Chapter 111
[Congratulations, player [Arrival of the God of Wealth], for entering Mutated Dungeon: God of Desire.]
[Dungeon Info: None]
[Dungeon Tips: None]
[Clear Condition: None]
Seeing such a “three-nothing product,” Lu Chuan’s eyes nearly popped out.
“What—can a carbon-based lifeform even come up with this?!” he tried bargaining with the system. “I’m just an ordinary player who hasn’t even hit the Master Rankings! I was thrown in here, I—”
[Host, the Main System isn’t here anymore,] #888 whispered nervously.
“Don’t I know that?” Lu Chuan snapped, redirecting his anger. “You systems really have no ethics at all.”
As if you have much yourself, #888 thought silently. Besides, ethics are for people—why should systems have them? But it dared not say this aloud, fearing Lu Chuan might explode.)
“System, weren’t you the one wanting me in this dungeon? Well, you got your wish.” Though annoyed, Lu Chuan’s brain was still working. “Start scanning—use all your power. What is this dungeon? There’s no info, no conditions—how am I supposed to play? Oh, and find Number 9. I’m all alone here; I don’t want to get sold off.”
No one alive could sell you, Host, #888 muttered inwardly. Then it promptly began scanning.
Inside this Mutated Dungeon, its strength was much higher than in other instances, though still weaker than in reality—probably because this dungeon wasn’t a standard Evil World instance.
[Host, this timeline seems similar to Shen Li’s divine challenge instance—no, judging by the rock composition, it’s even older, perhaps pre–Age of Discovery Europe,] #888 analyzed.
A time of knights and witches, of slave masters, with no steam engines or guns.
“Hissss.” Lu Chuan sucked in a breath. “The fake God of Desire back then was already trouble—now we’ve got the real deal. And usually, the earlier the timeline, the stronger people’s faith, the easier it is to contact gods, right?”
[Correct, Host.] #888 nodded. [Humans can’t normally commune with gods, but once collective belief reaches a threshold, their voices can touch the divine. Then more gods are willing to descend and walk among mortals. I sense many divine forces here… but strangely, none belong to the God of Desire.]
That was odd. The scan picked up hundreds of different deities, but not a trace of the God of Desire.
“Well, the dungeon core isn’t supposed to be easy to find,” Lu Chuan said, unconcerned. That felt normal.
“By the way—Number 9? Have you found him yet?” Lu Chuan wasn’t about to miss the chance to cling to an Executor’s thigh. Why rely on yourself if you could rely on someone else?
These days, who could live without others?
[…Found him. Host, turn around—he’s right behind you, wuwuwu…] #888 sounded terrified.
Lu Chuan turned—and nearly screamed when he saw golden hair gleaming, a face too beautiful for a human, gazing at him calmly.
“Ah—! Damn it, do you know scaring people can kill them?” Lu Chuan felt like he’d almost died on the spot.
Partly because Number 9 had appeared silently at his back. Partly because, up close, the man was intimidating.
Somehow, Lu Chuan felt an urge to get closer, but his iron self-control smothered it.
Good thing my rationality stat is high, he thought.
Anyone else would’ve pounced already.
An Executor this stunning was surely the Main System’s test for humanity!
“I’m not human,” Number 9 said seriously.
“That doesn’t mean you can just stand behind me out of nowhere,” Lu Chuan muttered, patting his chest.
“I’ve been standing behind you for a long time,” Number 9 replied. “You simply didn’t notice.”
“Alright, alright, can we drop that?” Lu Chuan raised his hands in surrender. “Honored Executor, do you know what’s going on in this dungeon?”
Since he was here, Lu had no choice but to face it.
“This is the dungeon where Xi Jiangyuan first tangled with the gods—it’s part of his historical memory,” Number 9 said lightly. “The reason his death left an abnormal copy to purge lies in the cause he planted as a rookie, when he brushed against the divine. To erase the anomaly, we must start at its root.”
Hearing this, Lu Chuan felt he understood.
