Chapter 89
Sometimes, it wasn’t others’ bad attitude you feared—it was when they didn’t reply at all.
That was Lu Chuan exactly.
On the surface he looked calm as a mountain, but inside he was nervous. If he spoke halfway and the Blood King ignored him, that would be awkward, and he’d lose face in front of both his system and Edith.
Luckily, the Blood King had taken the bait.
Lu Chuan felt a huge weight lifted off his chest. At last, he could speak with the Blood King calmly.
“You, as the lord of this dungeon territory, have nothing restraining you anymore—except the game system. Now that you’re trapped in this dungeon, unable to leave, you need to look at yourself: what have you actually brought to the system?” Lu Chuan went straight to the point, no cryptic wordplay.
After all, a ruthless man who became a lord purely by brute force wouldn’t have much patience for scheming and trickery.
All intelligent beings were the same: if they had brains, they usually weren’t the strongest in battle; and vice versa.
If he could get away with theatrics, Lu Chuan could stage all kinds of ceremonies.
But—no need. Clear the dungeon first.
“The Main God has countless dungeon worlds, and you’re asking me what you can offer it?” The Blood King almost laughed out loud, wondering if he’d misheard—or if Lu Chuan was deliberately trying to trick him.
“Of course. Don’t look at me like this—I’ve been a boss myself. I always thought: I provide my subordinates with wages and benefits, so what do they provide me in return?” Lu Chuan, who had once slaved away like a beast of burden, had finally flipped his life around in the Infinite World and risen into leadership.
He admitted he exploited a little, acted like a capitalist, but he did max out salaries and perks for those who worked with him. Otherwise, why would they be so loyal?
Still, his thinking often fell back into a capitalist mindset. Human nature—couldn’t be helped.
“The game system gave you immense strength, a vast domain. You’ve received so much cultivation. But after becoming a lord, all you did was open this boring dungeon, gather equally bored players, and through one tournament after another, pick someone who can exchange a couple blows with you to kill time.” Lu Chuan chuckled. “Do you think you’ve really done well?”
What a joke!
If he were the system, his skull would be flying off in rage. After painstakingly cultivating a senior executive, instead of managing company affairs, he turned himself into a glorified bodyguard, fighting left and right all day.
If he really wanted to play bodyguard, he should’ve just applied to join the Burial Squads—at least then he’d be put to use. But being a lord and still doing this? Ridiculous.
The Blood King clearly didn’t grasp Lu Chuan’s meaning. He asked curiously, “Am I not fulfilling my duties now?”
You call this fulfilling your duties? With your level of boss, you should have at least a hundred dungeons under your belt—complete with series dungeons and special modes.
Lu Chuan sighed. He had to be more blunt, otherwise the Blood King might never get it.
Who knew if the guy really didn’t understand—or was just pretending?
“Of course not,” Lu Chuan said seriously. “The workload you’re handling doesn’t match what the system has given you. Forget bringing in profits—I’d worry the system might just erase you one day for being useless.”
The Blood King fell silent.
Naturally, he wouldn’t tell a player this: in truth, the Main God System had largely ignored him for years. He had even submitted applications to join the Burial Squads, all of which were rejected.
At first, he thought it was because his power wasn’t on par with theirs.
But after he created this Clash of the Blood Kingdom dungeon, countless players and high-level NPCs were pulled inside, and he’d had contact with the Burial Squads a few times.
He might not match the top-ranked Burial Squads, but he wasn’t weaker than the ones at the bottom.
So why had the Main God refused to let him join?
Maybe he should hear what this player had to say.
As a lord, the Blood King knew full well that players were the Main God’s property. The Main God could use, train, and filter them freely—but would never allow others to interfere. Opening a dungeon required the system’s approval and restrictions; even the rewards had to be approved.
Players were cheap—cheap enough that one dungeon might bury tens of thousands of them.
But they were also precious—precious enough that if any of the Main God’s creations wantonly slaughtered players, they would be wiped out instantly.
That was exactly why the Blood King was willing to listen to Lu Chuan.
Because in the Main God’s eyes, players were special—even if they didn’t think so themselves.
[Host, this Blood King doesn’t seem so easy to fool,] #888 muttered, uneasy.
The Blood King spoke too little.
