Chapter 42
“You haven’t even finished distributing the food yet!” Hearing the landlord couple already demanding the next day’s rent deposit, one player couldn’t help but protest.
Not every player who came downstairs had their room card with them.
In fact, although Lilus and the others had helped carry down thirty bags of food, fewer than half of them could actually claim it with their cards. The rest of the food sat neatly stacked at the reception desk, completely unclaimed.
Without a card, there was no way to pick up food.
And now the landlords were demanding renewals.
Renewal also required a room card.
This created a contradiction.
Without a room card, players outside couldn’t renew. But players inside who had the card couldn’t come downstairs to renew either. If time kept passing and they didn’t renew while still staying in their rooms, the danger for them would only grow.
In this way, the bigger the shared room, the messier things became if the cards weren’t distributed properly.
Many players without cards were already starting to regret it.
If only they hadn’t been greedy for the cheaper rate—they should’ve gone for single rooms!
“If you renew with the card, you can pay a small processing fee to reclaim yesterday’s food,” the landlady said with a wide smile, her wrinkles piling together, making her look more creepy than kind. “You can also switch to a single room and rent a new one directly.”
“If we switch to single rooms, can we still reclaim yesterday’s food?” Lilus asked, directing the question to the smoking landlord.
“Of course not,” the landlord answered grudgingly. “You can only reclaim with a renewal. A new rental isn’t the same as renewing.”
So that’s the trick!
If they really did re-register for a single, they still couldn’t get back yesterday’s food—word games, pure and simple.
A lot of players glared angrily and stopped several others who were about to try re-registering.
This was turning into trouble.
Lilus frowned.
Rule-based dungeons were different from others—the danger was hidden beneath a veneer of politeness.
To renew, you had to have a card. And shared rooms were more expensive overall than single rooms. But the players holding the cards weren’t necessarily all downstairs. That meant even if one cardholder wanted to renew, they might have to cover one or two roommates’ rent as well.
And how much flesh did players really have? Who would want to pay extra for someone else’s rent so soon?
Meanwhile, many players in the lobby had no card. That created another problem.
Without a card, they had to go through the “lost card” procedure, paying both rent and a fee. That was even worse value than just starting fresh with a single room. And if too many gave up on renewing their shared rooms, what would happen to the roommates still upstairs?
If they refused to renew, they couldn’t claim food. Then they either had to pay exorbitant prices at the stalls outside or starve. And if the upstairs cardholders didn’t come down, everyone would lose.
No matter how you looked at it, the situation was bad.
If “Arrival of the God of Wealth” was smart enough, he’d come down to find him—they’d split the rent, which was the best option.
Lu Chuan pocketed the loan flyer, then got up from bed and headed for the door.
[Host, when it was safe earlier you didn’t go out. Why now?] #888 asked nervously. [The monsters outside aren’t weak.]
#888 knew what kind of person Lu Chuan was—he was clearly rushing to get a loan and exploit it—but this didn’t feel like the right time to chase profit.
“I stayed in to wait for this loan flyer and the food. Now I’ve got the flyer, but still no food.” Lu Chuan shrugged. “I’m hungry. I can’t just keep waiting. And it’s the second day now—by the landlord’s rules, it’s time to pay rent.”
In a dungeon, it was safest to assume the boss was utterly merciless.
“I don’t even know if Lilus, who left with the room card, will renew in a way that keeps me in this same room. If not, then I’d be considered an illegal tenant, which would be even more dangerous. Since it’s day two, and given the three rules printed on the room cards, I suspect the new rules and the monsters outside are tied to the cards.”
[Why tied to the cards?] #888 was almost convinced, but didn’t fully understand.
“Because of the three rules— I already tested the one about flyers, and nothing happened when I picked one up. But the first and third both mention the room card. Every exam I’ve taken taught me that repeated keywords always show up in the test questions! I don’t have a card, so I’m not that worried.”
“Besides, if those monsters outside really wanted to attack, this apartment door wouldn’t stop them.” Lu Chuan continued as he opened the door. “Still, be ready to use the God of Wealth’s coin skill if anything happens.”
The moment he opened the door, all the monsters in the hall turned toward him, looking ready to pounce.
#888 clutched himself tight, ready to trigger the skill.
But as Lu Chuan stepped out, the monsters closed in, even standing right in front of him—yet they didn’t attack. #888 almost broke into a cold sweat.
Lu Chuan kept his eyes forward, calmly bypassing them, and walked downstairs.
In the rooms, other players who heard his door open listened closely.
But instead of screams or fighting, all they heard was Lu Chuan’s steady footsteps down the stairs.
This must be a trick! The monsters were faking it!
Some players thought so.
Others realized the monsters might not attack people at all—maybe it was worth trying to go down.
Every player had a different idea.
Those who wanted to go downstairs knew their roommates weren’t going to bring food up to them—better to fetch it themselves than starve.
Those who stayed behind figured they could endure until morning, or wait to see what happened to others first.
