The sensation of being watched did not fade. It didn't diminish as Lin Yue stepped away from the void, nor did it dissipate when he returned to the sterile, humming corridors of the Game Hall. It remained—a cold, invisible weight pressed against the nape of his neck, a lingering brand left by Gu Yanchen's gaze.
Lin Yue walked slowly, his footsteps echoing with a rhythmic, clinical precision. Around him, the Game Hall was no longer the orderly transit hub it had been after the first instance. It had transformed into something closer to a pressure cooker.
The air felt thick, saturated with the metallic tang of anxiety and the sour scent of cold sweat. Thousands of players were scattered across the expanse, but the silence of the previous days had been replaced by a low, vibrating roar of desperate communication.
The countdown read [00:23:14:07] when Lin Yue returned to his room.
He sat on the edge of his bed and did not move for a long time.
