Chapter 43
Lu Chuan and Lilus found a secluded corner to stay in.
They needed a proper talk.
“There should be loan stalls outside. We can go check them out first, no rush to act immediately.” Lu Chuan laid out his plan. “There are so many vendors outside, and with both Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an going there, it means the outside must hold clues we need. Sometimes, full cooperation is also a good way to clear an instance.”
Lu Chuan didn’t think there was anything wrong with forming alliances—he simply saw it as the best current method for clearing the instance.
Lilus gave him a quiet look, then suddenly curved his lips in a suspicious smile.
“I see. Your ideas are wild, but thinking carefully, they’re not impossible.” Lilus said flatly. “So this is how you shot up to fourth on the newcomer rankings so quickly?”
Lu Chuan nodded without the slightest modesty. “What else could I do? The world is this dangerous—without a few tricks, who’d dare walk around like this?”
With his current strength, Lu Chuan could clear an instance alone, but the mission grade would be uncertain. And since this was a relatively straightforward “rules-type” dungeon, it was the perfect opportunity to explore thoroughly and gain experience. Otherwise, future runs of this type would be troublesome.
Thus, the best strategy was to form alliances.
Compared to Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an—who acted apart from the group and brimmed with self-confidence—Lilus was the more convenient partner in the early stage.
Smart, powerful, a bit obsessive—he was an ideal collaborator.
“I’ll reserve judgment on your proposal. I can co-rent with you, but I want to see first how you persuade the others. If your actions satisfy me, I’ll agree. Otherwise, we’ll just rely on our own skills.” Lilus sneered, though he didn’t shut the door completely.
[Host, how dare he refuse you? Tch, ungrateful fool!] #888 was furious. Their host was extraordinary, and yet, when he finally tried to find a partner in this dungeon, the other side was acting all difficult.
Shameless guy!
“System, I’m not angry—why are you angry?” Lu Chuan chuckled, though inwardly he was amused and pleased by #888’s reaction.
Yes, his system was becoming more and more humanlike, and more aligned with him.
Lu Chuan wasn’t upset by Lilus’s response—he’d expected it.
After all, they weren’t in the same guild, and were even competitors. A short-term alliance might work, but if deeper interests came into play, more caution was needed.
Not everyone was as gullible and obedient as Starry Shasha.
“Lu Chuan, I’ve researched you.” Lilus suddenly said.
“Oh?” Lu Chuan responded casually.
“At first, I thought you were just some ordinary resident. But I checked every place you’ve appeared, and found no trace of your life.” Lilus’s voice was calm. “I even used a special tracking item. Do you know what happened to it?”
“How would I know?” Lu Chuan’s heart stirred, but his face stayed neutral.
“The item said some kind of power was interfering—it couldn’t find you.” Lilus answered. “A person’s background, taste, knowledge, cultivation—these can’t be conjured out of thin air. For you to rise so quickly proves your qualities are extraordinary across the board.”
“Ordinary folk, whether from shacks or small houses, rarely produce someone like you. And if they did, you wouldn’t be an unknown. The five great guilds’ scouts aren’t incompetent—don’t tell me none of them discovered you?”
These so-called scouts were basically talent agents for the guilds.
Besides raising their own children as players, guilds sent out scouts to search for promising talent. Once someone was deemed to have potential, they’d be placed in guild schools, taught the ways of players, and groomed as reserves.
Lu Chuan had already encountered such a scout in his very first dungeon.
These scouts were everywhere, digging up talent from all corners.
By all logic, someone as outstanding as Lu Chuan shouldn’t have escaped notice.
“So?” Lu Chuan knew the wisdom of silence. On this matter, he trusted #888’s power.
[Don’t worry, host—they’ll never find anything about you!] #888 sounded a little guilty, but quickly steadied itself.
Lu Chuan sighed.
Silly system… Sometimes, the fact that nothing can be found makes things more suspicious.
“Your past is a complete blank—no one has seen you, no one knows you.” Lilus said coldly. “That leaves only two possibilities.”
“Oh?” Lu Chuan was curious what excuse the other would come up with.
