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Seizing the King (5)

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Fu Moyang’s smile didn’t reach his eyes: “Hmm, then explain.”

“…” Chen Li felt a headache coming on. He cautiously glanced at the girl on the bed, and a few seconds later, he suddenly realized, “It’s you?”

Wendy wiped away the tears that Fu Moyang had scared out of her, looking pitiful as she nodded: “It’s me, Your Highness, I am willing to be your subject.”

The air in the room grew suddenly cold, and Fu Moyang remained silent, staring at her.

Wendy shuddered again. She was wearing a new dress, and her previously filthy face and body were now clean, which was why Chen Li hadn’t recognized her right away.

Even though her flaxen hair was still dry and her face showed signs of malnutrition, at least she was no longer the sickly little ugly duckling.

Chen Li felt a bit awkward. He realized that after he’d captured Wendy, he’d forgotten about her, and when the others couldn’t wait for his orders, they’d misunderstood.

Wendy stretched her neck like a willing sacrificial offering, her voice earnest: “Your Highness, I am willing…”

“Stop.” Chen Li raised his hand to interrupt, speaking quickly, “I don’t need you to offer yourself. I don’t want to embrace you. I have other things to do. You can leave now.”

Wendy bit her lower lip, her expression a mix of unwillingness and anxiety.

She was still young, and after being captured by the vampires, the terrifying creatures had told her that if she was embraced by the prince, she wouldn’t die or be eaten.

But now the prince was saying he didn’t need her—would she die? Would she become dinner for those vampires?

Though she said nothing, Chen Li still guessed what she was thinking and couldn’t help but speak: “I won’t treat you as food.”

“Do you really think someone like you, all dry and scrawny, is worthy of the prince’s embrace?”

A mocking voice came from beside him. Fu Moyang had somehow appeared next to him and was now openly displaying his cruelty.

How could he say such hurtful words to a little girl? Chen Li secretly glared at him.

Fu Moyang turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

Wendy looked at Fu Moyang, then at Chen Li, and seemed to imagine something, her gaze growing even more sorrowful. She looked at Fu Moyang as though he were a seductive fox spirit.

Fu Moyang merely remained indifferent, stepped forward, and lifted her, blankets and all. Ignoring her futile attempts to struggle, he opened the door and threw her out.

Chen Li: “You’re so rough.”

He wanted to go out and tell the other vampires not to harass her, but as soon as he took a step, Fu Moyang grabbed his waist and pulled him back onto the bed.

Fu Moyang flicked his wolf tail and took out a new blanket from the player space, covering both himself and Chen Li with it. His tone was forceful: “Don’t worry about her. You need to sleep now.”

The moment he saw the large coffin in the room, he had guessed that the frightened lamb hadn’t slept the previous night.

The man’s cold aura enveloped him, and his tense nerves inexplicably relaxed. A wave of drowsiness hit him—this was the conditioned reflex from his previous life. Chen Li yawned and stubbornly said: “Don’t bully her. She’s just a bystander.”

He didn’t even realize he had already gotten used to sleeping in the same bed with Fu Moyang, even going so far as to look for a more comfortable position.

“Mm.” Fu Moyang reached over and rubbed his hair. “Sleep.”

The wolf tail once again coiled around his little leg, full of intense possessiveness.

Just as Chen Li was about to drift off to sleep, he felt his little goat horn being touched again. The familiar shiver ran through him, and he shook his head, still unable to avoid it. He could only whimper in frustration.

. . . . .

The next morning, when Chen Li opened his eyes, he realized his little horn had retracted. He happily went to wash up, while Fu Moyang looked a little displeased and regretful.

System 001 appeared just in time to interrupt his joy: [Ahem, didn’t you forget something?]

Chen Li was puzzled for a moment, then remembered the promise he made to Gu Fu.

His movement halted suddenly, and Fu Moyang immediately noticed. He instinctively released his ghostly energy and scanned the area to ensure no threats to the little lamb. Once he was sure, he looked down at Chen Li: “What’s wrong?”

“I’d like to ask you for a favor.” Chen Li blinked.

Fu Moyang, pleased with the trust in his eyes, smiled: “What favor?”

Chen Li tried to give a rough explanation, almost exposing himself, but then fabricated a lie to cover up the incident involving Gu Fu.

He was starting to feel dry-mouthed as he spoke, and when he looked up, he noticed Fu Moyang frowning deeply.

Chen Li, feeling a little nervous, asked: “Is this a serious matter?”

Although he didn’t think his friend would sever ties with him over something like this—as the system had said—it was better if as few people as possible knew he was a guide NPC.

Fu Moyang: “Hmm, it’s quite serious. How well do you know that man?”

“…What?” Chen Li’s expression briefly turned confused. “Is that what you wanted to ask?”

Fu Moyang’s silver-grey eyes darkened: “What’s your relationship with him?”

Chen Li obediently answered: “We’re good friends.”

Just being friends is already something—and it’s even ‘good friends’!

Fu Moyang smiled in anger: “You two are close?”

Chen Li, unguarded, nodded: “Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were little.”

The fire inside Fu Moyang burned even hotter, but his face remained calm: “Oh, does he go by that name in the game too?”

Chen Li shook his head: “His name is ‘K’.”

Fu Moyang: “Got it.”

Even though his reaction seemed strange, Chen Li understood that Fu Moyang had agreed to help him.

It just seemed like he didn’t like Gu Fu very much. He hoped that nothing would go wrong when they met later.

Except for the elves, players from all other races received a note, instructing them to meet at the Moonlit Plaza at midnight and turn the hour hand three times to gather.

When Chen Li and Fu Moyang arrived, the plaza was empty. Recently, there had been rumors about vampires appearing in the capital, and no humans dared to go out at night, which was just as well for them.

Chen Li stood on the stone sculpture and turned the hour hand. The underground passage slowly opened, revealing a long, dark staircase.

It was pitch black inside, as if it were the gaping mouth of a giant beast.

With Fu Moyang by his side, Chen Li hesitated for just a moment before quickly stepping down.

Vampires’ night vision made it easy for him to navigate the darkness.

After walking for about five minutes, they heard soft voices coming from within.

As they got closer, the voices stopped.

“Is that a player?” someone asked nervously.

Chen Li: “Yes, a player.”

The moment his voice rang out, a light shone toward them. Gu Fu, holding the featherfolk’s light stone, looked delighted: “You’re here. I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”

He didn’t expose Chen Li’s real name, but he immediately revealed that they knew each other.

The other three players exchanged glances and dropped their guard.

The dwarf player was the first to flatter Chen Li: “So you’re K’s teammate. You must be from the Fox Hunt Guild, right?”

“With a big shot leading us, the casualty rate in this game will definitely be low!”

They had just learned they were in the same game as the second-ranked player, K, and were thrilled. They couldn’t wait to shower him with compliments.

Gu Fu didn’t stop them but instead reached out to Chen Li with a gentle smile: “Come…”

Before he could finish, a lazy voice interrupted: “Who told you he’s K’s teammate?”

Gu Fu’s face darkened: “Who?”

Fu Moyang stepped out of the shadows behind Chen Li, his tone surprised: “Didn’t he tell you? I’m his teammate.”

As soon as Fu Moyang’s signature silver-grey eyes appeared in the small room, it fell completely silent.

After two seconds of stunned silence, Gu Fu practically ground his teeth as he spat out the name: “Fu. Mo. Yang.”

He never would’ve imagined that the teammate Chen Li mentioned would be that person—the one who had always trampled over him. A storm of emotions surged within.

His shock instantly morphed into fury when he saw that shameless man casually resting his hand around his childhood friend’s waist.

“Well, well,” Fu Moyang turned his head slightly, clearly unconcerned, and said with a mocking tone, “I was wondering who it was—turns out it’s the loser I beat.”

With a crack, Gu Fu nearly crushed the lightstone in his hand.

Three sharp gasps sounded in the room. The other players wished they could turn into bugs and burrow into the ground—anything but witness this kind of battlefield.

The dwarf player who had blurted something out earlier was already despairing.

It’s over. They look like they’re about to fight, and when gods go to war, what chance do small fry like him have of stopping it? Was he really going to die at the hands of his own team?

The air in the room was thick with tension, the atmosphere growing more oppressive by the second—until a soft, slightly whiny voice broke the standoff.

Chen Li reached out and gave a light tug on the wolf ears: “Why did you have to say it like that?”

He had heard it clearly—Fu Moyang had provoked Gu Fu first by calling him a loser.

The other players stiffly shifted their gaze to Chen Li, visibly horrified.

What the hell was this guy doing? Couldn’t he feel the crushing pressure in the room? He actually tugged his ear?! Was he trying to get himself killed??

And then, something even more unbelievable happened. The notoriously cruel and ruthless Fu Moyang… didn’t get angry. Instead, he bent down slightly, making it easier for Chen Li to tug his ear, and his tone softened almost instantly: “Sorry.”

His apology was shockingly sincere.

Chen Li absentmindedly rubbed the wolf ear again.

It looked sharp and cool, but to his surprise, it was actually soft to the touch.

The expressions on the three players’ faces grew even more bewildered, like they were watching a kitten rolling around on top of a tiger.

In a daze, they realized something: it looked like both of these powerhouses were competing to be on Chen Li’s team.

If someone had said this on the forums, they would’ve been laughed off as delusional. But now, the truth was right in front of their eyes—undeniably real.

Feeling a little self-conscious under their stunned stares, Chen Li awkwardly withdrew his hand from the wolf ears and softly, apologetically said: “Sorry, K. He didn’t mean it.”

Fu Moyang twitched his wolf ears and smugly flicked his tail.

Gu Fu masked the wild jealousy in his eyes with a smile: “It’s fine.”

In reality, his hands, hidden behind his back, had already clenched into fists.

He had never imagined this day would come—the childhood friend he had always seen as his possession was now standing in front of him, apologizing on behalf of another man.

It was as if they were the ones who had always been together, and he was the outsider.

Swallowing the mess of emotions, Gu Fu took a step forward, seizing the initiative with a concerned tone: “I’ve been worried about you ever since I entered the instance. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Chen Li felt a bit touched, but before he could say anything, someone else cut in.

Fu Moyang spoke lazily but with unwavering certainty: “He’s been under my watch the whole time. No need for you to trouble yourself.”

Just like that, he reasserted his claim over Chen Li.

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Author’s note:

Other players’ inner thoughts: Aaaaaaaah they’re totally about to fight!!

Chen Li’s inner thoughts: Wolf ears… so soft… I-I wanna pinch them again… (blushes)

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Seizing the King (4)

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The strange sensation on his forehead was getting worse and worse. Chen Li stopped everything he was doing, and with a mix of fear and grievance, said softly: “It’s so uncomfortable…”

Fu Moyang wrapped an arm around his waist and glanced at his forehead for a moment before calmly saying: “You’re losing control.”

Just like his wolf tail, but the little one’s reaction seemed far more intense.

Two small black triangles had begun to poke out.

Fu Moyang: “Your little horns are showing.”

As he spoke, he reached out with his free hand to touch them.

Feeling a sudden wave of nervousness, Chen Li instinctively shouted: “Don’t touch!”

But he was a moment too late. Fu Moyang’s fingertips had already made contact—just barely—and a surge of tingling, overpowering sensation swept through Chen Li’s body, bringing with it a wave of indescribable pleasure.

The newly grown horns were incredibly sensitive.

Chen Li’s pupils dilated slightly. He reached out with his index and middle fingers to grab the sleeve of Fu Moyang’s shirt, his voice trembling on the verge of tears: “D-Don’t touch them…”

He had lost control while sucking blood, and now he’d grown little horns too. All he wanted now was to bury himself in a hole and disappear.

Afraid he might make some embarrassing noises, he buried his face into Fu Moyang’s chest like a flustered little ostrich, trying to hide from the man’s large, wandering hand.

Fu Moyang withdrew his hand with surprising cooperation and asked gently: “It feels really bad, doesn’t it? Are you sure you don’t want me to touch them again?”

“No,” Chen Li grit his teeth. His little horns were starting to ache.

Even staying completely still was painful.

Desperate, he reached up and tried to rub them himself.

But what had felt so sensitive under Fu Moyang’s touch now felt like unfeeling stone in his own hands. No matter how much he rubbed, he couldn’t relieve the discomfort.

Tears welled up as he murmured in frustration: “Stupid horns…”

He wanted to pinch them, but was afraid he might hurt the delicate new growth.

They were far too fragile, and his own clumsy attempts brought no relief—only made things worse.

A soft sigh came from beside him. Fu Moyang’s hand once again covered the little horns. He gently circled them a few times before soothingly stroking both horns with care, making sure neither was left out.

In less than a minute, the itching and aching were completely gone. Chen Li unconsciously let out a low purring sound from his throat, a sign of comfort.

Retracting his claws that had been ready to swipe, he relaxed like a cat being scratched under the chin. His eyes narrowed in pleasure, and his thoughts blanked out.

It actually… didn’t feel so bad.

That moment of indulgence left him completely limp in Fu Moyang’s arms, sitting obediently on the man’s firm thigh.