No telling what he was thinking.
“System, that’s normal. One conversation won’t change the situation. We just need to plant a seed in his mind,” Lu Chuan replied calmly. If the Blood King were that easy to persuade, would this dungeon even exist?
He had plenty of tricks up his sleeve!
If the Blood King truly didn’t care, he wouldn’t even have responded. Since he asked questions, Lu Chuan was sure the man had something on his mind.
All he needed was to figure out what mattered most to him, then play along that line. Soon enough, the Blood King would treat him like a life mentor—his word law. From there, things would be easy.
“In the end, it’s about profit,” Lu Chuan pressed on, not wanting the Blood King to think too long in silence. “You need to bring the system profits. You need to show the system your potential and your abilities.”
“Take this dungeon for example—you only assess twenty players at a time. No offense, but that’s far too few. With your ability, Lord King, you should be testing at least two thousand players in one go!”
“The number of us players is beyond your imagination. Of course, our quality varies. As the system’s lord, your job is to help it sift out the strongest, the most promising players—not just act as a sparring partner for them. Look at Wu Yue, whom you just advanced. He already met the clearance conditions in the last match, yet he wasn’t ejected. That’s a flaw! You’re only taking twenty at a time, and even then you’re repeating the same ones. How is that any different from copy-pasting work right in front of your boss?!”
If you’re going to work, you’d better have the right attitude.
If you want to stand out in front of your leader, you can’t just do the same old things.
You have to innovate all the time.
For example, change the packaging—take the same year-end report, but present it in a new form. Turn the PPT into a video, and suddenly it looks high-end, doesn’t it?
Or change your phrasing—turn “coordination work” into “alignment of granularity,” and suddenly it looks like you’ve been thinking deeply.
Don’t say it’s just “old soup in a new bowl” or that it’s all busywork. To the leader, it looks like you’re doing something, you’re thinking.
Whether it actually works or not—that’s a separate matter.
But passive work is definitely unacceptable.
The advantage the game system has over ordinary leaders is that it doesn’t play favorites—everything is prioritized by benefit. That means flattery doesn’t exist, but that’s the only difference.
Do nothing, and that’s absolutely unacceptable.
“King, oh King, you’ve been a lord for so long—don’t you understand the stakes here? Either you test players more, or you shape players more. The former means helping the system screen them; the latter means nurturing them.” Lu Chuan shook his head and sighed. “Why do you think I’m here? Of course it’s because I was shaped by the Burial Squads. Those big shots see potential in me, they’re betting on me, hoping that through me, they’ll earn the system’s approval!”
888 stared at Lu Chuan in shock. What, is that why Burial Squad Number 9 favors his host? Thinking carefully, it actually made a lot of sense!
“Of course it’s fake, System.” Lu Chuan seemed to know what 888 was thinking and spoke directly in his mind. “Number 9 has never once mentioned the game system to me. He’s probably just bored and raising me like a digital pet, curious to see what I can do. I get it—back when I was stuck in boring jobs, I liked raising digital pets too.”
These days, every office worker has to find little amusements to survive. Otherwise, how could they keep going?
[But Host, you just told the Blood King that… If the Burial Squad denies it, won’t you be exposed?]
“How could I be exposed? Would Number 9 really sell me out over some NPC he’s never even met? Even if the Blood King asked him directly, Number 9 would almost certainly cover for me.” Lu Chuan spread his hands, looking completely shameless. “And if there’s the tiniest chance of being exposed—that’s just the risk we take. Where in the world is there any high reward without risk?”
That’s just who Lu Chuan was—he liked taking risks.
Playing it safe meant cutting yourself off from high returns.
888 couldn’t argue further.
But if that Burial Squad really did cover for his host… what would he want in return?
“So you mean, I need to curry favor with these players?” The Blood King sneered.
“Of course not.” Lu Chuan shook his head quickly. “I’m talking about testing them—sharing the system’s burden, helping it find stronger, more distinctive players. I’m a living example, aren’t I? Has Your Majesty ever met a player like me before?”
The Blood King hadn’t.
Previous players—most couldn’t even exchange a few blows with him, let alone hold a conversation.
But Lu Chuan could talk on and on, ignoring his overwhelming power. He’d never met a player like this before.
