Chapter 74

Ruan Xuezong stayed behind just like that.

He discovered that this underground city was breathtakingly beautiful. Other than being subterranean, it bore no resemblance to a cave—it had a babbling underground river, freely circulating air, and soil perfect for farming.

Shi Yan explained, “The other side leads to a sheer cliff. The yellow mountain walls conceal us perfectly, and that’s where the air flows in from.”

Over a thousand people lived inside this underground palace, mostly elders, women, and children. Some, Shi Yan said, were folks he had rescued from horse bandits, while others were exiled slaves. They dwelled scattered across the palaces of this ancient desert kingdom, their communal life mirroring a typical village in the Central Plains. Ruan Xuezong quickly grasped what the leader meant by “output.” Numerous refugees wove Persian carpets in the underground palace, planted sand dates and grapes, or crafted spices.

“Then what do we do?” Ruan Xuezong asked proactively. He could tell no one here ate for free.

They might tolerate idlers, but with so many women and children laboring away, any decent person would feel their conscience pricked at the thought of accepting a free meal.

Shi Yan glanced at Ruan Xuezong’s hands and shook his head. “You don’t seem to know how to do anything.”

Calluses on the palms betrayed whether a rivers and lakes wanderer swung blades and spears for a living, but the smooth, unblemished skin on the back of the hands revealed if they endured constant exposure to wind and sun. The more privileged the clan and the more coddled the young master, the more delicate that skin. A wealthy wanderer stayed in the finest inns, savored the richest wines, dined on prime cuts of meat, and reveled in a life of unbridled freedom. A destitute one, by contrast, hung their life from their belt like a sword, taking on suicidal commissions and braving storms year-round until their hide toughened like leather.

Ruan Xuezong clearly fell into the former category.

“You’re right—I don’t know a thing,” he admitted freely. “But I can learn.”

A youth who had persevered in martial arts, honing his skills to perfection, could hardly fail at other pursuits. If all else failed, he had the players; their accomplishments counted as his own.

And so Five-Colored Mottled Black picked up a string of menial runaround quests. He threw himself into them with gleeful enthusiasm, buzzing about like a kid in a candy store. His first batch involved planting: “Whoa, this date’s so red!”

【Sand Date: An oval fruit, a drought-hardy specialty from the deserts along the ancient Silk Road. When ripe, its blossoms perfume the air for miles around.】 Alone, he could grind out several acres’ worth.

Next came weaving.

The embroiderers’ handiwork set Five-Colored Mottled Black’s eyes alight once more. His needle flew without pause. “Oh oh oh oh—this is a Persian carpet! I spotted one in a border town when I first arrived. Holy crap, the realism in this game is insane. Every stitch feels alive, like it’s got a soul!”

【Ugly carpet stitched with clumsy needlework】

【Maker: Five-Colored Mottled Black】

A nearby young teen named Kanbei stared, dumbfounded by his ravings. The boy broke into a grin, flashing eight pearly whites. “I don’t get half of what you’re saying, newbie, but it sure sounds fun!”

As a player, Five-Colored Mottled Black lived for NPC chit-chat. Back in reality, he wasn’t some social dynamo, but the moment he logged in, he yapped endlessly with every villager and shopkeep he met.

【Gorgeous, vibrant carpet】

【Maker: Kanbei】

“Oh oh oh, badass! Qianniang would take one look and beg to make you her apprentice!” Five-Colored Mottled Black crowed.

“Am I really that good? Who’s Qianniang?” the boy asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Damn right you are. She’s an embroidery trainer NPC from our Heart Washing Manor. Leader Shi pulled you out of the fire from some Western Regions horse bandits, yeah?”

Kanbei nodded. “Yeah. I was just a kid when Leader Shi saved me—don’t remember much. He told me the bandits slaughtered my whole family. Mom shielded me in her arms, and I was the only survivor. He brought me back here.”

Five-Colored Mottled Black lit up. “Total coincidence! We rescued Qianniang from Jiangnan river pirates ourselves. Back then, players were all level one, hadn’t even unlocked basic moves, but we soloed a pack of level-ten red-name goons. Heh heh, quit staring like I’m a legend. Us rivers and lakes heroes are born to smite evil and lift up the weak!”

It had been the players’ very first epic encounter quest.

How could they forget?

Five-Colored Mottled Black continued, “Qianniang’s had a hard knock life, but she’s a wizard—flat stitch, woven embroidery, double-sided… Peonies bursting with beauty, butterflies mid-flight. She needles ’em out on the spot, hyper-realistic. Totally different style from Western Regions work. Wonder if this map even has embroidery trainers. Once open beta hits, Western Regions spawns gotta learn crafting somewhere…”

Kanbei caught none of the gamer jargon, but those exotic techniques ignited a spark of envy. “The Central Plains? I’ve heard all the tales. Never been there once.”

Five-Colored Black jumped in. “World’s huge—you gotta explore it! No cap, the views in Rivers and Lakes are god-tier. We trekked from Jiangnan to the Western Regions: Hanging Spring Waterfall, endless blue-sky, crimson maples blazing, starfields brushing the horizon. Hell, we even zip-lined iron chain bridges… Pro tip: traders don’t grind routes just for gold—it’s taxpayer-funded vacay!”

He grasped maybe half, but the gist hit home.