“First, you’re a secret talent groomed by some faction, trained specifically for clearing instances. But for some reason, that faction has since been destroyed, which is why you could escape and become a player.” Lilus’s guess wasn’t unreasonable—Lu Chuan’s smooth progress couldn’t be separated from his own abilities.
“Mm, interesting. Go on.” Lu Chuan acted unbothered.
“Second—you’re not from our world.” Lilus dropped a bombshell, startling #888 into a freeze.
[H-Host… this guy is dangerous!] #888 was utterly baffled. Why was Lu Chuan negotiating with someone who was now digging straight into his deepest secrets? This wasn’t normal!
“You might be misunderstanding him.” Lu Chuan smiled. “I think Lilus is just imagining me to be like himself.”
“The second possibility,” Lilus went on, tone softening slightly, “is that you were born inside a dungeon, just like me.”
The Evil World – Infinite Horror Game’s system, in a sense, was remarkably fair.
Whether pregnant, sick, or disabled—once you became a player, inside the dungeon you would be restored to a normal state.
Pregnant women reverted temporarily to pre-pregnancy, the sick became healthy, the disabled regained full function. It was like receiving a second body—miraculous.
But, there were loopholes to exploit.
If, after an instance ended, a player chose not to leave, then upon resuming their normal body, they could continue living inside the dungeon. In that case, pregnancies and childbirth weren’t impossible.
For example, Lilus and his sister were born this way—his mother used this very bug to bring them into the world.
Once someone like Lu Chuan grew up, the system would naturally convert him into a player.
In fact, quite a few players had chosen to settle inside dungeons, especially in the early days of the game. Many treated it as paradise, believing that by staying inside forever, they could escape being dragged into instances again and again.
What a pity—even if you really did manage to live inside a dungeon, when the time came you’d still have to enter the next one, and you’d still be rejected by the dungeon’s NPCs. After all, once a dungeon ends, those NPCs are no longer restricted in any way, which makes them even more dangerous for players. After the early players who tried to settle inside dungeons all met bad ends, that practice gradually disappeared.
But humans are a species that can come up with anything—who knows if someone will try the same old trick again?
“You say so, then so be it.” Lu Chuan neither confirmed nor denied it. Why should he give a straight answer? The fact that they couldn’t guess was a good thing.
Besides, as his fame grew, people would definitely dig into his background from top to bottom.
It didn’t matter—surely the vice guildmaster had already investigated him and still hadn’t done anything about it.
“…You should be thankful that you don’t carry any innate inhuman features like my sister and I do.” Lilus, who had been fine just moments ago, suddenly seemed off as if triggered by a thought. “If you were the child of a player and an NPC, I would kill you right now!”
Many had tried to replicate the miracle he and his sister embodied, but none had succeeded—at least not openly.
If there ever was one, Lilus would kill them on sight. Innocent or not, he didn’t care.
In this world, as long as he had his sister and they had each other, that was enough. There was no need for a third of their kind to be born!
“System, people with low sanity really are terrifying. Compared to them, I’m the normal one.” Lu Chuan muttered with lingering fear. “I swear I felt my scalp go numb just now—this guy was ready to strike at any moment!”
[…Host, you don’t need to worry.] When it comes to sanity values, no one could possibly be lower than you. Any lower, and you wouldn’t even be human.
“You’ve said so much all at once—you must be tired. Why don’t we head outside and walk a bit?” Lu Chuan said, ignoring the mood entirely, not that it was worth paying attention to anyway.
Lilus stared at him for a while, tucked away his shadowy side, and once again showed a bright sunny smile. “Sure.”
While they were talking, most of the players in the hall had already trickled away, leaving only a handful murmuring among themselves.
After the first player who checked in went upstairs without being attacked, the rest followed one after another. Better to hole up in their own rooms than waste time sitting around in the hall.
As for how many players were still left, the easiest way to know would be to wait until dawn and see how many portions of food the landlord couple prepared.
Players who couldn’t adapt to the dungeon—even if they survived by luck this time—would rarely live through the next one.
Naturally, Lu Chuan and Lilus weren’t going back to the apartment, even though their rent had already been waived.
“I’m kind of hungry. Let’s go.” Lu Chuan said first.
“Alright.” Lilus hadn’t expected a straight answer anyway. He’d only said those things earlier to put some pressure on Lu Chuan, to keep him from scheming anything stupid.
