Chapter 141
Cang Jiu froze for a moment. Luckily, it was brief, and Number 18 was too busy mourning the lost meal to notice.
“I hear you,” Cang Jiu replied via thought.
“Great, I was afraid you couldn’t.” Lu Chuan sighed in relief. He hadn’t been all that confident in #888—though of course he couldn’t let #888 know that.
“What’s the matter?” Cang Jiu knew Lu Chuan wouldn’t call for no reason.
“Ah, well, it’s nothing serious,” Lu Chuan said reflexively. “I just thought, we’ve known each other a while and never had a proper chat…”
“If it’s nothing, then I’ll hang up.”
“Wait, there is something!” Lu Chuan quickly backtracked.
Really not human, he thought—couldn’t even catch a polite opening.
“My teammates’ hunting targets after entering the Master-Rank list… are all me. Because I haven’t ascended yet, my divine name isn’t fixed, so the Main God hasn’t revealed my identity to them. But since it’s issued that mission, it means it’ll come for me sooner or later. You’ve been undercover as an Executor inside the Main God System for years—you must know something about this.”
Lu Chuan came to ask Cang Jiu questions fully prepared for the other party to brush him off or deceive him.
Although they did know each other, and even fairly well, at the end of the day one was an old god in the process of reviving, while the other was just a rookie barely setting foot on the path to godhood. In the workplace, veterans might help out rookies sometimes, but more often than not they looked down on them or used them. Indifference was the norm.
Lu Chuan reaching out in goodwill was also a way to look for allies for himself.
“The Main God System can’t perceive specific gods as individuals,” Cang Jiu explained. “It can sense your existence and mine, but only within a vague range. We’re simply on its list of suspects.”
He went on with a small explanation: “You can ask your system as well. A system tasked with cultivating gods cannot directly attack a god-candidate. That’s why it chooses to use your teammates against you instead of sending us, the Executors, to wipe you out.”
Lu Chuan turned to #888 for confirmation.
[Seems like that’s true.] #888 hesitated, then added, [But I never thought the Main God System would still retain that core directive. I assumed that since it can already destroy gods, the directive would’ve disappeared long ago.]
“The Main God System won’t strike at god-candidates, because it too is responsible for cultivating them. But once you’ve become a god, that means its mission is complete—then the core directive no longer binds it,” Cang Jiu continued. “So right now, you are both in danger and safe.”
Lu Chuan had almost certainly made it to the very top of the Main God System’s suspicion list. But no matter how suspicious it was, until he officially became a god, it couldn’t lay hands on him directly. At worst, it could stir up minor troubles and see if Lu Chuan ended up destroying himself.
“I see,” Lu Chuan nodded. “Then that means right now, you and I are in the same boat, rebelling against the Main God System. Can I ask—who else is on this boat with us?”
Surely there had to be quite a few gods who wanted to resist the Main God System? At the very least, some kind of alliance. He himself would join without hesitation.
“Just you and me,” Cang Jiu replied.
“Huh?” Lu Chuan was dumbfounded. “Aren’t there a lot of gods rebelling against the Main God?”
“They are doomed to fail,” Cang Jiu said bluntly. “Their resistance is nothing but a dying struggle—utterly meaningless.”
Lu Chuan fell silent.
That was harsh.
But maybe it was true. Otherwise, how would a Desire God like Cang Jiu end up eyeing a small fry like him?
“Alright, that’s all I needed,” Lu Chuan sighed. “Sorry to bother you.”
After a long pause, Cang Jiu answered, “You didn’t.”
Lu Chuan hung up the “long-distance call,” and locked eyes with #888.
“Looks like help in resisting the Main God is pretty limited,” Lu Chuan said helplessly. “We’ll just have to take things one step at a time.”
He had originally hoped the anti-Main God forces would be stronger. But now, it seemed they were barely a drop in the bucket. Best to develop slowly and cautiously, without being reckless and getting himself killed.
Focus on the present first!
The next day, Lu Chuan slept straight through to the afternoon.
After all, he didn’t feel like going to work right now—what was wrong with giving himself a few days off?
At the moment, all of Lu Chuan’s businesses were running smoothly.