Lu Chuan reached the lobby safely.
The players downstairs stared at him wide-eyed.
“The monsters don’t attack?”
“Really? Then we can go upstairs too?”
“Shh, don’t rush—it could be a trick, maybe the monsters are disguised.”
Everyone had their own doubts.
But only Lu Chuan’s roommate, Lilus, was sure he was the real deal.
If Lu Chuan hadn’t come down, then Lilus might’ve wondered whether this fourth place on the newbie leaderboard was undeserved.
The landlords had clearly demanded day-two deposits, and the stalls outside were already set up. It was obvious the dungeon’s focus was shifting outside the rooms. If Lu Chuan had stayed upstairs, he’d be in real trouble.
“My share?” Lu Chuan reached out his hand directly when he saw the food bag in Lilus’s hand.
Lilus handed him three soup dumplings.
Lu Chuan ate them one after another in quick bites, while Lilus also finished his dumplings.
The portion was small, but after eating, the gnawing hunger that had been lingering in their minds eased a lot.
“What’s the situation now?” Lu Chuan nudged Lilus with his elbow.
So Lilus briefly explained the current state of affairs.
“If we want to renew the lease, we need to pay rent again. Otherwise, we can’t go upstairs.” Lilus shrugged. “So right now things are stuck. Nobody wants to rush to renew yet—they’re waiting to see. After all, those monsters are still wandering around.”
Lu Chuan nodded. “I want to go outside and take a look. I picked up a flyer. Keep an eye on Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an, see if they make a move.”
“They were just watching from the stairs earlier. After getting food, they didn’t renew, they went straight outside,” Lilus replied. He had been watching Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an closely. But outside there were many stalls, and the two quickly disappeared into the crowd.
Lilus originally wanted to follow, but since he wasn’t very familiar with this dungeon, he held back.
The most important thing now was still to figure out the rules of this dungeon.
Lu Chuan nodded. He wanted to go out too, but not yet—he needed to firm up his thoughts first.
Loans could be taken anytime, but without proper preparation early on, it would be easy to end up with bad debt.
Even though Lu Chuan and Lilus had never worked together before, they had a tacit understanding when it came to clearing dungeons. They knew how best to cooperate under the current circumstances.
As they were talking, the players in the hall grew noisy again.
Another player had come upstairs.
He looked half scared out of his wits, but when he saw the large crowd of players, his whole expression lit up as if revived in an instant. “Great! I knew it was right to follow!”
The excited player’s eyes immediately fixed on the food bags in people’s hands.
Saliva started flowing as he stepped closer to his roommate.
“Quick, did you bring the room card down?” his roommate asked happily.
They were in a triple room, so they had decided the two who stayed behind would keep the room cards, while the one who went exploring would carry none, in case the cards were lost outside.
And at the landlord couple’s front desk, there were still about a dozen untouched food portions.
Seeing his roommate finally downstairs, the other players were also overjoyed.
“Yes, I brought it.” The player hurriedly reached into his pocket—but his expression quickly turned to horror.
“My room card? I had it when I came down!”
“Where’s my room card?”
As expected.
The monsters weren’t after the players—they were after the room cards of those who came downstairs.
“Of course temporary tenants want room cards the most.” The landlady chuckled darkly from the desk. “So then, dear guests, would you like to renew your leases?”
“I… I’ll renew. This time I want a single room!” Finally, one player couldn’t take it anymore. He had been hoping his roommate would bring the card down, but after seeing another player’s card vanish, he gave up hope.
If he had known, he would’ve chosen a single room from the start. At least he could still cut his losses now.
“Very well. Renewal is still three sanity points or ten jin of flesh per night. Flesh or sanity—what will you pay with?” the landlady asked, her face glowing with excitement as she brought out the wooden bucket again.
“Flesh.” The player placed his hand over the bucket. His body instantly grew thinner and weaker.
“Here’s your new room card, guest.” The landlady chuckled lowly. “Your old room has now been canceled.”
At that moment, in the player’s old room upstairs—
The doorplate dimmed, and the monsters wandering the hallway seemed to sense it. They suddenly lunged toward the darkening room.
Soon, the player’s scream echoed, then silence.
The newly checked-in player stood stunned, holding his new card. “So hungry… I’m so hungry.”
Just moments earlier, he could endure the hunger. But after giving up another ten jin of flesh, his stomach burned with acid—if he didn’t eat, he felt he’d die of starvation.
“A bag of food costs just one sanity point,” the landlord grinned, seizing the chance.
“Give it to me, give it to me!” the starving player cried.
The landlord pulled out his weighing scale. After taking one sanity point, he handed over a bag.
The player devoured six dumplings. He looked a little less hungry, but his craving only grew worse. Eating just made him hungrier.
“System, check—after that second rent payment with flesh, did his sanity drop?” Lu Chuan asked immediately.
[Confirmed.]
#888 scanned and quickly reported back eagerly, [Host, you’re right. After paying with flesh again, his sanity plummeted.]
