Chapter 160
For once, Lu Chuan actually felt a little guilty.
Ahem.
He’d lived proudly half his life, but when it came to his sanity value, it was the one thing he couldn’t hold his head high about. In his mind, it was all the Main God System targeting him. He considered himself perfectly normal, yet somehow, every sanity test came out ridiculously low.
“General Wen, what exactly do you mean by that?” Lu Chuan asked calmly, instead turning the question back on Wen Zhi.
How had this suddenly become about his sanity value?
“The greatest trait of the Seed of Desire is that it magnifies one’s desires, lowering a player’s sanity. But normally, it’s hard to notice the seed’s influence,” Wen Zhi explained seriously. “Inside my domain, I can sense everyone’s sanity. From the moment you entered, I could feel yours was abnormally low—definitely under 70. Perhaps you think you have the [Seed of Exchange], but in reality, it’s the [Seed of Desire].”
Wen Zhi believed Lu Chuan had been deceived.
The [Seed of Desire] adapts to its owner’s thoughts.
If someone believes it to be the [Seed of Exchange], it can disguise itself that way, though its true nature never changes. Human desires are infinite, and the Seed of Desire has no fixed form. But one thing is certain: once it is used, sanity plummets. Because once desires are fulfilled, that is when harvesting begins.
In Wen Zhi’s view, with Lu Chuan’s sanity below 70, he was basically no longer truly rational—just a beast in human skin.
“General Wen, I think there’s been some misunderstanding.” Lu Chuan didn’t know how else to explain, so after some thought, he simply took out his [Seed of Exchange].
“I trust your integrity, General. Why don’t you take a look yourself—see whether this is truly the [Seed of Desire] or the [Seed of Exchange]?” He couldn’t exactly admit that he had always had such a low sanity value since coming into this world. So, if Wen Zhi suspected him of carrying the Seed of Desire, better to just put the item out and let Wen Zhi confirm for himself.
Wen Zhi hadn’t expected Lu Chuan to simply hand over a seed like that.
His eyelids twitched—he became even more convinced Lu Chuan was acting irrational.
A normal player would never treat a seed so lightly.
Yet when Wen Zhi carefully inspected the [Seed of Exchange]—examining it from every angle, even checking system prompts—it was undeniably the [Seed of Exchange]. His face filled with doubt.
Huh? This wasn’t what he expected.
“But your sanity value…” Wen Zhi still felt unsettled.
“Oh, maybe that’s because I have another seed as well.” Lu Chuan thought for a moment and then placed the [Seed of Fertility] in front of Wen Zhi. “Look, General Wen.”
This time, Wen Zhi was truly stunned.
Divine Power Seeds were already rare—many Master-Ranking players didn’t even have a single one. Yet Lu Chuan casually pulled out two at once, and they were even from different gods.
How long had he even been a Master-Ranking player?
“Put them away.” Wen Zhi drew a deep breath. “Don’t take them out so casually again. If it had been someone else, they might have attacked you on the spot.”
For him to show off his wealth so brazenly here, in Wen Zhi’s own domain, left Wen Zhi at a loss for words. “Have you lost your mind in pursuit of these Seeds? If so, it’s fine—I’ve got two Sanity Cards here, you—”
Before he could finish, Wen Zhi saw Lu Chuan swing out another whole stack of Sanity Cards.
What the hell?
Had he gone and robbed a god?
Why did he even have so many Sanity Cards?
Wen Zhi’s expression almost broke.
“I really don’t have a problem,” Lu Chuan said sincerely. “If my Sanity Value looks low to you, then I’d say the system’s method of calculating Sanity is flawed—not that there’s something wrong with me.”
Wen Zhi felt a bit lost.
“General Wen, if there’s nothing else, may I leave now?” Lu Chuan asked.
“No, nothing else. You can go.” Wen Zhi snapped back to himself and hurried to respond.
“Oh, right—General Wen, I just finished talking business with General Guan Hong. If you’d like to help me, maybe wait until he’s done and give me a hand.” Lu Chuan turned back with a sunny grin. “That’s all. Thank you, General Wen.”
Even after Lu Chuan left his personal domain, Wen Zhi stayed motionless.
