Chapter 22
“Vice president, it’s true the youngsters did wrong here, but some things shouldn’t all be blamed on them.” One senior player with considerable standing stepped forward.
Now they were on the defensive.
Caught red-handed.
Their useless sons and grandsons had shown up outside the warehouse, clearly targeting Lu Chuan. Even if they denied it, once the vice-guildmaster used a lie-detecting tool, there would be no escape. Better to confess now and hope for leniency.
At least there had been no fatalities.
Only a few finance staff had collapsed from smoke inhalation. With proper compensation, they would surely keep quiet.
The real problem was Lu Chuan.
“Sir, you can’t put it that way.” Lu Chuan immediately countered. “Are you suggesting I falsified accounts? I won’t accept that. If I had cooked the books, why would your grandson rush over with people to kill me and set fires?”
“No one killed anyone!” The old man clearly didn’t want the blame falling on his grandson.
“No one died only because we ran fast enough.” Lu Chuan pressed on relentlessly. “What, is the guild run by your families now? Your children, whenever they dislike someone, can just attack at will? Today I happened to protect my people—what if it had been someone else? You’d be standing at their graves, demanding their forgiveness. Or do you mean to say your kids should pay with their lives instead?”
“No, no, not to that extent.”
“Don’t be so sure. Evil starts small.” Lu Chuan refused to let go. “And let’s not forget, your darling heirs have been embezzling guild funds, evading taxes, falsifying projects… I’ve already calculated most of the amounts. If you don’t believe me, I can take my finance team to audit your industries in person. I guarantee the numbers won’t be any higher than what I’ve said.”
He turned miserably toward the vice-guildmaster. “Vice president, this counts as an occupational injury. I demand workers’ comp and sick leave.”
“Of course.” The vice-guildmaster responded without thinking.
“Then I can rest easy.” Lu Chuan instantly changed expressions, now smiling faintly as he looked at the senior players. “Now that the ledgers are gone, there are only two options. One: I give you the numbers I remember, and you fill in the funds within the deadline—or use items of equal value. Two: I bring my finance team to carefully audit your industries. After all, this mess was caused by your children.”
All the senior players turned their eyes on the vice-guildmaster and Shen Li.
Shen Li’s eyes bored into the back of the vice-guildmaster’s head, as if trying to read his mind.
The vice-guildmaster just smiled faintly, eyes vacant, saying nothing.
The atmosphere grew awkward.
“In that case, we don’t doubt you, Mr. Lu. We’ll go with the numbers you’ve given.” The seniors, seeing the vice-guildmaster’s silence, knew he agreed with Lu Chuan’s terms.
If Lu Chuan ever got a clear look at their industries, the losses would be far worse than just covering these amounts.
“Grandpa, we didn’t—” One clueless second-gen tried to protest, only to be slapped unconscious by his own grandfather.
“Mr. Lu, we all see how dedicated you are to the Star Guild. But sometimes, you still need to leave yourself a way out.”
Even though they had agreed to pay him back, those old players still wanted to throw out a few harsh words, warning Lu Chuan to be more careful in the future.
If he wanted to keep surviving in the Star Guild, he couldn’t afford to make enemies of all the veterans.
“When I make it onto the God-tier ranking, maybe those words will be mine to say.” Lu Chuan replied lightly. “Only those with real strength can stand at the top, holding all the money and power, don’t you agree?”
The veterans’ expressions grew even darker.
“Just send us the bill, Mr. Lu. We’ll handle the rest. Vice President, you really brought back a remarkable talent this time. Congratulations.” They spoke with biting sarcasm.
“Ah, Lu Chuan is still young, inexperienced.” The vice-guildmaster finally stopped pretending to be silent. “When he goes into dungeons later, he might still need to learn from you all.”
One by one, the old players left in a huff, until only a few of them remained.
“Sasha, come here,” Shen Li called helplessly.
Starry Sasha obediently walked over.
“Next time this kid tells you to do something, report to me first,” Shen Li said, exasperated. “If you really unleash your ability, something will go wrong, you—”
“Captain, I didn’t activate my ability.” Sasha blinked innocently. “They only thought I did. My robe blocks my power unless I take it off completely.”
