Chapter 204
At night, the fruit shop closed up, and Lu Chuan and the others swaggered into the Golden Tower to take shelter, making countless players envious.
If only they had joined the Star Guild too—would they have gotten the same privileges?
Players living in the Golden Tower might not feel it, but those hiding in other territories clearly noticed that the monsters crashing into their walls were getting stronger and stronger. Surely, a new batch of divine relics was about to appear.
In this dungeon, as long as a territory was solid enough, the danger from monsters was minimal. The true threats came from betrayal by other players—and one’s own greed.
The immense power of divine relics drove many into a frenzy of pursuit. Even knowing their severe side effects, players still flocked to them.
In this world without props or abilities, if others had divine relics and you didn’t, you would be at a fatal disadvantage in battle. Your life and death would rest in someone else’s hands. And even if you had one, if your relic was weaker than your opponent’s, you still couldn’t let your guard down.
If Lu Chuan were to comment, it would be: “Serves you right for chasing after nonsense. Now reap what you sow.”
Everyone’s pursuit of divine relics forced even those who didn’t want them to join in. In the end, it became a road to ruin.
Yet the atmosphere had already been set. Breaking free of it was difficult, even for Lu Chuan’s group.
Though their fruit shop was lively, most players had no extra gold to come back for a second or third purchase. Business was nearly all one-off sales, unsustainable in the long run. As a result, more and more people set their sights on the fruit shop. Almost every day, Edith had to fend off attackers wielding divine relics trying to ambush them.
But repeated fights took their toll—Edith sometimes got hurt, because some relics were simply too tricky to guard against.
They had been waiting quite some time for the divine relic spaces to open.
Of course, danger was inevitable.
Normally, relic spaces had limited difficulty. With careful preparation, surviving and exiting wasn’t too hard. But if unlucky, entering a particularly dangerous space meant the relic’s power would be that much greater. At that point, players had to gauge their own strength—if not up to it, retreat at once.
Everyone who had managed to survive in this dungeon knew how to protect themselves. Even so, it was said that each time relic spaces opened, 10–20% of players would die.
But when some died, new ones would always arrive.
Every year, old players aged, and those unwilling to die young came seeking longer life.
Naturally, Lu Chuan’s group intended to explore the relic spaces too.
To ensure their team’s continuity, the four of them decided to draw lots. Each time, only two would go inside to search, while the other two stayed behind to guard the base. That way, if the ones inside got trapped, the fruit shop could still go on.
Shen Li prepared the lots. In the end, Sasha and Edith drew the short straws.
Lu Chuan shamelessly sweet-talked Sasha into swapping with him, to everyone’s disgust.
“I didn’t abuse my authority as Guildmaster to force you to cheat for me—that’s already very ethical,” Lu Chuan declared self-righteously, not feeling the slightest bit guilty.
Though they were used to his shamelessness, sometimes his brazenness still managed to stun them.
Meanwhile, outside the Golden Tower, many territories were damaged by the sudden surge of stronger monsters.
Lu Chuan’s group saw players wielding relics to defend themselves. Some ventured out of their territories to use their relics to drive monsters away, preventing destruction. Others lured the beasts toward sturdier territories.
And of course, the Golden Tower became the prime target.
Some people just couldn’t stand to see others doing well.
“I’ll go drive them away.” Edith couldn’t hold back—those players were obviously gathering outside the Golden Tower with bad intentions.
“Wait, don’t rush.” Lu Chuan sneered. “Why waste your energy alone? I’ve got a better way. Come on, I’ll show you the fire-safety system I paid a fortune to install in this place.”
Everyone was confused, but followed him to the building’s fire control room.
Lu Chuan handed Edith and the others high-pressure water cannons.
For dealing with mobs, this was practically a god-tier weapon—and at a time like this, it was brilliant.
“Why would you even keep this in here?” Shen Li couldn’t help asking.
“Because I was worried someone might get greedy and try burning down my building,” Lu Chuan replied matter-of-factly. “Fire and theft prevention are the basics. This is my property—I have to take every precaution.”
“Normal people wouldn’t set fire to a skyscraper.”
“Why not? I often kill and burn things in dungeons,” Lu Chuan answered without hesitation. “Since I do it myself, of course I need to guard against others doing it to me.”
That logic was disturbingly sound. None of them could argue.