Wang Feng, who’d been standing guard outside, only let Lu Chuan go after seeing him emerge. Then he stepped into Wen Zhi’s quarters, where the general was leaning back in his chair, letting out a long sigh.
“General, what’s wrong?” Wang Feng asked cautiously.
“Nothing. Just marveling at how terrifying the younger generation can be.” Wen Zhi suddenly chuckled. “To suddenly see hope that might one day oppose the Evil World Game—it’s a bit hard to process.”
Perhaps he now understood why the vice guildmaster of the Star Guild would bypass someone as solid as Starry Ming and instead choose Lu Chuan, this young upstart.
Because the potential of the young was limitless.
Meanwhile, after leaving Wen Zhi’s domain, Lu Chuan was immediately surrounded by Shen Li and the others, asking what had happened.
Lu Chuan gave a simple account.
“…Just keep your Sanity where it is. If it gets any higher, I’m afraid you’ll let me die again.” Shen Li was clearly holding a grudge—he hadn’t forgotten how, back when Lu Chuan’s Sanity rose, Lu Chuan had almost left him for dead.
“Old Shen, dragging up old dirt now is meaningless,” Lu Chuan refused to admit that past self was him. “Back then, I was even willing to blow all my money. Could that possibly have been the normal me?”
“If it hadn’t been for you not caring about money then, you think I’d have let it go?” Shen Li shot back.
Whatever others thought, for Shen Li and the others, this Lu Chuan was the best version of Lu Chuan.
So they didn’t dig deeper, didn’t question more—just tried to keep things as they were.
Adults had to learn when to turn a blind eye.
News that Lu Chuan wanted to unite the other guilds to set up an auction house gradually spread.
First, because Lu Chuan hadn’t kept it secret. Second, because once the higher-ups discussed it, leaks were inevitable.
Some marveled at Lu Chuan’s wealth, that he could pull off something so grand; others worried about the auction house’s security. Opinions flew left and right, but Lu Chuan couldn’t be bothered with PR.
The project hadn’t even started—no need to waste public relations money yet.
A few savvy players and wealthy commoners quietly approached him, hoping to invest.
Lu Chuan refused.
What a joke—when the Four Great Guilds hadn’t even nodded yet, it wasn’t time for small fry to sip the soup.
He’d wait for the Four Great Guilds first.
After some time, good news arrived.
The first to confirm was the Resurrection Guild. Credit where it was due—Cynthia was formidable. Her influence within Resurrection still had room to grow. Good thing he’d roped her in as an ally; if she’d been an enemy, he’d have lost even more hair.
Once Resurrection gave their stance, Messiah’s Noah Guild followed quickly.
Messiah’s popularity was immense—especially among new players, nearly all of whom were his fans.
Next came the Abyss Guild. Wen Zhi kept his word, and with him and Guan Hong pushing things, progress was smooth.
Ocean Heart Guild ended up last, but after Lu Chuan promised to raise next year’s pearl purchase prices, they too agreed.
With the Five Great Guilds on board, the rest could only wait, yearning to join but unable, until Lu Chuan’s auction house was established.
With reality settled, the next step was finding people in the dungeon world.
As soon as Lu Chuan entered, planning to inspect his Golden Skyscraper’s wealth growth, he was caught by Chen Ji.
“Long time no see, Lu Chuan. Been busy lately?” Chen Ji smiled thinly. “Why have I heard some troubling rumors?”
Lu Chuan played dumb. “Troubling rumors? For you, aren’t all rumors supposed to be good?”
Chen Ji chuckled darkly. “Your auction house is none of my business—so long as it doesn’t hurt our company. Otherwise, you’d better watch out. That [Seed of Exchange] on you could turn into the [God of Exchange] anytime—and strike you down.”
Lu Chuan only smiled back. “Relax. I’ve never liked eating alone. I came here specifically to find you. Interested in the auction house? Your Evil Loan Company can take some shares. You can introduce us clients, and we’ll do the same for you.”
Only cooperation led to mutual benefit.
Even if the [God of Exchange] had to be taken down eventually, for now, cooperation was useful.
“I’ll bring your proposal back for review,” Chen Ji said with a smile. “But it won’t be exactly on your terms. I’ll have to see what the higher-ups decide.”
