In a strange and wondrous place.
The crisp sound of typing echoed.
The man at the keyboard had sharp, fluid features; his thick brows curved at just the right angle. He was the kind of strikingly handsome man who naturally inspired trust.
Only, a faint scar between his brows added a trace of cold hostility to his face.
A mature female voice came from behind him:
“So these are the little tricks you’ve prepared for our dear Qi’n? He’ll probably be dead within two days.”
The man didn’t turn around. Still composed, he continued contacting the Association, showing no excess of worry.
“Just bait,” he said, pausing his typing. His tone carried deeper meaning: “The real gift is yet to come.”
The woman had never doubted his arrangements.
“The others are still waiting. I’ll head out first.”
Before leaving, her beautiful eyes flickered with struggle. The way she had casually mentioned “little Qi’an” earlier actually hid a storm in her heart.
Pain. Hatred. Anxiety…
All of it condensed into one deep emotion—resentment.
“You’d better just die.”
If you die, everyone else can finally breathe easy.
At the company.
After choosing the instance entrance, Zhou Qi’an was sent back to his desk by his boss and told to work overtime through lunch.
“At three o’clock I have to be at the instance entrance, and he still makes me work overtime? I swear I’ll dig up his entire ancestral grave…”
His coworker only heard the second half. No need to guess who he was cursing. The coworker coughed loudly, glancing at a nearby corner.
Qi’an realized there was a security camera, and quickly put on a wide smile.
“I love overtime,” he said, before trudging back to his seat.
Dropping into his chair, he sighed.
“College life was still the best.”
And just when he was sulking, his phone buzzed violently.
One glance—speak of the devil.
“Hello?”
“Brother Zhou, I—I…” The college student’s voice was nervous.
“Spit it out.”
“I took a nap and had a nightmare.”
“….” Zhou Qi’an nearly hung up on the spot. So you even have time for naps, huh?
“I can’t really remember what it was about. I rarely dream,” the student continued. “So I grabbed a fortune stick and shook for a reading.”
Qi’an raised a brow.
“Since when do you believe in that stuff?”
“Not really. It was just a gag gift from a classmate years ago. But this time, I shook it more than ten times, and every single one was ‘bad luck.’”
Before becoming a player, he wouldn’t have cared about something so trivial. But now, aware of his abnormal luck, the omen made him uneasy.
Qi’an frowned slightly. Best to err on the side of caution.
“You…” He almost told the student to crash at his place for a few days. But considering the person trying to kill him might be his own mother, he swallowed the words. Instead, he said:
“I’ll give you a number. Call it, and he’ll find you a safe place to stay.”
He passed him Ying Yu’s contact. A small favor like this, the man would surely handle. With laboratory protection and no instances involved, the student’s safety was practically guaranteed.
“Alright.” The student hesitated. “Should I… hire bodyguards too?”
“What if I offended someone in an instance, and they come after me later? I checked—the good ones only cost about five hundred thousand a week.”
Qi’an hung up without a word.
Just then, his phone buzzed again—his paycheck had come in.
Looking at the measly amount left after deductions, his hatred for the rich burned hotter than ever.
That afternoon, his boss dragged him along as chauffeur to another district for “on-site learning.”
The boss, of course, rambled the whole way about plans and schedules.
Zhou Qi’an knew full well that when they returned, only the workload would rise—benefits, never.
The day was foggy, so he drove carefully.
Right then, Shen Zhiyi called:
“Are you coming to night school tonight?”
Zhou Qi’an almost forgot about that sketchy diploma mill. He twitched.
“I’m going on a business trip.”
“Where?”
“Another world.”
“…”
Seeming to understand, Shen said:
“Send me your location.”
Zhou Qi’an: “Trade Tower.”
Their conversation was short. Half an hour later, he pulled up to the Trade Tower, its sightseeing elevator shrouded in mist.
The fog thickened, making the whole building look like it floated in clouds.
As he approached, he saw someone already waiting: Shen Zhiyi. Dressed in a black shirt with a pale trench coat, he looked every bit like the lead in a romance drama.
Too bad they were walking into a horror movie.
The moment Shen Zhiyi appeared, Zhou Qi’an’s boss sniffed the air—there was something delicious about his shadow. Like a lizard sensing prey, his tongue flicked across his lips.
Shen Zhiyi came over, greeting Zhou Qi’an. His cold face softened just slightly, making him look approachable.
When the boss got a clear look at him, he frowned.
“Changed boyfriends again?”
If so, fewer wedding leaves for employees—plus a new delicacy to taste.
Zhou Qi’an had once suspected a connection between Shen Zhiyi and Mu Tianbai. Seeing his boss’s reaction to Shen Zhiyi’s shadow, his eyes narrowed, but he kept silent. Couldn’t let the two fight before entering the instance.
Taking his silence as confirmation, the boss sneered:
“You sure like picking shadows that look alike.”
Zhou Qi’an prided himself on comprehension, but what the hell was that supposed to mean?
Mu Tianbai.