The second phase of Golden Luxury Estate was already being sited and planned. Those who couldn’t grab a unit in the first phase could scramble for one in the second. Just the deposits from the early buyers provided Lu Chuan with plenty of capital—he could invest in anything he wanted.
Then there was the pearl business. With endorsements and marketing campaigns, pearls had now become one of the most popular types of jewelry. Daily profits were substantial, and unlike real estate, it wasn’t a one-time deal.
He also had a variety of other investments, each flourishing in their own way.
Among ordinary people, the shrewder businessmen were practically throwing money at him, begging for a chance to cooperate. As long as Lu Chuan was willing to invest, they’d immediately draft countless proposals and business plans for him.
In such a thriving atmosphere, of course Lu Chuan could afford to be lazy.
What big boss goes to the office every day? If he had to handle everything personally, what was the point of paying a whole team?
Lu Chuan made up for all the sleep he’d been missing, until the vice-chairman personally came to his house—only to find Lu Chuan still sprawled on the bed like a dead dog.
The vice-chairman’s eyelid twitched, and he signaled to Starry Shasha and Shen Li to wake him.
Shen Li remained calm, while Starry Shasha, being the youngest present, quickly stepped forward to do the job.
“Sorry about this, Brother Lu.” Shasha grabbed Lu Chuan with one hand and hauled him upright from the bed.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Lu Chuan yelled. “Do I not get any privacy? Shasha, what if I had a habit of sleeping naked? You can’t just barge into my room without a word.”
“We called at your door several times, Brother Lu, but you wouldn’t wake up,” Shasha said innocently. “So Brother Shen just brought me in.”
For Shen Li, a normal door lock was about as effective as tissue paper.
“What’s the big deal? You could’ve just called me, no need to come all the way here,” Lu Chuan muttered while putting on his shirt—then suddenly got excited. “Wait, don’t tell me you’re here to tell me I’m about to be Guildmaster? If that’s the case, then you’re welcome to wake me up like this anytime!”
“…In your dreams,” the vice-chairman said sourly. “I just came to check on you. I’d just come from seeing Starry Ming.”
“Oh,” Lu Chuan replied perfunctorily.
“He may act a little extreme sometimes, but his loyalty to the guild is unquestionable,” the vice-chairman sighed heavily. “I sat down with him to mediate things between you two. If possible, it’d be best for you both to turn hostility into peace. You’re both rare talents for our guild. Unless absolutely necessary, I don’t want to see you two at each other’s throats.”
He shot Lu Chuan a glare. “Why didn’t you tell me Starry Ming even offered you a win-win arrangement?”
When Starry Ming told him he was willing to groom Lu Chuan as his successor and guarantee that Lu Chuan would be the next Guildmaster, the vice-chairman had nearly lost his composure.
For the Greedy Wolf Star to make such a concession—it showed he truly valued Lu Chuan.
It should have been good news. The vice-chairman thought the two could coexist peacefully. But Lu Chuan had refused?
“Are you worried Starry Ming will go back on his word? Don’t worry—I’ll still be around for several years yet, I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” the vice-chairman said gently. “If Starry Ming becomes Guildmaster, it’ll only be for ten or twenty years at most. You’re young, you can afford to wait. And with him clearing away obstacles, by the time you take over your credentials will be stronger and the transition smoother. It’d be better for the guild overall.”
Right now, Lu Chuan was too young. Even with his high reputation, taking the chairmanship would mean turmoil. But if they followed Starry Ming’s proposal, and publicly named Lu Chuan as the heir after Starry Ming took over, everything would be much easier.
Even the vice-chairman had to admit Starry Ming was making a huge compromise.
That was why he came personally to reassure Lu Chuan. Based on what he knew of him, Lu Chuan should’ve agreed.
Shen Li, though he found Starry Ming’s “win-win” offer a bit condescending, felt it was tolerable. He was an easygoing man by nature.
“Sorry, Vice-chairman,” Lu Chuan shook his head helplessly. If it were his old self, he would’ve agreed without hesitation. Why play the villain when you could both win?
But now he couldn’t. He didn’t have ten or twenty years to wait.