But the spell was broken with a sudden crack—the sound of a twig snapping nearby. Chen Li’s eyes flew open in alarm.

“S-Sorry!” a voice called out. The intruder wore a black robe and sounded panicked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you two!!”

His gaze landed on the bloodstains on Fu Moyang’s collar, then shifted to Chen Li’s red eyes and fangs. He thought he had stumbled upon a vampire’s feeding session.

Tch. What an eyesore.

Fu Moyang’s expression instantly turned cold.

But Chen Li moved faster, hastily getting up and putting distance between himself and Fu Moyang. Trying to act calm, he asked: “Who are you?”

Unfortunately, his flushed ears and watery eyes gave him away instantly.

The player cursed inwardly: “I’m just a wandering undead looking for someone…”

He was too nervous to notice Chen Li’s awkward state.

Ever since the feeding started, System 001 had been actively shielding itself, but now he finally spoke: [He’s the player.]

Chen Li’s brain froze for a second: “Oh… oh, so it’s you.”

Being seen by a player was clearly more embarrassing than being seen by an NPC.

The player looked like he was about to cry: “Y-Yeah… it’s me.”

What kind of twisted luck was this? Of all people to mess up in front of, it had to be the guide NPC of this instance.

Looking at the rising fear level, System 001: […]

For a moment, even it wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that the guy hadn’t seen Fu Moyang’s face.

The two of them stood there in awkward silence.

Suddenly, a sharp gust of wind slashed through the air, knocking the player’s hood clean off. The cut was so precise it left a deep groove in the ground. Any higher, and it would’ve shaved off part of his skull.

Staring at the pale, skinless skull beneath the hood—no face, no features, just an empty skeleton—Chen Li fell silent again.

At the same time, he was screaming internally: Was I really just talking to that thing!?

System 001: Be glad you’re not from the undead clan. Otherwise, you’d be the walking pile of bones.

It was obvious who had released the blade of wind, but from the skeleton’s angle, he couldn’t see Fu Moyang’s movements. He mistakenly assumed Chen Li had done it to warn him and was scared out of his mind. Flustered, he stammered: “S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to! You want me to defect, right? I’ll do it! Right now!”

What a spineless turncoat.

Chen Li silently handed him a slip of paper: “Don’t forget to show up.”

He’d said it calmly, but in the player’s ears, it sounded like: If you dare not show up tomorrow, the next gust of wind will slice off your head.

The skeleton shuddered and stood at attention: “I-I’ll definitely be there!”

He was trembling so hard that Chen Li worried he’d fall apart, so he swallowed the threatening lines he’d originally prepared.

The two of them, both thinking “this guy’s terrifying”, exchanged the slip of paper in silence—an awkward and oppressive moment.

Behind them, Fu Moyang raised an eyebrow: “Still not done?”

In other words: Get lost already.

The skeleton immediately shook his head—too hard. His head actually popped off. Panicking, he scrambled to pick up his skull from the ground, then turned and ran with a rattling clatter.

Chen Li: “…”

He blinked, finally snapping out of the chaotic, stunned state brought on by seeing a walking skeleton. That’s when he realized his newly grown little horns weren’t hurting anymore.

“I don’t feel uncomfortable anymore,” Chen Li said with a sheepish smile. “Thanks for earlier.”

Fu Moyang casually adjusted a certain… overly confident area and looked a little disappointed: “Mm.”

Completely unaware, Chen Li’s tone brightened: “Oh right—now I don’t have to go deal with the werewolves.”

Fu Moyang: “Hmm?”

Chen Li explained: “My vampire subordinate said he couldn’t get in touch with the werewolf traitor. I thought I’d have to go find him myself.”

Vampires and werewolves were mortal enemies—avoiding contact was always better.

Fu Moyang replied in a cool tone: “I’ve already defected.”

That one sentence shut down everything else Chen Li had planned to say. He stared in disbelief: “What?”

How was this guy moving so fast? He hadn’t even issued the mission yet!

Fu Moyang explained lightly: “The mission is easy to deduce. So the moment I entered the game, I picked a fight with the old werewolf king. He was seriously injured, and I escaped.”

The man’s expression remained unchanged, completely not like someone who was lying. Chen Li trusted him almost without a doubt, his heart aching as he asked: “You weren’t hurt, right?”

“No, it’s just…” Fu Moyang lowered his gaze.

“Just what?” Chen Li grabbed his hand, his gaze firm. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

It was as if he had regained the confidence he had when he stood in front of Joker to protect him.

He immediately vowed: “It’s okay, I won’t let the werewolves bully you. I’m super fierce!”

To prove his words, he even bared his little sharp teeth.

A hint of triumph flashed in Fu Moyang’s eyes, but he sighed again, his expression unchanged: “I’m being hunted by other werewolves, and I can’t go back to my clan.”

System 001: … This damn “green tea” act.

When the last instance was about to end, he also injured himself to gain sympathy!

System 001 was frustrated: Host, please don’t be fooled again.

When it turned, it saw Chen Li with tears in his eyes, looking at Fu Moyang with deep sympathy.

[…]

System 001 was about to say something but decided to stay silent.

Chen Li suddenly had an idea: “Then come to my place first!”

His eyes lit up as he felt he had made a smart decision.

He was a vampire prince now, and other vampires wouldn’t dare object. Plus, if it weren’t for Fu Moyang, he’d be starving right now.

He even hoped Fu Moyang would help him act tomorrow to deceive Gu Fu.

Fu Moyang pretended to hesitate: “You want me to go to your vampire territory?”

Chen Li nodded eagerly, patting his chest to reassure him: “I’ll protect you.”

He thought Fu Moyang was worried about getting hurt.

Fu Moyang appeared thoughtful. Finally, under Chen Li’s expectant gaze, he nodded: “Alright, let’s go.”

And so, the little lamb brought the big gray wolf with a wagging tail back to his home.

. . . . .

When they arrived at the vampire castle, it was already late at night. The nocturnal vampires were starting to emerge, and each one who saw Chen Li first bowed respectfully before casting wary eyes at the werewolf.

The murderous aura radiating from Fu Moyang made them instinctively reveal their red eyes and sharp teeth, ready for a fight.

A trusted subordinate rushed over: “Your Highness, keeping a werewolf like this around is too dangerous!”

He could immediately tell that Fu Moyang was different from other werewolves—much more terrifying.

Dangerous?

Chen Li turned to look at Fu Moyang. The man gazed back at him with sincerity, as if to assure him that he hadn’t done anything.

But as soon as Chen Li turned away, Fu Moyang’s eyes grew cold and indifferent, his aura becoming violent as he looked at the vampires.

Vampires: …

There’s a curse I want to say.

Chen Li furrowed his brows: “He won’t do anything reckless.”

Behind him, Fu Moyang curved his lips into a cruel smile: “Yeah.”

But he might catch a few rebellious bats for a late-night snack.

The trusted subordinate wanted to say more, but as soon as Chen Li saw him, he recalled the image from last night when he punished himself by pulling out his own heart. He had no desire to engage in conversation and just wanted to get back to his room quickly.

So, he straightened his face and snapped: “I know my limits.”

With that, the other vampires dared not to persuade him any further. They could only watch as the extremely dangerous werewolf swaggered into the room with their prince.

Just as the door was closing, the subordinate suddenly remembered: “Your Highness, everything is ready for you!”

Chen Li, still confused, turned around: “What?”

What’s ready?

Before he could ask, the door had already slowly shut, leaving him and Fu Moyang alone in the vast, empty room.

Still puzzled, Chen Li turned his head in surprise and noticed that the room, which had originally only contained a coffin, now had a luxurious bed.

There was a bulge under the covers, and it shifted under their gaze.

Fu Moyang’s smile remained unchanged, but his eyes narrowed dangerously: “Your Highness, what is this?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the bulge started moving on its own. A young girl struggled to roll out from beneath the blankets, her hands and feet bound with red silk for a sacrificial offering. With teary eyes, she looked toward the door: “Are you finally going to embrace me?”

Fu Moyang’s tone turned strange: “Oh, an embrace, huh?”

The werewolf’s tail drooped in displeasure.

A chill ran down Chen Li’s spine for a moment, and he muttered softly: “…I can explain. Do you believe me?”

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Author’s note:

He’s jealous, he’s jealous!

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Seizing the King (3)

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Hearing the voice, Chen Li froze mid-struggle and slowly lifted his head, staring at him in a daze.

The man wasn’t wearing any mask this time, letting his strikingly handsome face show fully in the game. Once he saw Chen Li calm down, he replaced his rough grip with a gentler hold, like cradling a small lamb.

He raised an eyebrow slightly: “Little lost lamb, how did you end up here?”

His ambiguous tone left Chen Li unsure—had the man recognized him or not?

But there was no time to think further, as the sound of light footsteps approached from behind.

A girl’s ghostly voice drifted closer: “Big brother, come play with us.”

A textbook horror movie entrance.

“Baa…” Chen Li shivered, his ears flattening back in fear. Instinctively, he burrowed into Fu Moyang’s chest.

His tiny voice was full of fear.

A terrified little lamb.

Fu Moyang’s lips curled slightly, the hint of a smile barely visible. Then he casually looked toward the source of the voice.

The girl had one hand against the wall, her face still a blank mask of skin. Just one glance from Fu Moyang was enough to freeze her in place.

As a malevolent ghost, she clearly understood just how terrifying this man was.

But why? He wasn’t even part of her kind, and yet the aura he gave off was even more dreadful than hers—she was supposed to be the most fearsome of all.

She stared at him warily. Her tiny hands were covered in bulging black veins, and her sharp, black fingernails had dug straight into the wall.

Everything around them fell silent. Chen Li twitched his ears and couldn’t help but look up: “Baa?”

Did she leave?

Fu Moyang absentmindedly reached up to rub the soft curls on his fur, his tall figure completely shielding the ghost behind him. Then he turned and headed downstairs.

The girl’s resentful glare was almost tangible. From her back, strands of blood-red mist kept extending outward, as if trying to grab the boy. But instinctively, she didn’t dare move.

The little lamb in Fu Moyang’s arms had no idea. He tilted his head, thinking hard, and then suddenly had a revelation: That girl must’ve been sealed on the second floor!

No wonder she couldn’t follow them.

Relieved, Chen Li let out two cheerful bleats to the man, as if to say thank you.

The innocent little lamb still had no clue what kind of predator he had just fallen into the hands of.

Fu Moyang said nothing, simply carrying him downstairs. When they reached the heavy wooden door—locked tightly just moments ago—it swung open easily at his touch.

Chen Li pouted and stuck his tongue out at the stubborn door.

Only once the strange villa was completely out of sight, with no ghosts following them, did Fu Moyang finally come to a stop.

“What should we do now?” he asked.

Chen Li tilted his head in confusion: “Baa?”

Fu Moyang said calmly: “Young lambs like this usually have the most tender meat.”

As he spoke, he even gave the little lamb skewer in his arms a playful jiggle.

Chen Li: !!!

His tail drooped in fright, and he trembled pitifully.

“Baaaa…”

But the moment he looked up and saw the amusement in the man’s eyes, Chen Li realized—he’d been tricked again.

Fuming, he bit down on Fu Moyang’s sleeve.

Fu Moyang chuckled softly and finally stopped teasing him: “Can you turn back?”

He could tell at a glance that Chen Li’s original form this time was a vampire.

Chen Li hesitated, then squeezed his eyes shut and focused hard: Turn back, turn back!

Whether it was because Fu Moyang’s arms felt unusually safe, or because he’d gained a bit of transformation experience earlier, this time—poof!—he actually succeeded.

The fluffy, cotton-candy-like lamb was instantly enveloped in a flash of white light, transforming back into a slender teenage boy.

Completely naked, Chen Li blinked. It didn’t take long for the seriousness of the situation to dawn on him.

He was still being held in a princess carry. Though it wasn’t the first time, this was the first time he’d been naked while being held like this. In a panic, unsure of what part of himself to cover, he finally had a stroke of genius and slapped a hand over the man’s eyes.

Trying to sound fierce, though his voice trembled slightly, he snapped: “No peeking!”

For once, Fu Moyang showed a shred of decency and didn’t quip that he’d already seen everything. He obediently nodded instead.

His brain even short-circuited for a moment.

Hmm… pink. All soft and pink.

Very cute.

It wasn’t until System 001 airdropped him some clothes and he hastily put them on with one hand that Chen Li finally let go of the hand covering Fu Moyang’s eyes.

Fu Moyang had been unusually well-behaved the whole time—but in truth, he’d taken advantage of the chaos to sneak a peek through Chen Li’s fingers.

He even contentedly licked his canine tooth.

Chen Li couldn’t help but kick his legs: “Put me down already!”

Fu Moyang obliged, though his mind was still full of that soft pink image from moments ago.

“How did you find me?” Chen Li asked in a small voice.

Fu Moyang replied: “I could sense a little scaredy-cat on the verge of tears, so I came.”

He didn’t answer directly, but Chen Li was quickly distracted by the “scaredy-cat” part.

“I’m not scaredy!” he huffed, waving his arms for emphasis. “She was really terrifying!”

His voice grew smaller and guiltier as he spoke.