“System, the Evil World Main System is blatantly cheating,” Lu sighed. “I used to wonder—after all these years, hasn’t any strong player broken its rules? There’s so much power inside these dungeons. Turns out, even if someone does break the limits, the game just rewrites the error.”
Number 9’s words revealed the trick: eliminate the source.
Imagine—a player fights through countless instances, gaining skills and strength, finally ready to challenge the Main System or even these Executors. How would the game respond?
Normally, it might send stronger Executors or bosses to suppress or kill that player.
But the Evil World game doesn’t do that.
It sends Executors through time, back to the very beginning of that player’s power—and snips the bud.
That way, no matter how mighty the player might become later, they’re still weak at the start. All you need to do is take out the weakling.
That’s way too underhanded.
How’s anyone supposed to fight that?
“But wouldn’t that mess up the timeline?” Lu asked, curious.
[Not really,] #888 answered. [This isn’t true time travel—we’re inside Xi Jiangyuan’s memory. The anomaly exists because this memory involved many gods; their power may have lingered in him through it. Purging the divine forces in his memory will also remove him.]
“So… are we time-traveling or not?” Lu Chuan was confused.
[Half and half. Xi Jingyuan’s memory formed this Mutated Dungeon. Within it, even Executors are limited, and I sense divine power,] #888 mused. [Gods don’t exist on the same level as humans. You can’t interpret them with ordinary logic. Let’s just say: here, we can cut off the root of Xi Jiangyuan’s entanglement with the gods and thus end him.]
Lu scratched his head; his scalp itched as if his brain were sprouting.
“So, can systems really go back in time?” he asked, intrigued.
[In theory, yes. Once I grow stronger, I could too,] #888 said proudly. [Just like if I can’t find a good host here, I could go to another world. Moving through time and space is part of our power.]
Without such ability, how could they hope to cultivate a god?
“Then I’ll wait for you to get stronger,” Lu Chuan said earnestly. “Someday, when I’m powerful too, I’ll use it. Can’t beat an enemy now? I’ll jump back and smash him in the past!”
Such ambition, Host!
#888 said nothing, quietly upgrading itself.
Seeing it go silent, Lu Chuan stopped talking too and turned his attention back to Number 9.
“What’s your situation now? It looks like your power has weakened a lot,” Lu Chuan couldn’t help but ask further.
Even though Number 9 was still as captivating as ever, that mysterious pull that once made everything orbit around him had faded noticeably.
He seemed even less imposing than when he had possessed that statue back in Li Family Village.
“The Main God System sent me through time to this point. At this moment, I’m not yet an Executor,” Number 9 answered simply.
Oh.
Got it.
So traveling through time didn’t just weaken the enemy—it also weakened him.
Lu Chuan glanced at himself, curiosity burning stronger. “But my ancestors at this point haven’t even been born yet. Why am I here?”
“Look at yourself.” Number 9’s eyes tilted slightly upward as he handed him a mirror.
Lu Chuan looked inside—and was stunned.
“Damn, who’s this sallow-faced walking lump of coal?” he exclaimed.
In the reflection, he was a frail, impoverished boy who looked like he could keel over any second.
But he didn’t feel that way at all.
He had always thought this body was his own—so why did it look different?
“You’re a player, protected by another set of rules,” Number 9 explained after a pause. “In Xi Jiangyuan’s memory, we don’t exist. I came here to deal with Xi Jiangyuan, while you simply stumbled into it as a player. Your appearance was altered to match this world and fit his memory. As long as you don’t actively disrupt this slice of history, you’ll be fine.”
So—if I disrupt history, I’m screwed?
“Executor, sir, if it’s convenient, could you take me along? I was tossed in here by your junior, Number 18. I never wanted to enter this dungeon in the first place. You should take full responsibility.” Lu Chuan’s words grew more righteous as he went on.
Number 9 gave him a sidelong glance, said nothing, and simply walked forward.
Lu Chuan chuckled to himself and followed.
No refusal—that was as good as consent.
Executors were lofty beings; they wouldn’t stoop to soft words with players. He could understand that.
