Chapter 143
“How much do you need? Five hundred Rationality Points?” The vice guildmaster almost thought he’d misheard.
“Vice guildmaster, it’s not for me — the Extreme Evil Loan Company wants it,” Lu Chuan said without a hint of guilt at quoting such a price. As a middleman, it was only natural to skim a handling fee.
“I don’t have that.” The vice guildmaster looked at Lu Chuan in all seriousness. “Really, I don’t. Rationality Cards are meant for transactions with Master Rank players. A guild doesn’t get many of those, and we can’t ask them to hand over cards as guild dues.”
Lu Chuan frowned at those words. “But to find the Guildmaster, they only take Sanity Cards or S-rank items.”
“…I still have some private reserves, but not much,” the Vice-guildmaster admitted honestly. “At my age, I haven’t gone into a dungeon in a long time. I personally still have a 50-point Sanity Card. You can take that first. If it’s not enough, I’ll swallow my pride and borrow from some old friends.”
“Looks like you too have no grain left in the landlord’s granary,” Lu Chuan sighed. “Vice-guildmaster, a man ought to build up more savings while he’s young. Otherwise, when it’s time to spend money, there’ll be nothing to bring out.”
The Vice-guildmaster ground his teeth slightly. “Lu Chuan, do you want to count how many things on you came from me?”
I gave you so much, and you still say that?
“Forget it then.” Lu Chuan thought for a moment. “I’ll cover the Sanity Cards for the Guildmaster’s search. You just have to agree to one thing for me.”
“…Say it first. I’ll decide whether to agree after I hear it.” The Vice-guildmaster had learned to be wary. For Lu Chuan to suddenly make a concession? That wasn’t normal—there had to be a bigger trap waiting.
“Vice-guildmaster, that’s not fair. Do I look like the type who’d make things difficult for you?” Lu Chuan thought it must be because Shen Li had tattled about him too much; the Vice-guildmaster used to trust him.
“You are,” the Vice-guildmaster replied flatly.
“Ahem, let’s not get stuck on that.” Lu Chuan had to skip the topic. “Actually, my request is simple. I know the guild is about to start selecting promising rookie players for training again. coincidentally, I also have a list here. I hope you can give their kids a chance…”
Lu Chuan walked out of the Vice-guildmaster’s office and stretched lazily.
Shen Li had been called over by the Vice-guildmaster to pick him up.
“Lu Chuan, what did you say to him? His voice sounded completely drained,” Shen Li asked. He was already used to being seen as Lu Chuan’s babysitter. These days, when people couldn’t find Lu Chuan, they came to him. Shen Li had no choice but to accept it.
“Nothing, just securing a bit of welfare for my subordinates and making sure they’ll be more loyal to me,” Lu Chuan shrugged. “Probably just the Vice-guildmaster hitting menopause.”
In truth, the Vice-guildmaster had seen the names on Lu Chuan’s list and realized with shock that the guild’s finances had already fallen completely into Lu Chuan’s hands. That explained why Lu Chuan hadn’t asked him for more money.
And even with financial control, Lu Chuan wasn’t satisfied—he was already plotting to cultivate a fresh batch of loyal young followers.
To Lu Chuan, there was nothing wrong with that.
A Guildmaster’s role was simply to gather a large group of people who trusted him and obeyed him.
Since he aimed to be Guildmaster, of course he had to cultivate loyal cadres of his own.
Power struggles were always dark. Things like fairness and the guild’s greater good could only come later—after he’d truly become Guildmaster and stabilized the situation. For now, what mattered was securing loyalty first.
Money alone wasn’t enough to bind people. By tying their next generation to his ship as well, he wouldn’t have to worry about betrayal.
“The Vice-guildmaster’s long past menopause,” Shen Li muttered, exasperated. “Forget it. Do what you want. What are you busy with these days?”
“Busy figuring out how to become Guildmaster as soon as possible,” Lu Chuan replied casually.
“You’re barely past twenty,” Shen Li thought he was rushing it. “You should wait. There’s no need to hurry.”
“Who said people in their twenties can’t be Guildmaster?” Lu Chuan rolled his eyes. “As long as I’ve got the strength, people might resist at first, but eventually they’ll get used to it.”
“Fine, fine. But this isn’t something you can just will into happening. Our current Guildmaster still hasn’t shown up. Without his approval, you becoming Guildmaster is… Oh wait, I get it—did you already find clues about him? So quickly? You only just got this task!” Shen Li was stunned. He had just assigned it to Lu Chuan with the Vice-guildmaster yesterday.
“Not yet. I just posted a mission at the Extreme Evil Loan Company,” Lu Chuan explained simply, recounting Chen Ji’s request to find someone. “The fee is high. But if we can provide more details and clues about the Guildmaster, it’ll help the search and also reduce costs. That’s why I went to the Vice-guildmaster—to learn more about him. Back then, he was in the same party as the Guildmaster. Nobody in the guild knows him better.”
