The dagger circled between Oneiroi's fingers, the cool wind swept through the gap between his fingers, and the thin blade grazed the skin of his fingers, almost as if they were clinging. Oneiroi stood expressionlessly on the trunk of a large tree that grew luxuriantly on the side of the road outside the West Gate of Luoyang, and the main road leading to the West Gate not far from him was full of people, but it was very incompatible with him.

From time to time, the eyes of the natives and players swept over him, with a hint of doubt, but he quickly left the Oneiroi machine behind. After the players entered this world, such things abounded, at least players like Oneiroi who stood on the side of the road on a big tree, not one, but many. As long as his appearance does not bring any accidents that endanger him, no one will care.

Oneiroi waited, playing with the dagger in his hand, which was more worthy of his attention and more intimate than the flow of people coming and going. For dreamers like them, weapons are their most trusted companions in reality, let alone in a game that can be called killing at every turn.

Although there are many life players in the game, they do not hold weapons in their hands, but all kinds of tools. It's a good way to live, both in real life and in games. It's just that the Oneiroi knows well, but it won't choose, because his fate can only be in his own hands, and what determines his life is only his own hands and the weapons he holds in his hands. Even if it was this weapon that caused the death in the end, Oneiroi didn't regret it, because it was caused by himself, just because his strength was not strong enough!

Just as it is always the various skills that create the starry world, the only thing that can control this world is the roughest and most violent force. It determines the world, determines the continuation of the world, and determines the existence of the world.

Someone is in a hurry, so someone must be responsible for licking the blood from the knife.

The dagger swirled between Oneiroi's hands, dancing in a terrifying dance, but Oneiroi focused most of its attention on the perception of its surroundings. He was just playing with the dagger, and if he were someone else, he must have put his whole mind on the dagger now, for fear that if he was sluggish, or suddenly slashed out, the dagger would leave a striking mark on his hand. Only a person like Oneiroi who keeps the dagger on his body all the time can perfectly control the dagger and "play" like this.

Many people, in fact, don't even understand the weapon in their hands, so they take it to kill in the game. But after all, they didn't understand that maybe they could kill a lot of people, but it also meant that they were also one of the people who were killed.

Knowing himself, knowing weapons, the first lesson Oneiroi took was also the most basic knowledge he had ever learned.

Suddenly, the dagger slashed through an icy arc and stopped. The eyes of the Oneiroi suddenly became cold and dangerous, and he accidentally raised his head and looked at one of the players of the Oneiroi Machine, as soon as he came into contact with this gaze, he felt that his mind was frozen, and there was a kind of horror that came from the bone marrow, until the whole body was extremely cold, and he shivered uncontrollably.

The player doesn't know where this feeling comes from, and after he struggles to look away, it disappears, and it really seems to be a hallucination. But he knew very well that this would never be an illusion, because the sweat in his palms and the cold sweat behind him were not easy to bring about any illusion.

Oneiroi was waiting for someone, and many times, the people who made him wait didn't know that he was waiting for him, and they wouldn't want to wait like this. Of course, Oneiroi wasn't waiting for his friend, nor was he an enemy, just a target. Because no one can be called his enemy, whether in reality or in the game, as long as it is the target he is waiting for, it will become a dead person shortly after it finally appears.

Only those who are alive are worthy of being called enemies, and those who are dead are already dead, no matter what, without even the slightest threat. And how can you call it an enemy?

The period of time he had been waiting for was probably the time when the target could easily exist, and when this time had passed, it was the eternal and endless darkness that greeted. If they could know, they were now hopeful that this moment would never come.

But...

Now, the Oneiroi Machine and the others have arrived.

How did Oneiroi know? He didn't really know anything, but there was a signal from someone on the road below that the target had arrived, and he had already seen someone coming in the eyes of the Oneiroi Machine looking into the distance. As for whether there are difficulties between them, and how many twists and turns they have experienced, Oneiroi doesn't care about it, even if he kills the wrong person.

As long as someone has set a target for him, and he agrees, then Oneiroi will kill the target. How else would he be here? Of course, not everyone, all have the qualifications to make Oneiroi agree, he is not a killer, nor is he a person who kills for pleasure, whether it is interests or instinct, he will not be driven to kill.

He suddenly smiled bitterly, supercomputers probably can't be called human, right? Even if it can be called an ordinary person, at least in the empire, there can be no emperor, but it is absolutely not possible without a supercomputer, so if a supercomputer becomes a human, what should it be said?

Oneiroi thought about it, and finally searched for a word, Emperor Yitai.

This irrelevant thought flashed through him, and the person in the distance came much closer, riding on the back of a fast-running healthy horse, and galloping down the avenue. Soon they arrived, stepping into the path of the big tree where the Oneiroi stood and kicking up puffs of smoke and dust behind the horse.

Oneiroi didn't move, watching the horse and the knight on horseback approach, he reached out and pulled out a throwing knife from his bosom. Rubbing, skin touching throwing knives, cold touch, and a cold heart are almost the same indifference.

Closer, closer, the knight approached the path under the big tree where the Oneiroi was, and made his way through it as fast as he could.

It was at this moment that a light suddenly flashed in the eyes of the Oneiroi machine, and the same light that appeared in his eyes was a cold light that burst out from top to bottom. The flying knife between his fingers has been shot!