“Oh?” Lu Chuan arched a brow. “I thought someone like you could make your own calls.”
Chen Ji wasn’t surprised he’d guessed his identity. Instead, he sighed heavily. “Times change. A god can have many subordinates, but a subordinate can only have one god.”
Lu Chuan stayed quiet.
“But you’ve come at a good time.” At first, Chen Ji hadn’t wanted to tell him about Wen Renxu’s whereabouts. But if Lu Chuan had so much energy to spare—expanding his forces and making money—better to redirect him.
At least act like a normal player and run dungeons more, instead of endlessly scheming in both worlds.
What was he, some high priest of a money god?
“What is it?” Lu Chuan had a guess but wasn’t sure.
“I’ve found your guildmaster Wen Renxu’s whereabouts.” Chen Ji didn’t bother with suspense. “But don’t forget—you still owe me those Sanity Cards.”
“As soon as the auction house is running, Sanity Cards are no issue. For now, installments.” Lu Chuan didn’t hesitate.
“Then give me this installment first.” Chen Ji immediately held out his hand.
Lu Chuan nearly choked. Once again, proof the [God of Exchange]’s priests were his natural nemeses. Few could bleed him like Chen Ji.
“Fine, fine.” Lu Chuan pulled out a 20-point Sanity Card and handed it over.
Chen Ji inspected it, satisfied, and tucked it away. “Good. First installment paid. Now, the intel.”
“According to my sources, your guildmaster Wen Renxu is trapped in the series dungeon Forbidden Zone of Humanity.” Chen Ji named the dungeon. “Maybe you don’t know it by that title—but it has another name: The Gods’ Graveyard.”
“What do you mean?” Lu Chuan felt this was crucial.
“In the Forbidden Zone of Humanity, anyone who enters—player, NPC, even Executor—becomes just a small role in the dungeon. And like I said, it’s a series dungeon. Which means the first instance you enter could actually be the last stage of the series. You’d have no idea—and suddenly you’d be at the final showdown.” Chen Ji spoke slowly. “And usually, a dungeon’s finale means facing off against a god.”
“…So what do we do? Just clash head-on with a god?” Lu Chuan asked, dumbfounded.
“Of course not. Since it’s a series, the Main God System won’t do something that unreasonable. If you really land straight in the finale, the system will give you a chance—sending you back into an earlier, random dungeon from the series. If you’re lucky, and strong enough, you can rewrite the story’s ending, cut down detours. That’s the only proven way people say this series can be cleared.” Chen Ji went on. “But if you start in the middle or at the beginning, it’s comparatively safer.”
Lu Chuan thought it over seriously for a while, then asked, “If I’m inside this series of dungeons, and when I enter the third time I do something specific, will that cause the later dungeons to change?”
Chen Ji gave him an approving look. As expected of a player who had climbed his way onto the Master Player Ranking, he grasped the terrifying nature of this dungeon series right away.
“Yes,” Chen Ji said firmly. “Let me explain simply. If the first time you enter the dungeon is the story’s 100th year, then you must pay close attention to your actions. Otherwise, the second time you enter might drop you into the 50th year or the 150th year. Every choice you make in one dungeon will influence what happens in the next. Across the whole storyline of the series, the timeline is extremely chaotic. You have to make the right choices at different points in time. No—correction—sometimes the right choice in one time will turn into the wrong choice in the next.”
“This dungeon series—is it tied to a particular god?” Lu Chuan asked curiously.
“Wasn’t what I said obvious enough?” Chen Ji smiled faintly. “Of course it’s the God of Time. A true god, one of the main pantheon—yet even the Main System can’t fully control them. Back when the Main System managed to kill another true god, the God of Desire, it already spent tremendous effort. But the God of Time can move through different timelines. Even if you kill them here, they still exist in another timeline, and can simply adjust the point of their own death. You can’t kill them. That said, it’s also said the God of Time never meddles in the mortal world and never builds a church, so their fame isn’t high. To other gods, it’s almost as if they don’t exist.”
Still, as one of the oldest true gods, the Main System’s desire for the God of Time’s power was real. That’s why it created this dungeon series, hoping to seize it.
