The world has turned into Hell's Game, why should I stay human? Chapter 1334 815: Temporary Madness: Motorcycle Syndrome_2

"Ready."

Liu Zheng responded.

"Okay."

"Bang!"

Right after the Heart Stealer uttered those words, a massive strike landed on his head.

There was no pain, yet the force proved incredibly powerful, causing his entire mind to ring loudly.

In his haze, Liu Zheng sensed himself descending slightly, while the noises around him sharpened.

"Bang!"

Yet another powerful strike.

He dropped further, and now he caught it distinctly.

A woman murmured to herself, voicing her affection for a coworker and bitterness over why that coworker preferred quitting instead of being with her.

A man beseeched God, begging for his wife to drop dead the following day to claim a huge insurance sum.

A child inquired if he could murder his teacher for five dollars to skip homework submission the next day.

Old folks, attorneys, sorcerers, Taoists, knights were present too...

Innumerable voices encircled Liu Zheng, rising and falling, each desperate for his attention as his soul rocked amid the relentless pulls.

"Mr. Liu, can you endure this intensity?"

The Heart Stealer's voice cut through the layered mist, penetrating his thoughts.

"I can."

Liu Zheng composed himself and declared.

"Fine, now for the ultimate push."

"Bang!"

A fresh devastating impact hammered his head, surpassing the force of the earlier two together.

Liu Zheng plunged deeper, hitting the pool's depths this round.

Every nearby voice sharpened into focus, and faintly, through the haze, he spotted crowds approaching him.

"Respond to them."

The Heart Stealer instructed.

"How should I respond?"

Liu Zheng questioned.

"The content of your reply doesn't matter—what counts is a booming voice and resolute stance."

The Heart Stealer answered.

"Okay."

Gazing directly forward, he watched a chubby woman approach him.

"Why doesn't he love me?"

The woman shed huge tears that carved trails through her heavy makeup.

"How should I know? Perhaps he's gay?"

Liu Zheng snapped irritably.

The most irritating bunch are these smitten idiots—when one rejects you, switch to another; why cling to a single crappy spot like when shitting.

"You're right, it's obviously not my fault."

The woman departed joyfully, replaced by a tie-less suited man stepping forward.

"Please, make my wife die. Otherwise, my family's doomed."

The man dropped to his knees, begging desperately.

"Broke? Sell your ass then. A proper office gent (og) like you would thrive at the Black Market."

Liu Zheng booted him straight back into the mist.

"Five bucks to handle my teacher."

A kid with a backpack materialized, eyes keen and rebellious.

"Here's ten bucks—now scram and finish your homework! Fail to top the class, and chow down shit in the gutters!"

He whipped out ten bucks, flung it at the kid's face, and swatted him aside.

...

Figures kept popping from the mist one after another, showing up faster and spouting ever stranger words.

Luckily, Liu Zheng was a battle-hardened pro, familiar with every oddball and monster, sticking to his 'you yap yours, I blast mine' mindset—riposting fiercely with curses, striking when words failed, kicking when blows missed, shoving them all back into the haze.

At last, the mist produced no more challengers.

"Mr. Liu, draw a deep breath now—inhale only, hold it in."

The Heart Stealer's voice echoed once more.

"Alright."

His mouth parted wide for a massive gulp of air, drawing the ambient mist rapidly into himself.

He held until lungs screamed full; then a tentacle swooped down from above, coiled around him, and yanked him from the pool.

"Mr. Liu, what's your condition?"

The Heart Stealer unwound the tentacle and inquired.

"Gan Lin, my head's like it got gangbanged by a thousand fly folk—fucking killer migraine."

Liu Zheng shook his head while complaining.

The pounding ache throbbed fiercely, but that draining frailty was gone for good.

"Temporary madness 'Motorcycle Syndrome' acquired, lasts for 48 hours."

The system's announcement suddenly blared.

"Looks like 'Motorcycle Syndrome' is your side effect."

The Heart Stealer chimed in simultaneously.

"What the hell is 'Motorcycle Syndrome'?"

Liu Zheng grumbled annoyedly.

"True to its name, 'Motorcycle Syndrome' makes your talk turn annoyingly crude at times..."

"Stop, no need to spell it out—I get what 'motorcycle' implies."

He cut off the Heart Stealer's words.

Not a dire debuff by any means, but claiming it spares your job or daily grind is pure crap—at present, he itched to punch his own face.

"Okay."

The Heart Stealer grinned and replied.

"Any fix for this side effect?"

Liu Zheng probed.

"A method exists, sure. Yet soul issues heal best naturally; repeated outside meddling risks irreparable soul harm. As a licensed soul healer pro, I strongly recommend skipping it."

The Heart Stealer advised solemnly.

"Alright."

He decided to trust the expert's counsel.

"Oh yeah, those folks in the pool..."

"Every treatment ingredient comes from legal sources."

The Heart Stealer grinned.

"I'll act like I never wondered."

He pursed his lips.

In the big city, the stricter your morals, the more you gotta play dumb—or nothing gets done.

Payment cleared, the Heart Stealer handed over a carved stone card, matching the last one.

"Carry this card; my kin detect it. In scraps, they may honor my name."

The Heart Stealer explained.

"And if your rivals show?"

Liu Zheng queried.

"Your mind jumps wild... Relax, no foes left in my clan."

The Heart Stealer assured.

"Cool. Heading out."

"Safe travels."

Exiting the office tower, he checked the clock—mere fifteen minutes elapsed.

No chance for more tasks though, so Liu Zheng dashed to his spirit car, speeding toward the drop-off spot.

He pulled up to a four-level structure, scanned the signs adorning its front, and pinpointed his mark.

A stark white plaque bore conical black streaks radiating inward from the borders, converging on five fat black characters smack in the middle.

Golden Hour Gym.

"Third floor?"

Liu Zheng noted the level and stepped inside.

Zero lobby doors, zero barriers, zero guards—smooth sailing right up to the gym door.

This seamless access nearly brought tears to his eyes.

"This is proper order! City Hall ought to scrap every door and guard—delivery speed truly gauges a city's progress!"

Liu Zheng roared inwardly.

Vent over, he strode into the gym.

The foyer opened before him: front desk dead ahead at entry, vending machine beside it, corner tables and couches flanking both sides.

Flanking the desk stood turnstiles left and right, revealing rows of workout gear beyond.

"Hello, how may I assist?"

The front desk girl in cropped tee and shorts—tall, toned without bulk, arm muscles subtly defined—greeted.

"Hi, Cang Xiangsha around?"

Liu Zheng inquired.

"What's your business with Cang Xiangsha?"

The receptionist replied.

"Oh, word is he's got killer fitness wisdom, so I came to swap tips."

He lied smooth-faced.

"Okay, hold on please."

The receptionist dipped her head, then bellowed.

"Coach Jie Xiong, troublemaker at the desk!"

"???"

As Liu Zheng puzzled, a fierce blast of wind erupted from the turnstile, flinging desk papers everywhere.

Through the whirlwind sheets, a guy in blue-white track top and blue track pants vaulted the gate, slamming down before him.

"Bang!"

The entire structure quaked.