Thirty Million Points
Xu Mo waited five minutes, but Freddy never appeared.
"Dead?" he muttered, a faint look of regret flashing across his face.
Strangely enough, Xu Mo wished Freddy could live forever—more so than Freddy himself. But the fact remained: the nightmare spirit did not return.
Xu Mo exhaled in disappointment and opened his system panel.
Overnight, he had gained nearly thirty million points from Freddy. That meant the spirit had died close to three thousand times.
Even though the "treasure spirit" was gone and there was no way to keep farming points, Xu Mo was satisfied. He had never expected Freddy, just a minor evil spirit, to yield such an absurd harvest. At best, he thought a few million points would have been possible.
---
In Another World
In a barren, hellish void, three colossal demons stirred awake.
Before them, Freddy's figure slowly reformed—a twisted shadow barely holding together.
"What's happening? Why am I back in Hell?!" Freddy cried out, panic in his voice.
"You useless wretch," snarled the horned demon in the center, his voice like thunder. "Did you think resurrection costs us nothing?"
"Resurrection?" Freddy blinked in confusion. "You said I was immortal. What resurrection?"
The three demons were the very beings who had forged a contract with him, granting him a nightmare body to roam the human world.
The horned demon's eyes burned with fury.
"Immortal? Hah! Who could have predicted you'd die three thousand times in one night!"
The truth was brutal: Freddy's "immortality" was a misdirection. His spirit body wasn't truly eternal—it was tethered to the demons. Each time he died, the contract siphoned their power to resurrect him, anchored by the fragment of his soul left in Hell.
Normally, that was no issue. Hundreds, even thousands of deaths could be sustained. It wasn't inaccurate to call him immortal, since in the human world no one could realistically kill him so many times.
Even if someone stronger than him appeared, at most they would kill him a few times before sealing or abandoning him. No one in their right mind would spend an entire night slaughtering him nonstop.
No one—except Xu Mo.
By the time Freddy was resurrected nearly three thousand times, the drain had consumed a tenth of the demons' reserves, waking them from their ancient slumber.
The demon on the right sighed, staring at Freddy with something between disbelief and disgust.
"What happened to you? How could you possibly die three thousand times in one night?"
Fear flickered in Freddy's eyes as he stammered to explain.
---
The Next Morning
Xu Mo, after a long night of killing Freddy in dreams, finally collapsed into proper sleep at dawn.
By noon, a noise woke him.
Dragging himself to the living room, he froze. Belica, wearing nothing but a crisp white shirt, was moving gracefully in the kitchen. After more than half a day's rest, the once-weary woman now radiated her old charm and elegance.
She turned, smiling warmly at him.
"Just a moment. Breakfast is almost ready."
A short while later, Xu Mo washed up and sat at the table. Belica placed the food before him, then sat opposite.
"Looks like you slept well last night," he said, sipping his milk.
Belica laughed softly.
"Indeed. I haven't slept that peacefully in years. Thank you."
Xu Mo shook his head. "No… I should be the one thanking you."
After all, if not for her, he might never have encountered Freddy—the ultimate "score machine."
---
After breakfast, Belica tidied the room while Xu Mo uploaded the promotional video he had shot the previous day.
Though Silent Hill's construction hadn't begun, early promotion was key. And in truth, there wasn't much to build—just walls, a gate, and supporting facilities like a ticket booth. The real attraction lay in Alyssa's surface world, which she fully controlled.
What mattered most were two things: the restaurant and the medical station. Especially the latter—safety had to be guaranteed. While fear was the commodity, excessive fatalities would undermine sustainability. After all, these were resources meant to be reused. Dead customers meant lost potential.
Just as Xu Mo finished uploading, Belica re-entered. This time, she wore a black silk skirt paired with stockings—the perfect image of a sultry stepmother.
Xu Mo raised a brow. "Why are you dressed like that?" His tone was casual, but his gaze lingered.
Belica's figure was the embodiment of Western allure: not plump, but full in all the right places, her curves exaggerated yet elegant.
She smiled knowingly.
"What, you don't like it? Should I change into something else?"
Xu Mo smirked. "No need. Let's test it out first—then maybe change later."
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