Chapter 162
“What a good sleep.” Lu Chuan stretched, feeling refreshed. It had been ages since he slept this soundly.
[Good morning, Host.] #888 greeted, a bit guilty. Just seeing Lu Chuan made it uneasy.
It wanted to tell him what happened yesterday. But that other Lu Chuan’s voice had been so gentle—#888 didn’t want to betray him. It was torn apart inside.
“Back to supervising the build today.” Lu Chuan beamed. “Once the Golden Tower is complete, I won’t be able to sleep this well every night. That’s fine—nothing worth having comes for free. Can’t laze around forever. That’s not my style.”
#888 went quiet.
[Host, let me upgrade first.] it suggested. [You still have some game points left—I think I need to enhance my functions.]
“Go on then. I’m not dungeon diving right now anyway.” Lu Chuan waved. #888 rushed off, glad to have an excuse to avoid him for a while.
Sigh. It was just a system.
Whatever the host commanded, it had to obey.
Lu Chuan barely noticed. #888 upgraded all the time—nothing unusual. With free time anyway, Lu Chuan chose to chat with friends, jog for exercise, or splurge on good food outside. Life was comfortable.
Meanwhile, Shen Li toiled inside dungeon worlds, working his powers to construct the Golden Tower for Lu Chuan. Aside from the boredom, there were no major issues.
The list Shen Li had given Lu Chuan earlier was already passed to subordinates, who brought back mostly positive responses. Shen Li’s upright character meant many who had dealt with him before were willing to help.
If it were Lu Chuan asking, it’d be a different story.
Outside his bonded teammates, very few players wanted to dungeon with him or work together.
His reputation preceded him.
“On my way home from work yesterday, some veteran guild members called me.” Shen Li asked while working, “They wanted news about Starry Ming. He and his team disappeared in a dungeon, can’t be reached. He’s still on the Gods Ranking, so no panic yet. But several teammates have confirmed deaths already. Some are suspecting… was it you?”
“Bullshit, if I were going to make a move, I’d kill Starry Ming first.” Lu Chuan shot back. “Don’t try to trick me into spilling anything. The vice guildmaster already said I can’t tell you.”
The vice guildmaster had warned Lu Chuan countless times not to tell Shen Li anything about the Forbidden Zone of Humanity dungeon. Shen Li was stubborn—if he found out the Guildmaster was trapped in there, he’d definitely rush in without hesitation. Lu Chuan couldn’t let that happen.
“The only reason the vice guildmaster doesn’t want you telling me is obvious. That dungeon is extremely dangerous—so dangerous that he doesn’t want you risking it, and he doesn’t want me throwing my life away either, right?” Shen Li wasn’t stupid. After working alongside the vice guildmaster for so many years, he could tell something was wrong. The vice guildmaster hadn’t been pushing Lu Chuan to investigate the Guildmaster’s whereabouts, which was suspicious enough. On top of that, with Starry Ming missing, the vice guildmaster hadn’t taken any action. Anyone who thought about it carefully could piece it together.
“Very dangerous,” Lu Chuan admitted, realizing he couldn’t hide it from Shen Li forever. “Even if all of us went, we couldn’t guarantee how many would make it out alive. The more likely outcome is that we’d all be wiped out. That dungeon is so perilous even Executors don’t dare to tread there. Otherwise, how would the Guildmaster still be trapped inside?”
Shen Li was silent for a long moment before slowly saying, “So we’re just going to leave it like this?”
“If even the Guildmaster can’t get out, what chance do we have? Starry Ming tried, and you’ve seen where that got him.” Lu Chuan shrugged carelessly. “I’m not going, and the vice guildmaster told me not to. That dungeon has already claimed a Guildmaster and a Guildmaster candidate. If I get trapped too, the Star Guild will have no successor left.”
At that point, Shen Li couldn’t keep pressing.
For the sake of the guild, for the bigger picture, the vice guildmaster’s decision was the right one.
It was just hard to accept emotionally—but given time, the feeling would pass.
Meanwhile, the vice guildmaster himself was being endlessly pestered.
Especially by Starry Ming’s younger brother, Starry Ran, who came knocking at his door every few days.
