***
Bonus chapter! Thank you to --- for the donation! ^^
***
Ruan Qing exited the group without even finishing reading the messages from those few people—without the slightest hesitation.
Their intentions were too obvious. So obvious that anyone could tell they were trying to persuade him to join the dungeon with them.
High-level players were usually cold and arrogant. For them to be this friendly and enthusiastic toward a new member? No one would believe they didn’t have ulterior motives.
This group was most likely a trap.
Even several minutes after Ruan Qing left the group chat, invites to rejoin kept popping up, and friend requests continued to flood in.
They might as well have written "scheming" on their faces.
That said, those few people weren’t entirely wrong. Entering a dungeon blindly without knowing what had changed inside would be reckless.
But walking straight into their trap? Only the biggest fool would do that.
Ruan Qing’s lashes flickered slightly as he stared at the constant stream of friend requests and group chat invites. After a brief hesitation, he opened the forum and posted his first thread on the player discussion board.
Then he switched back to the chat interface, accepted the group chat invite, and rejoined.
The others noticed his return immediately and rushed to welcome him.
[Shen: Welcome back.]
[Lin: Welcome!]
[Qin: Glad you’re here.]
[Shen: Sorry if we scared you earlier. We might’ve been too eager—it’s just that even top-ten ranked players have been dying left and right, so we’re all on edge.]
[Lin: We really don’t have any hidden agendas. We just want to figure out what’s happening in the dungeon.]
[Shen: If you don’t want to team up, that’s fine. No pressure. No need to leave the group chat—we’ll share all our intel here anyway. You can stick around just to read.]
Since Ruan Qing had rejoined, his previous nickname was gone, replaced by the system default: [Player]. He ignored their reassurances and instead typed a line in the chat box.
[Player: I have some friends who’d like to join too. Can I invite them?]
Before the group chat owner could respond, the same overly eager members immediately agreed, acting as if they owned the place.
[Shen: Of course.]
[Lin: Sure, go ahead and invite them.]
[Qin: Feel free to invite whoever, we don’t mind.]
[Player: My friend isn’t an advanced player—could we lower the entry requirements for the group chat a little?]
After sending this message, Ruan Qing didn’t wait for the others to reply before typing another.
[Player: Sorry, am I asking for too much? Maybe… I should just leave the group chat?]
The others replied almost instantly, as if afraid Ruan Qing would really leave again.
[Shen: Not at all, don’t worry. It’s normal to have a few friends.]
[Lin: Bringing your friend is fine—more people means more support.]
[Qin: @Lu (Group Chat Owner).]
[Shen: @Lu (Group Chat Owner) Could you lower the entry requirements a bit? Thanks.]
[Qin: @Lu (Group Chat Owner) Appreciate it.]
[Lu (Group Chat Owner): …]
Aside from Ruan Qing, who’d just joined, every other member in the group was an admin. But only the group chat owner could adjust entry requirements—admins didn’t have that permission. Otherwise, these guys probably would’ve forgotten a group chat owner even existed.
Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes inelegantly, the group chat owner opened the entry settings.
Fine, let’s see what game they’re playing.
The settings were tedious, so instead of adjusting them, he just turned off the entry restrictions entirely.
But the moment he did, system notifications began flooding the group at a terrifying rate—new players joining.
[Welcome (Player) to the group chat.]
[Welcome (Player) to the group chat.]
[Welcome (Player) to the group chat.]
…
In less than thirty seconds, the group gained two to three hundred members—and the number kept climbing at an alarming speed.
All four original members froze, including the group chat owner.
The newcomers all had identical default system avatars and usernames, making it impossible to tell who was who.
[Shen: ???]
[Qin: ?]
[Lin: ?]
[Lu: ?]
The men sent question marks almost simultaneously, but their messages were quickly buried under the flood of player chats. Some players even boldly @-mentioned them.
Notification sounds kept chiming nonstop—even the group owner’s phone was blowing up, with most mentions directed at them.
[Player: OMG I actually got in! I thought it was a scam!]
[Player: Same! Never thought it was real. So glad I tried!]
This time, no one doubted it was fake. When attempting to join, the prompt—"You do not meet the group requirements"—made it clear: this group really had several high-level players.
[Player: Hi, big bosses! Thanks for carrying us noobs (kneeling respectfully.jpg).]
[Player: Waaah, this is my first time being so close to top-tier players. So excited! Thanks, big bosses! @Lin @Shen @Qin @Lu.]
[Player: For real? You’re actually willing to carry us in dungeons? This isn’t a trick, right?]