“…Fine to say that in front of us, but don’t go spouting that in the guild. It’ll ruin our public image,” Shen Li muttered. He had given up hoping Lu Chuan would ever become a responsible, steady leader like Wen Renxu. At this point, he just prayed the Star Guild wouldn’t end up universally hated under Lu Chuan’s rule.
With that, the four of them opened the windows and swept away the players and monsters outside with streams from the water cannons.
“Ohhhhhh—!”
“This is so fun, Brother Lu!”
“Haha, this is amazing!”
“Can I install one of these in my tent?”
***
For Sasha, it was like a whole new world opening up. This was way too fun.
Watching players get blasted away, their faces frozen in shock, was something she could never get tired of—even a hundred times over.
Perhaps those older players, smug in their experience, had never imagined they’d one day be flushed away like toilet paper by a water cannon.
Lu Chuan and the others laughed joyfully, their voices echoing through the entire Golden Tower.
From a distance, [Undying] couldn’t help smiling along as he watched.
He glanced at his youthful-looking subordinates beside him and teased, “This is the first time I’ve seen players laugh so freely in this dungeon.”
Here, where the crisis of dwindling lifespans loomed over everyone, players usually wore grim expressions. Who had the heart to laugh so happily?
Even if their appearances returned to youth, their hearts could never regain that same carefree spirit.
That was one of the reasons [Undying] never wanted to return to the Resurrection Guild.
Even if he could stay young forever, he knew he was already decaying inside, no longer able to lead others in fighting the Main God.
Some things should be left to the young.
“If Cynthia and Lilus were close to Lu Chuan, would they laugh like this too?” [Undying] wondered aloud.
“Not sure. But Lilus curses him every day,” his subordinate frowned.
“Then it must mean Lili likes him. If he truly hated someone, he wouldn’t even bother mentioning them,” [Undying] chuckled.
“Guildmaster, must you really stay here?” the subordinate pressed. “Even if you don’t want to go back, you could live in another leisure dungeon.”
“I don’t want to become a god, nor an Executor. In this dungeon, Executors can’t come in.” [Undying] shook his head. “The divine resentment here is too strong. Even after death, gods leave behind relics, constantly luring players in. There’s something I want here. If Lu Chuan manages to obtain a decent relic this time, I might seek cooperation with him.”
But could such a young Guildmaster really amount to much?
What [Undying] wanted to see was: without powers, props, or helpers, how would Lu Chuan act?
Soon, the relic spaces appeared—in broad daylight.
White mist condensed into swirling vortices.
Players could choose whichever whirlpool they wished to enter.
Generally, the larger the vortex, the greater the difficulty inside, while smaller ones were easier. For safety, most players picked smaller ones the first couple times. Of course, the confident aimed straight for the stronger vortexes.
Lu Chuan and Edith each chose a large one and stepped in, faces free of fear—instead glowing with excitement and anticipation.
No one knew exactly what kind of experience these divine relics would bring them.
[Undying] smiled faintly as he sat at his stall and took out a mirror.
If Lu Chuan were here, he would have noticed that this mirror resembled the one [Undying] had sold him before.
The difference was that Lu Chuan’s mirror could “show the scene your heart most desired,” while the mirror in [Undying]’s hand could “reveal someone’s behavioral trajectory.”
The moment Lu Chuan stepped into the space, his divine instincts told him he was being spied on by something.
But since he sensed no malice, he wasn’t in a rush to find out who it was.
According to the rumors they’d heard, players who entered the space of divine relics were unable to speak about its contents, so no one could clearly describe what lay within.
Lu Chuan had already prepared himself.
Yet the instant he entered this space, the vortex that had already been quite large suddenly expanded, devouring several neighboring whirlpools and beginning to spread outward.
Lu Chuan felt that the divine power which had been completely sealed off by this dungeon loosened slightly.
And within this space, sensing the pure divine fluctuations from his body seemed to trigger some new change.
Wait a second.
This felt familiar.
Lu Chuan froze for a moment, recalling the resonance he once shared with Cang Jiu’s divine power, and an impossible thought crossed his mind.
No way. No way he could be this unlucky, right?
All the gods in this dungeon were long dead. How could his divine power resonate with them? His resonance with Cang Jiu had only been possible because their authorities overlapped. Could it be that, of all the whirlpools he could have chosen, he happened to pick one that still held remnants of divine power overlapping with his own authority as the [God of Wealth]?
