“No, Yuchi could never be Scar Tiger’s accomplice,” Jiang Ye said firmly. “But you know him. Am I right, Yuchi?”
Yuchi Xi nodded, looking down at the Mask in his hands. In his usually indifferent eyes, a trace of sorrow suddenly appeared, like drifting white snow falling upon a tall, lonely mountain range.
“We know each other,” Yuchi Xi said calmly. “Long ago, he and I were friends.
“We both became scapegoats for others, thrown in prison and assigned crimes. The scars on our faces—those were burned onto us by the Warden back then.
“They liked to torment ‘rats’ in this way.
“Later, he and I were exiled to different wastelands.
“We never contacted each other again, but I’ve heard plenty of rumors about him. Those rumors sound outrageous, but I know they’re true. Because even back in prison, Scar Tiger was already changing.
“He said that since everyone took him for a villain, then he’d be evil to the end. So, killing, robbing, trafficking beastfolk children—those were things he could do.”
Whenever Yuchi Xi spoke of these matters, his tone remained flat, as if quietly telling a story about someone else entirely, unconnected to him.
But Jiang Ye knew that those memories had never truly faded from his heart.
Because in Yuchi Xi’s eyes, there was still that sense of despair, unwillingness, and sorrow.
There was only one thing missing: hatred.
“Why?” Jiang Ye tilted her head. “Yuchi, don’t you want to get revenge on those who framed you?”
“I used to, when I was young and foolish.” Yuchi Xi even smiled, a wry, self-mocking grin. “But now, at my age, I understand some things are just fate.
“Rats live the fate of rats.”
“But who says rats can’t be masters of the world?” Jiang Ye’s eyes curved in a smile.
Hearing this, Yuchi Xi looked at her.
In his heart, he knew what A Leaf Boat said was impossible.
The world’s hierarchy was set. Rats were meant for the gutter.
But why was it, that in that instant, he felt a fleeting desire to believe what A Leaf Boat said?
As if this person could really change everything.
A gust of wind brushed by, and the thought vanished.
Yuchi Xi shook his head with a soft laugh.
He must’ve played games too much.
Even if A Leaf Boat was a master in the Virtual Game, in real life, she was just like him—a wasteland dweller.
That passing thought—surely it was because the sunlight landed on Jiang Ye’s figure at that moment, so dazzling, it made him hallucinate.
“So, why did you ask us like that just now?” A-Xing had yet to put down his guard. He looked at Yuchi Xi. “What’s your real goal?”
“I just wanted to say, if you’re willing, you can join me on my planet.” Yuchi Xi didn’t mind A-Xing’s reaction; he said sincerely, “Let me properly introduce myself: my name is Kunwu.”
“Kunwu!” A-Xing’s eyes went wide. He grabbed Jiang Ye to whisper, doing so with extra care as he deliberately pulled her farther from Yuchi Xi. “I know him!
“Xiao Jiang, he’s the ruler of Deegou Star. I was planning to take you to Deegou Star myself. It’s got a good reputation, and the boss there is known for being trustworthy.”
“Isn’t that perfect, then?” Jiang Ye laughed casually. “We’ll just accept his invitation and go to his planet.”
“Perfect?!” A-Xing gave Jiang Ye a look as if she were an idiot. “You know there are other rumors too, right? They say Deegou Star’s boss, Kunwu, is a bloodthirsty madman. When he arrived the first time, he killed the former boss and reshuffled all of Deegou Star! Do you really think someone like that is a good person?”
“You can’t just trust what others say—especially wasteland dwellers.” A-Xing warned Jiang Ye. “Of course, you can’t trust the upper ring people either.”
“All right, I get it.” Jiang Ye ruffled A-Xing’s hair.
People can’t trust other people.
Such was the Dalibik System.
A-Xing eyed Jiang Ye suspiciously, confirming she understood before turning to glare at Yuchi Xi and storming toward him.
“Yuchi Xi—no, Kunwu—since you say all this, how can we believe you?”
“Who’s to say you’re not just like Scar Tiger, someone who wants to control us in reality?”
“After all, you went through the same things he did, didn’t you?”
“You’re right,” Yuchi Xi replied, his voice low. “But there’s one thing I’m not like him.
“Even if rats can’t climb higher, they still won’t eat their own kind.”
A-Xing fell silent.
Looking back into Yuchi Xi’s eyes, A-Xing saw something sincere. What Yuchi Xi said must be his true belief.
“All right.” A-Xing reluctantly backed down. “We’ll think it over.”
“Good,” Yuchi Xi answered frankly. “If you truly decide to come to Deegou Star, there’ll be a fee. I do need some funds for certain things myself.”
“Aha, Yuchi Xi! So that’s your true motive, huh!” A-Xing shouted theatrically.
To be honest, hearing Yuchi Xi say this actually eased a lot of the unease in A-Xing’s heart.
For A-Xing, help with strings attached—help that sought something in return—was better than altruistic gestures with no reason. That was more reassuring.
“So can’t you give us a discount? A friends-and-family price?” A-Xing grinned.
“Are we friends?” Yuchi Xi deadpanned. “If you’re a master, I’ll give you a discount. Let’s see if you’re worthy.”
