Chapter 124#
Useless#
“Xiao Chao — this little dog seems very fond of you.” He moved to close the distance, and Wan You stepped across between them without warning.
He stopped. He looked at Wan You once, then changed direction to approach from the other side — and Wan You simply pivoted and was there again, as if it were a game.
“Woof woof woof.”
The dog in the carrier called out. He gave up on moving closer and stopped. “It’s all over injuries, and extremely distressed.”
He extended the carrier forward. “Could I trouble you to calm it down a little?”
The dog pushed its front paws through the gap — both paws raw with dried blood.
The autumn wind stirred the fallen leaves. He glanced around. This stretch of path was completely empty.
“I’m sorry.” He stepped back. “I have a pet at home, and it doesn’t like me getting close to other animals. The rescue station is just ahead — a few more minutes’ walk.”
“A dog this badly injured needs a vet, not handling.” Wan You took the thread. “Human contact could cause secondary harm. Try not to do good badly, sir.”
He let the extended carrier drop slowly. “Is this Jinghua student as well?”
“Of course.” He pointed at the professional textbooks under his arm. “Can’t you tell?”
Strange behavior, terrible eyesight.
He studied him for a moment, then shifted his attention back to Chao Musheng. “I’m only bringing a poor dog here — there’s no need for this much hostility, Xiao Chao.”
“You’re reading too much into it. Xiao Chao hasn’t said a single hostile word.” Wan You’s tone was pointed. “You asked him for directions and he’s taking you there — that’s hostility?”
“Director Chen, don’t overthink it.” His foot crunched over a leaf. “We’re not well acquainted in the first place. What hostility would there be?”
“Since there’s none — then let me tell you a story about repaying a debt.” His voice was unhurried. “Long ago, a god came into conflict with other gods. Because the beings in his realm had grown increasingly greedy, his realm began to crack. To seal these cracks, he was gravely wounded by his enemies, and in the end he fell to earth in the form of a lowly, ugly creature.”
He opened the carrier and set the whimpering dog on the ground. It lay there trembling.
“The god used his left eye to seal the cracks. He used his right eye to bear the punishment for altering the rules. But the god had forgotten — humans are greedy, ungrateful, ugly creatures. He lay on the ground for a long time, and not a single person extended a hand to help him.”
“On the first day, the god thought: if someone is willing to save me, I will spend what remains of my life protecting this world.”
“On the second day, the god thought: if someone is willing to save me, I have no regrets about everything I gave up.”
“The third day. The fourth. Still no one came.”
“If you were this god—” He looked at him. “Would you hate the people of this world?”
“The world has cruel and ugly people in it. It also has kind and beautiful ones.” He looked down at the dog on the ground. “If I were that god, what I’d hate most would be the enemies who took advantage of me when I was vulnerable — not the ordinary people who didn’t know anything.”
“Besides—” He frowned. “This story sounds familiar. Director Chen, did you lift the plot from The Fisherman and the Jinni?”
“What story is that?” Wan You asked.
“A foreign folk tale.” He lowered his gaze. The dog was trembling its way toward him, leaving a trail of blood.
He hadn’t expected this reaction. He disregarded the comment and continued. “The god survived in the end — but from that day on, he turned his back on his people. Do you think a god like that still deserves the name?”
“Can his eyes be healed?” he countered. “He gave everything for his people, suffered so much, and all he did was turn away from them — he didn’t even take it out on them. If that’s not a god, what is?”
‘I’ll never smile to protect them again — I’ll just give them the cold shoulder from now on.’ What’s the difference?
“Exactly.” Wan You nodded. “I heard a myth once about a god who liked to lock countless human beings inside the same place. This god wouldn’t let them go home, forced them to play survival games in dangerous locations, and took the life of anyone who spoke or acted against its wishes.”
If the Main God of the infinite space had this kind of character, there would be far fewer players calling it names.
“Something like that gets to call itself a god?” He raised an eyebrow. “Repulsive story. That so-called god should be called a trafficker. Traffickers should be beaten in the street and come to bad ends.”