The mirror in [Undying]’s hand suddenly cracked with two jagged lines.
“Huh?” [Undying] frowned, staring at the strange change.
“This mirror was fused from relics of several high-ranking gods—how could it be damaged?”
A mirror this small had consumed no small amount of lifespan to forge. If not for a critical moment, [Undying] would never have used it to spy on Lu Chuan. Yet now, it showed signs of shattering.
Was the space Lu Chuan entered too terrifying, or was Lu Chuan himself the true anomaly?
[Undying] kept watching. The mirror gradually revealed the scene Lu Chuan was experiencing.
“Hm?” [Undying] gave a small sound of surprise. “Could it be that this Guildmaster is really a thorn in the Main God System’s side? To think he hasn’t been granted even a shred of player’s protection…”
Interesting. Truly interesting!
***
Lu Chuan opened his eyes to find himself sitting in a strange bridal sedan chair.
Outside, the clamor of music and drums suggested a lively procession.
He tried to move, only to realize he was bound tightly from head to toe.
[Host, don’t struggle. This rope knot is special—the more you struggle, the tighter it gets. Listen to me, take your time and work it loose.] System #888 came online for the first time in a long while, its speech running smoothly again.
“Little System, you can communicate with me normally now?” Lu Chuan asked, pleased. “Looks like, just like with Xi Jiangyuan last time, being in another space within the dungeon weakens the block on you quite a bit.”
[Yes, host. But if I can come through, then the Main God System can too.] #888 sighed. [Host, you’re really unlucky. Your divine power is too pure, so the dead gods noticed you. They’re extremely jealous of you, which is why they forced a resonance with your divine power and dragged you into this kind of space.]
“Oh? Where is this place?” Lu Chuan asked curiously.
[This is a memory fragment from when a certain god was alive.] #888 sounded extremely dejected. [They just picked a random scene that would be terrifying for players and threw you into it. This time, the chosen scene is from some point in the mortal world’s history. Right now, you’ve been cast as a bride to be sacrificed to a god. Soon this bridal sedan will be sunk underwater with you inside.]
In other words, a living sacrifice.
The gods had existed for so long that they could no longer distinguish between the thousands of years of human civilization. But the practice of offering sacrifices to gods had never ceased—whether primitive or civilized, it had always persisted. And the gods would randomly choose the most unwilling, helpless deaths to let players suffer through them as well.
[In this Territory dungeon, almost all divine relic spaces force players to experience death in different scenarios. But since the Main God System offers players some protection, normally they get a buffer period before facing certain death. Their items and abilities may be temporarily unsealed, so as long as they obtain the key relic before the fatal moment, they can escape. But your case is special, host—your buffer was skipped entirely, and all your items and abilities remain sealed.]
#888 was so furious it wanted to fight the Main God System to the death. This was blatant cheating!
Even in this god-burial ground, the Main God System was bound by the rules but could still negotiate some rights for players. Yet now it wasn’t even pretending anymore—every safeguard given to other players was stripped from Lu Chuan. It was clear they wanted him dead in this dungeon no matter what.
Too much! If the host died, #888 would risk its own destruction to drag the Main God System down with it!
“…How much time do I have?” Lu Chuan asked calmly after a moment, accepting reality.
As a god wanted by the Main God System, the only reason they hadn’t killed him outright was because of rule restrictions. Why would they help him? Of course they’d seize any chance to sabotage him.
[Based on the timing, from now until you’re thrown into the water, you’ve got about five minutes.] #888’s voice was heavy with despair. [Just untying the ropes binding you would take at least ten. And don’t forget, you’re in the form of a bride—your stamina and strength are weakened. You’ll have to escape within this limited time.]
“Can’t I just swim away once I hit the water?” Lu Chuan asked.
[No, host! There really are divine beings in the water.] #888 groaned. [They’re like malicious water spirits—genuine specters that cause trouble. If you fall in, do you really think your current body, just a frail human, can fight a water ghost?]
That was truly a death trap.
Lu Chuan glanced down. Sure enough, he was bound tight.
Thinking for a moment, he realized slowly untying the knots would waste too much time.
He looked around the sedan’s interior, then twisted sideways, lowering his shoulder, and rammed hard into a sharp corner.
The sedan swayed, but the noisy procession outside didn’t falter.
“Stop struggling. To be chosen as a sacrifice for the gods is your blessing. With your bride-price, your parents will be able to buy a fine acre of land—that’s more than enough.”