Kanbei’s wanderlust surged. He wavered for a heartbeat, eyeing the ornate blanket draped over his knees. With the leaders absent, his honest thoughts tumbled out. “Young hero, you flatter my work, but it doesn’t feel real to me… I figured out my stitches from the Buddha statues down here. No clue if I’m any good. Leader Yan hauls our stuff thousands of li to market and comes back saying ‘sold.’ But did buyers grab ’em for warmth, rugs, bedding—or ’cause they dug the embroidery?”

“Aaah, I feel that. Like posting my daily game recaps. Do forum peeps read for the lols, or just ’cause I’m the lone sucker cranking ’em out?”

Boiled down to it: no feedback loop.

A killer handmade craft needed hype to spark that rush of pride.

Five-Colored Mottled Black grinned. “Next shipment, I’ll smuggle you topside to spy from the shadows. We’ll clock the buyers’ faces—wowed or meh? How they fork over coin? Frenzied queues or hard bargains?”

Kanbei’s jaw dropped. “Genius plan.”

Why hadn’t he dreamed it up?

Deep down, every young buck harbored an adventurer’s itch. Kanbei scratched his head sheepishly. “Now I wanna hit the town—and the Central Plains! Heard they’ve got every flavor of temple. Used to think the desert was scorching hell—wolves, vultures everywhere. Too chicken to bounce. You Central Plains wanderers are the real deal…”

Five-Colored Mottled Black pumped a fist. “Hell yeah, go for it!”

He’d tossed it out offhand, but that very night, NPC teen Kanbei bolted for parts unknown—like he’d sworn to tour the vast Central Plains.

Under the crowd’s baleful stares, Five-Colored Mottled Black gaped, utterly lost for words. Even he second-guessed himself: “No friggin’ way—did I actually hype this NPC into running?”

His silver tongue had blindsided him.

Meanwhile, Ruan Xuezong drew patrol duty.

The one job his martial prowess suited. The route snaked from the caves to the distant cliffs. At the underground river tunnel, he spotted blue ore studding the stone walls, emitting a ghostly cerulean glow amid the dark. Pools of standing water below mirrored the unyielding crystals, weaving a tapestry of profound, otherworldly allure.

Ruan Xuezong halted, transfixed.

This stuff was rare as hen’s teeth—prime for forging elite weapons. That lore snippet suddenly clicked: 【This forsaken land turns battleground anew—what twists of fate.】 The thriving town razed by Yong Kingdom-Chasang wars had just started rebuilding when this ore lit the powder keg again.

Memories flooded Ruan Xuezong. Last life, Chasang caravans swarmed in and out. The three-way deadlock’s winner? Huo Chonglou.

Ore-smithied arms, grandmaster treasure hoard, three half-step grandmasters at beck—small wonder he shook the heavens. His death? Deserved.

Ruan Xuezong heaved a deep sigh.

His patrol partner was a striking Western Regions girl—refined features, fathomless eyes—named Eve.

Her sky-blue gaze ballooned at first sight of him. She murmured, voice thick with awe and longing, “Outsiders really are all that gorgeous…”

All?

Ruan Xuezong’s instincts pinged. “You’ve seen other outsiders besides me?”

The blunt probe made her azure pupils shrink; tension flickered. She brushed back an ear-tuck of hair. “I got here at five or six. Grew up in Chasang till my folks got slaved. Branded me too—we washed up here together.”

Shi Yan hadn’t lied: this palace sheltered his ragtag flock. In the desert’s kill-or-be-killed, he offered sanctuary—a true titan. No shock he merited a slot in the Jianghu Piaomiao Record’s hero roster from the Western Regions Secret Scroll. Or that the old-timer died for him gladly.

“Your parents?” Ruan Xuezong’s icy tone thawed a touch.

“Died years back. Just me now. Kinda pointless.” Eve bowed her head.

“Pointless, maybe—but safe.” Ruan Xuezong noted. Holding a prize like this airtight? The leaders earned their stripes.

“Yeah… Peace here ain’t bad. Just pitch-black forever, like sewer rats scraping by. Dull as dirt.” Eve flashed a bashful smile, then probed, “You’re from out there. Fun?”

Ruan Xuezong mulled the Western Regions trek—its vibes and vistas—and nodded assent.

Thrumming towns, Chasang’s oasis fever dream, Little West Continent’s Sunlight City. Even the sand-blasted ruins pulsed with timeless desolation, worlds apart from Central Plains polish. His temperament kept him even-keeled, but the players? Ecstatic.

Eve sighed wistfully. “God, I wanna go. I strolled Chasang bazaars at five; details fading now.” Years blurred recall. Peacock River still shimmer emerald? Chasang markets crush-packed? Tiny her, perched on Dad’s shoulders, grin splitting face. Parents gone—only ghost-images lingered in her grasp.

Ruan Xuezong got it.

Caveborn, you’d never miss the heavens. But glimpse that endless cobalt vault once? Underground eternity turns cage. He wagered many palace youth mirrored Eve: rags-to-sustenance first, then freedom’s call once bellies filled.

“You’ll get it all—in time. Not now.” Ruan Xuezong cautioned. Tripartite tensions brooked zero slips. This round, he played; no spectator throne while others claimed the prize.

Silently, the girl nodded.