Chapter 31: Actor

Xu Bei harbored an intense disgust for the act of forming factions and cliques.

He had seen far too much of such behavior on Meteor Street.

Meteor Street was rife with countless yakuza gangs, government organizations, dark forces, and cult guilds.

He himself had once been a peripheral member of an intelligence organization—just a peripheral member—but in the end, he had paid his entire fortune to buy his freedom.

Entering the Jianghu was easy; leaving it was hard.

He wasn’t even completely detached from the organization now; it wasn’t like he had washed his hands of the past.

The moment the organization remembered him, needed him, they would come back to him, using his dark history to blackmail him into doing their bidding until he was completely drained.

So even if it meant death, Xu Bei would never join any guild again.

“I’ve never met someone this stubborn before. Even if you join a streaming guild, they’ll only take fifty percent of your gift money, half the website signing fee, ten percent service fees every month, an eight-year contract, no slacking off. Doesn’t that sound fair? We guild enforcers only get paid to do the job; don’t make it hard for us,” Dao Xia Qujing continued explaining.

Xu Bei had a feeling that he wasn’t really persuading him to join, but rather sarcastically mocking his ‘benefactor.’

But he didn’t want to waste his breath on this delusional worker bee and prepared to continue his quest.

“Heh, you know? Two-player teams make all monsters’ HP increase fivefold. If you don’t sign with the guild, I won’t help you—I’ll just stay here and refuse to budge. Go challenge those five-times-HP bosses alone. Let’s see how you clear it,” Dao Xia Qujing sneered.

“Nī mā dī.” Xu Bei couldn’t help but curse aloud.

“Don’t swear, the live room will get banned,” Dao Xia Qujing taunted.

Xu Bei’s little parrot assistant piped up in his ear: “Xu ge, this is your first warning from the live streaming assistant: no swearing.”

“It’s fine if you’re just a low-traffic streamer, but now that you’re a big streamer, you need to watch your mouth and be responsible for your actions,” Dao Xia Qujing smiled.

“The virtual world is even darker than the real world—you guys really have a knack for it,” Xu Bei said sullenly, clearly displeased.

If this happened in the real world, he would have torn someone’s face apart long ago.

But here in the virtual game world, the capitalists made him feel powerless.

This guy was sitting inside his safe house, smiling as he tricked him, spouting nonsense, wasting his time—and Xu Bei couldn’t smash his head in.

Because the virtual world had an extra layer called [Game Rules].

No one could break free from these rules, not even an invincible evil god’s follower—they had to bow down and obey.

Villains could actually thrive under the protection of the rules.

Where’s the justice? Where’s the law? I will never submit!

“It’s just five times the HP, not five hundred. I’ll kill you useless guys and the dark forces hiding behind you—I see your money and power as nothing but dung.”

Xu Bei stopped at the door of the safe house, turned his back on the little man, sneered disdainfully, and left.

(Keep it up, streamer!)

(Why isn’t this actor banned yet?)

(Let’s go!)

(Support!)

(So annoying!)

(Can the actor just die already?)

This time, the barrage of comments and bullet chats were overwhelmingly iron-blooded in support of the streamer.

Watching Xu Bei’s retreating figure, the little man’s smiling face slowly faded, and a look of helplessness showed.

He had always kept this small window open to observe the unfilial son’s live room.

Look at all those dense bullet chats—that was the popularity he had dreamed of.

He was extremely jealous of this new streamer, very unhappy about this little streamer, and wanted to tear him to pieces to commemorate his lost dreams.

But after invading his world, interacting and chatting a little,

Dao Xia Qujing began to understand why this person had exploded in popularity so quickly.

Because the unfilial son was truly a pure amateur, completely clueless about the streaming industry and gaming circles.

He maintained an innocent personal charm and wielded an invincible power. His appearance was like a boulder smashing into a stagnant pool.

This was not something other streamers could imitate—no wonder he was so popular.

Dao Xia Qujing enlarged the small window and seriously watched the stream.

There, the golden-haired guy was already locked in a fierce battle with the Scorpion Lady for dozens of rounds.

The Scorpion Lady’s HP was multiplied fivefold; Xu Bei’s brass knuckle punches only chipped away a small sliver of her HP, forcing him back into the initial attrition phase.

But this was hardly a challenge for Xu Bei. He continued to unleash his miraculous dodging skills, evading attacks while searching for opportunities to strike back.

(Cool!)

(Kill!)

(Awesome!)

The bullet chats were surprisingly unanimous in praise.

At this moment, there were no haters or trolls!

Even the trolls and haters supported the streamer in fighting against the dark forces of live streaming.

This stirring scene made even a hired little streamer assassin feel suffocated and made veteran actors struggle to continue acting.

To clarify, in the game, “actors” generally referred to players who paid to perform and sabotage opponents—not a compliment by any means.

“But you can’t beat the Scorpion this way,” Dao Xia Qujing shook his head, sighing.

However, the novice saw as novices saw; the veteran saw as veterans saw.

The battle was fierce and exciting, and the audience was delighted.

But seasoned players knew that the Scorpion Lady could not be fought at close range like this; the distance had to be maintained to wear her down and always be ready to retreat.

Because the Scorpion Lady released a lethal close-range move at half or low HP—getting caught meant instant death.

Not to mention that the boss’s HP had surged due to two-player teaming, making it significantly more difficult.

The massive HP increase mainly lowered the player’s margin of error.

A tankier boss could unleash multiple killing moves, and if a player was hit once, they had to start over—this was the margin of error.

“Pfft!” The live stream suddenly went black.

Sure enough, the unfilial son died again, crushed mercilessly by the Scorpion Lady’s second-stage ‘Loving Embrace.’

In the blink of an eye, Xu Bei revived once more inside the safe house.

“…”

But he said nothing, ignored Dao Xia Qujing who was stubbornly increasing his game difficulty, and left the safe house to challenge the boss for the third time.

He had died many times under the female foreman’s stun baton before, but now only three deaths.

Being killed by the boss only fueled a player’s competitive spirit; it didn’t disgust him.

What disgusted Xu Bei the most were these game actors!

“If I can’t win in ten tries, I’ll smash my helmet!” Xu Bei said angrily, still stubborn.