The cold voice of the matchmaker outside revealed her displeasure at the struggling bride within.
At this point, every bride struggled a little. They were long accustomed to it.
But for a sacrifice, such things were expected.
Inside the sedan, Lu Chuan said nothing and kept ramming.
After two or three tries, his left arm dislocated, hanging limp at his side. But the tight rope finally loosened enough to leave a gap—just enough for him to slip free.
Lu Chuan had learned plenty in his time as a player.
Legends spoke of bone-shrinking techniques, where one broke or dislocated their bones to compress their body and squeeze through tiny spaces.
He could use a similar method now.
Once freed, he reset his dislocated arm with gritted teeth, pain flashing across his face.
He didn’t voice it, but he poured his frustration to #888 instead.
“Ahh—it hurts like hell! I’m a player who clears dungeons with brains, not brute force. When have I ever had to endure this kind of suffering?” he ranted. “When I get out of here, I’m writing this debt down under the Main God System’s name.”
[Exactly, host. You’ve really been wronged this time.] #888 naturally sided with him unconditionally. Their host rarely suffered this much in dungeons. This was sheer bad luck.
“Forget it. I need to focus on escaping.” Lu Chuan quickly calmed himself. Right now his body was just that of a frail young woman. If they caught him trying to flee, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
But if they threw the entire sedan into the river, things would only get worse.
Breaking out directly was impossible, but he couldn’t just sit and wait for death either.
The problem gave him a headache.
The sedan soon came to a stop.
Outside, the matchmaker and village head were chanting a long prayer. Once it ended, they would toss both bride and sedan into the water.
What to do?
“Little System, can I use my God of Wealth skills?” Lu Chuan asked.
[If you could, I would’ve already used them for you!] #888 was nearly crying.
“What if… not on me?” Lu Chuan pressed.
[Hm? What do you mean, host?] #888 was puzzled.
“Besides me, the living sacrifice, there must be other offerings outside—chickens, ducks, maybe some steamed buns and dried fruits. No one conducts a sacrifice with just a bare bride, right?” Lu Chuan explained.
[Yes, there are.] #888 scanned the surroundings, still unsure of Lu Chuan’s plan. It detected even more kinds of offerings than Lu Chuan had guessed.
“I ended up like this because the Main God System deliberately bugged the timer and didn’t give me enough time. It wanted to use that chance to kill me. Since that’s the case, you should be able to do something similar.” Lu Chuan sneered. “People die for wealth, birds die for food. Those people outside may not truly believe that sacrificing an ordinary girl will bring them good harvests, but since the knife doesn’t fall on their own bodies, they don’t care. So—find a way to turn the food and dried fruits they’re about to throw in into silver. If it were gold, they might notice, but silver—they won’t react in time.”
“They can stand by and watch a living person be thrown from shore into the river, but they will never allow living, shining silver to be tossed into the water,” Lu Chuan said coldly. “Once chaos breaks out, my chance will come naturally.”
For players trying to escape the scene, the most common pitfall was asking themselves: “What can I do? What detail did I miss?” Wasting time looking inward for answers would get you nowhere. Breaking things from the outside, forcing the enemy into disarray, was far easier than trying to survive a desperate fight alone.
Lu Chuan was never the sort of person to be trapped by someone else’s snare.
[Alright, I’ll give it a try.] #888 immediately agreed.
Now that Lu Chuan was already a god, #888 could naturally use some of his powers.
As the God of Wealth, Lu Chuan ruled over fortune. For #888, transforming dried fruit and snacks into silver coins or copper money was hardly difficult.
If the Main God System could alter data on a whim, then so could #888.
***
“Wait—it’s money, it’s silver!”
“The god really manifested! This is our reward!”
“Wait, that’s mine!”
***
The villagers, who had been working in unity a moment before, immediately revealed their true faces, fighting each other over the coins.
Childhood friends, beloved kin—none of that mattered in front of Brother Silver!
Even the village chief and the matchmaker abandoned the idea of sinking the bride into the river, instead focusing on grabbing as much money as possible and stuffing it into their clothes.
The sedan chair fell to the ground—its carriers had rushed off to snatch coins too.
Lu Chuan didn’t rush to come out.
He was waiting.
Before long, the calm river suddenly grew turbulent, as if something massive was about to surface. But the villagers on the shore remained oblivious.
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