Chapter 19
To become a qualified leader of a guild, three things are indispensable.
One is power, one is money, and one is people.
Only when you have people, power, and money in your hands can you firmly hold onto the position of guildmaster. Otherwise, you’re just a figurehead, not knowing when someone might push you down.
Since Lu Chuan wanted to be the president of the Star Guild, he had to have all three.
But considering that he had only just joined the guild, power was out of the question for now. No player would willingly follow him wholeheartedly, so the only thing left to focus on was money.
And as it happened, in most guilds nowadays, money wasn’t valued very much.
Compared to money, they valued in-game items more.
In this world, the positions responsible for managing in-game items and points were far more important than those in charge of the guild’s finances.
For some top players, they always had a crowd of wealthy ordinary people backing them—people who couldn’t become players themselves but could provide endless financial support. When something was never lacking, it naturally wasn’t treasured.
Lu Chuan felt this was a perfect opportunity.
It was the right chance to see exactly how much the Star Guild had in reserve.
If the guild turned out to be dirt poor and he’d have to fight tooth and nail to build it up from scratch, then forget it. Why put in all that effort? He only wanted to enjoy the ready-made.
But if the guild already had a good amount of assets, then Lu Chuan would have the energy to seriously think about how to do the job well.
Captain Shen Li, hearing Lu Chuan’s request, looked at him with a grave expression.
“Did your sanity value drop drastically inside the dungeon? Did it fall below 90?”
Otherwise, how could he come up with such a request?
Chief Finance Officer? Isn’t that the kind of job ordinary people do?
In the Five Major Guilds, positions like finance director were always held by clerical or logistics staff. Usually, these people couldn’t even be players. Even if chosen by the game, they could only buy item cards with their salary, go to the lowest-level dungeons to kill time, and then come back out.
And yet, here stood the rookie player fought over by the Five Major Guilds, hailed as a future top-rank legend, using his extraordinary brain to think about…this?
Lu Chuan rubbed his face. “So being below 90 means you’re abnormal?”
“Of course,” Shen Li said seriously. “Generally, players need to keep their sanity between 95 and 98 to avoid being misled by things in the dungeons. If it drops below 90, you can easily fall into various dungeon illusions. But as long as it’s above 80, with some potions and good rest, you can recover. Below 80, though, it gets dangerous. At that point, a player becomes irritable, short-tempered, lashing out at anyone—including their own teammates.”
“What about below 70?” Lu Chuan asked.
“If it drops that low, then it’s basically impossible to return to normal,” Shen Li sighed. “At 70, you’re practically insane, convinced everyone is out to get you. You can’t tell friend from foe. It would take a Pope-level figure casting a ritual to maybe bring you back. Basically, most of the players on the Legendary Rank list have sanity around 70. They can hardly be considered human anymore, which is why they rarely appear in real life.”
“And if it’s around 60, then there’s no difference between them and a monster.” Shen Li grew especially solemn. “If you ever encounter such a player, just run. If you can’t, kill yourself—it’s better than falling into their hands. Players at that level become utterly obsessed. Once they decide on something, not even a god descending from heaven could change their mind. Total lunatics.”
That was way too insulting. Lu Chuan felt indignant.
“I once knew a legendary player,” Shen Li continued. “He was actually my master’s master. He had lived decades as a man, yet he stubbornly believed he was a mushroom. So he cleared ten high-level dungeons in a row, using every possible method to transform himself into a mushroom.”
“After that, the dungeon where my master turned into a mushroom mutated into an S-rank instance. And in the end…he drew the attention of the Burial Squad.” Shen Li’s voice dropped lower. “The Burial Squad is complicated to explain now. When you arrive at the guild headquarters, there’ll be someone to train you properly.”
“System, is it possible my sanity reading was wrong?” Lu Chuan asked #888 in his mind after hearing this.
He thought the system was still upgrading and wouldn’t respond, but unexpectedly, #888 quickly replied.
[Host, system tests never make mistakes.]
“Then Shen Li is just exaggerating. My sanity has always been just over 60, and I’ve never thought of myself as some lunatic.” Lu Chuan felt instead that he was a truly good person. It was only because he was too good that he could never get rich.
No, host. Your obsession with money has long been a form of paranoia. #888 opened its mouth slightly, feeling that the host probably wasn’t aware of this.