Fu Moyang smoothly went along with it: “Mm, it was all her fault.”

That coaxing, babying tone made Chen Li even more embarrassed. He quickly changed the subject: “So… what race did you turn into?”

But as soon as he asked, his eyes widened in alarm.

Wait a minute—this was the territory of the undead.

He silently took a step back: “You—you didn’t turn into an undead, did you?”

The being known as Fu Moyang, who in truth was an even more terrifying ghost, replied righteously: “No.”

Suddenly, something on top of his head twitched. Chen Li could only stare in disbelief as two fluffy wolf ears popped up.

Fu Moyang raised an eyebrow and smiled: “Werewolf.”

Oh. So, he was a werewolf.

Chen Li had barely begun to relax for a second before his nerves tightened again.

If he remembered correctly… weren’t werewolves natural enemies of vampires?

Fu Moyang slowly closed the distance between them, his expression unreadable: “What’s wrong, dear vampire?”

The gap that Chen Li had just created between them was closed again.

“Nothing…” Before he could finish, a low gurgle from his stomach interrupted him.

His face went blank as he looked down at his belly in disbelief.

As if to respond to his gaze, it let out another weak but utterly embarrassing growl.

The sound was faint, but unfortunately, both a werewolf and a vampire were present—two creatures with incredibly sharp hearing.

Fu Moyang heard it clearly. “Hungry?” he asked, his tone calm.

Chen Li flushed with embarrassment: “Yeah… I haven’t eaten anything since I entered this instance.”

He thought back to the small cake the system had given him last night—it tasted like literal sludge. The memory alone made him want to cry.

While Chen Li was feeling dejected, Fu Moyang, oddly enough, seemed to be in a better mood because of that very sentence. He reached out and gently rested his hand on the back of Chen Li’s neck: “Want to drink some blood?”

Chen Li was just about to shake his head, but another gurgle from his stomach interrupted him again.

The hand on his neck began to gently stroke, not too light, not too firm. Fu Moyang slowly chipped away at his defenses: “I can let you drink my blood. You’re a vampire now—if you don’t feed, you won’t have the strength to work in the game.”

Chen Li hesitated: “But…”

Fu Moyang cut him off smoothly: “You can drink only my blood.”

It was a clever twist of words. He was trying to sink his claws into this little lamb’s soul—slowly making him dependent, inside and out.

This was his beloved little lamb. So he could do whatever he wanted with him.

The gentle stroking at the back of his neck was so comforting that Chen Li couldn’t help but squint his eyes, dazed: “Only your blood?” he murmured.

It sounded like a good deal.

As if drinking from only this person meant he wouldn’t truly fall into darkness. That as long as he only sought out this one man, only showed his softest side to him, he wouldn’t really become a monster.

But… why did it feel wrong?

A flicker of doubt crossed Chen Li’s mind.

Fu Moyang’s silver-grey eyes glinted as he coaxed him softly:“No one will get hurt. You’re just hungry. And I’m the only one you can trust.”

He raised a hand and sliced the skin over his collarbone. Beads of blood welled up instantly. The one-centimeter-deep wound was trivial for a werewolf—it healed in under five seconds.

But the scent of that blood… it spread through the air in an instant. Sweet and overwhelming, just like the man himself. It took over all of Chen Li’s senses, leaving him unable to think straight—let alone notice the trap the hunter had laid.

His resolve already wavering, the vampire’s eyes grew hazy. Fu Moyang pulled him into his arms, and the sweet scent grew even stronger, carrying the unique chill that belonged only to Fu Moyang.

The hunger in Chen Li’s belly flared violently, tearing apart the last of his reason.

“I-I’ll just take a little sip,” Chen Li said, swallowing nervously, his eyes fixed on the alluring spot just above the man’s collarbone.

“Mm.” Fu Moyang reached out to gently rub his head. “Go ahead.”

That soft permission made Chen Li lunge forward eagerly. He pressed his lips to the spot, clumsily licking and nibbling in an attempt to draw blood, but he didn’t even manage to leave a mark.

Fu Moyang’s Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily. His eyes darkened, and a muffled groan escaped his lips. The arms wrapped around Chen Li tightened slightly as he lifted him onto his lap.

Chen Li’s mind was consumed by one thought: he needed blood.

He whimpered softly, “I’m hungry…”

“Don’t rush.” Fu Moyang’s silver-grey eyes had turned into narrow, beast-like slits. He spoke in a low, restrained voice: “Show your fangs.”

Finally, under the guidance of that deep, magnetic voice, the disobedient little fangs emerged. Without needing any more direction, Chen Li instinctively bit down, piercing the skin with his small tiger-like teeth. Blood welled up instantly, and he began to suck greedily.

A vampire’s saliva can confuse and paralyze their prey—and it even has a slight aphrodisiac effect.

That effect shouldn’t work on werewolves.

But the one drinking now wasn’t just anyone—it was his beloved little lamb.

Not only did Fu Moyang react—his reaction was overwhelming.

A tingling sensation spread from the wound across his whole body, like soft feathers teasing his nerves.

His wolf tail slipped out uncontrollably, swaying behind him.

So sweet…

Chen Li had no idea that the werewolf holding him was on the verge of losing control. His eyes were red as he lost himself in drinking blood. Because he was drinking a little too slowly, a few drops spilled, trailing down from the man’s collarbone to his chest.

The little vampire, possessive of his food, let out a few pitiful whimpers from his throat, trying desperately to suck up every drop, his movements growing more frantic.

Fu Moyang gently soothed him, stroking his back: “Drink slowly.”

But when he spoke, he realized his voice had already turned hoarse, thick with desire.

His wolf tail swished again, curling around the boy’s calf.

Chen Li didn’t notice anything strange. Like a traveler in the desert who had finally found an oasis, he drank until he was full—but even then, he was reluctant to stop.

It wasn’t until he felt a strange itch on his forehead that his senses finally began to return.

W-Wait a second… Something’s growing out… QAQ

---

---

Seizing the King (2) Part 2

---

System 001: [I’m not joking. He’s ranked second on the player leaderboard, always overshadowed by Fu Moyang.]

[Especially since Fu Moyang’s style is extremely arrogant and domineering. In the player community, where people have a twisted admiration for strength, Fu Moyang’s reputation and fame have always been much higher than his, even though he’s the leader of the largest guild.]

Constantly being overshadowed by someone, even if you’re the guild leader and constantly praised, deep down, you know that if it weren’t for Fu Moyang not joining any guilds or planning to create his own, the top guild wouldn’t belong to you. That feeling can easily drive someone to take extreme actions.

As Chen Li returned using the teleportation array, he asked earnestly: [So what happens if he realizes I’m weak?]

System 001 suddenly became serious: [You’ll be killed.]

Killed by Gu Fu?

Chen Li instinctively wanted to argue, but then the cold, frosty look Gu Fu had given him earlier flashed through his mind.

Chen Li: […Why?]

He already had a vague idea.

He had seen the post on the forum about how Fu Moyang had killed a guide NPC, leading to the entire game clearing. Even now, people still occasionally bump the thread to watch.

Gu Fu probably wanted to create a similar “legend.”

When System 001 saw him deep in thought, it knew he had guessed right and snorted: [Not too dumb after all.]

Although the system was a bit proud, Chen Li could still sense its concern.

[Thank you.]

Inside the system space, the light orb visibly shifted from white to pink, and it hurriedly changed the subject: [You… you should go meet the human players now.]

Compared to the other races in this instance, humans seemed much more reassuring to him, at least not an unknown species.

The teleportation array was located right at the entrance of the human kingdom. Chen Li blended into a group and easily entered the capital. The bustling city inside was like an otherworldly town straight out of a comic.

A squad of knights even passed right by him. Chen Li lowered his head slightly, pressing down on his mask.

No one expected the only surviving vampire prince to appear here—especially in such a secretive manner.

The setting sun cast its light across the land. As the sunlight faded, Chen Li felt much more at ease and quickened his pace toward his destination—a tavern reserved for mercenaries.

It was a chaotic place, a gray zone in the capital where even wanted criminals would stop by for a drink.

Many patrons kept their faces hidden, but the moment Chen Li pushed open the door and entered, quite a few eyes turned his way.

Like wolves eyeing a lamb that had wandered into their pack.

But when they saw the mask on his face, those stares quickly lost interest and turned away.

Thanks to the mask, others would simply assume he was someone with a decent build but a forgettable face.

System 001 helpfully chimed in: [The player is at the second table to your left.]

Chen Li looked over with a faint sense of anticipation, but it quickly turned to disappointment when he laid eyes on the person.

He didn’t let it show. Staying in character, he walked over and recited the line from the mission panel: “Have you given it any thought?”

Although she wore a black cloak with a hood, Chen Li immediately recognized her as a female player.

She looked startled for a moment, then realized that the guide NPC had finally shown up. After some hesitation, she decided to play along and nodded.

Chen Li didn’t say more. He handed her a slip of paper and spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear: “I can help you become the ruler of the human race.”

The female player looked up: “What do you want in return?”

“Me?” Chen Li closed his eyes for a moment, pushing down the wave of embarrassment. “I just want to see this world turn upside down.”

Faced with such an over-the-top line, the female player didn’t react much: “Got it. I’ll think about it.”

Everyone said that, but Chen Li knew they would eventually come.

They had to. It was only by going there that they could meet other players, advance the storyline, and complete missions.

By the time he stepped out of the tavern, the sun had fully set. Night had fallen.

System 001: [Finally, there’s only the undead left today.]

Chen Li: [I wonder what race Fu Moyang has become.]

System 001 couldn’t help but ask: [Why are you so sure he’ll come looking for you?]

The question stunned Chen Li. He realized he had never even considered the possibility that Fu Moyang wouldn’t show up.

Something deep inside just told him: Fu Moyang would come.

Even though all they had was a verbal promise.

System 001: [Tch. Naive human.]

In the end, it didn’t say anything more—just told him how to get into the undead’s territory.

. . . . .

Staring at the vast, desolate territory of the undead before him, Chen Li finally felt the full weight of what he had gotten himself into—he really had entered a horror game.

There wasn’t a single soul in sight, yet the air was thick with cries of pain and sorrow.

The ground, soaked in blood, was a deep crimson and muddy. From time to time, a grotesque “flower” of flesh would burst up from beneath it. With three gaping holes arranged like a human face, it let out faint cries for help: “Help me… help me…”

Chen Li accidentally stepped on one. Immediately, the flesh flower let out a bloodcurdling scream: “Ahhhhhh!!!”

Chen Li screamed too and bolted toward the west.

He squeezed his eyes shut, too afraid to open them—until he ran straight into a wall.

The soft, yielding sensation bounced him back. Then, he felt the faintest breath against his neck.

“Who’s there?” Chen Li’s voice trembled. “System, is that you?”

System 001 speechless: [I don’t have a physical body.]

“Hee hee hee…”

The thing breathing on him spoke.

“It’s me.”

Chen Li froze. Terrified as he was, human instinct still drove him to look—to see who was speaking.

Shaking, he forced himself to slowly turn his head in the direction of the voice.

“Hee hee,” the floating head beamed. “Hi there.”

Apparently amused by his reaction, the head stretched its neck closer, grinning wide—and from its mouth rolled out a half-meter-long tongue.

Chen Li sucked in a sharp breath, spun around, and took off running again without hesitation!

The head, seemingly oblivious to how disturbing it was, extended its neck and chased after him.

With a goofy grin, it asked: “Why won’t you look at me?”

“Hee hee hee… hee hee… hee…”

Chen Li was even more terrified and ran faster, his voice almost breaking into sobs: “Go away!”

The head blew a puff of cold air at him: “You smell so nice. I want to be friends.”

It stayed half a step behind him, deliberately toying with him, like it was enjoying the scare.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, a villa appeared.

Chen Li didn’t waste time questioning why a villa would appear in a place like this—he just wanted to lose the creepy floating head. So, without thinking, he dashed inside.

In his panic, he didn’t notice the change in the ghost. The playful floating head, so carefree just moments ago, froze in place the moment the villa appeared—like it had just seen something truly terrifying.

It stared at the villa with a mix of fear and resentment but didn’t dare take another step. It hissed venomously, then slowly backed away, unwilling to challenge the authority of the “King.”

Chen Li, completely unaware that he’d just dashed into a forbidden zone even worse than before, was simply relieved to be free of the floating head.

He walked up to the villa’s door and knocked: “Is anyone there?”

Of course, no one answered. But the door creaked open slowly on its own.

Startled, Chen Li flinched and pulled his hand back.

There was no one behind the door.

Maybe it was just old and falling apart?

He mustered his courage and stepped inside: “Hello? Is anyone home?”

Bang!

The door slammed shut behind him.

The room plunged into darkness.

Thanks to his vampire vision, Chen Li could see the interior clearly. The furniture was coated in thick dust—no one had lived here for a long, long time.

Chen Li, terrified, turned to open the door, only to find that the once “old and worn-out” door had suddenly become unusually solid — it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pushed or pulled.

He remembered that when he first entered, he had briefly glanced upstairs and noticed a window was open.