#888 was stunned.
[Damn, host, the Main System really is gutsy. The God of Time is one of the oldest of the true gods.] It couldn’t help but butt in. [That god is crazy powerful—called the god that can never die. You can’t do anything about it; the Authority of Time is just that broken. But exactly because of that, the God of Time is also the most restricted. If they interfered in wars between gods or meddled in the human world, the balance would collapse. That’s why fights between gods almost never involve them.]
No wonder Wen Renxu got trapped in this dungeon.
Who could survive this?
“Besides your guild master Wen Renxu, from what I’ve investigated, at least a dozen master-ranked players have died in this series. And there are no fewer than five of equal standing to your guild master,” Chen Ji said with a laugh. “My personal advice? Don’t enter lightly. Time is the hardest thing to resist. Even the God of Exchange wouldn’t rashly step into Time’s domain.”
To overthrow a host on their home turf—it was almost impossible.
“But I still have to go,” Lu Chuan sighed. Most likely Cang Jiu also knew this, which was why he pushed Lu Chuan to condense a divine seed first—at least that gave him another life to gamble with inside this dungeon.
But really, one life wasn’t enough. He’d need at least ten.
“How many dungeons are in this Forbidden Zone of Humanity series?” Lu Chuan asked.
“No one knows.” Chen Ji spread his hands. “No one has ever cleared it, so no one knows how many runs it takes. Most people, once they realize they can’t clear it, just abandon the mission right away. They’d rather lose game points than die in there. My suggestion—rescue your guild master if you can, then withdraw immediately. If you can get out, don’t linger.”
“I understand.” Lu Chuan nodded firmly. “I’d be a fool not to run.”
If he cleared the series, the Main System would just harvest the God of Time’s power. If he failed, he’d just die—and still help the Main System by removing a threat.
Either way, the Main System wouldn’t lose.
Lu Chuan had no intention of playing along.
He didn’t even have to rescue Wen Renxu—just get the token or command proving Wen Renxu had passed the guild master’s seat to him, and he could bolt. No way was he confronting the God of Time.
He couldn’t even beat the God of Exchange right now. If he could handle the God of Time, he might as well overthrow the Main System itself and rule—what would he need a guild master’s position for?
Lu Chuan knew his limits.
“That’s all.” Chen Ji waved him off. “Don’t ask me about dungeon content—I can’t tell you, and you couldn’t afford the price anyway. Just save up, and when you really enter, focus on surviving.” He patted Lu Chuan’s shoulder. “Don’t die in there. You’ve got a bright future.”
“Maybe I’ll meet Master Wen Renxu in my very first run. Then I can just give up and walk away.” Lu Chuan smiled. “Then I won’t have any problem at all.”
Chen Ji snorted. “That’s wishful thinking.”
For people like us, bound up with gods, the moment we step in, the God of Time will notice. Meeting exactly who you want right away? No such luck.
Lu Chuan bid Chen Ji farewell, left the dungeon world, and immediately went to see the vice guild master.
This was too important—plus it tied into paying back his Rationality Card debt. He couldn’t hide it.
The vice guild master drank several cups of tea in silence.
“No wonder,” he murmured after a long pause. “So that’s where the guild master ended up. If that’s truly the case, I don’t advise you to go in.”
“You don’t want me to rescue the guild master?” Lu Chuan raised an eyebrow.
“Finding him is important, but not at the cost of everyone’s lives.” The vice guild master hesitated, then looked directly at him. “You know that Starry Ming already received the guild master’s message, and went into the dungeon world to look for him, right?”
“I know.” Lu Chuan nodded.
“Starry Ming has always worshiped the guild master. He probably got the message, but he likely didn’t realize how terrifying the dungeon was. So he rushed in with his whole team. And now—they’ve vanished. We haven’t heard a word from him, nor from any of his teammates.”
Even the divination items they used to check Starry Ming’s status shattered outright, declaring insufficient rank.
From the looks of it, Starry Ming and his team were probably dead.
“Now that your biggest rival has disappeared, in a few years you’ll have no obstacles. You’ll become guild master directly. There’s no need to risk going in.”
Author’s Note:
Lu Chuan: So my rival suicides himself, and I just pick up the win?