She had just pretended to use her ability.
All the fire, smoke, and other chaos had been entirely Lu Chuan’s doing.
The vice-guildmaster and Shen Li both turned their eyes on him.
“Among those old players, the weakest are A-rank. Some are even S-rank like Shen Li. They may be old and mostly focused on their descendants, but they still have plenty of disciples. Here at headquarters, items suppress their strength so they’re limited. But inside a dungeon, they could bribe people around you to turn against you. Worse yet, they might disguise themselves as newbies, enter the same dungeon, and use its rules to trap you to death.”
The vice-guildmaster sighed helplessly. Several of the guild’s former geniuses had died this way—killed in internal strife.
He had a good idea who was responsible, but had no proof. And even if there was proof, they’d brush it off as “an accident” or “we didn’t expect that.” If pushed too hard, it would only benefit rival guilds. So the only choice was patience.
For Lu Chuan to provoke them all at once, so soon after joining—it wasn’t wise.
“From the moment I joined the guild, as long as I wasn’t theirs to use, I was already a thorn in their side.” Lu Chuan said matter-of-factly. “If I’m making money, I’ll make the most. If I’m a thorn, I’ll be the biggest thorn. I risk my life in dungeons, ignore bosses themselves—why would I fear them? Besides, they’re old. Who knows how much strength they can even muster anymore? What I lack is just time. A few more dungeons and I’ll be fine.”
A few more dungeons—easier said than done.
“Oh, Vice President, about the money they paid today. After necessary expenses, the rest is split—one share for you, one for Captain Shen, one for Sasha. Sasha said she doesn’t want hers, so that goes to you too.”
The vice-guildmaster considered it. Lu Chuan had done the heavy lifting, so he deserved a cut.
From his understanding, Lu Chuan meant the four of them would split the money evenly.
“I’m old, I don’t need much. Give Sasha her share. As for mine, give—wait, tell me, how much are we talking about here?” The vice-guildmaster stopped mid-sentence, suddenly wary.
Lu Chuan looked disappointed. Why the sudden change of heart?
“If we’re just talking numbers, without counting items, your share is about one billion. Captain Shen’s and Sasha’s are also one billion each. I’m fair,” Lu Chuan said, voice full of reluctant pain.
If it weren’t for such a huge sum, he wouldn’t have gone this far.
Dozens of veterans had been involved—asking for tens of billions total wasn’t excessive. Painful for them, sure, but not enough to make them openly turn against the vice-guildmaster. They’d just grit their teeth, bleed a little, and go home to scold their children.
The vice-guildmaster was no idle figure; he had always maintained order in the guild and knew exactly what that money meant.
He stared at Lu Chuan, as though looking at a living, walking bank.
He took back what he’d said before.
Lu Chuan’s joining the guild was definitely necessary.
Even with a printing press running day and night, it would take ages to mint this much money.
But Lu Chuan had been here barely a week, and he’d already brought in this kind of wealth. For players, money might not mean everything—but at this level, no one could pretend it didn’t matter.
Shen Li was stunned too.
What? A billion?
As an S-rank player, even with resources and items, his monthly salary was only a few hundred thousand. He also refused sponsorships from wealthy patrons, so his lifestyle was modest, never extravagant.
But one billion—that was more than his entire net worth.
And his squad’s families would also enjoy better welfare.
He had wanted to refuse at first, but now it was impossible.
Too much money—it would feel like an insult to himself to turn it down.
This Lu Chuan, his sanity score definitely wasn’t above 80. And it looked like he already had signs of obsession.
“You—” The vice-guildmaster began, wanting to lecture him.
“My share still needs to cover the work injury compensation for the finance staff,” Lu Chuan cut in sharply, glaring warily. “I can’t give more. You guys weren’t involved in the early stage.”
“No need, a billion is nothing. I’m not that petty.” The vice-guildmaster waved it off. “I didn’t do much today anyway. But if I don’t take the money, the old geezers will grow suspicious. Just finish up your business quickly and then hide out in dungeons for a while. I’ll have Shen Li take you. You can pick a few teammates yourself.”
