Life Dungeon Game

In a sense, this battle was a stress test for the Adam 1 mech, which exposed many problems that we can improve upon when we get back tonight.

He Ao had only been standing next to the giant's corpse for a short while when a black sedan pulled up at the intersection, and the silver-haired old butler slowly got out of the car.

“Master Wei’an”.

The old butler walked to He Ao's side.

“Hmm,” He Ao nodded slightly, pointing to the van that was tucked into the wall behind him, “Take inventory of what’s inside.”

Then create a table of contents for me.

"Should we return these items to Nord Bank?"

The old butler asked in a low voice.

"Contact their respective owners."

He Ao shook his head.

Most of the stolen items were valuables that Norder Bank had entrusted to its clients for safekeeping, and did not actually belong to Norder Bank.

He then added, "Remember to introduce Norlanca Bank's valuables safekeeping service, as well as its deposit and financial services, to these customers."

Those who need safekeeping of valuables are usually large clients.

"Ok."

The old butler nodded gently.

"correct,"

He Ao stopped the old housekeeper who was about to call for help, "Check the information of the person who planned this interview program today."

-

"The person isn't on that street? Okay, I understand. Then what's playing now must be a video recording."

Director Jerome was a large, imposing man.

He stood at the forefront of the crowd, wearing a police uniform that didn't fit him quite right.

He turned off his walkie-talkie, put it in his jacket bag, and gestured to the officers behind him to bring over a lightweight hydraulic hammer.

The hydraulic hammer was quickly started and aimed at the wall. The office building managers were also watching. This wall was not a load-bearing wall and could be knocked down.

Director Jerome did not use a melting torch to cut open the locked, welded iron door, as that would have taken too much time.

There are three minutes left until the twenty-minute countdown ends.

The hydraulic hammer slammed into the wall with tremendous force, denting the wall with a single blow.

Then another hammer blow, and the wall collapsed, creating a hollow space.

The officers quickly detached the hydraulic hammer.

Upon discovering the wall had collapsed, the staff and presenters trapped inside rushed out, fleeing for their lives.

Meanwhile, Jerome went against the flow of people and squeezed into the studio.

He followed the direction from which the countdown originated and walked to a wall.

He listened carefully for a while, then smashed the wall with his fist, revealing a hollow interlayer inside.

And one,

An alarm clock is loudly playing a countdown.

For a moment, Jerome was stunned. He reached out and grabbed the alarm clock, then pried open the back cover.

The internal structure is indeed the most ordinary clock structure, without any explosives.

"mischief?"

He turned off the alarm clock and walked out of the studio, somewhat bewildered.

The staff outside were anxiously calling their families to let them know they were safe, but the well-dressed host stood in the crowd, looking lost and bewildered.

Jerome ignored the people, only instructing the officers to take care of their emotions and lead them away from the studio, then looked down at the clock in his hand.

He vaguely felt that something was wrong. Judging from the video, the other party seemed to be a ruthless thug. How could he just be playing a prank?

Just then, his bracelet vibrated.

This is the twenty-minute countdown he set.

boom--

The vibration of his bracelet was accompanied by a violent explosion, and the entire floor seemed to be shaking.

Several staff members who had already escaped screamed in fright from the explosion, and Jerome nearly lost his balance and fell. He grabbed a staff member next to him and asked,

What room is upstairs?

"Warehouse, photography studio"

"All of these people should have been evacuated..." the staff member said, then paused, "The boss is still in his office upstairs."

"Someone?"

Jerome released the staff member, rushed into the fire escape, and climbed up the stairs.

Several police officers followed suit.

There are fewer people maintaining order on this floor.

The phone calls gradually quieted down. The staff who had 'escaped death' had basically reported back to their families that they were safe. Quiet discussions could be heard from the crowd.

The absent-minded host, Jet, leaned against the edge of the crowd, his mind blank.

There was internet access in the studio. During the ten or so minutes he was confined there, he logged onto the TV station's website and saw their 'live' program about him.

His disgraceful behavior and pathetic appearance were seen and ridiculed by millions of people watching the live stream.

"I'm finished, I'm finished,"

He staggered against the edge of the ventilation window, muttering to himself.

The sound of rustling people could be heard from the surrounding area.

He couldn't hear what they were saying.

It was as if everyone was mocking him and humiliating him.

His career as a host has come to an end.

From now on, everyone will think of him as a clown.

He has no future.

He suddenly raised his head and looked at the short, thin man closest to him.

This man usually loves to flatter and fawn over him.

And at this moment,

That man is laughing!

He is laughing!

Jett suddenly grabbed the man's shoulders, his eyes wide open, bloodshot and filled with bright red veins.

"What are you laughing at? What are you laughing at? You dare to laugh at me? You filthy, lowly poor people, you dare to laugh at me?"

"I'm on the phone with my child?! Are you crazy?"

The man broke free from his grip and roared angrily.

"You think you're worthy? You think you're worthy?"

Jet let go, staggered backward, until he reached the open ventilation window.

His clothes were disheveled, and his hair was a mess. "You think I'd give you the chance to laugh at me?!"

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

He lay down by the ventilation window, then jumped.

This is the 27th floor.

—Four minutes ago—

"Open the door! Open the door!"

The man in a suit and tie pounded on the office door, trying to turn the handle and pull the door, but the door wouldn't budge.

To his left was an open television with a blood-red countdown timer on it.

Tick-tick-tick-

A crisp sound rang out in the narrow but lavishly decorated office.

The man picked up the phone on his desk, intending to make a call, but all he heard was an endless busy signal.

He picked up the bracelet again, which displayed 'no signal'.

All means of communication with the outside world have been cut off.

He tried knocking on the door to attract the attention of people nearby, but there was no response.

People on several nearby floors were evacuated within those twenty minutes.

As for why he didn't evacuate...

Once an explosion occurs, the studio equipment will inevitably be destroyed, at which point he can carry the camera and record the footage immediately.

That would be an unimaginable amount of traffic.

Moreover, his office was specially reinforced and is very safe.

The miniature high-definition video recorder on the table flashed red light, capturing his image in its lens.

He was just about to take out the camera and go outside to test it out when he discovered that his office door had been locked at some point.

Meanwhile, a bloody countdown appeared on his television.

"Bastards, bastards, you useless bastards! Someone save me!"

The crisp countdown was like a death knell, gradually eroding his mental defenses.