“Hey!!!” A-Xing nearly exploded.
Watching the two bicker, Jiang Ye shook her head, smiling.
“So it’s settled then. We’ll depart soon. A-Xing, you handle communication with Yuchi Xi—I don’t know the details.”
“Of course, leave it to your big bro!” A-Xing patted his chest.
“There’s one more thing.” Jiang Ye said softly. “Actually, Yuchi, there was something you said just now that’s not quite right.”
“Which part?” Yuchi Xi was humble enough to ask.
“Generally speaking, rats do eat their own kind. Especially when a fellow rat dies, rats will consume the body for protein, and what they love most is the brain. Maybe because the texture is like mealworms or something? If you look closely, you’ll see some dead rats’ bodies only have the lower half left. The upper half gets eaten. Usually, that’s by their own kind.” [Footnote 1]
Yuchi Xi was stunned.
He felt he would never forget this explanation from A Leaf Boat for the rest of his life—and he would never again repeat the phrase he had just said.
“Bleugh—” A-Xing turned away and dry-heaved.
“Xiao Jiang, stop! Please! Enough already!”
“Where did you even come from, knowing so much weird stuff?!”
“I am a traveler from beyond the stars.” Jiang Ye made a ‘k’ at A-Xing. “I’m off. Contact me if anything comes up—the move’s up to you.”
A-Xing understood Jiang Ye’s meaning.
He nodded and said goodbye to her.
The three of them exited the dungeon completely.
The moment Jiang Ye left the dungeon, she returned to her Island, with her two humanoid Pet Snakes following behind.
Fan Xiaoche got awkwardly tangled up—when teleported back, he even tumbled onto He Xiaoshang.
The two immediately started bickering again.
Jiang Ye let the two kids play on their own and went to gather supplies.
With the buff from the ocean sunfish and monk seal, the palm trees she’d planted had already matured, each one heavy with nine coconuts.
She harvested them all into her backpack.
Her previous batch of dried fish was also perfectly finished—dry, salty, aromatic, and looked ready to sell for a good price.
After finishing her chores, Jiang Ye stood atop a rock and looked around the Island.
The tiny four-square-meter patch of land had become what it was now.
A house, some trees, and two children quarreling.
Jiang Ye closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and in the sea breeze she felt a rare moment of peace and leisure.
She thought, once she finished relocating planets, she’d have A-Xing buy some seeds, or pigs and chickens from the novice village, and raise them here—live a farming life, just like she’d never gotten to experience in her retirement on Blue Star. That sounded pretty nice, too.
So she savored the moment and had no idea that because of her bug, the Guide who’d brought her into the game—Chubby Bird, Guide 233—was now in utter despair.
“Get in there,” said Number 128, the Chubby Bird Guide in charge of Li Fan. She spread her wings and prodded 233, who was still hesitating before the black door, terrified to go in. “Might as well die sooner than later.”
“But I don’t want to die at all!” Number 233’s beady eyes were filled with moist, shimmering tears.
“You don’t get a choice,” 128 sighed.
“No, no, no!” 233 wailed, then let out several shrill bird cries of agony.
“So noisy.”
From within the mysterious, totem-covered black door, a man’s voice sounded.
Low and raspy, it was like someone just waking from a dream, impatience lacing every word. It was the voice of a serpent, slithering through time and space, whispering dread into 233’s ears.
Bang.
The tightly closed door shuddered, then slowly opened by itself.
In the soundless movement, everything inside the door was revealed.
There was nothing.
Only emptiness.
233 gulped and flapped her trembling wings, entering.
The moment she went in, the door shut behind her.
A dim, red flame suddenly appeared, floating ghostlike in the dark.
It illuminated the empty room.
For in the far, deep shadows stood a Black Throne, rusted and stained with blood.
Seated upon it, a man slowly lifted his gaze, eyes like the night, hair like silver moonlight.
“What happened?”
233 trembled as she reported the situation.
“Supervisor, it’s really not my fault. That player completely ignored my warnings and insisted on logging in, which caused this mess,” 233 pleaded. “Please don’t delete me!”
“Enough.”
233 quickly shut her beak.
Peeking with her beady little eyes, she saw that the Supervisor seemed to be checking the player’s status.
Not daring to keep peeking, 233 looked down.
“A bit troublesome,” she heard him mutter. “That place isn’t under my jurisdiction, so I can’t erase this player directly.
“Looks like I’ll have to wake that one up.”
At these words, 233 couldn’t contain her delight. Her little wings quivered.
“You’re quite fond of him?” The man caught her reaction, snorted coldly, his tone chilling. “Of course. Compared to me, you Guides always like him better.”
233 immediately threw herself to the ground, curling into a ball.
“Supervisor, I-I—”
“That’s enough. I’m going back to sleep. I hope this gets resolved before I wake up.”
“Of course!” 233 promised.
She knew this was the Supervisor giving her a chance.
With a flick of his hand, she was flung right out the door.
As soon as the door slammed shut, 233 collapsed to the ground and let out a long sigh.
How was she such a pitiful little bird!
Though on the bright side, hehe, this meant she’d get to see another side of the Supervisor.
The legendary Guardian, Sea Mirror Lian.