Shen Zhiyi.
Forcing down the messy tangle of emotions, he swore that after clearing this instance, he’d sort out exactly what bound the two together.
Shen Zhiyi stood calmly at his side, but only out of respect for Zhou Qi’an. Otherwise, he would’ve silenced that wagging tongue himself.
The air grew heavy. A strange balance hung between the three of them.
They had arrived around 2:30. Ten minutes later, new footsteps echoed.
The annex building had been sealed off since last year. Even Shen Zhiyi had broken the chains to get in. So whoever came now had to be players.
The boss had plenty of private connections, but few were actually in this city.
A woman appeared—strikingly beautiful despite middle age. Her clothes were plain, but she wore a distinctive beaded bracelet. A man and woman trailed behind her.
Though she hid it well, Zhou Qi’an noticed her sharp gaze lingered on him for just a moment too long.
“Hello.” She extended her hand with practiced poise.
“My surname is Chen.”
Zhou Qi’an was much more direct. He gave his full name.
Then watched closely, waiting to see how she would react upon hearing it.
The middle-aged woman didn’t show any expression this time. The two people beside her were just about to introduce themselves when suddenly a whiff of cologne drifted over.
The man who came looked every bit the graceful, refined noble son. Seeing the middle-aged woman, he immediately smiled:
“Ms. Chen, you’re here too?”
Seeing the woman remain silent, he continued on his own:
“Don’t know if you still remember me… Qiao Song. We met in the mine instance.”
Though Qiao Song acted warm and friendly, it was clear he carried a certain wariness toward the middle-aged woman.
Zhou Qi’an asked:
“Is this sister very famous?”
Qiao Song smiled:
“The one and only, vice president of the Baichuan Association.”
Zhou Qi’an:
“Oh, an honor to finally meet you.”
Qiao Song: “…”
Just now you didn’t even know who she was—what honor?
Zhou Qi’an then turned his head and mouthed to Shen Zhiyi:
“We’re screwed, that woman might be here for me.”
Once, a vice president with two assistants—
That same configuration was what the Red Cloak had used to hunt him.
After hearing Zhou Qi’an’s analysis, Shen Zhiyi nodded slightly, finding it quite reasonable.
One after another, more people arrived. In the end, including Zhou Qi’an’s group, there were about ten or so. Among them, two were the strangest.
One was an old man who smiled like a Maitreya Buddha; by all rights, his age should have been far outside the game’s player selection range.
The other was a mixed-race little girl, about eleven or twelve, with a hunting dog at her side.
The dog stood half as tall as a man, far more robust and fierce than a typical hound, looking majestic and intimidating.
Even Shen Zhiyi cast it an extra glance. For some reason, among all the people present, the dog only circled around Zhou Qi’an once, its body tense, as though in extreme unease.
Zhou Qi’an glanced at it and asked:
“Is it also a player?”
The little girl:
“The game hasn’t opened up to minor languages yet.”
There was no chance for deeper communication. The long-defunct elevator lights flickered on strangely, a faint red glow casting the only light.
The rusted car doors slowly opened in front of them.
The old man cleared his throat and said with a smile:
“Looks like it’s just us this time.”
Then he took the lead and stepped inside.
The elevator hadn’t been used in ages, and the air inside reeked.
Once all the players entered, the space felt cramped. The doors shut on their own, sealing the players and the mist away into another space.
As the elevator shot upward at breakneck speed, all the buttons lit up, making it impossible to see anything inside the cabin.
The velocity soon rivaled that of a roller coaster, yet there was no sign of stopping. The instance hadn’t even begun, but everyone already felt a bone-deep chill, a dreadful premonition rising in their hearts.
Even in this environment, the boss’s tie showed a strange glimmer of red.
The others, however, weren’t focused on the tie, but on the boss himself.
A rookie—at the very least, he could buy them one safe day.
As the air grew dangerously thin, a cold mechanical voice finally descended:
【Instance entrance closed】
【Instance: Hao Hui Sha Corporation
Difficulty: ★★★★★
Main Quest: Eight Immortals crossing the sea—each with their own powers. You are a group of talented individuals who have just triumphed in a fierce talent market selection!
Having stood out, you are about to take positions at Hao Hui Sha Corporation. But upon arrival, you find the corporation’s cruelty beyond imagination. Here, layoffs may strike at any time.
Instance Duration: About six days
Number of Participants: 11 (Among the hundreds, only eleven survived. The dead are many, the living few.)
Note: This is a survival instance.
Note: You may freely explore any area, but you must return to Hao Hui Sha Corporation to clock in before midnight every day.】
All large-map instances without fixed staff came with a midnight punch-in rule.
But what everyone cared about most was the “survival instance” designation.
At the same difficulty, a survival instance was far harder than a normal one—let alone this being five-star. Once difficulty stacked, it was basically a battle royale.
Standing among the crowd, Zhou Qi’an calmly activated his Luck item.
