However bad the situation was, he still had no choice but to proceed.
Out of habit, he double-checked his character panel and inventory before he would proceed. Nothing stood out as always on the character panel, he then proceeded to the inventory panel. His eyes widened.
The squirt gun was no longer in his hand, but right now it still sat in the inventory - only, it was blinking.
He tried to pull the squirt gun out, but it disintegrated into pieces just as his focus was put on it. Right at the next moment, memories began flashing before his eyes.
"Go away, don't talk to them." His parents warned him as they dragged him away from the smelly people on the road in dirty clothes and living in dirty tents. "Remember that kid Libby? She almost got bitten just from talking to them. And she needed to go to the hospital to get stitches and antibiotics."
Images flashed, he was now sitting in front of a laptop, typing up a short story using his small hand and short fingers. The story was rather simple, the prose was naive and child-like, but quite imaginative for his age. When he was done, he used his squirt gun to "shoot the zombies" just like the heroes in his story did. After a while, he shared the story amongst a few of his friends.
Images flashed. Apparently, the story was leaked by someone. First it was the teacher, Ms. Adams, then it was the principal, Mrs. Thompson, both were yelling at him, and his father.
"How can you write something so offensive!? This is unacceptable!" Mrs. Thompson banged her table as spit popped out of her mouth. Her short blonde hair shook with the motion, and her thick frame glasses were shining from the light above. "Unacceptable! You are suspended! And you, sir, you should keep an eye on your son! If you've done that, he wouldn't have written such an insensitive, offensive dribble, he wouldn't even have such bad thoughts in his head!"
Images flashed again, this time it was also a blonde woman with short hair, accompanied by two others. Her pearl necklace and tidy suit told him they must be expensive.
"We have heard about your child's writing. And we think we can help. The fastest option he can go back to school would be to make a meaningful donation… " She was talking with his father at the door, so he could not make out most of the words: "... as a matter of fact, it is also a great evidence to prove that you have fully subscribed to the philosophy of helping the less fortunate, and shaping your child's mind in a way that such offensive ideas are no longer possible."
"Thank you, but you're asking a lot - " His father tried to refuse.
"You are already much more fortunate than a lot of us, you have a shop - "
Flashbacks stopped, and Wu Xiaoming could only shake his head at this memory flashback.
Not much time left to waste, he began heading towards the hotel. He crossed the block without trouble, then moved along the street beside the hotel building with hastened but careful steps.
Before long, he arrived at the same street in front of the hotel. Same entrance, only now the lounge was empty and the interior walls looked weathered and covered in stains. The floor in the lounge was still covered in carpet, yet stained, heavily worn and tarnished.
Wu Xiaoming hesitated for a bit before finally taking a step into the lounge. Last time he died here, it took a huge chunk of his currencies, there was simply no telling if his current currency numbers would be enough to revive him, or at the very least, how much he would lose, or what else might happen. But if he was to only explore the first two levels, it should be safer for him. If anything should happen, he could simply run.
The temperature of the air dropped drastically the moment he came into the lounge fully. He paused and looked around for a moment - nothing stood out so far. So he just headed towards the reception desk. He walked behind the desk and pulled out a drawer.
A light chime rang in his ears. It was not loud, but in this freezing silence, was almost deafening.
Almost at the next moment, the stains on the carpet enlarged and started getting elongated. In addition, the direction they were being pulled was not anywhere on the plane of the carpet, but straight up, away from the floor.
Dust, mist and smoke of pure darkness were the stains. They rose up, they twisted, and they became shadows - actual shadows, like shadows of creatures and humans when under the light, only three dimensional. And at the same time, threads, thin fabric and dirt rose up from the carpet, wrapping and curling into shapes of humans, cats, dogs and other humanoid and non-humanoid creatures.
"Fucking hell." Wu Xiaoming raised his baton, and at the same time his palm glowed in golden light - these creatures looked more ethereal than corporeal, hopefully Golden Light spells would be helpful.
Dark red energy from the baton exploded again and again, beams and flashes of golden light lit up the lounge. Wu Xiaoming roared and cursed repeatedly, both his hands swung left and right as he tried to fight his way out of the lounge.
But the shadows and creatures made of threads and fabric were more than just a regular swarm. The dark shadows had claws, slender extremities and incredible physical strength; the creatures made of threads and fabric had easily recoverable bodies and abilities to create ropes from their own composition material to constrain his movement. Quite a few times, if not for the fact that he could cut ropes with words alone, he would have surely perished.
The dark shadow of a huge dog lunged from a wall at him with its mouth wide open, just when he blasted off a fat, tall human shaped dark shadow. At the same time two human-shaped creatures of threads and fabric grabbed onto his waist and left leg.
"Shield! " Wu Xiaoming blasted the dog shadow with a flash of golden light, while conjuring an energy shield to prevent the threads from cutting or drilling into his body.
The dog shadow turned into a puff of smoke in the air, along with another cat-shaped shadow in the blast radius. He swung his baton again and bashed one of the human-shaped creatures into smithereens, then kicked the other with full force and sent it into a wall.
Alarms blared in his mind for the tenth time today, he stomped the ground and launched himself to the side, colliding with a shadow coming his way. The crooked right arm of a tall, single-armed humanoid shadow clashed with the ground, the sharp axe-like edge of its bladed weapon went through the carpet and embedded in the marble ground. Before it could raise its arm again, its head and neck were blasted off by a beam of golden light.
Wu Xiaoming shot up from the ground while unleashing a kick at the shadow he ran into, the sole of his foot caved the long-haired woman's face in and crushed its head. Before its headless body could do anything, another kick followed and broke its upper body into several pieces.
"Attack! Fuck off!" He roared two times, the explosions from his baton strike and energy blast obliterated a slender humanoid shadow and a deer made of threads. These seemed to be the last of his enemies in the lounge.
He tried to walk out of the front door - it was just a few steps away, but his legs gave out from fatigue. He grunted as he straightened both his legs to fight off the cramps - his Qi, his spirit and stamina were all drained, it was definitely the most exhausting fight he ever had.
Another chime in the lounge almost sent him up the wall. A stream of dark smoke poured down from the ceiling, and at the same time countless threads broke from beneath the ground and under the surface of the walls. The threads and fabric wrapped around the smoke, forming some kind of outer armor while the smoke took the shape of a normal sized man - in a suit of armor, and a weapon in its right hand.
Wu Xiaoming squeezed his spirit and shot a beam of golden light right at the human shaped shadow's head. The shadow simply raised its right arm, creating a rough shield using fabric and blocked this attack.
Yet, just as this shadow was about to retaliate, Wu Xiaoming was already out of the front door of the lounge.
Wu Xiaoming ran into the familiar coffee shop on the opposite side of the street, ran into the kitchen and locked the thick, metal door behind him. Through the small window on the door he could tell that this new "elite" or "boss" did not pursue him.
"Shit." Wu Xiaoming found a corner to sit down, now he was extra drained. It was definitely time to leave. Hopefully he would not be as exhausted in the physical realm.