“My brother and I have always been in contact. Even during divine challenge dungeons, we never lost touch. But now—everything’s cut off. Half his teammates are dead, and his flame of life is down to just a flicker. I want the guild to tell me the dungeon’s name. I’ll take people to save him.” Starry Ran showed up daily, relentless. He knew that once his brother died, he would lose everything as well. More than that, the brothers had grown up together. There was no way he could sit by and do nothing.
“If your brother couldn’t make it back, you and your people going in will just be throwing your lives away,” the vice guildmaster said firmly, though exhausted by the pestering. “Yes, your brother took a few teammates in, but plenty of his subordinates are still outside. If you manage them well, you’ll be fine. But if you drag them in there, you’re leading them straight to death.”
“So what, because it’s dangerous, we just don’t go?” Starry Ran clenched his fists, forcing down his anger. “My brother went in to save the Guildmaster. You’re the vice guildmaster—shouldn’t you be helping him?”
“I can’t.” The vice guildmaster spoke with complete seriousness. “If I had even the slightest way, I would’ve gone to save the Guildmaster myself. It was never your brother’s place. Now go home.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Starry Ran warned.
The vice guildmaster rubbed his temples.
Day after day of this—he just wanted to retire already and hand the reins over to Lu Chuan, so he could stop suffering.
The next day, Starry Ran came again.
This time, he didn’t come alone—he brought reporters, newspapers, media outlets. Clearly, he wanted to use outside pressure to force the vice guildmaster into action.
The vice guildmaster refused to see them. He shut his doors and told the reporters that this was an internal guild decision that could not be changed.
On the side, he called Lu Chuan and told him to hide in a dungeon for a while. Don’t come out until things cooled down.
A cornered beast will lash out. Now that Starry Ran realized his brother couldn’t be saved, who knew what he might do? It was better for Lu Chuan to stay out of sight and avoid becoming a target. Besides, if Lu Chuan was going to become the next Guildmaster, he had to be mindful of his reputation these next few years. He couldn’t afford a scandal.
Lu Chuan agreed. Hanging around outside was boring anyway—he might as well jump into a simple dungeon.
“Brother Shen, I’m heading into a dungeon. You keep working on the skyscraper for me,” Lu Chuan said. He only wanted to relax in an easy instance, not drag anyone else along. Everyone had their own business, and they only grouped up for the really hard dungeons. Most of the time, they lived freely, each doing their own thing.
“I’ll finish it soon. Just go and come back quick.” Shen Li waved him off impatiently. Honestly, if Lu Chuan went off to a dungeon and stopped bothering him, all the better.
Whenever Lu Chuan was around, he always felt like the refined gold he smelted weighed less than it should.
It was all Lu Chuan’s property anyway, and yet the guy hoarded and pilfered it like a guilty hobby. What was that about?
Lu Chuan entered the system space and checked what dungeons he could choose from.
One glance, and his eyes landed on a dungeon called Rise of Heroes.
Only B-rank, with such a corny name—it screamed “perfect stage for showing off.”
Since he wanted a casual run, a dungeon that let him strut around was the best choice.
#888 noticed Lu Chuan had entered the game space and immediately tensed up.
When it saw him select Rise of Heroes, the system froze.
[Host, how about you pick… another one?]
So many dungeons, and he just had to pick this one?
“Nope, I like the name.” Lu Chuan waved it off. “Rise of Heroes—that’s literally describing me. It’s fate, you wouldn’t understand!”
I understand perfectly.
It’s manufactured “fate.”
#888 was speechless. Lu Chuan really liked that tacky name. Who knew his host’s aesthetic taste was this… rustic?
[I think maybe you should—] #888 started, but before it could finish, Lu Chuan pressed the Rise of Heroes button.
Not a second of hesitation.
“Weren’t you going to upgrade, #888? Go do that. I don’t need you for this dungeon.” Lu Chuan waved him off.
[Host, I really think you do need me. Seriously.] #888 was on the verge of tears.
Couldn’t he get a warning first?
Jumping into this dungeon without knowing the truth—if the host found out, he wouldn’t be able to dismantle himself, so he’d dismantle me!
[Welcome, player “Arrival of the God of Wealth,” to the series dungeon.]
Huh? Series dungeon?
Lu Chuan froze. Something felt wrong.
The next moment, the game system’s notification turned his unease into reality.
[Series dungeon “Forbidden Zone of Humanity” has begun.]