Suppressing his growing fear, Chen Li cautiously ascended the stairs, still apologizing politely: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come in. I’ll leave right away.”

Once again, there was no response, but as soon as he reached the second floor, he heard the sound of muffled crying.

Chen Li dared not even breathe loudly: [System, did you hear that?]

System 001 sighed: [I heard it.]

The crying grew louder and clearer, though it seemed to be coming from nowhere.

Chen Li felt like he might start crying too, and whispered: “Please stop crying, I’m scared…”

Surprisingly, the crying actually softened.

Then Chen Li saw the source of the crying— a little girl crouched in the corner.

“What’s wrong?” Despite his overwhelming fear, he couldn’t bring himself to leave a child behind, especially not when he was an adult man.

The little girl seemed just as frightened. Perhaps, like him, she had wandered into this place by mistake.

A sense of responsibility made Chen Li move a little closer: “Why are you here alone?”

The girl, facing away from him, sniffled and stopped crying, her voice breaking: “I’m looking for Xiao Hong.”

“Xiao Hong?” Chen Li stood behind her and reached out his hand. “Is she your friend? Let me take you out of here.”

The little girl’s voice brightened with hope: “Really? That’s great! But Xiao Hong isn’t my friend…”

She turned around, and there, to his horror, was a face with no skin, no features, just blood-red muscles and white bones.

“It’s my face.”

System 001 almost couldn’t help but laugh. Hah, such an old, classic scare tactic— who would still be frightened by this?

But when it saw its host’s face turn pale and his breath stop— clearly terrified— it fell silent.

System 001: [….]

The little girl placed her hand on Chen Li’s extended one. Her featureless face couldn’t show expression, but somehow, it gave off the sense that she was smiling.

The cold, lifeless hand made contact, and Chen Li, finally snapping out of his shock, let out a quiet scream and stumbled back, falling onto the ground with a thud.

“Baaa QAQ…”

Now it was the faceless girl’s turn to be stunned. She stared blankly at Chen Li, who had turned into a little lamb, not understanding why the big brother had turned into a small sheep.

Chen Li didn’t care what she was thinking. He scrambled to his feet and fled in the opposite direction.

He was so scared that he didn’t even pay attention to where he was going, and before he knew it, his foot slipped on the stairs, and he tumbled, about to roll down.

The expected pain never came. Instead, Chen Li felt himself being yanked by the scruff of his neck.

A familiar voice came from above, tinged with a hint of teasing.

“Look what I found… a little lost lamb.”

---

---

Seizing the King (2) Part 1

---

“Baa?!” Chen Li was startled by the sound he made, stepping backward and slipping right onto the clothes.

The fluffy little lamb on the ground looked completely confused, making it hard to resist wanting to scoop it up, kiss it, and comfort it.

Even the system, which had originally planned to mock his clumsiness, couldn’t bring itself to laugh anymore.

After falling, Chen Li’s first instinct was to get up, but his new body wasn’t cooperating. His four little hooves each flipped awkwardly, and he ended up landing on his back.

Blinking his dark, grape-like eyes, he finally realized the seriousness of the situation: “Baa baa baa???”

Why did I turn into a little lamb?

System 001, trying to offer some explanation: [Sometimes these kinds of discrepancies happen… Maybe the game detected that this species suits you better.]

That explanation was utterly useless.

Chen Li was a bit upset: “Baa!”

Not only had he turned into a vampire, but his true form was a little lamb. Meanwhile, every other vampire turned into bats.

He paused for a moment, then couldn’t help but think about what it would be like if he had turned into a bat. All dark and resembling a mouse… maybe being a little lamb wasn’t so bad after all.

The lamb in the coffin drooped his head for a while before quickly rallying and attempting to climb out of the coffin.

The longer he stayed in the coffin, the chillier he felt.

But for a little lamb the size of a small dog, trying to escape from the coffin was no easy feat.

Chen Li hummed and baa-ed for a while, finally tumbling out of the coffin in a roll. He ended up sitting on the floor, his little hooves splayed out, looking dazed.

[System, when will I be able to change back?]

Chen Li bleated pitifully.

System 001 scanned him and replied regretfully: [It will take at least one night.]

Chen Li thought for a moment and settled for a lesser request: [System, I’m hungry.]

The lingering scent of blood in the room only made the emptiness in his stomach feel worse.

System 001: [Oh, you can’t eat human food. In your current form, you can only drink blood.]

Chen Li’s eyes slowly widened in shock: [Only drink blood?]

System 001 mercilessly crushed his last hope: [Correct.]

Chen Li wagged his short little tail, unwilling to give up: “Baa…”

He wanted to eat sweet cake and ice cream.

The sight of the poor little lamb was too much. After some thought, System 001 gave in and exchanged a slice of strawberry cake for him.

The sweet strawberry scent made Chen Li’s eyes sparkle. He opened his mouth and took a big bite of the strawberry on top—then immediately gagged.

What spread through his mouth wasn’t the taste of strawberry, but a wave of nauseating disgust.

Still unconvinced, he licked some cream. Again—gag.

And so, in that room, there wasn’t just a sad little lamb anymore—there was a sad little lamb going to sleep with an empty stomach.

. . . . .

The next day, when Chen Li woke up in the corner of the room, he was pleasantly surprised to find himself back in human form. Suppressing his fear, he quickly took some clothes from the coffin and put them on, once again appearing as the mysterious and unpredictable vampire prince.

At least, that’s what he liked to think.

System 001 sighed: [If you go meet the players like this and end up running into Gu Fu, what then? Because of the special nature of this game, players can’t meet each other at the start. Your main task is to guide them toward a meeting. To protect your identity, you’ll need to put on a new disguise.]

Chen Li nodded, half-understanding: [Then can I exchange for a mask in the system shop?]

He remembered the mask Fu Moyang had worn in the last instance.

System 001: [Of course.]

With that, System 001 opened the system shop and navigated to the masks section.

There were countless masks, including some that looked exactly like human skin. According to the descriptions, they were made by “Skin-Painting Ghosts” and could completely change a person’s face once applied.

Chen Li looked at his horror points—after deducting the entrance fee for this instance, he had 300 left. He spent ten minutes browsing and finally picked a reasonably priced, not-too-flashy mask.

Though it only covered half his face, it allowed others to automatically overlook his appearance. Anyone who saw him would find his face completely forgettable. Even close acquaintances wouldn’t recognize him once he put on the mask, and his voice would also be distorted.

Satisfied, Chen Li put on the black-and-gold mask and walked out of the room.

Luckily, vampires are nocturnal creatures. Even though it was already afternoon, he didn’t encounter any subordinates and walked out wearing his mask without issue.

Vampires hate sunlight, but the higher their rank, the less it affects them.

As a prince, Chen Li only felt a mild discomfort on his skin in the sunlight. It didn’t hinder his movements.

He arrived at the dwarves’ territory and saw the village they had built.

Yes—a village.

As one of the seven major races, the dwarves were the simplest and most down-to-earth. They didn’t reproduce much, dedicating nearly all their lives to their innate talent for forging. Compared to the other races constantly fighting for territory, this village was pitifully small.

System 001: [You can’t just walk in like that. Vampires are a hated race—you’re too conspicuous. You’ll be captured as an enemy.]

Chen Li: […So I’m not just a vampire, I’m a disliked vampire.]

As expected of a guide NPC—his roles were always terrible.

System 001 tried to console him: [The undead are treated as a common enemy too. Your two races actually get along quite well!]

Chen Li did not feel consoled. He circled around the village until he finally found the “entry point” System 001 had mentioned—a dog hole.

Speechless, he still crawled through it.

Dusting off the bits of grass on his clothes, he made his way to the place he had agreed to meet the player, Al.

It was a massive steelworks.

Inside were all sorts of machines Chen Li had never seen before—clearly the product of dwarven ingenuity.

When he saw Al, Chen Li was genuinely a little surprised.

The guy really was only about 1.2 meters tall—Chen Li had to look down to speak with him.

System 001: [The game is fair. It doesn’t just modify your body—each player will change according to their race.]

Chen Li suddenly felt grateful for the 20-point mask he had exchanged earlier—it helped him stay composed when facing a dwarfed player.

He recited the lines from his mission panel word for word: “Mr. Al, you undoubtedly have the potential to become the king of the dwarves. I am willing to support you, so long as—once you succeed—the dwarves will no longer interfere with the vampires’ hunting.”

The player named Al was visibly excited. It was his first time meeting another player so early in the game, and though he’d felt a little panicked at first, thankfully this guide NPC had come to him and even issued a mission.

It seemed that the condition for them to clear the instance this time was “to become the king of their own race.”

Al wasn’t a newbie, though. After calming down, he asked the most crucial question: “Have you approached anyone else besides me?”

He was eager to meet the other players.

Since that wasn’t covered on the mission panel, Chen Li had to improvise: “Yes. I’ll arrange for you all to meet tomorrow.”

Satisfied, Al nodded: “I’m willing to work with you—and I hope you won’t disappoint me, sir.”

Chen Li maintained an air of mystery, flicked his sleeve, and handed him a small note.

Written on it were the time and location of tomorrow’s meeting.

Al accepted it.

“Then I’ll take my leave for now.”

He couldn’t let anyone of his own race find out that he was secretly communicating with a vampire.

In this world, traitors who are caught attempting to usurp power are killed on the spot—this is one of the most difficult challenges the players must face.

He was a bit curious how Chen Li managed to come and go so freely from this dwarf village, which was like a fortress of copper and stone. Then he remembered—Chen Li was a guide NPC, of course he had his own special methods—so he left without giving it more thought.

Unbeknownst to Chen Li, the player had once again added a new label to him thanks to his overactive imagination. All Chen Li could do was pitifully crawl back out through the dog hole.

. . . . .

Meeting with the featherfolk wasn’t as easy as meeting the dwarves—their territory was high up in the clouds.

System 001: [If you were a bat, you could just fly up there.]

Flying to the clouds was no trouble for a vampire.

But for a little lamb that only knew how to bleat, it was a real challenge.

In the end, he had to spend points to exchange for a teleportation array to get up there. His previously decent horror points immediately became tight again.

As System 001 continued to nag him about collecting more points, Chen Li finally met the second player.

When those flawless, pure white wings unfurled, Chen Li froze.

The newcomer was exactly the person they had been discussing before setting out—Gu Fu.

Even though he knew he was wearing a mask and wouldn’t be recognized, he still nervously fidgeted with his fingers and instinctively straightened his back.

He watched helplessly as his old friend casually walked up to him. For some reason, the bright and sunny face he remembered now seemed clouded with a trace of darkness.

Folding his wings behind him, Gu Fu spoke: “So, you’re the one trying to stir up internal conflict within the featherfolk?”

His gaze was lofty, tinged with an unspoken sarcasm.

Chen Li had never seen this side of Gu Fu. In his memory, Gu Fu had always been gentle and kind. For a moment, he didn’t even know how to respond.

Until System 001 reminded him: [He’s trying to bait you!]

No wonder he was ranked second on the leaderboard—he immediately tried to seize control of the conversation.

Still, facing a guide NPC, Gu Fu held back and didn’t say anything truly out of line.

Chen Li did his best to suppress the strange feeling rising in his heart: “Yes. If Mr. K thinks we can work together, then please come to the meeting tomorrow.”

He handed a slip of paper to Gu Fu.

Gu Fu took it thoughtfully, the massive wings on his back nearly as tall as a person: “Will other defectors from different races be there as well?”

Chen Li immediately understood what he meant.

He wanted to see himself.

More precisely, he wanted to meet the player version of him, and the completely made-up “teammate.”

But Chen Li hadn’t met with Fu Moyang yet. He had no idea if the guy would be willing to help him keep up the lie.

Chen Li gritted his teeth: “Yes, but not all of them.”

There were still some races he hadn’t successfully persuaded.

However, in that moment of discomfort, Gu Fu immediately sensed it. He stepped forward, frowning, his massive white wings spreading open, almost encircling Chen Li as he said softly: “What’s wrong, dear traitor?”

He lowered his head, his hawk-like eyes razor-sharp, as if dissecting him inch by inch, trying to strip him bare.

That was pure, unmistakable hostility.

Chen Li almost instinctively wanted to bristle.

The player in front of him, with his overly aggressive and oppressive attitude, was completely different from the gentle childhood friend he remembered.

Chen Li had no choice but to pull out his strongest trump card: “Your people are coming.”

As expected, being a player on the verge of betrayal, just hearing the words “your people” made his expression shift slightly.

Like the dwarf players, they were all afraid of their secrets being exposed.

Chen Li took two steps back, moving out of the shadow cast by his wings: “You should go back.”

Gu Fu’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, and this time, without hesitation, he turned and walked away.

Chen Li was almost unsettled by that glance: [System, did he notice something?]

System 001 thought for a moment: [Maybe he noticed you’re weak.]

Chen Li: “…”

---

---

Seizing the King (1)

---

The young girl in front of him trembled with fear. She wore coarse linen clothes, and her flaxen hair looked dry and brittle from malnutrition. Her small, palm-sized face quivered as her wide eyes blinked desperately: “Sir… please don’t drink my blood. I can serve you as a maid instead.”