Well, except for those at the very top of the rankings. But those people, in a sense, were no longer really “players.”
“So, Your Majesty, you should also learn a little.” Lu Chuan smiled. “If you stay stuck in this tiny place, testing only a handful of players and doing nothing else, if you were the system, would you bother with such a subordinate?”
“So I need to increase the intensity of player testing?” the Blood King asked.
He thought about it—this wasn’t hard. He could just block a player from ever passing his dungeon.
“Not just intensity—also quantity. My personal suggestion is, divide your territory into at least hundreds of dungeons. Test no fewer than ten thousand players at a time. And don’t forget to spot potential—give promising newcomers a little encouragement. Newbies usually aren’t much on their own…”
Lu Chuan launched into a sweeping lecture, cherry-picking tricks from the novels, movies, dramas, and variety shows he’d seen in his last world, spinning them into advice for the Blood King.
The Blood King listened, half-tempted to recruit him outright.
So he did.
“You’re impressive. Would you consider working for me? Whatever the Burial Squads can give you, I can too.” The Blood King admitted this wasn’t his strong suit, but taking in a player was no big deal.
[Detection: The Blood King is inviting player [Arrival of the God of Wealth] to apply for residency. Do you accept?]
Damn, why was the system popping up now?
Lu Chuan clicked “Decline” without hesitation.
That was fast—almost too efficient for him to process.
The Blood King’s sudden offer nearly startled him, but refusing also had to be done with finesse.
“It’s a great honor to be valued by you. Unfortunately, I already bear the Burial Squads’ mark, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Lu Chuan’s tone softened instantly, even his form of address changed.
Always keep an escape route. If he ever fell out with the Burial Squads, he’d still have another option.
A smart man always kept multiple offers in hand to negotiate slowly.
“What a pity.” The Blood King recalled his earlier attempt to invade Lu Chuan’s mind, only to be blocked. He had his answer now.
“I’ll think carefully on what you’ve said,” the Blood King said reservedly. “If it truly works, I won’t shortchange you. For now, I’ll let you pass. And in the final round, I’ll make sure you get a good result.”
The Blood King was generous—since Lu Chuan made sense, he wouldn’t deny him a reward.
Sometimes, it wasn’t that you couldn’t see clearly—you just needed someone to point it out.
He thought back to when he was still weak. Back then, he juggled several dungeon boss roles, running around constantly, and the Main God never restricted him.
When did the restrictions start?
It was when he grew stronger, when he stopped roaming outside dungeons.
He had always assumed it was because he’d grown too powerful, that the Main God was protecting the dungeon environment by holding him back.
Now he realized he’d been completely wrong.
But NPCs and players alike all feared his power. They only praised his strength—never once had anyone spoken as plainly as Lu Chuan.
Those Burial Squads—they really did have a good eye.
The Blood King even felt a little curious about the one backing Lu Chuan.
Could it be that the Burial Squad who once spat in his face was the same one betting on Lu Chuan?
“Then, Your Majesty, may I trouble you to let my teammate pass as well?” Lu Chuan seized the moment. “Edith is excellent. Once you see her, you’ll know. I strongly recommend her.”
Edith gave Lu Chuan a puzzled glance. Why was he suddenly looking at her?
Since Lu Chuan’s talk with the Blood King was through the game system, Edith couldn’t hear a word. But she could see Lu Chuan clearly negotiating with some unseen presence, brimming with confidence—it had to be going well for him.
She didn’t know who he was talking to, but even if it was the Blood King himself, she doubted he’d get the better of Lu Chuan.
Having already seen Lu Chuan trick gods and slay gods, Edith trusted him instinctively.
To defeat Lu Chuan, there was only one way: don’t listen to him, don’t give him time to react, just strike instantly and kill. Otherwise, if you gave him even a second to respond, you were doomed.
Wait quietly for death.
Edith felt an immense, terrifying presence focus on her. Her whole body instinctively entered battle mode, like a beast ready to explode at any moment.
So terrifying.
So terrifying!
Why could Lu Chuan converse freely with such a being? Did he truly feel no pressure?
If Edith could hear 888’s voice, he would tell her: it’s not that Lu Chuan feels no pressure—it’s that all the pressure in the world can’t outweigh his desire to get rich.
His hunger for wealth conquered everything.
