Chapter 13: Unable to Bear the Suffering of the World

Returning to his room, Yan Qing casually placed his mask on the table and let gravity pull his body down onto the soft, comfortable bed.

Though he hadn’t done much, he still felt worn out.

The thieves’ meeting at noon gave him a sense of going to work, but what was harder to endure was that while everyone else could return to their homes in the main world, he could only go back to the room provided by the thieves’ guild. Though in reality, it made no difference—they all had to go to their rooms before entering the hall the next day—the fact that “stepping outside immediately meant entering the workplace” caused Yan Qing a slight case of post-traumatic stress.

Lunch was still roasted lamb leg and vegetable wraps, which Yan Qing could only warm up a little. For some reason, he found himself craving ice cream and cake. He had never liked sweets before, but seeing Red Serpent eat those pastries today, licking the glutinous rice flour off her fingers, made Yan Qing involuntarily swallow hard.

The spiritual jade’s purchasing power should be quite good; as long as he reached any safe zone in a major city, he could shop with peace of mind…

Yan Qing shook his head vigorously, like a rattle, trying to drive away the thoughts in his mind.

As long as he didn’t take risks, he wouldn’t face danger. As long as he didn’t go out, there wouldn’t be accidents. Improving one’s life was something only those carefree enough to do so could contemplate. Right now, just surviving meant exerting all his strength.

Not to mention, he was still only a first-tier messenger, and when talking to Hei Lang and the others, he always felt like a husky mixed in with a wolf pack, afraid they’d detect something wrong about him.

Fortunately, Hei Lang suggested ending the meeting; otherwise, Yan Qing was about to get so nervous he’d have to pee.

After eating and brushing his teeth, Yan Qing lay on the bed and turned on the Naise game console.

“Messenger, activate!”

In the character interface, only “Yan Qing” remained; “Yan San” had vanished without a trace.

In truth, Yan Qing felt a twinge of regret after killing Wu Wanliu. After all, the Duke of Lecheng had promised him he could run dungeons daily, which meant a stable daily income of at least 2,000 spiritual jade, a token, and various foods. If Wu Wanliu had just knelt down, kowtowed, and apologized, maybe Yan Qing would have let it slide, and they’d still be friends.

But who knew Wu Wanliu would be so unforgiving.

Single-player gamers like him were like this: they killed disliked characters if possible, and if they couldn’t, they’d download mods to make them killable.

In his game, there could be no character he disliked.

However, Yan Qing quickly devised a backup plan after overhearing the Duke of Lecheng mention that the spoils from secret realms were usually stored in the barracks of Ping City and only sent to Nevernight City after accumulating for some time.

Therefore, Yan Qing could create a thief character and figure out a way to sneak into the barracks to steal the accumulated pills and spiritual jade. That would bring in at least ten thousand spiritual jade, enough to cover the penalty for failing thief missions with one heist.

As for how to infiltrate the barracks and where the spoils were kept, Yan Qing wasn’t worried at all. If necessary, he could use dozens of new accounts to blaze a trail and gather detailed intelligence.

A spark of inspiration flashed through Yan Qing’s mind, hinting at something.

But just then, a new game prompt popped up, capturing all his attention.

“Detected that your other real-mode character has max-level skills. Would you like to activate the ‘Talent Inheritance’ feature? Note: after activating this feature, you may only create new characters in real mode.”

“Talent Inheritance: Limited to real-mode characters. To honor players’ great achievements in real mode, when creating a new character, players may transfer existing character talents to the new one.”

“Details: Max-level skills of existing characters will become ‘talent skills’ for the new character, granting an additional 100% experience gain, which stacks with comprehension bonuses.”

Yan Qing’s eyes sparkled. “Max-level skills of existing characters” must mean his max-level basic steps.

In other words, when the new character learns basic steps, they get a 100% experience boost?

Such a powerful feature—it had to be enabled! Basic steps were notoriously difficult to master, relying solely on dodging and long-distance movement for experience. “Yan San” had never even reached level one before his death.

Moreover, it seemed that besides basic skills, advanced skills like the Thunderblade technique could also be inherited. Advanced skills mostly came from entry-level manuals, with subsequent levels gained gradually through combat. With talent inheritance, as long as Yan Qing had one advanced character, he could easily train new accounts to high levels.

Wasn’t this a bit overpowered?

Yan Qing thought again and guessed this was probably the company’s way of enticing more players into real mode. With such an overpowered way to nurture new accounts, many casual players who never tried real mode might be tempted to give it a shot. Once they fell into this trap, they’d be likely to buy next month’s subscription just to raise their alternate characters.

However, as soon as Yan Qing created a new character, his mouth twitched in frustration as he cursed the game designers for their madness.

Because on the creation screen, a new field called “Inheritable Talents” appeared, with only the basic steps option inside.

And behind “basic steps” was a price!

“Basic Steps Talent: 12 hours of gameplay time”

“Your total accumulated gameplay time: 21 hours; available gameplay time: 21 hours”

The currency for purchasing talents wasn’t in-game currency or real-world money—it was gameplay time!

Twelve hours didn’t seem expensive; Yan Qing could afford it. But if basic steps required twelve hours, advanced talents must start at a hundred hours. Given how many new accounts he lost daily, he simply didn’t have enough gameplay time to waste.