As expected.
Lu Chuan knew it was too good to be true.
For an adult, twenty jin of flesh wasn’t much—people often lost far more dieting. Plus, most players had healing items. Even if effectiveness dropped with use, they’d be safe early on.
For a rules-based dungeon, this one seemed overly lenient.
But after seeing this case, Lu Chuan had his answer.
The “Flesh and Blood Apartment” wasn’t really after flesh. It was hunting sanity. If it had demanded sanity upfront, players would’ve been forced into dangerous exploration. But using flesh as a smokescreen, it tricked players into walking into the trap.
Pay flesh, sanity drops. Then pay sanity for food.
Then sanity drops further.
A vicious cycle.
“Another bag—no, two bags!” the player cried. With lowered sanity, his thinking was muddled. He handed over two more points.
After devouring twelve dumplings, he finally looked normal again.
But only on the surface.
“Thank you for your patronage.” The landlord grinned, delighted.
With one person leading the way, others soon followed. Hungry players turned to the landlords for food instead of outside vendors.
More and more players without cards came down to re-check-in.
One by one, the upstairs room numbers dimmed.
Those left in their rooms were bewildered—why had monsters suddenly been able to enter, when before they couldn’t?
Some did try renewing for shared rooms, but after paying those costs, hunger drove them to spend sanity on food as well.
“After renewing, you may safely go back upstairs.” The landlord couple smiled. “Just don’t lose your card—or wait until morning.”
Lu Chuan glanced around, thoughts forming.
Lilus was thinking the same.
New rule discovered: Players who obtain new room cards invalidate their old ones. Those rooms lose the apartment’s protection.
Both Lu Chuan and Lilus mentally submitted this to the system.
[Rule submission approved. Renewal free today. Room rules updated.]
[Reminder: Rules may only be submitted by players themselves. No hints to others are allowed.]
So that was why Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an hadn’t even hinted at anything.
Not telling was their best protection.
Lu Chuan sighed.
He could already guess the others’ fate.
Aside from the handful of prepared players, the remaining twenty-two dragged in here would all be devoured within three days. And there was nothing they could do to save them. The way out had been made clear at the start.
But none of them could pay the price required after leaving.
A dead end.
That was the horror of a rules-based dungeon.
All the rules lay in plain sight. But one wrong step, and every step after fell to ruin—death inevitable.
Lu Chuan turned, glaring coldly at the landlord couple.
Meanwhile, after collecting the day’s rent, the landlord pulled out his pipe to enjoy a smoke—only to have it snatched away and get scolded harshly by the landlady.
Just looking at them like this, one would think they were such a loving couple.
Lu Chuan narrowed his eyes slightly—the suspicion in his heart had now been confirmed.
Lilus seemed to notice something off as well. “That smoking pipe seems to have a problem. Should we cooperate and find a way to snatch it?”
“Snatch it?” Lu Chuan looked at him in surprise. “If it could be snatched, Mei Xue and the others would’ve already acted.”
“Steal it.” Lilus immediately changed his wording. “As long as we can distract them for a few seconds, I can steal the pipe.”
“There’s no need for that.” Lu Chuan smiled, then handed Lilus a small loan advertisement. “I’d rather discuss another kind of cooperation with you. My capital is still a bit short, so I need to pull you in.”
Lilus took the flyer, frowned slightly after reading it. “The interest rate on this isn’t low. We still have healing items for now, we don’t need to resort to this yet. Even if you plan to borrow and not repay, that kind of move should only be considered once we’re close to clearing the instance.”
Clearly, Lilus showed remarkable acuity—his thinking aligned with Lu Chuan’s in certain aspects.
No wonder this was the man who managed to redirect a god’s wrath in the Li Family Village instance.
The “super rookie” of the Resurrection Guild truly lived up to his reputation.
Hearing Lilus’s words, Lu Chuan’s impression of him rose another notch.
Thinking of this, he could understand why Starry Shasha’s ranking had always struggled to climb higher.
If opponents ahead were all like Lilus, then the fact Starry Shasha could even hold her spot was already thanks to her guild’s dedicated support.
Sometimes, talent simply lay in different areas.
If it had been Starry Shasha here instead, Lu Chuan would have to think of ways to bail her out.
Not bad, not bad. Working with smart people was indeed easier and less troublesome. But still, Lilus’s vision was a bit too narrow.
“Think bigger, broaden your perspective.” Lu Chuan grinned. “With loans, the real question is—what do we do with the flesh and blood that the loan buys us?”
“What do you mean?” Lilus had a feeling that Lu Chuan’s smile was up to no good.
“I need to do something, and I don’t have enough capital on my own. Even with yours added, it might still not be enough. So we’ll probably have to rope in Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an as well. With the four of us combined, it should work. Better to borrow together than alone—shared wealth means shared fortune.”
——–
Author’s Note:
Starry Shasha: …Why do I feel like I got scolded for nothing?