“That’s a fair point.” Wan You’s eyes lit up. “That worthless thing — isn’t it just a trafficker?”
He stared at Wan You with something dark, and Wan You instinctively backed up two steps. “I was talking about the thing in the story — what are you getting angry for?”
“I dislike things that have no manners.”
“That’s not an honest statement.” He sidestepped as the dog lunged at him. “You seem quite fond of yourself.”
“What a cold heart — even this pitiful dog and you can’t bring yourself to respond to it.” He looked at the trail of blood. “Truly unmoved.”
“That’s all right — no one’s watching.” He looked at Wan You. “And Wan You won’t tell anyone.”
“Right?” Wan You had no idea why he wasn’t touching an obviously pitiful dog, but went along with it. “No — I won’t.”
Strange day. They’d been walking this path for a while and not a single other person had passed.
The silence around them deepened. The dog, which had been struggling toward him without stopping, went suddenly still.
“Chao Musheng — have you considered that the reason Xu Chenzhu is with you is to obtain something from you?” His face was blank. “Your vitality, for instance. Your fortune.”
“With this many people in the world — why would he want anyone else’s vitality and fortune?” He smiled pleasantly. “If it’s true, it means I’m the most special person to him. If it’s false, that says something about your character — you’re a liar.”
Wan You looked on in quiet amazement. What an immunity to self-doubt.
He said through his teeth: “Don’t you have any curiosity about which normal person would need someone else’s vitality?”
“Everything you’re saying comes from you. Why would I believe it?” He found the statement baffling. “What makes you think I would distrust my boyfriend and instead trust someone who recently tried to manipulate me? Do I look like I was born yesterday?”
He watched Director Chen’s face cycle from red to white. He looked as though he might actually faint from frustration.
“Since Xiao Chao is such a clever person, you ought to be able to see clearly who stands beside you.” He steadied himself quickly, his tone taking on a coaxing quality. “I look forward to the day you discover the truth.”
He reached down and scooped up the injured dog, dropped it back in the carrier, and walked away without looking back.
“Hey — weren’t you here to find the rescue station?” Wan You called. “Not saving the dog anymore?”
No response. He was already gone.
A few classmates went by on bicycles. A couple sat beneath a tree, shoulder to shoulder, talking quietly. The path came back to life.
The dog’s blood trail vanished under fallen leaves until there was nothing to see.
He used his foot to clear them aside. The trace was already fading, almost gone. Ants moved straight across the bloodstains, heading urgently toward the body of a small grub.
“What are you looking at?” Wan You crouched down and found nothing but ants.
“Nothing.” He straightened. “Let’s go back to the dorm.”
The blood trail was completely gone.
Was this a classic deception from another age — or something else?
Back on his bunk, he found over a dozen photos from Xu Chenzhu waiting for him.
[Xu Chenzhu: Zhaozhao — which outfit do you think looks best?]
[Zhaozhao: All of them look good, but I’m wearing a light grey hoodie today — how about the white shirt with the silver-grey suit vest? That one is elegant and refined on you, and the colours will go well together.]
[Xu Chenzhu: All right.]
He put his phone down. He moved the other outfits to one side, cleared a generous space, and very carefully hung the silver-grey vest in it.
“Boss.” A knock, and Secretary Liu entered with a small stack of photographs. “Someone photographed Director Chen near Jinghua — and he was seen approaching Xiao Chao.”
He took the photos. When he got to one that showed the dog, the warmth and color left his face entirely.
“Boss — what’s wrong?” He could see it immediately.
“Nothing.” The photographs bent slightly in his grip. He closed his eyes and sat down. “Secretary Liu — please give me a moment. Leave me alone.”
“Of course.” He studied his face carefully and left on quiet feet.
Back at his own desk, he hesitated — and then, against his better judgment, dialed Chao Musheng’s number.
“Secretary Liu?” The phone picked up immediately. “You needed me?”