Its host had never possessed much self-awareness.
[Host, don’t worry. You are a candidate for the God of Wealth system. Gods are not human, so their sanity cannot be measured by human standards.] #888 changed its wording when replying to Lu Chuan. [So you don’t need to be concerned.]
“I think so too.” For the first time, Lu Chuan agreed with the system.
“Captain Shen, I like money, and I like managing money. I think letting me take care of finances is the best way to keep me sane.” Lu Chuan firmly stuck to his opinion. “You said I could make any request, and this is mine. I won’t change it.”
Shen Li was left speechless.
After a long while, he finally said, “Once you arrive at the guild headquarters and see all sorts of things, you’ll naturally change your mind.”
Since Shen Li hadn’t outright rejected his condition, Lu Chuan decided to drop the topic for now.
Honestly, money was the only way to keep him sane.
No matter how generous the benefits, could they really compare to the practicality of having money directly under his control?
The Star Guild, one of the Five Major Guilds, might have fallen behind in recent years, but with its long legacy, it was still far beyond what any mid- or small-sized guild could rival.
The guild’s headquarters was in a player city that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie—a futuristic metropolis filled with cyberpunk aesthetics, blending machinery with traditional beauty to the extreme.
Both its architecture and infrastructure fused elements of traditional culture with futuristic sci-fi.
Surrounding this “Morningstar City” were numerous small villages.
From above, it looked like concentric rings of villages encircling the city center—like stars orbiting the moon.
“Most of the residents in Morningstar City are elite players of the Star Guild and their families. Ordinary players can’t live here,” Shen Li explained simply to Lu Chuan. “If guild members get married and want to have children, all they need to do is submit an application, and the guild will upgrade their single apartment to a two-bedroom unit. Of course, your treatment is different. You’ll get to live in the headquarters’ residential tower, with a spacious flat all to yourself. Inside, you’ll have your own personal AI system to help with real-world training—stamina, speed, endurance, and so on.”
Since he knew Lu Chuan came from an ordinary background and only had a basic understanding of the Five Major Guilds, Shen Li made sure to highlight the differences.
The most powerful guild, Resurrection guild, had its player city in the sky.
Their founding Guildmaster had once exchanged his dungeon points with the Evil World main system for a floating island. That floating island became the original Resurrection Guild base. Over time, successive Guildmasters kept expanding it, until it grew into a full-fledged sky city.
Because of this, many Resurrection Guild members’ families couldn’t live there—the oxygen in the sky was too thin. Without an elite player’s constitution, they wouldn’t survive, much less move about freely.
Next was the Ocean Heart Guild. Since the sky had already been taken, their founding master decided to claim the sea instead.
Using her “Sea God” ability, she raised a massive sea beast, and the guild headquarters was built upon its back. In the beginning, when the beast was young and energetic, it would roam everywhere, often causing comical situations where members returned home only to find their entire base had moved.
But after so many years, the beast had aged and now moved very little. Instead, younger beasts carried non-central guild cities on their backs, shifting locations frequently. Only the core members of Ocean Heart knew the exact coordinates. Ordinary members couldn’t even find them without guidance.
The Abyss Guild had its headquarters deep underground, near the magma layer.
They also used player abilities to construct an underground city. Many ordinary people living there had barely seen sunlight in their entire lives.
“It’s said the Abyss Guild’s founding master had severe paranoia and believed the only safe place was underground. Over time, their members grew accustomed to it and preferred expanding their subterranean city,” Shen Li explained briefly. “As for the surface, only our guild and the Noah Guild remain. But we’re in the south and they’re in the north—we don’t interfere with each other.”
Lu Chuan only half-understood, but soon followed Shen Li into the headquarters building of Morningstar City.
This skyscraper—it was tall and beautiful.
“System, scan the building’s design. When I buy land and build in a dungeon later, I want my Golden Tower redesigned after this one. It can’t look outdated.” Lu Chuan immediately had an idea.
Yes, this headquarters building would make a perfect prototype for his real-world Golden Tower.
#888 complied, already treating the building before them as if it were Lu Chuan’s property.
Come on—knowing the host’s personality, the moment he first laid eyes on the skyscraper, he must’ve been thinking about how to make it his own.
Its host truly was both ambitious and greedy.
