Chapter 38: Smile No Matter What

Dark clouds obscured the moonlight, and the air was sultry and stifling, as if a torrential downpour was about to strike.

Mr. He lightly leaned his hips against the windowsill, rubbing his chin with slender fingers, and asked a Copper Bell member in a soft voice, "How is the situation over on Little Dot's side?"

"That web novelist named Li Feng is a total shut-in," replied a burly young man who was standing by the dining table, fiddling with takeout food in a rough voice. "There's no progress at all so far. Boss, did we follow the wrong lead?"

Mr. He looked at him, a trace of anger flashing through his slender, phoenix-like eyes.

The young man was so startled he shuddered. "...I called you the wrong thing... I should call you Sir."

In this team, Old He deeply disliked these crude peers calling him "Boss" or "Chief." He considered himself an artist, entirely worthy of the title "Sir." Even when Old Yin was on the sofa, he used to address him just like that...

Sir, a little slower.

Sir, you're so fierce.

"Sir," asked a female player who was eating fried chicken, looking at Mr. He cautiously. "Since Li Feng is such an important personal connection to Ren Daguo, if we were able to track down information about him, why couldn't the Vigilants? An official organization is, after all, an official organization... I don't think this makes sense."

Mr. He looked at her with an approving gaze. "You have a sharp mind."

"Thank you for the compliment, Sir." The woman clutched a piece of fried chicken in her right hand and bowed clumsily in gratitude.

"However, this actually makes complete sense," Mr. He explained softly. "The news about Li Feng's connection to Ren Daguo was leaked within an evil players' chat group and ultimately bought by the Cripple's people. Therefore, it's not that the Vigilants couldn't find it, but rather that someone else, just like us, is targeting Ren Ye in secret. I suspect... there are other players in the Cool Breeze Prefecture Star Gate who are making moves in the real world, such as the Fraud Chamber of Commerce that inexplicably meddled in."

The woman thought it over carefully. "Could it be a trap? The Vigilants can't find us, so they're using Li Feng to lure us into making the first move?"

A sharp glint appeared in Mr. He's eyes. "Of course, that's a possibility, but we don't have time. Guo Cair'er and Xing Tao are about to enter the gate, and we must take a gamble—we must gamble for the Bell Society."

At these words, everyone fell silent.

"Sir, would you like some spicy crawfish?" the muscular man offered.

"I'm in a bad mood. I'll just go out for a stroll," Mr. He replied with a hint of melancholy, then shoved his hands into his pockets and left the room.

Around the dining table, a group of Copper Bell players gathered.

The cautious woman involuntarily shrugged her shoulders, her brow furrowing slightly as she muttered, "I don't know why, but for the past two days... I've had this constant chilly feeling at the back of my neck."

"Do you want me to warm it up with my tongue?" the muscular man asked solicitously.

"Sure," the woman agreed immediately. "I feel like I've somehow picked up something unclean."

Twenty minutes later, at the intersection downstairs. A pile of joss paper money was burning furiously, the dancing flames casting an eerie, bewitching glow.

The mailing address on the package of joss money bore the name Old Yin.

Mr. He used a branch to tend to the fire, a trace of unconcealed sorrow in his eyes. "Though we only met recently, we were still... friends. You loved money, so I'll send you a bit more."

An artist is emotional and cannot be fully understood.

Having just heard that Old Yin was dead, he genuinely felt a bit saddened in his heart, believing he ought to send him off properly.

Ironically, while Old Yin had boasted of having countless friends along Tongren Road, the only one who actually burned paper money to mourn him was Mr. He, who had merely glanced past him. His former companions would forget him in a matter of days.

"Sigh."

Mr. He couldn't help but chant a line from an opera: "Life after life, death after death... In these few hurried decades, who can you remember, and who will remember you...!"

"Screech!"

Just as his voice trailed off, a police car pulled up to the roadside, and an officer pushed open the door and stepped out. "Who told you to burn paper money here?"

...

Downtown.

Inside a stairwell, Ren Ye, wrapped from head to toe like a mummy, was intently watching the activity inside the supermarket across the street.

After dealing with Bull Terrier, he had gone to a small clinic in the suburbs to treat the minor abrasions caused by the gravel. Though they had stopped bleeding, they still burned and itched unbearably.

Inside the supermarket across the way, only a man in his forties was sitting in front of a computer, typing away clack-clack-clack.

He was Li Feng, and also one of the few good friends of his father, Ren Daguo.

As everyone knew, web novel authors had very narrow social circles, especially unpopular, failing authors. They couldn't converse with the big shots in the industry, and in reality, they spent every day typing away, shut up in their homes. Over time, they developed social phobias and generally preferred solitude.

Old man Ren and Li Feng had a significant age gap, but they clicked instantly because they shared the same tastes. They both loved watching suggestive short clips, collecting figurines, and most importantly, both were failing authors... With no gap in social status, their relationship had always been quite good.

This supermarket belonged to Li Feng's parents, and he only looked after the shop at night. For so many years, he had neither married nor had children; he remained a bachelor, which made his life quite relaxed.