Chen Li paused for a moment: [System, this game is abusing minors.]

The girl in front of him looked no older than sixteen; judging by her small, skinny frame, she seemed more like fourteen.

System 001 sounded indifferent: [She’s just a background NPC.]

The system’s occasional inhuman coldness always rubbed Chen Li the wrong way. And when he was annoyed, he showed it by simply ignoring it.

So instead of replying, Chen Li reached out a hand to the girl, intending to help her up from the filthy, cluttered floor.

But Wendy misunderstood the gesture. Thinking he was about to devour her, she burst into terrified sobs. Tears streaked down her dirty little face, leaving clean lines on her cheeks as she begged for mercy through her choked cries.

Chen Li froze for a moment, his outstretched hand trembling before he pulled it back. Remembering what she’d said earlier, he tried to control his expression: “I’m not going to drink your blood.”

Wendy blinked in surprise, looking up at him blankly: “Really?”

Her face was still a mess of tears and snot—utterly pitiful.

Chen Li quickly opened his mission panel and skimmed his character profile. A few unpleasant words immediately jumped out at him:

Evil, Arrogant, Troublemaker.

Judging by those first impressions, Chen Li forced a sneer, putting on a deliberately wicked tone: “A scrawny little thing like you? I wouldn’t touch you even if I was starving.”

He tilted his head slightly, looking down at her with what was supposed to be disdain—but his round, almond-shaped eyes softened the expression. Instead of intimidating, he looked more like a cat reluctantly whining.

Wendy blushed a little: “Th-thank you. You’re a good person.”

Caught off guard by the sudden “a good person” card, Chen Li: “…”

System 001 couldn’t take it anymore: [Just take her with you.]

That was the only way to somewhat stay in character.

Chen Li kept a calm, inscrutable face on the outside, but inwardly panicked: [How am I supposed to take her with me?]

[Knock her out and carry her!] System 001 snapped. [What, do you want to gift-wrap her and carry her home in a box?!]

After a brief scramble, Chen Li reluctantly used a hand chop to knock the girl out, muttering “Sorry” under his breath while carrying her over to a hard wooden bed in the room.

Only then did he have time to look around and take in his surroundings—and it was a complete disaster.

The space felt suffocating. A grown man standing up straight would probably hit his head on the ceiling.

Most of the wooden furniture had been destroyed, now lying in pieces on the floor. The window was shattered, letting cold wind constantly pour in. Judging from the scene, it was likely the original host’s handiwork.

What, is my character some murderous burglar now?

But then he remembered—the girl had mentioned something about blood…

The mission panel popped up again in front of him. And sure enough, in this Horror Game, the roles never just stopped at “bad”—only “worse.”

{Role: Vampire Prince}

{Personality: Sullen, Evil, Arrogant, Troublemaker, Vindictive}

{Backstory: This world contains seven major races—Featherfolk, Humans, Elves,Werewolves, Dwarves, Undead, and Vampires.}

{Your mission is to instigate conflict among players of different races by assigning them quests to become their race’s king.}

Chen Li: [I sound like such a villain.}

System 001: [The more villainous, the better for collecting points! Let’s go all-in for performance bonus!]

Ignoring the overexcited system, Chen Li picked up Wendy and decided to take her back to his own territory.

He felt a little guilty toward the innocent girl. After all, the original host really had planned to drain her dry.

Not to turn her into a fledgling vampire, just to enjoy her virgin blood as a feast.

But even though Chen Li now knew he was playing a vampire, he couldn’t bring himself to actually drink blood. So he changed the script—he’d just pretend to take her as a slave instead.

The girl worked at a bakery, lived in a cramped attic, wore patched-up clothes, and survived on the cheapest black bread. Someone like her could go missing without causing much of a stir.

No wonder the original host was so arrogant.

Back on his turf, Chen Li threw the person into an empty room and quickly ran off. His stomach was protesting the missed meal so loudly that even Wendy’s thin neck was starting to look a little appetizing.

The thought was terrifying—just lingering in his mind for a few seconds was enough to scare him.

As he walked toward his room, Chen Li couldn’t help but worry: [System, has my body really turned into a vampire’s?]

In the previous two game instances, he’d clearly used his own real body.

System 001 responded irritably: [Well, that’s because you needed a player disguise. If you’re registered as a player, your body changes to match your in-game identity.]

Chen Li’s eyes widened—he looked like he’d just been frightened by his new identity.

System 001 was about to calm him down when Chen Li tilted his head in confusion and asked: [So… am I basically a bat now?]

System 001: […Technically, yes.]

For a moment, it was hard to tell if his priorities were just odd or if he was simply too chill about it all.

He didn’t dwell on the topic further. The corridor around him was unlit, and only the dim night light offered any visibility, making the atmosphere eerily creepy. Unconsciously, Chen Li quickened his pace. When he finally reached his room and opened the door, he was so startled he immediately slammed it shut.

If he were a small animal, his fur would have puffed up in fright.

After a moment to mentally prepare himself, he slowly pushed the door open a crack and peeked inside. There was no way to deceive himself anymore.

[System, why is there a coffin in my room?!]

System 001: [Where else would a vampire sleep, if not in a coffin?]

Chen Li: “…”

He couldn’t refute it.

Reluctantly, he inched his way into the room, staring at the black coffin with a look of deep suffering and despair.

The coffin was custom-made—tall and spacious, with a dark red cushion inside that actually looked quite soft.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was still a coffin.

Seeing his strong aversion, System 001 finally offered a somewhat comforting thought: [Vampires don’t need to sleep every day.]

Just as Chen Li was about to feel relieved, System 001 poured cold water over him again: [A vampire is coming.]

[Who?] Chen Li blinked nervously.

System 001: [One of your subordinates. Don’t forget—you’re a vampire prince.]

To confirm its words, a knock came from outside the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three times—no more, no less.

Chen Li: “Come in.”

He stood before the coffin, the warm orange glow of the lamp casting a soft light over his face. Despite his deliberately stern expression, he didn’t look the least bit intimidating.

The person who entered kept their head lowered the entire time, not daring to look up: “Your Highness, I’ve completed the tasks you assigned. Al of the dwarves will meet with you at three in the afternoon, the featherfolk at four, the human at sunset, and the undead will arrive at nightfall.”

Chen Li felt himself going numb: [System, I’m so busy.]

System 001: [They’re all players. None of them have met each other yet, so Gu Fu still doesn’t know your identity.]

Chen Li flinched: [Then what’s his identity?]

[Featherfolk.]

The vampire before him, receiving no response, assumed he’d made some mistake. Voice trembling, he said: “Forgive me, Your Highness. We cannot approach the Elven Forest. As for the Werewolves… we’ve been at odds with them for over a thousand years…”

They were the vampires’ only true nemesis.

Physically and in combat ability, they surpassed the vampires. They had beast-like instincts and were immune to the vampire’s allure or corruption.

Werewolves disdained the vampires’ dark and shadowy ways. Though both were children of the moon, the wolves sought to claim it for themselves.

Vampires, in turn, arrogantly believed beasts had no right to bask in moonlight. And so, their relationship had only worsened over time.

This man was terrified of him—or rather, terrified of his identity.

Chen Li felt that if he didn’t say something soon, the man might pass out. But something happened even faster than he could react. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a sudden flash of red appeared before his eyes.

A few cold drops of blood splattered across his cheek—crimson and pale skin mingling in an almost seductive contrast.

Chen Li’s pupils involuntarily turned red, and his small fangs emerged—startled into appearing.

He—he had actually plunged his hand into his chest and started stirring it around!

Sharp claws tore through flesh, and the sickening squelch of blood and muscle moving filled the air. Yet the blood that spilled, instead of smelling metallic and foul, carried a strangely sweet scent.

The vampire still didn’t dare to look up and didn’t notice anything unusual about the prince. In his fear, he inflicted this serious injury on himself, hoping it would spare him from punishment.

Even a wound straight to the heart was nothing to a vampire’s terrifying regenerative ability—but it would be a different story in the hands of the prince.

He stood above all other vampires, the last pure-blood prince among them.

He would tear him in half without hesitation!!

Meanwhile, the Vampire Prince was utterly stunned.

Blood flowed everywhere, and the vampire before him continued to mutilate his own heart in a desperate, masochistic display.

The longer Chen Li stayed silent, the more unbearable the pressure became for the vampire. Finally, just as he was about to fall into utter despair, he heard the prince speak.

“Get lost. You’ve dirtied my room.”

The vampire’s eyes flared with a desperate will to live, and without hesitation, he turned and ran.

After he left, a few small bats flew in and quickly cleaned up the bloodstains in the room. Then, with a flutter of wings, they vanished just as swiftly.

Only after making sure no more non-human creatures would enter did Chen Li’s legs give out, and he collapsed onto the coffin.

The system was just about to say something when it saw its deflated host suddenly let out a soft plop—and shrink.

System 001: ???

Where’s my host? My big, full-sized host I left right here??

Terrified, it stared at the tiny host now completely swallowed up in his own clothes. Then it suddenly realized—he’d been so scared, he’d reverted to his original form.

Good thing he waited until the subordinates had all left before changing—otherwise, the persona would’ve completely fallen apart.

Chen Li had no idea what just happened. One moment everything went dark, and he found himself trapped in fabric.

Panicking, he started flailing, trying to fight off the evil clothes.

In the end, System 001 couldn’t bear to watch anymore. It stepped in and guided him, barely managing to prevent him from becoming the first—and only—NPC to suffocate under his own clothes.

System 001 was just about to mock him, but when it saw its host’s true form, it was too stunned to speak.

Wasn’t he supposed to be a pitch-black bat? What was this fluffy little white creature!?

Chen Li finally sensed something was off. Tilting his head innocently, he let out a soft: “Baa?”

---

Author’s note:

As for why the vampire is a bat, but Li Bao is a little lamb…

Because the author has a twisted sense of humor because it’s adorable, of course!!

---

---

Reality

---

The initially restless barrage of comments gradually shifted focus from Chen Li himself to the painting as he began to work.

As time ticked by, the skeptical voices in the chat slowly faded away.

[Is this… a circus?]

[If I remember correctly, the Golden Butterfly competition doesn’t have any restrictions on themes, right?]

[The streamer’s painting feels so heavy.]

[It’s kind of suffocating to look at… but I can’t look away.]

The painting was still incomplete, but the heavy interplay of black and red had already begun to take shape.

Chen Li had completely forgotten he was livestreaming, fully immersed in his own world. His brows alternated between furrowing and relaxing as his long fingers skillfully blended the paint with his brush.

The eerie, grotesque horror of the horror circus was expressed through his unique artistic style. Bold, dramatic colors created a striking visual impact. What should have been a joyful, family-friendly circus scene instead gave off a suffocating, malevolent atmosphere at first glance—distorted human figures, monsters being whipped, puppets turning on their masters…

What kind of fear was hidden behind the curtain of this circus?

Once he started painting, Chen Li lost all sense of time and need for food or water. The barrage of comments evolved from noisy chatter to quiet admiration. As moonlight crept in, concern began to replace curiosity.

[Is the streamer not eating anything?]

These types of comments became more frequent until even System 001 couldn’t stay silent: [Aren’t you going to take a break?]

Apart from sipping a little water, he hadn’t stopped once.

At System 001’s words, Chen Li finally looked up and glanced out the window.

“It’s night already?” he murmured in surprise.

A smudge of paint stained his cheek, and his dazed expression sent the chat into a frenzy, viewers calling him “our little cub.”

Just as everyone thought he was finally going to take a break and eat dinner, he lowered his head and continued painting. The focused, almost obsessive look in his eyes was like a cold beam of moonlight—quietly intense and utterly mesmerizing.

[He’s so serious about it.]

[Where are the haters now? Who still dares to say he only placed because of his looks and marketing?]

[I checked that influencer’s previous work. Honestly, it’s literally one piece in heaven, the next in hell. Can they stop touching porcelain with our cub?]

Over the course of a day, public opinion online began to shift. Even though the snarky influencer who started it all had turned off comments on their posts, they couldn’t escape the backlash from their own rumors.

Not only did the attention they gained from playing the victim vanish, but even their core fanbase started shrinking. Many of their followers had tuned into Chen Li’s livestream, and one by one, they “jumped ship,” screaming in the chat and completely forgetting whose side they were originally on.

System 001 let out a cold snort: [Humans. So fickle.]

Then, with a flourish, he logged into ten alt accounts and began flooding Weibo with exaggerated praise for Chen Li.

Finally, at 3 AM, Chen Li set down his brush. The red livestream light blinked steadily, faithfully documenting every moment.

System 001 awkwardly said: [Hey… there’s a vending machine downstairs at the hotel.]

[Thanks.] Chen Li quietly packed up his materials and, following the system’s guidance, went downstairs to buy some instant noodles—completely unaware that his painting had once again catapulted him onto the trending list. Even the competition organizers had begun shifting their attention toward him.

The internationally renowned panel of judges had started to realize: a dark horse was emerging. With unstoppable momentum, Chen Li was on the verge of becoming the art world’s newest rising star.

. . . . .