The Main God System had already sicced his teammates on him—how could he afford to wait decades? Of course, he couldn’t say that aloud, so he had to find another angle.
Lu Chuan’s mind spun for a moment, then he began to frame his words.
“Vice-chairman, if you truly like Greedy Wolf Star that much—before I ever joined the guild, you’d already had years to cultivate him. If you didn’t, it must’ve been because he didn’t meet your standards. And now, you’re willing to let him be Guildmaster because with me here to help, you think it won’t be so bad, right?” Lu Chuan asked.
“That’s true. And what’s wrong with that?”
“A lot,” Lu Chuan said flatly. “Greedy Wolf Star and I have completely different governing philosophies. He wants a disciplined, iron-blooded guild. To be fair, that’s not a bad model—but that kind of guild only works at the very beginning, when people are still learning to live with the cruel games. But now it’s different. Players and ordinary people alike are used to the games’ presence, many already know how to live safely. For Greedy Wolf Star to push an iron-blooded system now—it’s too late.”
“He told me he just wants to reform the guild like the Resurrection Guild once did.”
“The Resurrection Guild? And you think it has no problems?” Lu Chuan sneered. “If it didn’t, why would Cynthia and Lilus team up with me? Sure, their bloodlines are a bit unusual, but they grew up under that guild’s nose, loyal disciples of its leader. Yet even so, there were plenty against them. Both in reality and in dungeons, people wanted them dead. Vice-chairman, you tell me—does that sound like a flawless model?”
The vice-chairman opened his mouth, looked at Lu Chuan, and the meaning in his eyes was clear: But isn’t that why you’re here?
“Right now, the guild might look a bit like a pile of loose sand, but if I become the guildmaster, it won’t be hard to reorganize and set new rules. The real problem is, if Starry Ming sits as guildmaster for ten or twenty years, pushing his class-theory nonsense, by the time I take over, I’ll first have to erase his influence on the guild. What’s more, if he’s already the guildmaster then, and he refuses to accept my principles and goes back on his word, no matter what oath he swore, it’ll be useless.”
Speaking up to this point, Lu Chuan smiled. “Every contract has loopholes. Even if there aren’t any, as long as I die, there won’t be a future anyway, right?”
“I’ll make sure he won’t lay a hand on you.”
“Vice guildmaster, you can watch over me for a while, but can you really do it for a lifetime? And besides, who knows what Starry Ming will become in ten or twenty years?” Lu Chuan softened his tone slightly. “Either I fight him head-on now, and if I lose, I’ll accept it. But to gamble on whether someone else will honor a promise in the distant future? Forget it. vice guildmaster, I don’t stake my future on others. I only trust myself.”
The vice guildmaster fell silent at Lu Chuan’s words.
It was true.
“I think Lu Chuan has a point.” Shen Li rarely stood so openly on Lu Chuan’s side in front of the vice guildmaster. “Starry Ming doesn’t strike me as a merciful or broad-minded leader. If he holds the guild for ten or twenty years, who knows what it’ll become? And since Lu Chuan and Starry Ming have completely different styles, asking guild players to adapt suddenly from one style to another will be difficult. Also, Starry Ming has a younger brother—who knows if he won’t favor him when the time comes?”
The vice guildmaster still hesitated. A win–win solution would minimize damage to the guild.
“What are you so anxious for? You’re not the guildmaster anyway.” Lu Chuan could tell his arguments weren’t fully convincing yet, but brushing the vice guildmaster off for now was enough.
“If you really can’t decide, why not just ask the guildmaster?” Lu Chuan smiled. “It’s not like the guildmaster can ignore everything forever.”
“I already sent him a message, but he hasn’t replied yet.” The vice guildmaster answered instinctively.
“You can contact the guildmaster?” Shen Li was stunned. “But I thought other guilds struggled to reach their own guildmasters. If we can contact ours, why did we ever let ourselves be bullied?”
If the guildmaster could be reached all this time, just showing up a few times would’ve been enough to keep other guilds in check.
The vice guildmaster had let it slip by accident.
“Well, since it’s out now, I won’t hide it anymore.” He sighed. “Yes, I can contact the guildmaster. But his situation isn’t good. Since you’re all ranked on the master-rank List now, there are some things you’re qualified to know.”