So, what about playing cautiously and nurturing the new accounts carefully?

Yan Qing rejected that idea. Even if he tried not to be reckless, new accounts could still die unexpectedly. More importantly, compared to the loss of “gameplay time” as a virtual currency, Yan Qing’s actual playing time was a much greater loss—if a character he’d spent hours on died, most of that effort was wasted.

When even his own life might be futile, losses in virtual currency seemed trivial.

After a brief pause, Yan Qing confirmed his playstyle: invest in talents when necessary, don’t skimp on new accounts, but don’t overvalue them either.

If he avoided risking a character just because he cared too much, that would be counterproductive—he created new accounts precisely because he didn’t want to take risks!

So he quickly made a tall character with 13 vitality points and assigned the basic steps talent.

While designing the face, Yan Qing pondered Wu Wanliu and the others’ discrimination against Central Plains people.

This time, I’m going to steal stuff. If I use a Central Plains face on them, they might vent their grudges by implicating innocent people.

With that in mind, Yan Qing created a new character with the appearance of a Northerner and named him “Ye Si.”

“Nevernight City’s affiliated novice village,” the game began!

Upon arrival, he headed instinctively toward Ping City. On the road, Yan Qing immediately sensed a difference—passersby actively avoided him, even stopping to let him pass first, despite “Ye Si” wearing plain cloth.

The city gate of Ping City had barely changed. The townsfolk were still lined up to the left, waiting for the guards’ slow inspections, while a few guards chatted idly on the right. The only difference was that these were not the same guards from yesterday.

Yan Qing naturally didn’t indulge them and simply passed through on the right.

The guards, seeing the man dressed in rough linen with no shoes, instinctively wanted to scold him. But when they looked up and saw “Ye Si’s” face, their words caught in their throats.

“Any permits?” one guard asked.

“No.”

Yan Qing stood at the gate, watching them, ready to beat them up at any moment. His plan was to storm the city by force, then wait somewhere until nightfall before sneaking into the barracks.

Yet the guards exchanged glances, seemingly unsure about this sturdy Northerner’s background, and surprisingly parted to let him through.

There were perks to this?

Just as Yan Qing was about to enter, a commotion arose nearby. He turned to see an elderly woman in the line on the left struggling with the guards.

“I only have five wen. Before, I only paid five wen…” she pleaded.

“You’re here to do business, so of course you must pay the city tax,” the guard said, pointing at the basket she carried. “Pay up or move aside!”

“I’m not doing business! I’m delivering these to my son, who works as a waiter at the Chen’s Inn…” The woman lifted the cloth covering her basket, revealing warm, reddish eggs. “My son loves our home’s eggs the most. I’m just delivering eggs, not selling them. Five wen should be enough…”

The guard glanced at the basket, then took the five wen reluctantly.

“Fine, you may enter.”

“Thank you, thank you, officer… Ah, but you gave me back the money!”

“You said you’re not doing business, so the eggs can’t come in. Now move along, don’t block the way!”

“Please have mercy, officer. My son works as a waiter and eats poorly and sleeps badly. I’m just bringing eggs to nourish him—”

“Get lost!”

In the scuffle, two eggs rolled out of the basket and shattered on the ground, yolks flowing richly onto the dirt. Annoyed, the guard forcefully shook her off, causing the woman to fall backward. Feeling humiliated, the guard cursed and stomped over, crushing the eggshells into dust. Raising his foot to kick her, he snarled, “I told you to get lost—”

Thud!

“Ye Si” punched the guard against the wall. With 13 vitality points, his strength sent the guard’s teeth flying. Before the guard could recover, “Ye Si” grabbed the back of his head and slammed it hard into the ground.

“You wanted eggs? Eat up, don’t waste, have some more.”

Though the city gate’s ground was even and smooth, “Ye Si’s” strength was immense. Soon the eggshells on the ground were ground to sand, and the guard’s face was a bloody mess. The other guards dared not intervene, seemingly running to notify the city’s security. Yan Qing didn’t care.

Perhaps this was the real reason Yan Qing feared venturing into the outside world—Lord Yan was kind-hearted and couldn’t bear human suffering.

He was the type to avoid beggars on the street, unsure whether their plight was genuine, and had little money himself. Seeing someone truly miserable would stir his empathy, but helplessness would weigh heavily on his heart.

But in the game, it was different.

Because he couldn’t release such feelings in reality, he channeled his desires in the game.

If wronged, he would seek revenge from dawn to dusk. If angry, he would act immediately. If he played cautiously, then what was the point of playing at all?

“You’re pushing him too far. He’s about to die.”

“Ye Si” turned to see an old general riding a worn horse approaching slowly, followed by several ghostly knights. Upon their arrival, people on both sides of the gate kept their distance. The fallen woman looked terrified and scrambled away.

“Let go, and I’ll spare your life,” the old general said calmly.

Yan Qing recognized him, and so did the game system. His name floated above him—

“Baibao Overseer: Gai Louxian.”

When Yan San was promoted, he was assigned under this old general’s command.

There was one Baibao commander, three overseers, and eighteen banner lords, all first-tier messengers.

And the overseers were naturally second-tier messengers.

Yan Qing glanced at the woman’s retreating figure in the distance, then without hesitation crushed the guard’s throat with one hand!