At 9 AM the next morning, competition staff arrived to collect the artwork. When Chen Li opened the door, he nearly jumped in surprise.

Behind the staff stood several others—including his own teacher.

The moment the teacher saw him, he rushed forward and grabbed his hand in excitement: “Chen Li, you really pulled it off!”

He’d been watching the livestream since it started. Even though the other competition he originally encouraged Chen Li to enter didn’t go well, seeing his student shine on an even bigger stage filled him with overwhelming pride and emotion.

No one knew what Chen Li had gone through, but sometimes, inspiration just strikes like lightning.

“You’re the artist behind that circus painting?” a sharp-eyed older man with graying hair asked.

“That’s me,” Chen Li replied shyly, a bit stunned.

He recognized the visitors as famous painters. Each one of them had a serious expression.

“It’s him. I watched the livestream.”

“Truly impressive for someone so young!”

“Absolutely remarkable!”

As soon as he answered, the group of judges broke into excited chatter, all trying to squeeze into the room at once—pushing and shoving each other in their eagerness until they got stuck in the doorway, grumbling as they tried to get in.

Chen Li: “…”

His teacher exchanged a glance with him and shrugged helplessly.

At that moment, a well-dressed man in a suit handed Chen Li a business card and said politely, “If you ever want to hold an art exhibition, feel free to contact me.”

“Thank you,” Chen Li replied courteously as he accepted the card. “But I’m just a student—probably no one would be interested in a solo exhibition.”

The man adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, surprised. “You’re very modest.”

By now, his name was already well-known both online and in the art community. That dark and oppressive painting of a circus had gone viral, even though it was only seen through screenshots from a livestream. Everyone who saw it came away with a different interpretation.

Some said it was a critique of capitalist exploitation, while others thought it was a protest against animal performances. Many layers of meaning were embedded in the piece.

One thing was unanimous: it was an excellent work. Just looking at it evoked a range of oppressive emotions. It was hard to believe such a mature painting had been completed in a single day—and by someone so young.

Crowds had started gathering outside his hotel. In the end, he only managed to get home smoothly with the help of his teacher.

The first thing Chen Li did after returning home was fill the bathtub with warm water and sink into it, finally allowing himself to relax.

He hadn’t slept at all in the hotel, and had even gone back to add some final details to the painting.

The moment the hot water touched his skin, it felt like it pulled him back to reality from those twisted, nightmarish bursts of inspiration. He let out a sigh of relief and slowly closed his eyes.

[001, wake me in ten minutes.]

Noise. Loud, exaggerated noise.

Cheerful trumpet music, congratulatory speeches, the clinking of glasses—everything blended together, sounding both near and far.

Wasn’t he at home? Why was it so noisy?

Perplexed, Chen Li forced his eyes open just a crack.

Familiar red silk came into view.

Ah—this dream again…

But this time, unlike before, there were many more guests making a commotion outside.

Where is that person… the one from the dream?

The exhaustion in Chen Li’s body had followed him into the dream. He couldn’t even lift a hand. He let himself fall back, the soft red bedding sinking beneath him.

The noise outside kept prodding at his mind.

He could only catch vague snippets of words.

The word “bride” came up again and again—along with “lord.”

“Lord”? Who was that?

So noisy. Too noisy. He just wanted to sleep.

A few faint, whimpering sobs escaped from Chen Li’s throat, almost involuntarily. Then, he felt a shadow fall over him.

The presence brought with it a familiar pressure, silent and overwhelming. The moment the figure appeared, all the noise outside faded away—like a retreating tide.

The room fell into absolute stillness, broken only by a faint sound of breathing.

At last, it was quiet again. Chen Li relaxed once more, completely unguarded under that intense gaze—like a kitten lying belly-up under a lion, exposing its softest spot.

Go ahead and look, if that’s what you want.

He thought this with a vague sense of defiance, until consciousness slipped away entirely.

[Host! Host, wake up!] System 001 called out.

Whoosh.

Chen Li sat bolt upright in bed: “Did I fall asleep?”

System 001: [You’ve been asleep for an entire day.]

He checked his phone—sure enough, it had been a full day since he’d returned from the hotel. It was already midday.

He blinked, confused: “But… I remember being in the bathtub yesterday?”

System 001 paused, then quickly made something up: [Oh, you were really tired and crawled out by yourself. You must’ve forgotten from being so out of it.]

In truth, System 001 had been disconnected the whole time and had no idea what had happened. It had only just reconnected—and found Chen Li sleeping soundly in bed.

But if it told the host that, with how easily frightened he was, he’d definitely panic.

So System 001 chose a harmless lie.

After sleeping a whole day, Chen Li expected his body to ache, but aside from being ravenously hungry, he felt surprisingly well—refreshed, even. Hearing System 001’s explanation, he didn’t dwell on it and got up to cook himself some egg fried rice.

System 001: [We should head to the next instance now.]

After everything that had happened, Chen Li was unexpectedly calm: “Alright.”

He washed the dishes, messaged his teacher and Gu Fu, then followed the system into the pure white space.

As soon as he arrived, he was stunned by what he saw.

The Phantom Puppet, the Ghost Bus, and System 001 were… playing Fight the Landlord¹, each occupying one corner like a power triangle.

Chen Li blinked: “So you’re still here.”

He said this to the puppet—Joker.

Joker, ever the gentleman, tried to stand and bow to him, though his short and chubby puppet body made the motion look completely awkward.

Chen Li chuckled: “Looks like you’ve all been getting along just fine.”

System 001: [Bah! Who’d want to get along with that thing?!]

Joker: “How rude. That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”

Seeing that a fight was about to break out again, Chen Li quickly changed the subject: “So, which instance am I going to next?”

System 001 turned around: [I picked one where you can play both a player and an NPC. But you’ll need to make sure your identity stays hidden.]

Joker’s eyes swirled mischievously. No matter which instance he heard Chen Li was headed to, he was already planning to strike first—kick out the core NPC of that instance and take the spot for himself.

Chen Li understood it was doing this to help deal with Gu Fu. He smiled slightly: “Thanks.”

The white light ball—System 001—suspiciously shimmered pink: [Hmph. You should be thinking about which ‘teammate’ to take. Don’t forget—you promised to introduce him to Gu Fu.]

Chen Li hesitated a bit before finally speaking: “What if I already have someone in mind?”

[Who?] System 001 suddenly had a bad feeling.

Chen Li: “Fu Moyang.”

System 001 and Joker shouted in unison: “Absolutely not!!”

Even the Ghost Bus couldn’t help honking in protest: “Meow!”

Chen Li looked innocent: “But he promised to go with me to the next instance. He’s the only one who knows my real identity right now. Gu Fu still needs an explanation, and if Fu Moyang plays the role of my teammate, Gu Fu won’t try to insist on partnering with me out of worry.”

System 001 fell into a deep silence—and panic.

Because it realized… the host was right.

In the end, the most trustworthy person was actually that evil ghost!

System 001 slumped in despair: […Fine. Let’s go, then.]

Joker glanced at System 001, then at the little cotton candy. From just a few lines of dialogue, he had figured out the whole situation. And just as Chen Li was being teleported, Joker transformed—no longer a chubby doll, but a refined and elegant clown.

System 001 stared coldly at him: [So it’s true—you used that ridiculous form just to win the host’s trust.]

Joker tipped his hat with perfect poise: “It’s called strategy.”

He swiped a finger through the air to bring up his mission interface.

[Please choose the instance you want to enter next.]

[Would you like to use your Identity Swap Card to replace the core BOSS of the next instance?]

[Yes.]

Joker didn’t bother hiding his intentions. Right in front of System 001, he chose to follow Chen Li into the new instance.

Suddenly, a blaring alert rang out:

[Alert: World A-301 cannot be entered!]
[Alert: World A-301 cannot be entered!]
[Alert: World A-301 cannot be entered!]

The same message repeated three times.

System 001 couldn’t help but ask: [What’s going on?]

Joker’s expression instantly turned dark: “Someone beat me to it.”

Those damn bastards!!

---

Author’s note: Every guide-type NPC just wants to stick with Li Bao.

---

1. 斗地主 (Dòu dìzhǔ) is a competitive two-on-one poker card game popular in China with three players. One of the players acts as the “landlord” and the other two players who cooperate against the landlord are called “peasants”. The game is mainly popular in China. ↩︎

---

---

Reality

---

Chen Li’s wrist throbbed with pain from how tightly it was being gripped. He winced and tried to pull his hand back, voice trembling: “Gu Fu… Gu Fu!”

The upward inflection on the last syllable finally snapped Gu Fu out of it.

He quickly withdrew the darkness in his eyes, as if the moment before had been a mere illusion. With an apologetic look, he said: “Sorry, Li Zi, I was just too worked up.”

Chen Li pulled his hand back, eyes lingering on the red mark left behind. He still felt uneasy: “What’s wrong with you?”

A wild, absurd thought crept into his mind.

Could it be that… Gu Fu recognized the invitation card? Was he a player too?

As expected, Gu Fu’s next words confirmed his suspicion. He locked eyes with Chen Li and asked slowly and clearly: “Why do you have an invitation card from the Hearts Guild?”

Chen Li’s mind went blank for a moment, completely stunned by the direct question.

System 001 immediately blared a warning in his head: [Don’t let him know you’re involved with the game!!]

The sharp voice brought him back to his senses. Without thinking, he replied: “I don’t know. Someone just gave it to me.”

Gu Fu’s expression clearly showed he didn’t believe it: “Who gave it to you?”

Fu Moyang.

That name instantly popped into his head, but he couldn’t say it aloud. Fu Moyang was the top-ranked player—his name carried too much weight.

Seeing Chen Li hesitate, Gu Fu’s expression turned even more unreadable. He stepped closer: “Li Zi, you were chosen by Horror Game too, weren’t you?”

His words were pressing, step by step, but Chen Li didn’t notice the shift in tone—he was too nervous.

He wanted to shake his head, but couldn’t think of a good excuse. His pretty eyes welled with misty panic.

Gu Fu’s voice dropped, soft and coaxing: “Don’t be afraid. I’m one too.”

Chen Li’s expression gradually became numb.

No. We’re not the same.

Gu Fu continued: “Last time when you suddenly stopped replying to my messages—it was because you went into the game, wasn’t it? That was your first time?”

Though he phrased it as a question, he spoke with certainty.

Chen Li could no longer hide it. Compared to being mistaken for an NPC, it was safer to let him believe he was just a player. So, timidly, he nodded.

After all, with the system’s help, pretending to be a player in the real world wasn’t hard.

But what Gu Fu said next completely threw him again.

“Come with me into the next instance.”

Chen Li looked stunned on the surface, but inside, he was frantically poking at System 001.

[System, QAQ!!]

System 001: […Serves you right.]

It had always thought Gu Fu was shady. Who told the host to stay friends with someone like that?

Gu Fu misread his silence and smiled: “Don’t trust me? If we bind as teammates, we’ll be able to enter the game together.”

Chen Li stammered: “I… I…”

But for once, he reacted quickly. His eyes lit up: “I’ve already bound with someone else!”

Gu Fu’s expression didn’t change: “Li Zi, you probably don’t understand how the game works yet.”

His voice softened into something almost like a sigh: “You must have been really scared, back in the first instance… If I had been by your side, I definitely wouldn’t have let anything terrifying happen to you.”

Chen Li noticed the strange tone in his voice and opened his mouth to speak—but before he could say anything, Gu Fu pulled him into a hug.

Gu Fu rested his chin on Chen Li’s shoulder. From an angle where Chen Li couldn’t see, his eyes grew dark and deep: “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone bully you.”

The familiar scent of pine from his best friend lingered in the air. After hearing his words, the still-unaccustomed Chen Li lifted his hand and gave Gu Fu’s back a gentle pat: “Thank you.”

Gu Fu had always looked out for him. He was truly a good person—willing to be friends with someone like him.

In a soft voice, Chen Li explained: “But I already have a teammate. He’s really strong and can protect me.”

Even though that “teammate” was completely made up, the image of Fu Moyang kept surfacing in his mind.

Gu Fu let go of him, his face filled with concern: “Li Zi, you’re new to the game, so you might not know yet—but there are a lot of scammers in this game. They’re good at sweet-talking newbies and using little tricks to make themselves seem impressive.”

He didn’t bother hiding his suspicion toward the so-called teammate. In truth, the moment he heard Chen Li say in that soft tone that someone would protect him, jealousy had already started to boil up inside.

Gu Fu didn’t give him a chance to respond and continued: “Do you know about the player leaderboard?”

Chen Li nodded: “Yeah…”

Not only did he know, he was even ranked among the NPCs.

Though currently, at the bottom.

Luckily, both the player and NPC leaderboards only showed the top 50—otherwise, it would be seriously embarrassing.

Gu Fu smiled: “Do you know what title I hold in the game?”

Chen Li shook his head, looking at him in confusion.

Gu Fu curled his lips into a faint, almost unnoticeably proud smile: “I’m ‘K’.”

The air fell silent for a few seconds. Chen Li blinked slowly, caught off guard.

Of course he was shocked. “K” wasn’t just second on the player leaderboard—he was also the leader of the number-one guild, Fox Hunt Guild.