【Your Luck has been increased by 8%.】
So what if it’s a five-star instance? Unlike the others’ tension, Zhou Qi’an was already used to a life where four-star instances were the baseline.
But after two seconds of calm, he suddenly wanted to punch the elevator wall.
So who the hell is the newbie dragging us into one- and two-star runs?
And does this game really have those two levels?!
As the prompt ended, the mist inside the elevator was replaced by red light. The cabin walls turned into fleshy, man-eating barriers.
When the doors opened, the group wasted no time and rushed out.
Beside Zhou Qi’an was the little girl. He asked her:
“Have you ever seen a one- or two-star instance?”
For someone this young to be chosen as a player, she had to be extraordinarily capable. Plus, she could even bring a pet inside. With such outrageous starting conditions, surely she began at three stars minimum!
The little girl found him baffling, but since he’d already asked whether her dog was a player earlier, she wasn’t too surprised:
“Doesn’t everyone start from one star and work their way up?”
“…”
Damn this game. I’ll never forgive you.
Behind them, the elevator had changed again. New little ads lined the fleshy walls, and the size and passenger capacity had also shifted.
【Please select Evolutionary Organ】
Without hesitation, Zhou Qi’an picked what he’d planned before entering—blood vessels.
He already had some survival capital, and his speed was nearly maxed out. If he could evolve into a body of spiritual communion, his survival odds would rise significantly.
As the doors shut, it was as if they’d fully entered another world.
Before their eyes stretched a hundred-square-meter open office. No greenery, no decoration, even the cement floor wasn’t tiled. A dozen desks were scattered around, piled with messy documents. In the cabinets, stacks of disorganized files looked ready to spill out and bury the glass doors.
A man in a suit stood before one desk.
One hand in his pocket, shirt buttons undone, revealing bronzed, muscular chest.
The suit was worn sloppily; half his neck bore a beast tattoo—he looked every inch a thug.
“What took you so long?”
Unfamiliar with the situation, no one answered.
“The last batch of employees had an accident. You’re just in time to fill in.”
The tattooed man sneered coldly: “The company doesn’t keep trash. Let me make it clear upfront: if you can’t meet your targets, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”
His sharp gaze swept across each person. Then he laid out the work requirements:
“The corporation is holding a group assessment. You’re Team Ten. The other teams are working downstairs. If you rank at the bottom… well, you can imagine the outcome.”
“And I’m busy. I won’t always be around to supervise,” he said. “So I’ll pick one of you to be the team leader, to manage in my place.”
Team leader—sounded like a very useful role.
While everyone else was thinking of how to stand out, Zhou Qi’an muttered:
“Make way, I used a Luck item. Obviously, it’s me.”
He stepped forward.
“…” Was that even human speech?
In-instance, Luck items could only be used once. Since the start was usually the easiest, most people saved them for later, when real missions came down.
Wasn’t this just brainless?
As strange looks fell on Zhou Qi’an, the tattooed man suddenly had a stack of files in hand. After carefully flipping through them, he really did walk up to Zhou Qi’an.
Some tried to speak up to catch his eye, but he merely glanced at the photo, then nodded:
“You then.”
The players’ expressions turned colorful.
Shen Zhiyi’s eyes carried something thoughtful.
For an ordinary person, using a Luck item might not matter. But Zhou Qi’an’s initial setup was already too high—it was like turning on a cheat. Backlash would come easily.
“Young man, not bad résumé. Sold rice, worked as a midwife, acted in films, even wrote scripts… In our line of work, knowing different industries is a strength.”
Perhaps to convince the others, the tattooed man, who had already turned away, suddenly added this.
The one being praised instantly turned pale as death.
The room’s temperature dropped.
The chill came from the boss. Zhou Qi’an even heard him murmur softly:
“How very versatile.”
“So young, yet already dabbled in so many trades—part-time jobs, right?” The tattooed man sighed again. “You’re practically raised on a hundred households’ rice.”
“…F*** you.”
Zhou Qi’an swore he’d never wanted to rip someone’s mouth apart more in his life.
“From now on, you’re Team Ten’s leader. Let me remind you,” the tattooed man raised his voice, “the company values hierarchy above all. You can order them around as you like. Only one rule—get those numbers up. Or I’ll be the first to use your head as a drinking snack.”
“Anyone who can’t meet sales quotas—terminated.”
His final threat was delivered with a cruel grin, flashing sharp white teeth, making everyone shiver.
After the stick came the carrot. He looked at the rest, including the boss. They immediately adopted an attentive, humble posture—except for one person, who seemed distracted, his raised chin naturally carrying a sharp, bitter arrogance.
The tattooed man barked instantly:
“What are you staring at? Go tidy up your team leader’s desk!”
The boss slowly lifted his eyelids, first glancing at Zhou Qi’an, then at the tattooed man.
Zhou Qi’an: “…”
As expected of a five-star instance—this was the real death rule.
Author’s Note:
Zhou Qi’an: …Nightmare start.
PS: Not a spoiler, but just to ease your worries—Ying Yu is a good guy.