Of course, Lilus didn’t believe he’d ever come out the loser either.
Together, they walked out the apartment’s front door.
The few remaining players saw Lu Chuan and Lilus heading out and were tempted to follow the “big shots” and explore.
But the moment they actually saw the two push open the doors and step outside, their own feet froze and slowed against their will.
At least staying in the apartment was safe for now.
If they went out… they might die without even knowing how.
In just a short while, Lu Chuan and Lilus were out of sight.
Barely a minute outside, and the glare of the vendor lights almost blinded them.
Was the space in front of the apartment always this big?
Lu Chuan thought hard—definitely not.
But now, the open space had transformed into a full-blown night market street. Clothes, bedding, food, drinks—everything was on sale. There were fortune-tellers, appraisers, and plenty of other shady stalls.
Lu Chuan and Lilus exchanged glances, both seeing the same big words in each other’s eyes: be careful.
All of these vendors were NPCs!
And not just any NPCs—they were advanced ones, highly autonomous and capable of independent thought!
“Two honored guests, care to try my grilled gluten skewers? Just a sliver of your sanity value, and you can have one.” A vendor greeted them warmly, holding out two skewers.
The smell of roasted gluten wafted into their noses uncontrollably.
All they’d eaten that whole day was three soup dumplings between the two of them—barely enough to fill a tooth. If they hadn’t smelled food, they could endure the hunger, but now their stomachs growled rebelliously.
It took enormous willpower for them to pull their eyes away from the food stalls.
But the cries of other hawkers were just as tempting.
“Short on funds, honored guests?” the vendor grinned. “Unlike the apartment, we’re not so strict. Even if it’s not your own flesh and sanity value, it’s fine.”
The meaning was clear.
They could trade someone else’s flesh and sanity instead.
If a desperate player wandered out one day and heard this… what would happen? Naturally, they’d prefer sacrificing others over giving up their own body and mind.
In the game’s dungeons, sacrificing others was already normalized—and with sanity slipping, reason was even less likely to hold sway.
The malice of a dungeon always found a way to creep in through the cracks.
“Is that so?” Lu Chuan smiled faintly, pointing at another vendor nearby. “Then if I trade his flesh and sanity, that works too?”
Offending two vendors at once…
Lilus sighed inwardly, though he couldn’t deny Lu Chuan had a point. He even flexed his claws threateningly and said in a cold tone, “Why don’t we test it?”
The two vendors turned green, casting nervous glances at Lilus’s right claw. They quickly forced a laugh. “Well, no need for that—let’s be friends instead. Here, here, have a taste on the house!”
Each of them stuffed a skewer into Lu Chuan and Lilus’s hands with forced cheer.
Confirmed—NPC flesh could be used in trade.
And it seemed Lilus’s right hand had some special restraining effect on NPCs, or else the stall owner wouldn’t be so afraid.
Lu Chuan took a bite of the gluten skewer and frowned slightly. “A bit overcooked. Vendor, you’re using too much heat—dial it down, brush on more oil. If the gluten’s too tough, you won’t get repeat customers.”
The vendor’s eyes lit up. “You know grilled gluten too?”
“Of course. Back when I sold it myself, business was booming.” Lu Chuan admitted. “But I kept getting customers who’d use confessions as an excuse to mooch. They’d say they liked me just to eat for free, so I quit.”
Back in his university town, selling gluten skewers made him more money than part-time jobs. But there were always students pestering him, asking if he had a girlfriend or boyfriend, hoping to date him just to freeload.
No way was Lu Chuan putting up with that.
In the end, somehow his business fizzled out.
“…I just saw Mei Xue.” Lilus suddenly said.
That blur just now had definitely been her!
“Over there too? Selling something?” Lu Chuan grew curious. They were still standing in the square in front of the apartment building, not daring to stray far in case of illusions. If they wandered in too deep, they might not get back out.
“That place—now that’s a gold mine.” The skewer vendor chuckled meaningfully. “Plenty think they can strike it rich there. But unlike here—where it’s expensive but safe—over there, nothing is safe, though everything’s cheap.”
Perfect. That was exactly the kind of place they were looking for.