…What?
What the hell?!
“System, did you glitch? I clearly picked Rise of Heroes…” Lu Chuan pulled up his game panel, only to watch the name Rise of Heroes morph, letter by letter, into Forbidden Zone of Humanity.
?!!!
He was dumbfounded.
No way. Was this even legal?
He hadn’t chosen this dungeon—and yet the system changed the name and rank on him?
“Damn it, Main God System, you’re not even pretending anymore? Just dead set on killing me?” Lu Chuan flipped it off toward the sky. “Fine! You and me—it’s one or the other. When I ascend to godhood, I swear I’ll dismantle your damn core!”
#888 had originally wanted to say something, but seeing Lu Chuan pin the blame entirely on the Main God System, it wisely shut its mouth.
This was 100-sanity Lu Chuan covering for it.
Perfect.
With the Main God System taking the heat, it wouldn’t get yelled at.
#888 even made a little plan: it would lock away all its data on 100-sanity Lu Chuan, so it wouldn’t slip up and get tricked into saying something.
The last thing it wanted was to be dismantled—or worse, asked, “Do you prefer me now, or me at 100 sanity?” That kind of question would make any system crash.
So it played dead.
Better to hide as long as possible. It was just a system—what else could it do?
The moment Lu Chuan was dragged into the Forbidden Zone of Humanity, word spread fast among the remaining master-rank players still in the dungeon world.
Because the Forbidden Zone of Humanity was infamous—“the dungeon that will never be cleared.”
Hardly anyone had ever escaped it alive. For most, once you entered, you never came back.
That was why any seasoned master-rank player paid close attention to those few series dungeons that had never been cleared—so they could avoid being forced into them. Sometimes, when older players hadn’t managed to hunt down a god in time, or had gone too long without results, the Main God System would shove them into these “forbidden dungeons” to make room for newcomers. After all, the system had no need for deadweight, not even if they were master-rank.
To prolong their lives, the older players had formed tight-knit circles, sharing every scrap of intel about which dungeons to absolutely avoid. They wanted to survive a little longer. And if they had to die, at least they’d choose how—properly distributing their legacy and equipment beforehand. They refused to be screwed over and wiped out by the Main God System’s traps.
No matter how many times people discussed it, the Forbidden Zone for Humans series of dungeons was something nobody ever wanted to touch.
Whoever went in, died.
There were also several similar series of dungeons that everyone avoided like the plague.
And now—someone else was actually going in?
“I checked. People from the Extreme Evil Loan Company said it should be Arrival of the God of Wealth who entered that dungeon.”
“Clicking my tongue… still too young. If he’d just bought some intel, he’d know this dungeon can’t be touched.”
“A pity. So young, too.”
“Unbelievable. Didn’t the Star Guild stop him?”
“Hard to say. Probably not.”
***
Plenty of veteran master-rank players practically never left dungeon worlds anymore. Some didn’t even know who Lu Chuan was, so they didn’t care.
Why bother paying attention to a man about to die?
Inside the Extreme Evil Loan Company, when Chen Ji saw Lu Chuan enter this series dungeon, he felt, as expected, he still went in.
Once he learned that Wen Renxu had fallen into this dungeon, Chen Ji already knew Lu Chuan would end up going too. No reasoning—just pure instinct.
The God of Time held a special status. Even the God of Exchange wouldn’t rashly strut around inside a dungeon tied to Him.
Chen Ji, of course, wasn’t going anywhere near it.
But Lu Chuan—he was destined to deal with all sorts of gods.
Chen Ji stroked his chin and decided: this was the perfect time to open a betting pool. The wager? Whether Lu Chuan could come out alive.
He deliberately said “alive” instead of “clearing” the dungeon. That alone showed his stance.
The God of Time’s dungeon couldn’t possibly be conquered. If it were, it would mean the Main God System had defeated the God of Time—and then the game itself would fall apart.
If the Main God System gained dominion over time, the God of Exchange wouldn’t bother trying to devour other gods or run churches; he’d just obediently surrender and become the Main God System’s errand boy.
Still, Chen Ji had a hunch Lu Chuan was different. Maybe he really could come out alive.
At the same time, where Cang Jiu was—The bond he had placed on Lu Chuan suddenly snapped.