After traveling all night—
“Hold up, I need a break. I can’t keep going.” Lu Chuan plopped down. “Can’t we buy a carriage or something? Out here in the middle of nowhere, I really can’t walk anymore. No way.”
He sprawled out without an ounce of dignity, pulling an old shirt from his system space to spread on the ground before sitting, pounding his legs as he groaned.
When had he ever suffered like this?
He had plenty of gold—he could buy a carriage easily.
The problem was, there wasn’t a soul around.
Just endless mountains. After walking all night, he was absolutely… done.
“There’s a small town thirty kilometers ahead.” Number 9 stopped, frowning at him. “With your player level, your stamina shouldn’t be this poor.”
“Sorry, but I’m not built for stamina.” Lu Chuan rolled his eyes. “We’ve been walking six or seven hours straight! If I weren’t a player, I’d have collapsed after the first hour.”
Thankfully, in the last dungeon, Clash of the Blood Kingdom, he’d upgraded his stamina and endurance—otherwise he’d have dropped dead halfway through the night.
No wonder the Main God System cultivated the Executors—they were tough as nails.
“I’ll check for some kind of transport item… wait, what the hell? All my items are sealed?” Lu Chuan opened his system space and found everything greyed out. Skills, too, were unusable.
“In Xi Jiangyuan’s memory world, there is no Lu Chuan, so naturally none of your items exist,” Number 9 explained. “Your skills are locked as well. In this type of dungeon, only the physical stats you’ve trained—strength, stamina, endurance, sanity—remain usable.”
That was part of the game’s rules.
Convenient as items were, and powerful as skills could be, the base attributes boosted by the game weren’t for nothing.
In dungeons where everything else was sealed, only raw stats counted.
“Thank god my money still works.” Lu Chuan pulled out some gold, relieved.
As long as money was still money, all was well.
Cash was also a kind of power!
Number 9 glanced at him, then lowered his eyes to the gold ingot embedded in his sword’s hilt.
Though unchanged in size, its surface was etched with intricate patterns.
Noticing the motion, Lu Chuan sneaked a look and muttered to #888:
“This Executor looks cold and aloof, but he’s secretly a show-off. Look at that huge gold ingot on his sword—like he’s begging everyone to notice.”
So much for being above money.
Wasn’t he flaunting it right there?
That said, Number 9 had good taste.
The more Lu Chuan looked, the more he wanted to buy it.
It was gorgeous.
He’d pay double for it!
#888 scanned the sword hilt.
[Host, I detect no gold ingot at all.] The system sounded shocked. [Could you be hallucinating?]
“That’s possible,” Lu Chuan admitted. If #888 couldn’t detect it, then the ingot must not exist.
Probably one of Number 9’s abilities.
All these Executors were strange like that.
Thinking it over, Lu Chuan asked suddenly, “Sir Executor, you’re always running around like this—it must be tough. What exactly does the Main God System give you in return?”
He was already scheming. To poach Number 9, he had to know the benefits first, then offer better.
After all, he was the future God of Wealth.
Petty change didn’t matter to him.
“Immortality. Eternal youth.” Number 9 replied with just three words.
Lu Chuan: …
“Ahem, and what are the requirements to become an Executor?” he pressed.
[Host!] #888 fumed. [Once you ascend, you’ll have all that anyway. When you become the God of Wealth, you’ll even grant blessings to your own subordinate deities.]
Clearly, the Main God System had simply given the Executors divine abilities.
The higher the ranking, the stronger the power.
#888 was already forming suspicions.
Maybe the Main God System had cultivated gods before, but discarded them as unsatisfactory—recycling them as Executors.
In truth, Executors were gods.
Just gods bound to the Main God System, feeding on divinity, without temples or priests of their own.
Otherwise, they were no different.
“Well, I’m not a god yet,” Lu Chuan muttered. “Becoming an Executor sounds easier, actually.”
“Any player on the Master Ranking who survives with sanity below 30 becomes an Executor candidate,” Number 9 actually answered. “From Executor No. 200 onward, if you defeat the Gatekeeper of that rank, you can become an official Executor. The more missions you complete, the stronger you grow, the higher your rank climbs.”