Without delay, Lu Chuan and Lilus chased after her.
Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an had clearly failed this dungeon before, and yet they chose to return, working together to clear it again. Strange.
Unless there was something inside this dungeon they desperately wanted.
Whatever it was, it was enough to make members of the Noah Guild and the Abyss Guild set aside rivalry and cooperate. That alone made players from the Resurrection Guild and the Star Guild curious.
Lu Chuan and Lilus ran through the rows of stalls, and sure enough, they spotted Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an.
The two seemed to be quarreling, unwilling to give ground. In front of them sat a fortune-teller, shrouded in a cloak, with a huge crystal ball before him—completely out of place in this bustling night market.
Lu Chuan and Lilus edged closer, straining to hear.
“Lu Chuan, Lilus, you’ve followed us all this way—why not just come out?” Gu Quan’an’s tone carried a hint of reproach.
No use hiding now.
Lu Chuan and Lilus stepped out.
“It was Lu Chuan who dragged me here—I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen.” Lilus put on a convincing sunny-boy act, selling Lu Chuan out without hesitation.
“What are you saying? You told me to stick close so they wouldn’t slip away. I just followed your lead. Don’t frame me.” Lu Chuan lowered his head shyly, pretending to be bashful. He’d never been the one to suffer losses at the hands of players.
Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an nearly gnashed their teeth at the exchange.
As if they’d ever believe that.
Lu Chuan and Lilus had gotten away from the apartment so quickly, and their sanity didn’t seem to have dropped. Clearly, they already had things figured out.
“You two submitted a new rule and got tomorrow’s rent waived, didn’t you?” Mei Xue asked directly.
“A bit of luck.”
“All thanks to Lilus.”
Lu Chuan and Lilus said in unison.
“Alright, drop the act.” Gu Quan’an sneered from the side. “Getting the first rule so fast does show some ability. But the early rules of the Flesh-and-Blood Apartment are relatively simple. The tricky part is that a new rule is added every day, and rules never repeat. Later on, there are so many that we have to carry notebooks just to keep track, otherwise every step risks breaking one.”
Because Flesh-and-Blood Apartment has no time limit, and the condition for clearing it is to become an official tenant, the requirement is unreasonably harsh for players.
“We tried asking the landlord couple before. The moment we brought it up, they acted clueless. On top of that, there’s another hidden rule in the apartment—no using force or items to alter the will of the landlord couple. Otherwise, they’ll summon the dead players of the apartment to attack us,” Gu Quan’an said coldly. “Including teammates who died the last time we came here.”
So the best method was to break the situation and clear the game before the apartment rules piled up too much.
“This isn’t… the [Astrologer] you guys found, is it?” Lilus suddenly asked. “They say among NPCs there’s a special kind that can reveal dungeon information to some extent, called an [Astrologer]. But if you rely on one to clear a dungeon, your evaluation won’t increase, and you’ll suffer bad luck for a while afterward.”
Even so, the [Astrologer] was one of the rare ways to reduce dungeon difficulty in such cruel games.
It was said many players once searched far and wide for traces of [Astrologers], hoping to foresee dungeon details ahead of time to boost their chances of making the God-tier rankings.
“The [Astrologer] is ours. We need him to leak us information about clearing the dungeon,” Mei Xue admitted. “You just stick with us and don’t meddle.”
“Not just that.” Lu Chuan grinned. “You two went through all this trouble to get into this dungeon just to find the [Astrologer]. The dungeon itself is just a bonus.”
What they wanted to ask wasn’t dungeon-related at all—it had to be something else.
Mei Xue and Gu Quan’an’s expressions grew cold. They didn’t want to fight, but if this newbie insisted on digging deeper, he would become their enemy.
“Don’t get mad, don’t get mad. I don’t care about your secrets.” Lu Chuan reached into his pocket and held out a loan card. “I just want us to make money together. Nothing more.”
“You think you can escape debt? NPCs issue bounties. If you owe, you pay.” Mei Xue thought she’d seen through him.
“I don’t plan to run.” Lu Chuan smirked. “You know what makes the most money in this world?”
Finance? Technology?
No.
Monopoly.
——
Author’s note:
Fun Facts: In China, there’s a dedicated Anti-Monopoly Law.