The Vice-guildmaster had indeed given Lu Chuan plenty of intel.
The Guildmaster, [Polaris], real name Wen Renxu, only entered the game at twenty-five. Within four years, he had already become a player on the Master Ranking. At thirty-six, he became Guildmaster of the Star Guild—the most prestigious and admired leader in its history.
Before Lu Chuan appeared, [Polaris] had been nothing short of legendary.
His highest ranking on the Master Ranking was third. At his peak, he even outshone the leaders of other guilds, pressuring rival guilds. Even [Undying], the leader of the Resurrection Guild, treated him with respect. At that time, the Star Guild rose to the very top. Even later, when [Polaris] got trapped in a dungeon and the guild declined, as long as his name remained on the Master Ranking, the other four guilds dared not move against them.
His lingering prestige had truly shielded the entire guild.
No wonder everyone in the Star Guild revered him like a god.
But it hadn’t lasted.
Wen Renxu had risen quickly, but his state was unstable.
According to the Vice-guildmaster, his rapid ascent was due to a natural case of multiple personality disorder. Unusually, his personalities got along fairly well. And when he switched between them, his abilities shifted too. Because of this, his sanity value was naturally low and his condition erratic.
The Vice-guildmaster believed he hadn’t been trapped by a god, but rather by one of his own personalities.
When his sanity was normal, the personalities coexisted peacefully. But when it plunged, some of them rebelled, trying to overthrow the dominant one.
“The Guildmaster has one particularly dangerous personality. It rarely appears—I only saw it once. But that one time, it nearly wiped out our whole party. To suppress it, the Guildmaster chose to sleep, fighting it together with his other personalities in dreams. Now that he’s stuck in a dungeon, I suspect it’s the same problem. I can’t think of any other reason he’d be held up.” The Vice-guildmaster’s faith in him was absolute.
He also shared other details.
Wen Renxu’s ability was called [Divine Descent]. Any god from a dungeon he had cleared could form a contract with him, allowing him to borrow some of their power—though each demanded sacrifices afterward. Normally, Wen Renxu dealt only with manageable low- to mid-tier gods. But some personalities liked to take risks, which easily led to disasters.
After hearing all this, Lu Chuan had only one thought.
What a trendy character setup.
But he wasn’t envious.
Even different “versions” of himself depending on sanity values were enough of a headache—he hated any condition where he lost control.
Shen Li, after listening, only said, “The Guildmaster is very strong, and his place in players’ hearts is unshakable. Even Starry Ming is utterly loyal to him. If the Guildmaster chooses to pass the position to you, Starry Ming wouldn’t dare object.”
So as long as they found the Guildmaster, everything would fall into place.
Inside a dungeon world—
Cang Jiu once again received Lu Chuan’s remote “call.”
#888 had never liked him much and wasn’t keen on helping Lu Chuan reach out. But after realizing how many underlings Lu Chuan had been gathering behind his back, #888 suddenly felt a surge of crisis.
Sure, it was still the most important system to its host—but sheer numbers mattered too.
So now it found Cang Jiu less objectionable.
At least he wasn’t constantly hanging around, flattering the host. A workable ally.
“[Polaris] never applied to become an Executor. Not once,” Cang Jiu confirmed after checking. “Some of our comrades once tried inviting him, but he refused. He didn’t want to be bound by the Main God System.”
To the Executors, Wen Renxu’s powers were extremely appealing. If he had joined, his ranking would have soared. But he wasn’t interested.
“That’s good. I can relax then,” Lu Chuan exhaled. If the Guildmaster had been an Executor, things would’ve gotten messy.
“Do you know where he is?” Lu Chuan tried to mooch more info.
“I can’t say.” After a pause, Cang Jiu answered. “I can only tell you he’s inside another colleague’s mission. Without the Main God’s direct command, I can’t interfere with a fellow Executor’s task.”
Unless a mission was intercepted before assignment, once it was given out, only its original handler could work on it—unless they died permanently and couldn’t be revived.
“Your colleague, what’s their rank?” Lu Chuan sharply noticed that Cang Jiu seemed to be carefully avoiding certain wording.
“My colleague is Executor Number 6,” Cang Jiu said slowly. “It’s been a very long time since He took on human form, so I’ve never actually seen His true appearance. But I’ve heard a rumor: Executor Number 6 was once a god—one that was actually killed in a dungeon by [Polaris]. It was precisely with Wen Renxu’s help that the Main God System was able to seize His original authority and turn Him into Executor Number 6. So, every single mission involving Wen Renxu is always completed by Executor Number 6.”
Lu Chuan realized just how troublesome this was.
The Guildmaster really seemed to be in a bad spot.
Cang Jiu was already hard enough to deal with—someone ranked ahead of him, Number 6, would be even worse.
“If you really want to save [Polaris], try condensing your own Seed,” Cang Jiu said sincerely. “As long as you can condense a Seed that belongs to you, you’ll have a second life.”