After locking onto Li Feng, Ren Ye bent over and sat down exhaustively on the ground.

He didn't know why the Bell Society members were tracking Li Feng. But since Bull Terrier had said that through him they would find Ren Daguo, Ren Ye certainly wouldn't give up this lead.

Sitting on the cold floor, Ren Ye suddenly remembered something. He instantly concentrated and mobilized his perception.

"Whoosh!"

A flash of light appeared, and a delicate nine-tiered miniature pagoda materialized in his hand.

In appearance, the item was made of bronze, exquisitely carved, about half a finger long for an adult, and each tier's outer window was engraved with a tiny Daoist talisman.

Ren Ye fiddled with it and perceived it again.

[An Unremarkable Nine-Tiered Buddhist Pagoda: This is a scripture-chanting Buddhist pagoda from a certain temple, severely damaged in appearance and leaking demonic Qi. According to rumors, a foolish demonic spirit is sealed within the pagoda. Divine Special Skill—Demon Spirit Strike: In a moment of crisis, releases the foolish demonic spirit, which will launch a most powerful strike to assist you. Limited uses: 1/3.]

The cold notification sound flashed past his ears. Ren Ye toyed with the pagoda, evaluating it with a hint of disappointment: "This Bull Terrier is a broke bastard too! Just a limited-use item, and he's already used it twice. Sigh, better than nothing, I suppose."

Though upon careful thought, this was only natural. The caliber of the opponent you faced matched your own tier.

Wanting to get rich from a single battle? Nonsense!

Did he really think veteran Star Gate players who had survived countless brushes with death were foaming-at-the-mouth idiots?

It was also thanks to Bull Terrier not having many items left; otherwise, it wouldn't have been certain who would end up dead.

"Hah!"

Ren Ye put away the small pagoda, leaned back against the stairwell, and began to wait quietly.

...

Kyoto Airport.

"Delayed?" Yan Duoduo asked the attractive female ground staff at the airline service desk. "When can we fly?"

"I'm sorry, sir, there will be heavy rainstorms in Shanghai today and tomorrow," the woman replied politely. "We are temporarily unable to determine when flights can resume. However, we have prepared an airport hotel for you here, and you can take a dedicated shuttle over to rest."

Hearing this, Yan Duoduo's chest heaved.

Things had truly not been going his way these past few days. Oh, no—to be precise, ever since he heard the name "Ren Ye," he had started hitting a streak of terrible luck.

First, the Bell Society wanted to go offline; then, a young couple died in his jurisdiction, and not long after, a player battle broke out in the university town. Tonight, a mahjong parlor on Tongren Road was wiped out as well...

He had traveled thousands of miles to Kyoto, dressed in a sharp suit, with his hair combed like a mature adult's, wanting to cheerfully report to the higher-ups—only for Ren Ye's father... to go missing again.

And now that he wanted to go home, flights were grounded.

His path was truly full of obstacles!

Dragging his luggage, Yan Duoduo repeatedly told himself in his heart: Don't get angry, don't get angry, dealing with a promising player is just like this...

After taking several deep breaths in succession, a confident smile returned to the corners of Yan Duoduo's mouth. As he walked toward the airport exit, he dialed a number back in Shanghai: "Two things: First, immediately help me book the fastest high-speed rail ticket back. Second, that monk player you mentioned last year—can he perform a fortune-turning ritual? Yes, contact him... Right, right, my mother has been having rather bad luck lately..."

"Chief, I have an emergency situation to report on my end as well."

"What is it?" Yan Duoduo asked with a smile.

"...Ren Ye is missing," the person on the other end paused before replying.

"Boom!"

Director Yan's brain felt as though it had exploded in an instant. His body stiffened, and his suitcase hit the floor with a loud *thud*.

His lonely figure appeared extremely helpless and disheveled amidst the bustling crowd at the airport...

...

Shanghai, inside the small morgue of a small hospital.

In the cramped security room, an old night watchman was eating the dinner prepared by his wife, sipping a little wine, and listening to the news on his phone radio.

"According to reports, a few days ago, a male corpse went missing from a hospital in Suzhou-Hangzhou. Police are currently investigating and are also seeking clues from the public."

"Hahahaha!"

The old man laughed at the news and shook his head helplessly. "That's fucking a first in a lifetime. I could understand losing a female corpse, but who steals a male one, and for what? Missing a father?!"

"Thump!"

Just as his voice fell, the door of the morgue was pushed open from the inside.

A nearly seventy-year-old man zoomed right past the front of the security room.

"Gasp!"

The old man's laughter cut off abruptly. He craned his neck, rubbed his eyes, and stared. "Who... who just walked out bare-ass naked? Huh?!"

Ten minutes later, the old man mustered up his courage and took a trip to the morgue. After a careful inspection, he scurried right back to the security room, dialing a number with trembling fingers: "Hello? Director, I've cracked the case!... I know who stole the corpse! Just like the news report said, the culprit committed the crime bare-ass naked!"