[Player: The meet-up’s in three days, right? My friend’s still stuck in a dungeon and might not make it, but he’ll be out in five days. Can we bring him then? @Lu.]
...
Messages scrolled at a terrifying speed, impossible to read clearly—hundreds were talking at once. The spam was so fast the text blurred.
[Group Notice: All members muted. Only the owner and admins can speak.]
After the system notification, the chat finally fell silent. But even with the mute, new members kept pouring in, and system alerts continued to ping.
This was clearly way beyond just "a few friends."
They’d been played.
The join notifications only stopped when the group hit its 500-member limit. The original members checked the roster, scrolling up and down—there was no telling who the culprit was anymore.
A few people felt a surge of anger rising in their chests, so intense they could barely breathe. Their grip tightened on their phones, almost enough to crush them.
Even if they hadn’t been high-level players before, no one had ever dared to mess with them like this.
Good.
Really good.
One of the men stared at the message on his phone, a flash of fury flickering in his eyes before he forcibly suppressed it.
Group admins had the authority to lift mute restrictions. The man first sent a message, then removed the mute.
[You may ask questions, but don’t post meaningless content. Otherwise, you’ll be kicked immediately.]
This warning made the newcomers fall silent. They carefully reconsidered their words before typing, and this time, no one asked pointless questions—only the ones they truly wanted answers to.
Getting guidance from high-level players was an incredibly rare opportunity.
High-level players were usually cold and indifferent, rarely bothering to answer others’ questions. But for some reason, this time, apart from the group owner, the other three high-level players were unusually patient.
And their answers were surprisingly thorough.
This reignited the excitement among the group members, who eagerly fired off their questions, filling the chat with activity again.
But there were always players who crossed the line, asking things they shouldn’t. Those were mercilessly kicked from the group.
…Including Ruan Qing.
Ruan Qing watched the Q&A in the group and thought about his unique constitution.
The group chat members had never met him, so he didn’t think they were after him—more likely, they wanted to trick him into entering a dungeon for some purpose.
But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t change their minds if they saw him. If his special constitution affected them, it would be even more troublesome than being used outright.
After some thought, Ruan Qing typed a message.
[Player: Have any of you had a girlfriend? Would you ever like a guy? @Lin @Shen @Qin @Lu.]
Asking directly if they were perverts would’ve been too rude. This question was just right—the kind of perverts who’d be into him usually never had girlfriends.
Hell, they barely even had female friends.
But the moment Ruan Qing sent the message, a system notification popped up.
[System Notification: You have been removed from the group.]
Ruan Qing stared at the notification on his phone informing him he’d been kicked from the group chat and fell into complete silence.
The group had a maximum capacity of five hundred. The moment he was removed, another player immediately took his spot. By the time Ruan Qing tried to rejoin, the group was already full.
This was expected. After all, he had publicly shared the group’s invite link on the player forum and even pointed out that it included four high-level players.
The only requirement to join was setting both profile picture and nickname to the system defaults, making every member appear identical—ensuring no one could identify him in the crowd.
Yet, he hadn’t expected to be kicked after asking just one question.
Ruan Qing didn’t attempt to rejoin. He had already memorized the meetup location; he could just go there himself when the time came.
Unaware that they had just kicked the very person they were looking for, the three high-level players in the group patiently answered questions from members, suppressing their growing irritation. No matter how unbearable the frustration became, they forced themselves to respond calmly.
At first, they had been too eager—anyone could tell they had ulterior motives. But by treating all players warmly, they might still salvage their image.
It would also indirectly signal to that player that he wasn’t being singled out, that they had no special intentions toward him.
***
Three days. A full three days.
The group chat’s admins spent that time answering player questions.
By now, their exhaustion was palpable. A dark, oppressive aura clung to them, their expressions grim and unsettling.
First, because their patience had long since worn thin.
Second, because they still hadn’t identified him in the group.
Most players lacked basic courtesy, but since these were high-level players, nearly everyone responded with a polite "Thank you" after getting an answer. The majority sounded identical to that damn teenager—there was no way to tell who was who.
The boy was no fool. He never slipped up, never gave himself away, and showed not a hint of guilt for toying with them.
A master of deception. Well-behaved on the surface, anything but underneath.
The man thought back to that forum post and the boy’s pitiful act, his tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth as a cold, merciless smile twisted his lips. He twirled a strand of hair around his finger.
It didn’t matter. They’d find out soon enough at the meetup.
He’d make sure the kid learned exactly what happened to those who played games with them.
Unaware of their thoughts—or that their frustration stemmed from that photo—Ruan Qing checked the time. When it was almost time, he pulled the oversized hood of his cloak low over his face and headed for the designated meeting spot.