“Hello, Captain Shen.”
“Captain, you’re back.”
“Captain, you’ve worked hard.”
“Captain, why don’t you rest for a bit first?”
…
The moment they walked into the building, Lu Chuan immediately realized Shen Li’s prestige.
With Shen Li leading him in, no one seemed to notice Lu Chuan at all. One after another, people greeted Shen Li, as if exchanging even one more word with him was an honor.
“Mm. Where’s the vice-guildmaster? I’ve brought someone back to report.”
“The vice-guildmaster is already upstairs waiting,” said someone in a secretary-like role softly. “He instructed that once you return, you should go to him directly.”
Shen Li nodded, signaling for Lu Chuan to follow, then entered the elevator.
“All those people you just saw are elite members of our guild,” Shen Li explained, mistaking Lu Chuan’s silence for intimidation. “Of course, there are also some undercover spies from other guilds among them. If you want to form your own team, most likely you’ll have to pick from them. We’ll do our best to investigate each member’s background for you, but you know the strength of other guilds—we can’t guarantee that everything we dig up will be true.” He felt rather smug, assuming Lu Chuan was awed.
“No wonder your guild can’t get back on its feet. Those people didn’t look impressive at all,” Lu Chuan said bluntly, taking advantage of the fact that only the two of them were in the elevator.
Shen Li’s face turned red with anger. “You only saw them once—how can you say they’re no good?”
“Because they all looked too normal.” Lu Chuan didn’t hesitate. “Your ears are pointed, and whenever your emotions flare up, your eyes turn red—that inhuman trait proves you’re a high-level player. But all those people we just passed? They barely had any inhuman features at all, and their mental state seemed great. Players who regularly risk their lives in dungeons shouldn’t look that fresh and lively.”
Real dungeon delvers carried the aura of veterans who lived on the edge of death. But those so-called ‘elites’? Hah. If Shen Li hadn’t said so, Lu Chuan would’ve thought they were clerks.
No wonder the Star Guild was dwindling.
“They’re descendants of our guild’s founding elders. But they are players,” Shen Li said defensively. “Every time they enter a dungeon, they prepare thoroughly. Even if they don’t earn high ratings, over time they’ve still managed to accumulate strength.” He hadn’t expected Lu Chuan to figure out so much from just a glance.
“But this phenomenon isn’t unique to our guild. It’s the same in the others,” Shen Li added quickly.
The guild elders had conquered dungeons and brought back countless items and skills. Naturally, their descendants enjoyed the fruits of that labor.
Besides, after so many years of raiding, guilds had mapped out relatively safe dungeons that could steadily build strength. Sending their children to cycle through these safe dungeons ensured they could maintain player status, gradually gain experience, and stay alive. Why not?
But the current president of the Resurrection Guild was ruthless. Upon taking office, he forced all those “second-gens” into normal dungeons. The weak ones died, opening spots for truly capable players. That drastic reform transformed the guild’s culture, and in just over a decade, Rebirth shot up to become the strongest of the Five Major Guilds.
By contrast, the president of the Star Guild hadn’t appeared in ages. The guild endured only because his name was still on the Legendary Rank list, carrying intimidation value. But the vice-guildmaster lacked the strength to enact similar reforms, and the situation only worsened.
Some elders even colluded with rival guilds to eliminate their own guild’s promising talents, just so their descendants could gain greater benefits.
Otherwise, they wouldn’t have paid such a heavy price to recruit Lu Chuan.
“I get it. Conquering is easy, keeping it’s hard. Your guild’s stuck in rigid hierarchies, with the conservatives in control,” Lu Chuan said, instantly seeing through it. That only made him happier.
Perfect. Once he rose to president, he wouldn’t even have to agonize over who to keep. He’d just sweep out all those old fossils in one go.
As for reputation and loyalty? Not his problem.
Players entered dungeons ready to die at any moment. Did those old families really think they could hoard resources forever?
Every scrap they clung to meant one less chance for ordinary players to survive.
Shen Li was struck dumb again—but fortunately, the elevator soon arrived. He strode out, with Lu Chuan close behind.
They came to an office.
Inside sat an elderly man with black-rimmed glasses, dressed simply, resting.
The moment Lu Chuan approached, the old man’s eyes snapped open.
For an instant, Lu Chuan froze, but quickly regained composure.
