Chapter 4: Initial Assessment (4)

Under the seamless coordination of the four, the wire balls were swiftly dispatched, their metallic tangles reduced to nothing in no time.  

Perhaps buoyed by their smooth teamwork, the group’s mood lightened as they continued along the path, laughter and chatter filling the air. 

Su Luo, ever observant, soaked up new knowledge like a sponge. 

Only now did she learn that the trial dungeons operated under unique rules, distinct from the other game dungeons, which held their own mysteries and challenges.

In this jovial atmosphere, even Number Ten softened, his usual sharp edges dulled. 

Every now and then, he’d chime in on topics that piqued his interest, his voice a rare addition to the group’s banter.

Then, a sharp chime cut through the moment—a system notification:  

‘Ding! Newbie [“I’m Number One” — Wang Nuo] has died.’

Su Luo felt a chill creep up her spine. 

She knew that name. 

She remembered him.

Her mind drifted back to the selection process at the start of the trial.  

“Alright, we’ll take one too! We’re official elite players—ready to carry!” a slightly portly old man in a Tang suit had bellowed, his voice brimming with vigor. 

His round face and kind eyes gave him a grandfatherly charm. 

Beside him stood a lanky elder in a white robe, his long beard and serene demeanor evoking the image of a wise immortal from a folktale.  

The two old men, despite their age, tossed around trendy slang with a vigor that felt oddly out of place. 

The crowd around them broke into good-natured laughter, charmed by the contrast.  

The four remaining newbies surged forward, hands shooting up in a frenzy, each vying for the elders’ attention.  

“Me! Me! Pick me, sirs!”  

“No, don’t listen to him! I respect my elders, I take care of my parents—choose me!”  

“I’m super obedient, I swear I won’t cause trouble!”  

Even SlightlyChubby, not to be outdone, piped up: “My parents are veteran players! I’ve got experience—pick me!”  

The Tang-suited elder beamed at the chaos, his smile warm and inviting. 

The white-bearded man stroked his beard with an air of profound wisdom, finally pointing to the one who’d boasted about “respecting elders.”  

Cheers and groans erupted in equal measure. 

But Su Luo’s expression darkened. 

Years of hard-earned instinct screamed that these two elders were not what they seemed.  

The Tang-suited man’s eyes were sharp, inverted triangles, his smile fixed in a way that felt too perfect, too practiced. 

Su Luo had seen that same calculated kindness before—on the face of a human trafficker. 

The white-bearded elder was no better; she recognized his type instantly. 

A conman, likely preying on the wealthy with promises of mystical feng shui solutions.  

She glanced up and caught the knowing looks on the veteran players’ faces. 

They saw it too, but none spoke up. 

Number Ten’s peach-blossom eyes flicked upward, a faint smirk of mockery curling his lips, yet he too remained silent.  

Su Luo hesitated. 

The teachings of Mama Dean echoed in her mind: ‘Help others when you have the power to do so.’

She wanted to warn the chosen newbie, but how could she make him believe her? 

And what about the risk of crossing two veteran players?  

Gritting her teeth, she sidled up to “Respect Elders” and whispered, “I study psychology. Those two are bad news.” 

Without waiting for a response, she slipped away, leaving the outcome to fate.  

The young man’s face paled, then twisted with doubt. 

He seemed to want to ask more, but Su Luo was already on the other side of the crowd. 

After a moment of tense deliberation, he spoke up, his voice firm. 

“Sorry, sirs, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to go with you.”  

The elders blinked in surprise. 

The Tang-suited man’s smile didn’t waver as he asked, kindly, “Mind telling us why you’ve had a change of heart?”  

Su Luo’s heart raced. 

She didn’t want to be exposed.  

Thankfully, “Respect Elders” was sharp enough to dodge the truth. 

“I got caught up in trying to survive and forgot you’re just two elders. I’m a total noob—combat rating of five, max. I’d just drag you down.”  

The Tang-suited man seemed poised to press further, but decorum held him back. 

With a reluctant nod, he let it go.  

Of the remaining newbies, one had already been chosen by another team. 

SlightlyChubby thoughtfully watched the “Respect Elders” and she decided to stay put. 

But “Obedient,” another newcomer ever eager, scampered over to the elders. 

“Sirs, what about me? I’m good, right?”  

Su Luo slapped her forehead, despair washing over her. 

‘Of all the people to ignore a warning, it’s always the clueless ones.’ She sighed, resolved to try again.  

She repeated her whispered warning, but “Obedient” only shot her a smug look, his eyes gleaming with a mix of arrogance and pity. 

‘You’re just jealous,’ his gaze seemed to say.  

Su Luo shrugged. 

One warning per person—that was fair. 

She wasn’t here to save fools.  

And that fool’s game name? 

“I’m Number One.”  

Her memories snapped back to the present. 

Su Luo shook her head, a pang of regret lingering. 

To her surprise, she noticed the two bespectacled men in her group looking uneasy. 

Perhaps it was their camaraderie, built on mutual respect and smooth teamwork, that prompted one of them to answer when Su Luo asked what was wrong.  