In Lu Chuan’s world, the law was so well-developed that every legal path to overnight riches had already been written into it. Yet countless people still risked breaking the law to get rich. The logic was the same—only Lu Chuan’s desire was even stronger.
That’s why things had turned out like this.
“Your companion—she’ll pass to the next round regardless of your request.” The Blood King’s gaze fell briefly on Edith, and he immediately recognized her potential.
Her body had been honed through countless battles. One look at her stance showed her combat experience.
As for Lu Chuan—his physique and combat skills were, at best, average. The Blood King was honestly curious how he’d even made it this far through three rounds.
But that was a trivial matter. He didn’t concern himself with it.
Soon, the system prompt sounded in both Lu Chuan and Edith’s ears.
[Congratulations, player [Arrival of the God of Wealth], for clearing Dungeon Round Four]
[Congratulations, player …]
Both of them dissolved into white light, transported to another room.
The room was still lavishly decorated, but more understated than the grand hall. Still, at a glance, Lu Chuan could tell every ornament inside was worth a fortune.
Damn. He wanted to steal them all.
If only they were his.
Inside, besides Wu Yue, there were several other NPCs too—clearly people who had also figured things out.
Wu Yue hadn’t expected Lu Chuan and Edith to arrive so quickly. For a moment, he was stunned.
He had just worried for nothing.
These two were clearly hiding their strength. How on earth had they passed the Blood King’s trial?
Edith, he could understand. But Lu Chuan? He really couldn’t figure him out.
“How did you pass the trial?” Wu Yue asked outright. “Especially you, Lu Chuan—your combat power should’ve been disqualified…”
Edith blinked innocently at him. “What if I said, I don’t know either—would you believe me?”
Of course not!
Wu Yue screamed in his heart. How could anyone not know how they’d cleared the trial? The Blood King was never that generous!
Meanwhile, the Blood King Wu Yue was silently complaining about was currently exchanging insights with Lu Chuan.
This guy, Lu Chuan—he didn’t have much else, but when it came to choosing subordinates and tormenting people with “management strategies,” he could compile enough material to publish a dozen books.
Even the Blood King found it very enlightening.
“You’re a decent player,” the Blood King said, finding Lu Chuan more and more pleasing. “Tell me what reward you want. As long as it’s within my power—dueling techniques, martial manuals, or powerful items—I can give them to you.”
Of course, if the system judged something as exceeding the limits, his hands would be tied. But within those limits, he would try his best to satisfy Lu Chuan.
He knew this was what the players came to his domain for.
Lu Chuan rubbed his hands together in excitement and asked repeatedly, “Really?”
“Of course.” The Blood King prided himself on generosity. He had countless spoils of war—whatever Lu Chuan asked for, he was confident he could provide.
“Even sanity points, which you players seem to crave most—I can give you some. Not too much, of course,” the Blood King added.
NPCs like him didn’t need sanity points. Sometimes they even discarded them deliberately to grow stronger. But players were different—they seemed to value them highly, and even the Main God cared about players’ sanity.
Perhaps that was the key difference between NPCs and players.
[Host, this is a great chance—let’s ask for more items!] #888 said excitedly. [Or more sanity points! He just said he can give them!]
Sometimes, 888 just wanted to see a different version of Lu Chuan.
“I want your palace!” Lu Chuan blurted. Who cared about items or manuals? He had teammates—they could cover any gaps in gear. He didn’t need them!
As for sanity points, what use were they? To bring out another “me” who hated money and squandered all the wealth he’d worked so hard to save?
Bah!
Even if that person was also him, Lu Chuan still despised him.
Anyone who knew how to spend money but not earn it was someone who’d never known real poverty.
“You… you want what?” The Blood King thought he must’ve misheard.
Who would ignore items, sanity, and skills, just to eye his palace?
Even if he gave it away, Lu Chuan couldn’t live here—it was the Blood King’s territory.
“The palace itself doesn’t matter.” Lu Chuan gritted his teeth, realizing he was asking too much. “I don’t need much. Just give me the gold, jewels, and expensive ornaments inside. I can put them in my territory.”
Earning less was fine—he couldn’t be too greedy.
He wanted to build a palace of his own!
Author’s Note:
Lu Chuan: They’re all mine~
