If Wen Yan's first plan succeeded, he'd force Little Mustache to use up all his reloads in one go.
Second, if the save point and anchor were two different systems—
After losing the anchor, it would an that Little Mustache wouldn't dare, or wouldn't be able, to reload at all.
In this situation, it'd be best to finish him off if possible.
If not, Wen Yan planned to wear him down here while he was anchorless.
Let the stalemate here drag on for over a dozen days, giving him no opportunity to set a new anchor.
The Scorching Sun Departnt would help lock down this area. At the limit, when Little Mustache had to set a new save point, he'd be forced to do so.
At that mont, he'd never be able to leave this place.
The Scorching Sun Departnt would kindly build him a prison that could survive a nuclear explosion.
No matter how many tis he reloads, he'll never get out—in the end, reduced to a humanoid wondrous item.
Or, keep dragging on here, and when he's finally forced to set a new save point, finish him off and burn all his reloads.
Wen Yan's plan didn't even need his ability; it was already thorough. Unfortunately, he didn't know what wondrous items Little Mustache held.
He reached out and touched the phantom-like transparent shield.
It was just like touching an invisible wall of air.
"Elite Protector Shield."
"When encountering a fatal Critical Strike from 1.89 ters away, generate a shield 1.89 ters in diater. For five minutes, it grants immunity to all external damage. Cooldown, one hundred eighty days (CD calculated independently)."
Touching the shield, Wen Yan's face darkened.
Now, he understood why Little Mustache had been killed last ti.
It had to be that photo album—while looking through it, he saw sothing he shouldn't have.
The force that killed him ca rushing out of the album, which didn't activate this unbelievable wondrous item at all.
Little Mustache watched Wen Yan co in from outside; he remained seated, sipped his coffee, completely calm again.
"I need to consu a certain amount of caffeine every day to help relieve my Professional Ability's side effects.
If I don't, I'll get a splitting headache.
It took several days originally to find this solution.
Gradually, I started to like it. Whenever I get to a new place, I'd look for a café on a street corner for a cup."
Little Mustache muttered to himself while taking a three-layer Magic Cube from his bag and began to play with it absentmindedly.
His fingers moved rapidly, and he soon solved the cube.
After the cube was solved, it floated over his palm, a faintly strange power appearing.
Yet in the next mont, Little Mustache saw the cube start frantically scrambling itself; his expression changed slightly, and he threw the cube onto the chair opposite.
The next instant, the cube—and the chair with it—instantly vanished, as if sothing had forcefully bitten a piece out of reality.
"Spatial Professional, you've really prepared well, sealing off this area in advance.
If I'd been transmitted away with it, I'd have been the one shredded."
"But it doesn't matter—as long as I reload, that cube will still be in my hand."
Little Mustache raised his head to look at Wen Yan. Seeing Wen Yan's confusion, he extended his finger and said,
"My save point and anchor are unrelated. The anchor is just the crucial part that ensures I can reload precisely and maintain complete awareness.
To make soone my anchor, only three conditions must be t.
First, the person knows, or I've told them, what my Professional Ability is.
Second, the person knows, or I've told them, what my Professional Ability's side effects are.
Third, I've told the person, in person, that I need them as my anchor for reload.
Fourth, when setting the anchor, I must see the person with my own eyes."
Little Mustache looked up at Wen Yan, still with a faint smile.
"I guess, you've already t all four conditions now."
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