That wasn’t possible.
Cang Jiu’s eyes flew wide open.
The mark he left on Lu Chuan couldn’t be cut off by human means; it was a divine method. Only a true god could block it.
And in this dungeon world, there weren’t many true gods around at all.
Even though Cang Jiu wasn’t fully recovered yet, he was still the God of Desire. To cut off his mark would take a god with completely different authority.
Remembering what Lu Chuan had once asked him about, Cang Jiu already had a suspect.
The God of Time.
Only in His dungeon, where timelines were scrambled, could the mark between them be washed away in the torrent of time.
But hadn’t he warned Lu Chuan not to face the God of Time so soon? The only small comfort was that Lu Chuan carried a Seed of Fertility, which could buy him one resurrection at a critical moment. Still, even that wasn’t much against the God of Time.
Cang Jiu sighed faintly.
He slowly infused divine power into the leaf and ingot set in his sword hilt.
Thankfully, those things still remained—they came from Lu Chuan’s own desires.
Unless desire itself was erased by the flow of time, there would still be a way to find him.
And with Lu Chuan’s overwhelming obsession with money, there was no chance his desire would fade anytime soon.
***
Dungeon Information: Series Dungeon “Forbidden Zone for Humans.” Please note: this is the sole dungeon of the God of Time. Clearing it yields items related to the God of Time.
Dungeon Requirement: None. Find the correct timeline to escape this dungeon.
Dungeon Hint: None.
Another one of those dungeons with no real info and no hints.
When Lu Chuan saw the stingy excuse for guidance from the Main God System, he nearly exploded with rage.
Wasn’t the Main God System normally all high and mighty? Yet whenever a dungeon involved a powerful god, it chickened out more and more each time. Shameless!
Lu Chuan was livid.
Every single day, the Main God System seemed hell-bent on killing him. Well, too bad. He wasn’t going to play along. Not only would he survive, he’d do it in style!
He kept telling himself that, forcing courage into his chest.
The moment he left the system’s waiting space, he found himself in pitch-blackness.
So dark he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.
Where was this place?
“Hello? Anyone there?” Lu Chuan tried shouting. No answer. Not even an echo.
This space was bigger than he expected.
He pulled a lantern out of the system’s storage.
Light flared.
Before he could celebrate, a black claw suddenly appeared, instantly smashing the lantern.
“Holy crap—” Lu Chuan nearly jumped out of his skin.
But the claw didn’t strike him—only the lantern.
That was odd.
He tried again, this time with a candle.
As soon as the flame lit, another claw reached out and snuffed it.
Lu Chuan refused to give up and pulled out a pile of lighting tools.
Every single one lasted less than five seconds.
Each time, the claws were slightly different—clearly not the same creature.
Yet whenever Lu Chuan groped in their direction, he found nothing at all, as if everything was made of emptiness.
Weird. Too weird.
What were these things?
From the feel of it, they seemed to exist somewhere between real and unreal. Only when light appeared did they manifest, and because they hated light, they destroyed it immediately. But once the light was gone, they became nothing again—part of the void.
Still, they hadn’t harmed him. If they wanted to, they could’ve clawed him to pieces along with his lamps. He’d be burning through healing items by now.
That meant there was room to experiment.
These things had to be the key to leaving this place.
But before he could test further, some force suddenly yanked him away.
The next moment, light flooded his vision.
And he saw several people in protective masks, holding pens and clipboards, pointing at him.
“This rookie isn’t very good. He didn’t last long at all.”
“He couldn’t even handle the simplest Shadow Calamity. What did he learn in class?”
“With grades like that, he still got an internship here?”
“Well, times are what they are. Hardly anyone wants to be an investigator anymore. The ones with any real talent all go work in Old Gods’ lairs instead. At least those jobs pay.”
“Looks like we’re destined to be food for the gods.”
***
They rattled on in a language Lu Chuan had never heard before—yet somehow he understood every word.
After a while, they handed him an ID card.
It clearly showed his name, photo, and role:
Name: Lu Chuan
Age: 21
Position: New Recruit, Night Investigation Unit (Intern)
Author’s Note:
#888: Host, I’m just a system. I have no idea how to choose either.
Update Posting Schedule: Starting next chapter, the posting schedule changes to 2 chapters every Wednesday and Friday~