“Alright, thank you, Vice President.” Lu Chuan grinned ear to ear.
Sasha gave him a puzzled glance. Something felt off, but she couldn’t say what. She followed Shen Li out.
#888 was dumbfounded.
[Host… seven billion? You just pocketed seven billion?] It still couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t seven yuan—it was seven billion!
This money came faster than looting dungeons.
“Stop overreacting. You’ve never seen those con artists who scam billionaires—hundreds of billions in one go. Compared to that, what’s this?” Lu Chuan scoffed. “To capitalists, this is just startup capital. With seventy billion, you think you can be a Guildmaster? Keep dreaming.”
[But host, you’ve only been in the guild for a week.] 888 went quiet.
It looked like the host’s path to becoming Guildmaster had just sped up dramatically.
“To recruit troops and build a team, money must make more money. Quick cash schemes like this only work once; use it too often and it fails. That’s why I plan to buy a plot of land in Morningstar City and build housing. Too bad real-world money can’t be spent inside dungeons, otherwise I’d just buy land there. What a pity.” Lu Chuan lifted his chin proudly.
888 was floored.
Maybe the Lu ancestors had known what kind of descendant they’d have—that’s why they left family rules to restrain him.
In the real world, without those rules, someone like the host would’ve been locked away for life.
“Living for money” was a phrase for most people, but for Lu Chuan, it was practically his life motto.
That night, Lu Chuan’s name once again spread through the Star Guild.
Even at work, people now looked at him with admiration and awe.
What a legend.
One man single-handedly put so many veterans in their place, and even squeezed enough money from them to fill the guild’s deficit.
With this move, those who had been thinking about falsifying accounts no longer dared stir trouble.
If even the veterans had lost to Lu Chuan, what chance did the small fry have?
As for the old players who got slapped with massive bills—how they raged at home, cursed Lu Chuan’s name, sold off assets at rock-bottom prices only for Lu Chuan to snatch them up—that’s another story.
Overnight, Lu Chuan transformed from a rich man into a super-rich man, living comfortably.
The finance staff, suddenly receiving over a decade’s salary in compensation, were utterly loyal to him, hoping he would stay in charge forever.
The news spread to other guilds, and many couldn’t believe it. Some thought it was just rumors exaggerated beyond reason. How could a rookie cause such a stir?
But the higher-ups had ways to confirm the truth.
“This Lu Chuan has big ambitions. If he doesn’t die, the Star Guild might very well change hands.” someone sighed.
Vivian and her group regretted it so much their guts turned green.
If they had known this man could help the guild sweep out those parasites and make up for losses, they would have dragged him into their own guild no matter what.
Ordinary players might not care about money, but could those in charge really afford not to? Money was the most important bridge linking players to ordinary people!
When Shen Li received the money, he still couldn’t believe it.
This was a full one billion, not ten bucks. Was making money really this easy?
Sometimes, it was enough to make you question life itself.
Just thinking of having someone like this under his care gave Shen Li a headache.
He had already chosen the next dungeon, planning to take Lu Chuan along to polish his skills. But now he realized—such a simple task wouldn’t even be worth Lu Chuan’s time.
After some thought, Shen Li decided to change dungeons for him.
“Captain Shen, you called me?” Lu Chuan walked into Shen Li’s office, looking refreshed and in high spirits.
The past two days, Lu Chuan had been living the good life.
He bought whatever he wanted, ate whatever he liked, and even spent generously on charity—funding housing for ordinary people, caring for the elderly—leaving the system utterly shocked.
“System, don’t look down on me like that. I’m rich now—of course I’ll be a righteous, helpful person who aids widows and orphans. Honestly, most poor people, once they get rich, will donate to charity and even personally take part in public service—unless they’re rotten to the core by nature. That’s because once material needs are met, people naturally seek spiritual wealth. But those born rich, who’ve never suffered through poverty, often turn out stingier, more calculating, selfish.” Lu Chuan shrugged.
Humans could never truly empathize—only those who had lived through poverty knew how bitter those days could be.
#888 felt its understanding of the host deepen again. He might treat money like life itself, but he had never cheated ordinary people out of theirs.