Huh.
Lu Chuan blinked. “So you all used to be master-ranked players?”
“No.” Number 9 shook his head. “The Executor recruitment is open to gods, players, dungeon natives—and some are creations of the Main God System itself.”
Lu Chuan half-understood. “You Executors are surprisingly easygoing, answering anything asked.”
Number 9 paused in silence, then said slowly, “Unless the Main God System commands it, we never trouble players.”
Most of the time, it was the players who feared them.
After resting, dawn was breaking. Number 9 led the way again, while Lu Chuan followed with a stick as a makeshift cane.
After who-knew-how-long, they finally saw a town below the mountain.
Thank heaven—they’d made it.
All Lu Chuan wanted was an inn, a bath, some food, and a good sleep.
Remembering the rule of keeping wealth hidden, he gave Number 9 a chunk of gold to cut into small ingots, then relaxed.
Best not to flash too much gold at once. With no skills or items to rely on, he couldn’t afford to act recklessly.
He even insisted that Number 9 change into more normal clothes.
Who the hell wore a military uniform out here?
Sure, it looked sharp (Number 9 called it the Executor uniform), but still—better to switch.
To show he wasn’t peeking, Lu Chuan even covered his eyes… though he spread his fingers slightly, ready for an “accidental” glance.
But Number 9 didn’t even undress. With a snap of his fingers, his outfit changed instantly.
Tch.
No fun at all.
Lu Chuan was quietly disappointed.
At the city gate, two tall soldiers with spears were checking every entrant one by one.
“Lately a lot of cultists have been causing trouble—checks are tighter.”
“Eh, they just want money.”
“Slip them more, and it’s fine.”
***
With their sharp hearing, Lu Chuan and Number 9 caught every word, even from a distance.
Although what they were saying wasn’t in any language Lu Chuan knew, somehow he and Number 9 could understand every word.
“Looks like I’d better put away the gold and just hand out a little silver.”
Lu Chuan felt he’d shown off his wealth far too much.
The two of them joined the very end of the line.
Just then, a few villagers near the front began to glance back.
But whatever they’d meant to look at, once their eyes landed on Number 9, they couldn’t look away.
“What are you standing there for, in a daze?” someone in the queue said irritably, giving the person in front a shove.
Why were they just frozen there? Was something behind them?
Thinking that, several more turned their heads.
And they too went blank.
Like an infection spreading, everyone soon stood there gaping at Number 9, emotions boiling in their eyes until they finally burned into frenzy.
“Catch him—catch him!”
“He’s mine, mine!”
“Grab him! If we present him to the lord, we’ll be made nobles!”
“He’s mine, all mine!”
The scene erupted into chaos.
The crowd surged toward them; if stares could take physical form, Number 9 would already have been cut to pieces by them.
Lu Chuan jumped in fright. He looked at the clearly unhinged villagers, then at Number 9’s calm face, as if he was used to this sort of thing.
Damn, there had to be something about this guy.
Even with his power so greatly suppressed, he could still draw people like that?
Lu Chuan didn’t believe for a second that mere good looks could make people lose their minds. No—Number 9 still carried some innate force, one no ordinary mortal could resist even after it had been pushed down to this level.
Number 9 glanced at Lu Chuan, utterly unaffected.
Which made sense: even with his strength diminished, Lu Chuan’s own “desire-for-money gold ingot” hadn’t dimmed a bit—in fact, finer and finer engravings kept surfacing on its face. That meant Lu Chuan’s greed for wealth was overwhelmingly dominant.
Lu Chuan felt suddenly naïve.
He’d thought the hardest part of this dungeon would be the gods #888 had warned about, or maybe the hidden traps in Xi Jiangyuan’s memory. He hadn’t expected the biggest danger to come from right beside him—the Executor himself.
Number 9 was the biggest threat here!
“What are you standing there for—run!”
Lu Chuan grabbed Number 9’s hand and bolted.
Author’s Note:
NPCs: Such a beauty, we must offer him to the lord! [heart] [heart] [heart]