[Host, this vice-guildmaster has real power. If he gave up his humanity, he might even qualify as a servant of the gods,] #888 said for once in the real world. [He’s strong. But he hasn’t noticed me—he doesn’t have divinity.]
Lu Chuan immediately realized this vice-guildmaster was no ordinary figure.
As expected, anyone who could rise to vice-guildmaster was a cunning old fox.
And if the vice-guildmaster was already this formidable, how terrifying must the president be?
“Vice President, I’ve brought the person,” Shen Li said with deep respect. Standing before this man, Shen Li seemed like nothing more than an immature child.
“You are Lu Chuan.” The vice-guildmaster gave Shen Li a brief nod, then fixed his gaze on Lu Chuan. “Your sanity is low, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Lu Chuan admitted without hesitation.
“A normal player seeing me for the first time would be terrified. But you only paused briefly. That shows your sanity has fallen so low you’ve lost the instinct of fear.” The vice-guildmaster chuckled quietly. “In the past, someone like you would never have been admitted to the guild. But now… perhaps only someone like you can keep this game alive.”
“Shen Li will serve as your master. After a few more dungeons, he’ll be ready to attempt the Legendary Rank list. Teaching you will be easy for him. Even if you can’t defeat the ‘Hand of Rebirth,’ we’ll ensure you place in the top three on the Newcomer List. Then we’ll help you form your own team, even assign you a player city as your territory…” The vice-guildmaster’s promises were generous—but they were just promises.
Promises were easy when you didn’t have to deliver.
Lu Chuan only believed in what was already in his hands. Everything else was fake.
“Huh? Me, mentor Lu Chuan?” Shen Li was stunned, but nobody paid him any attention.
“Vice President, I have just one condition for joining your guild: all financial authority must be handed over to me.” Lu Chuan didn’t flinch, even though the man before him was technically his boss.
But bosses—well, they could be both shrewd and stupid.
Fool them once, and the rest was easy.
As long as you made them profit, everything was negotiable.
“Fine.” The vice-guildmaster gave Lu Chuan a long, heavy look. “But your strength is still lacking. Even if I gave you full financial control, you might not be able to handle it. Managing money is no simple task—if something goes wrong, you might not be able to cover it.”
Ha.
Lu Chuan laughed.
In times of peace and order, being in charge of money was risky. Skim too much off the top, or handle shady funds for leaders, and you could end up in prison.
But in this infinite world of life and death, with no guarantee of survival tomorrow and no laws like Economic Code or Accounting Act to restrain him, controlling the money was the fastest way to establish authority.
“Whether I can handle it is my business. Whether you give me the authority is yours. But since you agreed, you’d better follow through.” Lu Chuan grinned broadly. “Don’t you agree, Vice President?”
“Hey, hey—watch your tone,” Shen Li muttered, his head throbbing. The vice-guildmaster hadn’t said a word about making him Lu Chuan’s mentor before this.
And this Lu Chuan—sharp, capable, and headstrong—was the worst type to manage.
“Alright.” To everyone’s surprise, the vice-guildmaster agreed. “Do as you wish. But if you run into trouble, I’ll only intervene once. After that, if you need my help again, you’ll have to surrender financial authority in exchange for a new deal.”
“No problem,” Lu Chuan replied instantly.
As if he could ever mismanage money.
“Good.”
——
The Star Guild was about to appoint a new finance director, and all financial staff would have to retake exams. Only those who passed would keep their jobs.
The news immediately stirred up Morningstar City.
“I heard it’s that Lu Chuan—the super rookie!”
“What? Why’s he taking charge of finances? Wouldn’t it be better to run the item warehouse?”
“No idea. Maybe the vice-guildmaster tricked him into it.”
“Hah, what a joke. What, he’s not gonna give us money? Players like us could never run out of money!”
…
At this moment, Lu Chuan was officially taking office, poring over the ledgers of the Star Guild.
The good news was that the guild’s books were a mess.
The bad news was… they actually had a financial system in place.
“System, hurry up and find out where their off-the-books slush funds are. Within three days, I want those slush funds turned into my private property.”
——–
Author’s Note:
#888: Host, that’s not your money, that’s the guild’s!
Lu Chuan: Doesn’t matter—sooner or later, it’ll be mine.