But ever since meeting Fu Moyang, the impact of Gu Fu’s identity had dulled significantly.

System 001: …First place and second place both got involved with the host—what on earth did it accidentally bind to?!

To Gu Fu, Chen Li’s reaction looked like he was too stunned to speak.

Gu Fu’s lips curved up slightly: “So staying by my side is the safest option. As for your teammate, I can talk to him. Next instance, the three of us can go in together.”

If that person refused, he would make them ‘give up in the face of difficulties’.

His title had brought him too much flattery and praise—he never imagined Chen Li would say no.

After all, he wasn’t just a childhood friend, but also far stronger than your average player.

System 001: [At this point, refusing would seem way too suspicious. Just agree for now, host—on the condition that we pick the instance ourselves.]

Chen Li told the truth, and Gu Fu wasn’t surprised at all. He simply nodded and said: “You can pick one of the repeatable instances you’re comfortable with.”

As if suddenly remembering something, he added: “But it’s best not to choose one related to tourism.”

“Why?” Chen Li asked, not quite catching on.

Gu Fu narrowed his eyes: “There’s a new guide-type NPC that’s behaving strangely. Its first appearance was in a tourism-related instance. After it left, the core boss of that instance defected from the instance. I had the guild track down a newbie who participated in that instance, and we got a lot of information out of him. That NPC seems to be a type we’ve never seen before.”

Chen Li murmured: “Wait a minute…”

A bad feeling crept into his chest.

Why does this all sound so familiar?

System 001: [Congratulations, you’ve won the jackpot. He’s talking about your first instance. The one who defected was Sanna, and the newbie who joined his guild was Cheng Jun.]

From System 001’s tone, it was clear it was enjoying the chaos way too much: [Looks like you’ve already made quite a name for yourself in the player community.]

And the more famous the NPC, the better they are at collecting fear points.

Chen Li’s expression slowly turned numb. He gave Gu Fu a vague excuse about feeling unwell from pulling an all-nighter and sent him off. As soon as the door closed, he collapsed onto the bed and rolled around in frustration.

“Oh well, things will work out eventually,” he muttered, cheering himself up as his hair stuck up in all directions from all the rolling.

He took out a shiny medal from his pocket and looked at it.

Gu Fu had given it to him before leaving. As long as he wore it, they’d be able to enter the game together next time.

Chen Li carefully put the medal away: “System, how’s the Golden Butterfly competition coming along?”

System 001: [The preliminary are the day after tomorrow.]

“The day after tomorrow?” Chen Li was a bit surprised. “It’s still an on-site painting event, right?”

[There’s been a slight change,] System 001 replied after a pause. [It’s been turned into a livestreamed competition.]

“Livestreamed?” Chen Li tensed up.

He’d never liked crowded or public settings to begin with. A livestream meant countless people would be watching him.

Thinking he was worried about being flamed online, System 001 awkwardly tried to comfort him: [If anyone dares insult you, I’ll just ban their account.]

Chen Li smiled gently: “Thanks, 001.”

Caught off guard by the unexpected gratitude, the system stammered: [Y-You should really thank the father who created me and gave me this feature.]

And with that, it disappeared.

Chen Li lay on the bed, a quiet smile spreading across his face.

. . . . .

The day of the livestreamed competition arrived quickly. It was spread over four days, with 32 participants painting each day in front of a live camera, all within a venue provided by the organizers.

As luck would have it, Chen Li was assigned to the first day.

He brought his usual art supplies to the venue—a luxurious hotel room where a camera would capture his work throughout the day.

Contestants could leave the camera’s view to do anything else, but all actual painting had to be done in front of the lens.

As soon as the official Golden Butterfly livestream went live, viewership skyrocketed. Besides a few contestants with their own fanbases, most viewers swarmed into Chen Li’s room without hesitation. His rapid rise to online fame had brought both attention and a wave of skepticism.

Some were fans of a previously mocking influencer, some were just casual spectators, and others were drawn by his looks. The chat quickly became a chaotic mix of voices. But that only pushed him to the top of the trending streamer charts, drawing even more curious onlookers.

System 001 cracked its knuckles, ready to intervene: [Don’t worry, host. Just focus on your art. If any of these online trolls—]

Its indignant rant suddenly cut off.

Chen Li had just entered the room, stepping into view of the livestream camera: [What’s wrong?]

Chen Li felt a little uneasy when the system suddenly went silent. His round, almond-shaped eyes blinked, and a light flush colored his cheeks from rushing over.

The barrage of comments instantly flooded the screen.

[Stop spamming the chat, I’m trying to lick the streamer!!]

[That face! Golden Butterfly isn’t even using beauty filters—anyone still insisting on Photoshop?]

[Wifey!! My bitter melon tea just flew across the room, wuwuwu!]

[Streamer, debut now!! Also—who spilled bitter tea on my face?!]

The skeptical comments were instantly drowned in a sea of people thirsting over his looks. Any negative ones that did show up were swept away before anyone could read them.

System 001: […It’s fine.]

These netizens were terrifying. It didn’t even get a chance to step in.

Chen Li thought he’d be nervous, but in reality, his mind was already full of inspiration. The moment he arrived, he eagerly set down his art supplies.

Although the hotel had provided each contestant with their own tools, he still preferred his own.

Quietly, he unpacked and laid everything out one by one.

The viewers’ thirst moved from his face to his hands—they practically wished they were the brush in his fingers.

After getting everything ready, Chen Li finally remembered he was on a livestream. He turned toward the dark camera lens, gave a shy smile, and said: “Hello everyone, I’m going to start painting now.”

That one smile caused the chat to freeze for a second—then it exploded in a straight vertical spike. The whole stream basically experienced a mass AWSL moment.

---

Author’s note:

The painting competition is purely my own creation, designed to serve the story. It differs greatly from real-life art competitions—no offense intended to any readers in the field!

Let’s all give our sweet little Li Bao a big smooch 💋✨

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Reality

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It wasn’t as futuristic as he’d imagined. This place looked just like an ordinary arcade. It was hard to connect it with the mysterious, otherworldly block they had just seen. Everything here felt grounded in reality—they even had a few vintage arcade machines from decades ago.

System 001 sneered: [Don’t tell me you were expecting something like a holographic gaming pod.]

Chen Li pressed his lips together and instinctively ignored the comment: [How do you play the games here?]

The arcade looked rather deserted.

System 001 explained: [You use points. Everything in the Horror Game can be exchanged for points. If you have enough, you could even buy this entire block and make it your own.]

Fear points could be exchanged for regular horror points at a 1:1 ratio.

No wonder so few people came to places like this—points were valuable to every player.

System 001 coaxed: [Come on, you’ve got tons of points right now. Just a little will get you ten game tokens.]

Surprisingly, Chen Li was tempted. Because of his personality, he had never been to a place like this before. He was curious: [Alright… just once, then.]

[Yes!] The system was even more excited than he was.

Neither of them had ever played arcade games before, but they quickly exchanged for ten tokens. Every game here, no matter how big or small, only cost one token. With System 001 guiding him, Chen Li tried out many games he had never played before. He only stopped, still not fully satisfied, when there was just one token left.

Chen Li’s cheeks were flushed: [What should we play with the last one?]

System 001 dropped its usual mature tone and asked happily: [Is there anything you want to try?]

Chen Li looked around and quickly set his sights on a pink machine: [I want to try the claw machine.]

The transparent walls of the claw machine were filled with plush toys. He walked over, full of anticipation, and inserted the final token.

[I want that little lamb.]

He made a silent wish and began maneuvering the joystick. The silver claw moved left and right, finally stopping above the lamb.

Both the human and the system held their breath as Chen Li pressed the button carefully.

But the claw didn’t drop.

“What’s going on?” Chen Li was startled.

What happened next was even more shocking — the joystick began to move on its own. Meanwhile, the countdown on the claw machine had already hit zero. The flashing red “0” was glaring and urgent, startling him enough to take a step back.

The claw finally moved into position, lowering by itself and grabbing a small blue object — a plush doll in a blue-and-white suit, with a round body. Its mouth curved into a half-smile, and its hollow white eyes were surrounded by black rings. A magician’s top hat sat atop its head.

Even though Chen Li didn’t recognize the doll, a strange sense of dread washed over him the moment he saw it.

“Is this machine broken?” he muttered, suddenly realizing how eerily quiet it had become.

There had been two or three others around earlier. Why was it so silent now…?

He whipped his head around—the arcade was completely empty.

At some point, he had been left all alone.

“Hello.”

The sudden voice nearly gave Chen Li a heart attack. He yelped and, without daring to turn around and look at the creepy doll, bolted for the entrance. He yanked the door open and ran out, only stopping once he had put good distance between himself and the arcade block.

[System, didn’t you say nothing supernatural happens in the player space?]

Chen Li’s hands were ice cold. He had just finished a horror mission and hadn’t fully calmed down—this new incident rattled him even more.

System 001 was just as confused: [Is your ghost-attracting trait really that strong already? I’d better send you back.]

And with that, it transported him back to the pure white system space.

That space was still protected by the barrier System 001 had left last time after being provoked by those ghouls—it should’ve been completely safe.

Chen Li opened his eyes… and immediately saw the doll, standing in the room and greeting him.

“Hello.”

System 001 was instantly proven wrong: “…”

Why did this doll look so familiar?

This time, Chen Li heard the voice clearly. It sounded oddly familiar—like he had heard it somewhere before.

Five seconds later, both man and system spoke in unison:

“Joker?!”

“The Puppet?!”

The puppet let out a creepy giggle: “That’s me.”

It had admitted to both identities.

System 001 shouted, furious: [I knew it! You’re the ‘Phantom Puppet’ — number eight on the NPC leaderboard! Why did you sneak into the last mission and get close to my host?!]

The puppet shrugged: [Just doing my job.]

System 001 snapped: [Bullshit! You’re obviously up to something! And you even followed him back here!]

It was so angry it was ready to pounce.

The puppet wasn’t about to back down either. Its eyes flashed red, and it lunged forward too.

The next second, both of them were suspended in midair.

Chen Li held the puppet in one hand and the system in the other, shaking them both lightly: “No fighting.”

He was remarkably calm inside—maybe even a little resigned.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to feel scared, but now that he had calmed down and looked properly at the puppet’s short, chubby body, he just couldn’t reconcile it with Joker from the last mission—someone who had killed without blinking and delighted in grotesque performances.

Chen Li looked thoughtful: “So this is what you really look like.”

That explained a lot—like why Joker’s circus had included freak shows and colorful lights that clearly didn’t match the era it was supposed to be set in.

The puppet behaved itself in his hand: “I mean no harm. I just wanted to see you. You left the last instance without saying goodbye.”

Chen Li: “…Because I cleared the game.”

The puppet’s eyes lit up: “So it wasn’t a goodbye after all?”

It looked so hopeful that, after a moment of hesitation, Chen Li gave a small nod.

System 001 grumbled irritably: [What exactly do you want?]

The puppet didn’t really have an answer. It was just drawn to Chen Li and really wanted to see him. In truth, it had no legitimate reason for following him.

Chen Li gently set both the puppet and the system down, starting to feel tired: “System, I want to go back.”

This time, System 001 was eager to help: [I’ll send you back right away!]

“Wait—!” the puppet called.

But before it could say anything more, System 001 had already activated the teleportation. Chen Li didn’t even have time to react before he found himself lying in his own bed.

He blinked in confusion, feeling like he had missed something Joker wanted to say. But the familiar softness of his mattress was just too comforting—he was soon overcome by sleep.

. . . . .

Chen Li slept all the way until the next morning. He compulsively tidied his bed before finally sitting down at the dining table to start the day.

As he munched on a sandwich, he opened his phone and saw a bunch of messages from his friend, Gu Fu, asking about something related to trending news.

Trending? What trending?

Still groggy, Chen Li tapped on the shared link Gu Fu had sent. It led to a Weibo post that was still going viral.

The comment section was a battlefield of arguments, leaving Chen Li stunned.

The most shared image in the post was taken during the day of the Golden Butterfly preliminary competition—and it was clearly a candid shot, taken from a hidden angle.

There were people praising his looks, but also plenty accusing him of riding the hype or faking popularity.

Just then, System 001 came online: [That Weibo post from the person who secretly photographed you went viral.]

Normally, a post like that would only stay hot for a day at most. But it had already been two days, and it was still trending. Even if the Golden Butterfly organizers had tried to boost interest with some marketing, this level of attention was unusual.

Sensing something was wrong, System 001 dug into the details—and nearly swore in anger.

Trying to keep calm, it explained: [The list of people who passed the preliminaries came out yesterday. Someone leaked that your painting made the cut. Then a so-called art blogger made a sob story post, heavily implying that their spot was stolen—and their followers started targeting you with online abuse.]

“Online abuse?” Chen Li looked blank. “But I didn’t steal anyone’s spot.”

He had entered the competition fair and square.

System 001 was frustrated: [He implied that you were chosen by the judges because your looks brought attention to the Golden Butterfly competition.]

Chen Li simply responded with a casual “Oh” and didn’t pay it any more mind, sending a message to Gu Fu instead.