“I originally picked a special B-rank dungeon for you, hoping you could get a personal title. But now it seems you’d have no problem earning one yourself.” Shen Li said. “So instead, I’ve prepared several other dungeons. You can choose one.”
“Personal title?” Lu Chuan blinked, opening his game panel. “I already have one. It unlocked in the last dungeon. Something like ‘The Gambler Who Bewitches Hearts.’ I guess that’s what you mean? The effect says it lets me trigger NPC storylines. What’s the point of that?”
“That’s extremely useful!” Shen Li, too shocked to care, quickly explained. “The higher the dungeon, the freer the NPCs are—their choices directly change the storyline. That’s why high-level dungeons are so difficult: past experience and knowledge don’t always apply. Just like in real life, all kinds of situations can come up. In that case, someone with a title will get completely different responses compared to someone without one.”
What shocked Shen Li wasn’t just that Lu Chuan, after only two dungeons, had already broken into the newcomers’ top ten and unlocked a title.
What stunned him was that Lu Chuan’s title even came with a prefix.
Normally, personal titles were tied to class skills—things like “Knight” or “Tailor,” straightforward labels. But a prefix meant the title carried a special effect.
“Bewitching” and “Gambler”—both words spelled nothing but danger.
Shen Li had known Lu Chuan would be hard to handle, but he hadn’t expected this hard.
Silently, he struck out the two easier dungeons from the list.
“The game panel is private. No one has the right to demand to see it, and I won’t either. But—how many dungeons have you cleared, and what were your ratings?” Shen Li finally asked straight out. “It’ll help me pick something more suitable for you.”
“Just two,” Lu Chuan said easily. “One was S+, with a 100% walkthrough achievement. The other was S, and that one gave me the personal title. Oh, and it dropped a key to unlock an A-rank dungeon.”
He saw no reason to hide it. After all, if you don’t brag a little, how will your superiors know your worth? One point of achievement should be talked up to ten. And if you actually had ten, then you’d better make it sound like a hundred.
Shen Li listened, then tossed out all but one of the prepared dungeons. He couldn’t afford to embarrass himself in front of Lu Chuan anymore.
He himself was an S-rank player, but he had never earned an S+. Only two S ratings, ever. Of course, difficulty varied between dungeons, but still—the gap was real.
“Oh, right, I also unlocked a territory,” Lu Chuan added casually. “But the system says I need a territory title before I can formally bind it.”
A territory already?! Shen Li nearly broke down. His last dungeon had only given him a tiny house as a safehouse.
Territories were notoriously hard to claim, since you had to wrest land from NPCs. How could it be that easy?
Could Lu Chuan be the illegitimate son of some nightmare world?
Shen Li had never thought himself lacking—people praised him for his abilities. But now, he was starting to doubt his very existence.
He finally understood why the guild’s old players hated seeing rising geniuses. He used to think they were just petty and jealous. But now… he understood all too well.
Facing a prodigy like Lu Chuan, it was all too easy to feel buried in the dirt.
Shen Li tossed aside the last dungeon as well. Forget it.
Walking over, he gripped Lu Chuan’s shoulders tightly. “I think you don’t need to waste time on other dungeons. Let’s go straight for your territory title. I’ll apply to the vice-guildmaster for the key. Then I’ll find a few helpers and we’ll go together. Once you have the title, your territory will be bound—no one can enter without your permission. Inside, you’ll be invincible. That’s why we call it a safehouse. And since a territory and title are prerequisites for the God-tier ranking, the sooner you secure them, the better.”
“Perfect,” Lu Chuan nodded. “Then can I choose my teammates?”
“Of course. Do you know anyone reliable?” Shen Li asked. “I’ll go with you myself, and I’ve got a few squadmates—”
“I think Starry Sasha would be a great choice,” Lu Chuan smiled.
Shen Li’s smile froze.
What? One troublemaker wasn’t enough—you want to bring two?!
“In that case, we don’t need anyone else,” Shen Li said firmly. “My squadmates are young, with families. They don’t need to take on such risk. I’ll go with just you two.”
At least he was S-rank—he could probably endure the havoc of two little demons.
I hope Lu Chuan and Shasha gets along more!!!