He glanced at Starry Shasha. “Shasha, step outside first. You’re not a master-rank player yet. If you hear what I’m about to say, your game points will be wiped out.”
“I’ll stand guard outside.” Starry Shasha immediately bolted out the door.
Some things were best heard later, when one was stronger.
Now only the three of them remained, and the vice guildmaster no longer held back.
“Do you know why master-rank List players ever drop off the list?” he asked slowly. “At their level, they’ve got more life-saving items than they can carry, and with such powerful abilities, dying is very hard. After reaching the Master-Rank, the most important task is hunting gods. Dungeons? Clearing one a year is enough. By rights, the master-rank List should only grow longer and more stable. But if you’ve noticed, every year it changes a lot.”
“I thought they must have died, or been removed for some other reason,” Shen Li answered. “Like the Newcomer List—maybe it has limits on dungeon count or time?”
“There are only two ways to fall off the master-rank List.” The vice guildmaster raised two fingers. “The first is death—whether slain by backlash while hunting gods or killed inside a dungeon. As long as the system deems survival impossible, they die. Still, outright death is rare among master-rank players—usually only those ranked below 150. Shen Li, you’d better be careful.”
Shen Li was ranked 189, toward the bottom.
“Ahem, I’ll keep climbing,” he said sheepishly. He had only been waiting outside for Lu Chuan to ascend.
“The second way is to become an Executor.” The vice guildmaster’s eyes gleamed. “After staying on the master-rank List for a certain period, especially after breaking into the top 30, players gain a chance—a single chance to become an Executor. If a player loses all reason, or faces imminent death, they can choose to undergo a trial. If they pass, they become the blade of the Main God System itself. No more dungeons, no more aging, eternal youth and immortality.”
There were other ways, too. Some players lost their minds and mutated into monsters, and a rare few became Executors that way. But those chances were one in ten thousand. Only special constitutions or fated opportunities could succeed.
For top 30 players, though, passing the trial directly was the safest and most reliable path.
The benefits spoke for themselves—eternal life, youth preserved, even resurrection after death.
No more worrying about dungeons, no more fearing scripted deaths. A life of security, forever above the rest.
For many master-rank players whose reason was already eroding, becoming an Executor was a dream come true.
“Other than becoming an Executor, there are still many ways to live permanently inside dungeon worlds.” The vice guildmaster continued calmly. “There are factions there that will take you in, granting permanent residence. Most master-rank players already have their own territory, where they live as lords, free from dungeon runs.”
For many, dungeons were an endless headache—never-ending, filled with deadly plots, and always threatening to knock them down the rankings, if not kill them outright.
After struggling for half a life to reach the top, to still live on a knife’s edge? Who could endure that?
So, many top players started searching for alternatives—becoming Executors, or settling as dungeon lords. Either way, it meant severing ties with the player’s life forever.
“I have old friends who chose to stay in dungeon worlds. And I know many Guildmasters did the same—either Executors or lords. Some countries you see in dungeon worlds may have been founded by our former master-rank players.”
But since dungeon worlds flowed at different speeds, no one could be sure how they were doing now.
Still, the vice guildmaster knew—everyone made their own choices. He had no right to demand that players who had given their lives to the guild keep fighting after they grew old and weary.
“Our guildmaster isn’t one of them… right?” Lu Chuan asked cautiously. “He doesn’t want to become an Executor, does he?”
“He doesn’t.” The vice guildmaster frowned. “Our guildmaster just wants to stay human. He despises the idea of becoming immortal. But right now, he’s trapped in a powerful series of dungeons, and it’s hard for him to wake up.”
“Between you and Starry Ming, who becomes guildmaster isn’t for me to decide. Your weakest point now is your lack of seniority. If you can find the guildmaster and get his appointment, Starry Ming won’t be able to touch you.” The vice guildmaster gave Lu Chuan a long look. “But first, you must find out where the guildmaster is.”
Author’s Note:
Lu Chuan: I think the vice guildmaster is just using me—he wants me to find the guildmaster for him.
Vice guildmaster: Well, what else? You refused a perfectly good win–win deal.