System 001: [Aren’t you angry? Aren’t you upset?]

It was nearly losing its patience.

Chen Li slowly typed: [Why should I be angry?]

His personality made him avoid engaging with the outside world, and he kept any indirect attacks like this at a distance.

On the other hand, he was quite receptive to the kind words people said about him.

Thinking of the kind comments from the online users who praised his looks, Chen Li couldn’t help but blush.

Well… some of the comments were a little too intense. A quick glance at them made his ears burn with embarrassment.

Just under five seconds after he sent his message, Gu Fu replied immediately.

Although it was only text, it was clear how urgent he was.

Gu Fu: [Don’t pay attention to those people online, don’t be upset. Are you at home? I’ll come over right now.]

Was he as anxious as the system?

Chen Li swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and drifted off in thought… Hmm, he felt like painting.

Just coming out of the mission, he was immediately filled with inspiration.

The strange scenes from the circus twisted and weaved together in his mind, forming the perfect image.

It wasn’t until the doorbell rang that he snapped out of his thoughts. Looking at his phone, he realized only fifteen minutes had passed.

He walked to the door, and sure enough, Gu Fu was there.

He was dressed in a sunny, high-end sports outfit, looking rushed but still neat, and when he saw Chen Li open the door, he immediately broke into a smile: “I’m here.”

“Come in.” Chen Li gave a slightly embarrassed smile. “Sorry to make you worry. The stuff online doesn’t affect me.”

Gu Fu stared at him for half a minute, looking unconvinced. He only looked away when Chen Li started to feel uncomfortable, scratching his head: “I guess I’m just too worried about you.”

He gave a goofy smile: “Oh, right, I still haven’t congratulated you on passing the preliminaries.”

“Thanks.” Chen Li’s eyes curved into a smile as he poured milk from the fridge for him.

He remembered how much Gu Fu liked milk. Back when they studied together, he would often treat him to milk.

As Chen Li raised his arm, part of a pink card peeked out of his pocket.

Gu Fu’s smile froze for a moment, but he quickly resumed his casual grin: “What’s that?”

Chen Li blinked in confusion, pulling the card out of his pocket and realizing it was actually an invitation to the Hearts Guild.

It had been given to Fu Moyang by the Puppeteer in the instance, and now it was passed on to him.

He hadn’t expected it to follow him into the real world.

Chen Li nervously explained: “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a small advertisement. I forgot to throw it away.”

Gu Fu suddenly stood up and grabbed Chen Li’s hand just as he was about to throw the card away. His grip was so strong it left a red mark, but he didn’t seem to notice at all.

“Li Zi, have you… gone through something lately?” he asked.

It was the first time Chen Li had ever seen his usually cheerful childhood friend show such a dark and shadowed expression.

---

Author’s note:

Just a reminder for those who forgot — Gu Fu has appeared twice before!

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Reality

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Before long, all the vengeful ghost released into the hall were consumed by Fu Moyang’s hellfire. The two hidden players were soon found on the second floor.

The Puppeteer and the Magician fell silent for a moment upon seeing them. Their initial panic was quickly replaced by an odd feeling… like they’d just been force-fed dog food.

Seeing their expressions, Chen Li—still being held in Fu Moyang’s arms—felt even more embarrassed.

Back downstairs, Fu Moyang had decided Chen Li was walking too slowly and picked him up in a full-on princess carry.

Resigned, Chen Li buried himself in Fu Moyang’s chest and muttered in a muffled voice: “You should leave. Lowly commoners like you don’t belong on my estate.”

It matched the original character’s persona. In the eyes of the noble master, the circus troupe had outlived their usefulness and were now just worthless commoners.

The Magician’s eyes filled with fear: “But…”

Her face and body were stained with blood—proof of the brutal struggle she’d just survived in the hall.

The Puppeteer interrupted her: “We understand.”

She turned and gave her companion a subtle signal.

The Magician froze, then her eyes welled up with tears. Without another word, she let the Puppeteer pull her away, stumbling as they made their way downstairs.

It was almost over. The days of fear and torment felt like a nightmare finally coming to an end.

From the second-floor window, Chen Li watched them run across the garden, racing through the blazing red roses. They reached the castle gates and stopped, hesitating for just a moment to look back—then turned and ran without looking back again.

As they crossed the threshold, an invisible barrier shimmered briefly.

But the game didn’t end.

Because one player still hadn’t left.

Chen Li said quietly: “You should go.”

He thought he’d feel pure relief… but what he felt instead was complicated.

He couldn’t help but think of the first instance—back when he thought he’d never see Fu Moyang again.

But his feelings now were completely different.

When he didn’t get a response, Chen Li snuck a glance upward: “You…”

The rest of his words died in his throat.

Too close. The man was too close.

Close enough to kiss.

The sudden thought startled him. Chen Li quickly shut his eyes.

They were both men!

And with his eyes closed, he didn’t see the smile that flickered briefly in Fu Moyang’s eyes.

Fu Moyang finally set him down after they descended the stairs. Behind them, the garden burned with hellfire and the castle was ablaze. Just one step forward, and the game would be cleared.

But Fu Moyang didn’t move. He looked down: “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?”

There were many things Chen Li wanted to ask. The man was full of mysteries. But after a moment of hesitation, he only asked one: “Will I see you again in the next game?”

A soft, amused laugh came from above.

Embarrassed, Chen Li glared at him with his round, glistening almond-shaped eyes: “What are you laughing at?”

Even he felt a little awkward.

He’d spent so much time complaining about how Fu Moyang bullied him—but now, standing on the verge of separation, he felt a hint of reluctance. Even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, Fu Moyang had become a source of real comfort.

Fu Moyang smiled: “As long as you want to.”

He took Chen Li’s hand and walked with him toward the castle gate.

The moment they stepped through it, the barrier shattered, and the entire world shifted.

When Chen Li opened his eyes again, he was back in that familiar, pure white space.

[Ding dong!]

[Congratulations, host! You’ve cleared the second instance! Mission settlement: Final fear points – 350.]

Chen Li blinked, dazed. He hadn’t expected the last two days to boost the fear points that much. No doubt Sanna played a part in that.

The paintings on the castle’s interior walls had been the hidden subplot of the whole instance.

“System, Emily—no, Sanna… What exactly was going on with her?” Chen Li’s tone grew serious.

Why had the previous instance’s core NPC followed him into a new one—disguising herself to get close?

The little glowing ball, System 001, froze in place. [Well… you did say that since you were a kid, fortune-tellers kept saying you had a physique that attracts ghosts.]

Its voice grew smaller and smaller, until the last syllable was barely audible.

Chen Li’s eyes widened slightly: “I thought he was a con artist?!”

After all, aside from that strange recurring dream he’d had since he was sixteen, nothing supernatural had ever happened to him—until now.

System 001: [That’s because there are no vengeful ghosts in your real world, so you never encountered any. Didn’t you notice that the bosses in both instances were unusually interested in you?]

Fortunately, the lower-level ghosts didn’t react much to him—only the more powerful ghosts seemed attracted.

Chen Li suddenly thought of Joker and shivered: “Will he come out of his instance to chase me, too?”

System 001: [No idea.] It responded self-righteously.

Chen Li asked seriously: “001, are you really my golden cheat finger?”

System 001 choked on the words for a second before replying indignantly: [Hmph! But I did find out that he wasn’t actually the real core NPC of that instance. He was just filling in for someone!]

“Filling in…” Chen Li’s mouth twitched.

He hadn’t expected that being an NPC apparently involved shift work and performance quotas.

System 001: [Even I’ve never seen something like this before. Originally, the boss of that instance—B-44—was an old man with a thick mustache.]

Clearly, that was nothing like the young and sinister Joker.

System 001: [And his real identity? He was actually a guide-type NPC.]

“Just like me?” Chen Li wasn’t just surprised—it also kind of made sense. “No wonder it always felt like he could see right through me.”

System 001: [Relax, guide-type NPCs are all egotistical and prideful. They’re unlikely to latch onto you.]

Trying to reassure the host, System 001 quickly changed the subject: [Wanna leave system space and take a peek at the players’ world?]

“I can do that as an NPC?” Chen Li asked, surprised.

He’d thought he could only browse forums or observe quietly—he never expected to be able to mingle with players.

System 001: [Of course you can.] It puffed up with pride. [Do you even know who I am? Other guide-NPCs can’t do it, but I can directly jump you over. Just make sure to keep your identity hidden.]

“Meow~”

Something hard rubbed up against his leg. Chen Li looked down to see the ghost bus, now shrunk down to prop size, rubbing against him like a spoiled cat.

“You want to come too?”

“Meow!”

Chen Li bent down to pick it up: “Then let’s go.”

It felt like holding a slightly heavy toy car.

System 001 hovered beside them, muttering: “Tch.”

Chen Li changed into a black robe that covered nearly his entire face, only a delicate chin exposed. With System 001’s help, he jumped into the player space.

And was nearly dazzled by the world before him.

The scene was both punk and fantastical—floating blocks of all sizes filled the air. People constantly entered and exited the blocks, seemingly unaffected by gravity.

Chen Li had worried he’d stand out, but now he realized he’d been overthinking it.

Plenty of people here were fully concealed, just like him. Some had even just emerged from instances, still covered in blood.

System 001: [They can’t see me. Go wherever you want—don’t worry about a thing.]

Chen Li took a few steps, but soon realized… he didn’t actually have anywhere he wanted to go.

He didn’t belong to any player guilds, nor did he understand what any of these floating blocks even were.

System 001: [Some players even cut ties with the real world and live entirely inside these blocks. As long as you have enough points, you can buy your own private block. These blocks are basically like “buildings” in your world.]

Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. Chen Li moved toward the nearest block: [Are there restaurants and stuff here too?]

He could touch this block just by raising his hand.

System 001: [Of course there are. There’s everything here. The one right above your head? That’s an arcade.]

Although it wasn’t the restaurant he had originally wanted to explore, Chen Li still reached out and lightly tapped the block.

In an instant, the world spun wildly, and he found himself standing on the block, defying gravity.

The people on the ground were now upside down from his perspective, heads all pointing toward him. Yet he stood beneath the floating block as if it were solid ground. Before him, a door appeared out of nowhere.

Instinctively, as if guided by some inner knowledge, Chen Li understood: this was the entrance into the block.

His heart pounding with nervous excitement, he slowly turned the doorknob…

. . . . .

At the same time, in another space undetectable by the system, a meeting was underway—between a group of guide-type NPCs.

Although technically a “meeting,” the atmosphere was more laid-back chaos than orderly discussion. They lounged or stood however they pleased, exuding a sense of indifference.

If any outsider were to stumble upon this gathering, they’d be scared out of their wits. Every NPC present was a top-tier name, infamously ranked on the NPC leaderboard—monsters who didn’t bat an eye at murder.

In the deathly silence, one NPC finally broke the stillness with a hiss:

“Hss… He’s so small. Still just a cub.”

His face was severely disfigured, riddled with burn scars, and when he spoke, a forked tongue flicked out from his mouth.

A female NPC in a kimono, shading herself under a red parasol, replied gracefully:

“He’s not. According to human standards, he’s already an adult.”

A writhing blob of indescribable limbs muttered dreamily: “He’s so cute… I just want to… want to wrap my tentacles around him…”

The surrounding NPCs quietly moved further away from it.

A low murmur of discussion spread across the group—they were like a pack of colossal beasts circling a kitten, trying not to bare their fangs.

Joker, legs crossed, sneered from his seat: “Shut up. You’re all cowards.”

As the only one among them who had directly interacted with the human—and even given him a rose—his voice immediately drew everyone’s attention.

But Joker’s mood was far from good.

He’d only left the instance in a brief fit of pique… and when he came back, that little marshmallow had already completed the game.

One NPC grumbled: “You scared him.”

Everyone instinctively understood who he referred to.

They couldn’t see the whole game, only Joker’s perspective. But that was more than enough.

A flicker of blue ghost fire swept by, its voice dripping with scorn: “Didn’t you swear, before you left, that no human NPC could ever sway your will?”

In reality, it had taken one day before Joker was trailing behind like a sad puppy, ready to be someone’s personal butler.

“Shut up!!” Joker exploded with fury, completely losing his cool.

He reached out with clawed fingers and seized the source of the blue ghostly flame—the Phantom Horse.

Unwilling to back down, the Phantom Horse raised its hooves, cold light gleaming ominously beneath them.

Just as the two were about to clash without holding back, Hongye spun her umbrella, instantly releasing a flurry of throwing weapons to separate them.

Back in the day, she wouldn’t have had the patience to stop a fight.

Bloodlust had become second nature. Other NPCs would’ve been more than happy to let the conflict escalate. But now, they all had something more important on their minds—the human NPC.

He looked far too obedient, completely out of place among them. So even though they were deeply drawn to him, they all held back, not daring to get too close.

Only the deranged clown ignored the consequences—and that made him the one they envied most.

Joker sneered coldly: “If you want to play coy, that’s your business. Just don’t bother me.”

With that, he tossed a bouncy ball that exploded into a dazzling cloud of smoke, disappearing from sight.

He was off to find his little cotton candy.

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