Click! Click! Click!

  The rapid sound of mouse and keyboard filled a dim dorm room as a storm raged outside.

  A young man sat unmoved by the thunder.

  His glasses were glued to the screen, fingers tapping while his mouse flicked—guiding a chained NPC into battle.

  His screen shifted, and a timer floated above the shackled servant:

  [NPC: Mu Dung, Lv. 7] [Lu Village, Ex-Head (Slave)]

  [00:00:46]

  His heart pounded as his camera pulled away from his player avatar UI and into the stat combos and skills of the NPC.

  It was a silver-gray-haired man in tattered purple silk.

  He grunted as the shackle at his neck was tugged by a black-armored rider gripping the chain, urging the bearded old man to fight while mounted on his steed.

  The silver-haired man clenched his sword in reluctant resolve and cut through a leather-clad player.

  Slash! Slash!

  "Forgive me… forgive me…"

  The old swordsman Liang Wei controlled spoke as he cut down players around the convoy.

  "When will we be set free—ahhhhh!"

  Liang Wei ignored the scripted pleas, clicking a spell icon and unleashing an AOE attack that would tear through waves of lesser digital mobs.

  The old man and the other slaves began twitching. The ink chains around their necks tightened.

  "Daoist, forgive me!!"

  They all reached for labeled jars at their sides.

  The riders released the slave chains as the captives uncorked colorful ink bottles and drank their contents.

  The old man's purple-and-black robes billowed across the screen. His skin tanned orange, his throat darkened, and black lines painted themselves across his chest.

  Oily ink leaked from his pores. His eyes slit, and his teeth sharpened into fangs.

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  He morphed into a twisted humanoid tiger… with even stranger traits.

  A secondary bear head sprouted from his shoulder, while crane wings replaced his arms.

  To his left, another NPC underwent transformation. His back bulged, robes tearing as a green shell coated in wet ink formed. His head elongated into a slithering green mass.

  The screen dragged the players into an ultimate cutscene.

  Wild Beast Havoc.

  "ROARRRRRRR!"

  The NPCs writhed in incomplete beast forms.

  The old man—now an abomination of ink and fur—lifted his wings and fanned forward, launching ink quills at talisman users preparing a combo attack.

  Swish. Swish. Boom!

  The feathers struck flame talismans aimed at the carriage in the middle of the convoy.

  "I knew it—they're still aiming for my true avatar," the young man muttered from his dorm.

  Failed spells cast wild reflections across his monitor.

  [00:00:00]

  Ding!

  Ruler's Command (NPC: Mu Dung) has been put on cooldown.

  The notification appeared in the corner of his screen as the camera detached from the NPC he was piloting.

  "Who's a better substitute now?" he murmured, scanning the dark forest battlefield.

  His eight beast-men clashed with the horde of players assaulting his carriage.

  "Sushi! What are you doing?! Heal me, damn it!" a voice shouted through the mic.

  A panther with a human torso growing from its back pounced onto his avatar as party members collapsed one after another, their Dao resistance pills failing.

  "Shit! Shit! Heal us, quick! Two party members are already down from that bastard's curse!" yelled another player. His armored stone-golem body towered above the rest—the tanker—slamming his shield into the ground.

  Earthen walls rose around him, forming a barrier that blocked a volley of needle quills fired from a porcupine beast.

  "I'm healing! Just give me a second!" another voice cried.

  The Fire-Fur Vulren healer raised her fox tail, conjuring talismans, heated herbs, and glowing green circles that spread through the forest, restoring the surviving dozen players—most around levels 13 to 15.

  A calm yet cold voice entered the chat.

  "If this is all you can manage, why would you even have the guts to target me?"

  Liang Wei's fingers danced across his keyboard.

  His main avatar finally stepped out of the carriage.

  Behind him, a pink-tailed Vulren NPC adjusted her clothes as his UI filled with notifications.

  [Stressless: Having performed several rounds of intense "conversation" and relaxation, you are no longer stressed.]

  [Vigorous: Your body feels lightened of its burdens, free of sin and temptation, leaving only blissful fulfillment.]

  [A Night in Her Embrace: Lady Lin Xue is a fierce companion. When it comes to drawing out pleasure, she's the one you confide in first.]

  Liang Wei's avatar dashed forward, ignoring the messages.

  His saber cleaved through the tank's earthen barrier, shattering it and triggering a one-minute cooldown on the defense skill.

  "Here I was, trying to record some spicy content for my Phoenix page and hunt a tiger-grade spirit beast to pour its essence into my Vitae Paint later…"

  He clicked another icon—a hellish red saber.

  "Crimson Harvest!!!"

  The skill name roared across the screen as a massive blade of flame descended, cleaving through a player named Pufferfish23 and sending him flying.

  "And instead," Liang Wei continued with a smile, "I find a raid party formed against me. Guess I'll have to settle for your essence. I've been meaning to use my devil traits more."

  He equipped his skull mask. Darkness swirled around him.

  Equipment: Bull Fiend Mask

  Grade:

  RareType: Demonic Relic

  Effects:Strength +15%

  Durability +20%

  Demonic Resistance +30%

  Demonic Skill Amplification ×5

  Passive — Bull's Fury: Boosts all demonic attacks fivefold.

  Drawback — Fiendish Heat:

  The mask stores demonic energy in the wearer's body, building pressure that manifests as intense pent-up heat. If not relieved or dispersed through battle, the accumulated energy can disrupt focus and cause loss of control during prolonged fights.

  "You vile incubus!"

  "How do you expect us not to stand against your injustice when all you do is abuse this game's lifelike visuals to make borderline filth?!" a woman in white shouted.

  Her silver armor glowed with intent.

  The clear white glow from the monitor deepened.

  For a split second, Liang Wei felt it spill past the screen.

  His bangs lifted slightly, brushing his glasses as if caught in a faint breeze. The hem of his hoodie fluttered behind him.

  He frowned.

  The dorm window was closed.

  The keyboard beneath his fingers felt strangely warm—almost hot—as if the heat of Crimson Harvest had bled into the keys.

  A pulse of pressure brushed his skin.

  Like standing too close to a bonfire.

  Liang Wei paused… then scoffed.

  "How can a whale preach," he muttered.

  He tugged his hoodie back up, assuming it had slipped from the fan besides him, and returned to the fight without another thought.

  But the warmth didn't fade.

  It lingered.

  He smiled, slipping back into character.

  He'd never give up the chance to break the righteous.

  And he still had a few more hours before he needed to call home.