Chapter 58
Chapter 58: Gather One Hundred Inner Sect Disciples
They already knew that much.
If Sect Master died, the game ended.
Thinking about the file they’d pulled on the girl in the real world, Liu Wen Yu’s thoughts sank deeper.
She kept questioning Zhen Qiang.
“At this stage,” she asked, “is the information about Yun Zhou Continent consistent with what Han Tian has shown?”
Zhen Qiang nodded. “Big Shot Han handles the documentation. He records what he’s seen so far. The map is huge—really huge. Right now we’re just running around inside a small county.”
Liu Wen Yu tapped the laptop lightly, then asked, almost casually, “Based on your personal feeling—do the locals in the game seem like data? Or do they feel more like people? Like us.”
Zhen Qiang blinked, caught off guard.
He thought of the villagers he’d met, the shopkeepers, the wandering mortals. None of them felt copied and pasted.
He hesitated, then answered honestly. “Like us. They have their own minds. They don’t feel like scripted NPCs.”
The players had been guessing in their hearts. Everyone had.
But they all pretended not to know.
Sometimes being too smart was its own kind of curse.
It was a game. A miracle. You played it. You didn’t stare too long into what it might mean.
Liu Wen Yu’s gaze sharpened, though her smile remained calm. “So right now you’re only in a place called Wangan County, under the larger sect Myriad Immortals Sect?”
“Yes.” Zhen Qiang’s throat tightened again. “Sect Master wants to grow the sect, I think. But now I’m out. I might not get future tasks. We have a group chat, though—if something happens, people will say it there.”
“And the next recruitment slots,” Liu Wen Yu asked, “do you know when they’ll open?”
Zhen Qiang’s eyes went wet instantly. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be this miserable. I don’t even know if I can grab a slot next time.”
Liu Wen Yu nodded once. “All right. I understand. Thank you for cooperating today.”
Zhen Qiang forced himself to ask, careful as a man stepping on thin ice. “So… nothing else?”
Liu Wen Yu stood. Her voice stayed gentle. “Mr. Zhen, just pretend we were never here.”
He watched them leave, the door clicking shut behind them.
Only then did he exhale.
Whatever this meant, whatever storm it promised, that was the state’s problem.
His problem was simpler.
He wanted his slot back.
Outside, walking away from his building, Liu Wen Yu’s hands were trembling.
She’d worn calm like a mask inside that room. But nobody heard information like this and stayed steady.
It was world-shattering.
It was impossible.
And yet it was real.
An era-defining change—something that could remake everything—had appeared without warning.
What was this game trying to bring?
—
Song Jiu Lai sneezed so hard her head snapped forward.
Then she erupted. “Someone left a comment cursing me. Write down his ID—next time we open slots, don’t let him in!”
She wasn’t even questioning whether the game was real anymore. She was scrolling Weibo, reading people complain that she still hadn’t released more slots, calling her a dog game designer playing hunger marketing.
The System’s tone turned coldly amused. “It’s fine. Once he gets in, he’ll be your son anyway. He’ll pay for being unfilial.”
“…”
Song Jiu Lai spent her free time online. Gossip, rumors, stray bits of noise from a world she could no longer touch.
Sometimes she wondered—if she died, would anyone bury her? Would anyone even know what to do with her body?
She couldn’t contact her old friends.
And even if she could, she didn’t dare. What if she scared someone into a breakdown?
She shook the thought away and returned to what mattered. “Why has there been no movement from Mu Qiu after that? We only have five days left. Myriad Immortals Sect’s Immortal Sacrifice Grand Ceremony is about to start. I still have to rush back to Liu Xian City.”
The System answered without a flicker of concern. “If you fail, we both die together. No big deal.”
Song Jiu Lai stared. “How is that something you just say?”
Of course, the System never spoke like a person.
She couldn’t help asking anyway. “Where did you even come from? You can connect two worlds. You can hand out heaven-defying pills. You’re not lacking capability—you’re lacking energy.”
The System shut her down. “Don’t ask pointless questions. You know I won’t tell you.”
“Then why did you pick me?” Song Jiu Lai pressed. “Because I saved a kitten and you discovered my kind, shining humanity?”
“I picked randomly,” the System said. “From the people who died at the same time in your world. I landed on you. Your luck’s not bad.”
“…”
It was a chilling answer.
But fine.
Luck was part of success, too.
With nothing else to do, Song Jiu Lai checked the donation point rankings.
It was a simple welcome event. Double points. No extra leaderboard prizes—because leaderboard prizes meant extra rewards, and she was stingy enough to feel pain at the thought.
Still, the numbers didn’t lie.
Logically, Han Tian and Jiang Ya and the other shameless big shots, grouped together, should have been the fastest at hunting demon beasts.
But another team was climbing faster.
Ma Dash. Ma Little Bird. Wu Da Hu. And a newly arrived Daoist.
Even with double points—using the rate of ten points per spirit stone—this group was more than two hundred points ahead of the big shot team.
“They’re that strong?” Song Jiu Lai muttered.
The System chuckled, low and sharp. “They latched onto a Peach Blossom Sect thigh.”
Song Jiu Lai blinked. “You can do that?”
“He looks like an Inner Sect Disciple,” the System said. “Resources for days. The Daoist sweet-talked him in a few sentences.”
Song Jiu Lai let out a breath, half impressed, half annoyed. “That’s ridiculous. Fine—if they earned it, they earned it.”
Outer sect disciples and inner sect disciples lived like they belonged to different worlds. The gap in treatment was huge.
Right now, the players all entered as inner sect disciples, so Longevity Sect’s inner sect status didn’t feel special.
But future recruits wouldn’t get that luxury.
Song Jiu Lai had already decided: once there was enough energy, she’d open thirty slots next time and aim to gather one hundred inner sect disciples.
After that, new players would start as outer sect disciples. If they wanted inner sect status, they’d have to qualify.
Early birds deserved some benefits.
Besides opening their spirit roots, the game made players earn everything with their own hands.
You had to dangle a carrot in front of them, or they’d stop running.
Song Jiu Lai stretched, rolling her shoulders. “Once we hit one hundred people, version 0.1’s big update should begin.”
As for open beta?
She’d worry about that if she lived long enough to see it.