“We have side quests,” he said after a pause. 

“For official players, if eighty percent of you newbies survive, we get extra points. For unofficial players, it’s attribute points.”  

Su Luo nodded. 

No wonder they were so keen to bring newbies along. 

Curiosity piqued, she asked, “What’s the difference between official and unofficial players?”  

“After six months, your stats lock in—no more attribute points,” he explained. 

“Anyone past that is an official player.”  

Su Luo’s eyes widened. 

Six months? 

That meant she had to hustle if she wanted to make the most of this window. 

Her mindset shifted, determination taking root.  

“Then why didn’t you warn those two newbies back there?” she pressed.  

The bespectacled man shrugged. 

“No point. If we’d spoken up, it’d just cause trouble—piss off two veteran players for a few measly points. Besides, those two might’ve been newbie killers, or maybe they just toy with rookies for fun.”  

Su Luo mulled it over. 

It made sense. 

The safest bet was to stick with unofficial veterans—they needed attribute points and would protect their team. 

Low-level official players were next best, hungry for points. 

Her current team wasn’t ideal, but the two men’s skills and decency made up for it.  

A sudden rumble interrupted her thoughts. 

Two wire balls rolled into view. 

One was small, but the other was massive, nearly waist-high. 

Su Luo’s gut told her this was no ordinary foe.  

Sure enough, the bespectacled man shouted, “Watch out! Elite monster!”  

The team snapped into formation, ready to fight. 

‘-5, -5, -5.’

The elite monster lived up to its name, each hit shaving off five health points. 

Worse, its wiry tendrils lashed out freely, unlike the predictable attacks of regular monsters. 

Su Luo realized she’d been thinking too narrowly—monsters weren’t limited to single attack patterns.  

Neither she nor the mage could escape the onslaught; the wires stretched far, bypassing the tank. 

But then Su Luo saw something astonishing. 

The mage, far from the fragile spellcaster she’d assumed, summoned a Tang sword from nowhere. 

With precise strikes, he parried the wires, severing them in just two blows.  

Su Luo’s jaw dropped. 

Curiosity burned—what would her weapon do? 

But she held back. 

Better to keep it hidden; who knew how rare or valuable it might be?  

The fight also revealed something else: the two veterans weren’t even trying their hardest. 

They were just playing. 

The tank hadn’t drawn a weapon at all—maybe he only had one and left it to the mage for defense. 

Yet the mage’s calm demeanor suggested they were in no real danger.  

‘-14, -20, -21.’

The team’s attacks chipped away at the elite monster’s health, which Su Luo estimated at a whopping 100 points. 

With its high damage output, no one could survive it alone. 

Teamwork was non-negotiable.  

As the elite and its smaller companion neared death, footsteps echoed nearby. 

Su Luo turned to see Chubby’s group approaching.  

Chubby pointed excitedly at the bloodied elite. 

“Whoa, an elite monster!”  

Su Luo tensed, worried they’d try to steal the kill. 

Her team was in no shape to compete.  

But her fears were unfounded. 

Chubby’s group merely watched, making no move to interfere. 

Su Luo noticed her team’s veterans didn’t even glance their way, though Number Ten shot a quick look at the newcomers. 

Was this an unspoken rule among veterans—not to poach monsters?  

The bespectacled man landed a final punch, ending the elite’s life. 

The two groups converged, chatting casually. 

Su Luo seized the moment to check her task panel:  

1. Kill all monsters (mandatory) (Incomplete)  

2. Personally kill 5 regular monsters (mandatory) (2/5) Reward: +1 Health

3. Achieve 200 healing output (mandatory) (98/200) Reward: +2 Health

4. Personally kill 1 elite monster (optional) (0/1)  Reward: +3 Health

5. Personally kill the dungeon Boss (optional) (0/1) Reward: +5 Health 

Su Luo sighed. 

Not even halfway done. 

The road ahead was long.  

The bespectacled man spoke up. 

“Show us your task panels. Let’s see how much you’ve got left.”  

Su Luo, Number Ten, and Chubby complied. 

Su Luo glanced at Chubby’s panel:  

1. Kill all monsters (mandatory) (Incomplete)  

2. Personally kill 5 regular monsters (mandatory) (1/5) Reward: +1 Health

3. Achieve 200 magic damage output (mandatory) (62/200)  Reward: +2 Health

4. Personally kill 1 elite monster (optional) (0/1)  Reward: +3 Health 

5. Personally kill the dungeon Boss (optional) (0/1) Reward: +5 Health

Su Luo raised an eyebrow. 

Her team was ahead. 

Maybe she’d chosen right after all.  

“Alright, enough chit-chat,” the bespectacled man said. 

“Let’s get back to the tasks. We’ll meet up when the Boss spawns.”  

The groups parted, heading in opposite directions. 

It wasn’t because the conversation had soured—quite the opposite. 

Traveling together risked uneven monster distribution, which could strain relations. 

Better to split up and keep the peace.