“A personal matter.” He paused a few seconds. “Since Director Chen deliberately inserted Luo Yixuan into the entertainment division, the boss has been concerned he might try something else against you — so he arranged for someone to keep an eye on him. Today the person following him sent over some photos. After seeing them — the boss’s mood seems off.”
“Understood. Thanks, Secretary Liu.” He ended the call, stood, and started packing.
“Fourth — where are you going?” Third looked up from his desk. “Professor is taking attendance this afternoon.”
“It’s fine — it’s Professor Zhang’s class. I’ll ask for leave by phone.” He pulled open the dorm room door. “See you after Mid-Autumn.”
“All right — hope you have a good holiday.” Second pulled himself away from his computer. “Bring us back something good to eat.”
“Deal. Local specialties, I’ll get the good stuff.”
“Hold on — you’re going back home?” Third was surprised. “You and Xu Chenzhu are in the height of a new relationship — if you go back home for the holiday, what does he do?”
“He’s coming with me.”
“What?!” All three roommates shouted it at once. He quickly shut the door before the noise spread.
“So he’s meeting the parents.” Third gave a thumbs up. “Xu Chenzhu spends money on trending topics and giveaways to show off having you as a boyfriend — and you go straight to bringing him home to meet the family. You really are made for each other.”
“Thank you.” He checked the time. “But my made-for-each-other boyfriend is currently in a bad mood, and I need to go cheer him up.”
He opened the door and walked out quickly.
“Love really does find the soft spots.” Third shook his head. “Our Fourth almost never asks for leave.”
“Secretary Liu.” He stepped out of the office in the silver-grey vest Chao Musheng had chosen. “I’m leaving early today. Contact me by phone if anything comes up.”
“Of course, boss.”
“The boss really dressed carefully today.” An assistant watched him disappear down the corridor, speaking quietly. “He put this much thought into it — surely not meeting the parents?”
“You’re not wrong.” He raised an eyebrow. “Tonight, the boss is indeed going home with Consultant Chao to meet the family.”
The president’s office staff: They’re actually meeting the parents?!
He drove out of Kunlun Tower and headed straight for Jinghua.
The capital’s traffic was notorious — but today, for once, the roads were clear. Nearly half an hour less than usual.
Just as the car was about to reach Jinghua, a vehicle came out of nowhere and rammed into it.
CRASH.
The collision was enormous. And somehow, everyone around it simply continued doing whatever they were doing — as though neither the sound nor the sight reached them.
He stepped out of the crushed car, smoothed the wrinkles from his jacket. Tonight is the first time I meet Zhaozhao’s parents. I cannot be impolite.
“You came anyway. It’s just a shell — why care about it.” He stood on top of the wreckage. The car beneath him was scrap metal. He stared with naked envy. “The energy in your world really is extraordinary.”
If he could swallow this world’s energy, he could recover to his peak.
“Move.” He took off his glasses. “I don’t negotiate with homeless things.”
“What does a naive, earthbound useless creature like you understand — I am the Infinite God, born from the void!” His eyes went blood-red. “Everything can be made to serve me.”
“So you’re homeless and you also like to steal.” His voice was level. “A shameless waste of existence.”
The air moved without wind. Space folded and buckled. Cracks began appearing across Director Chen’s body.
“You think you can drive me out while you’re this weakened?” He hated him with everything he had. “If you die, this world becomes my fuel.”
He had lost more than half his power already, and borrowing a human body to sneak into this world had weakened him further. He had assumed they were similarly diminished — instead Xu Chenzhu had recovered substantially without his noticing.
He didn’t bother responding. A black fissure opened in the air behind him — a forced expulsion channel.
He went white. The flesh peeled away from his borrowed form until the round, pale body beneath was exposed, with its single, solitary tendril.
[Ding!]
Every player in the infinite space received a system notification.
[Invasion instance opening in one minute. All players prepare.]
“No one can come near here.” He — the Main God — watched blood seeping from the wounds on his hand. “Even gods can die. Is everything you’ve given for these useless creatures really worth it?”
A ringtone. Xu Chenzhu’s phone.
He hurled the Main God into the wreckage, wiped his hand, and answered.
“Impossible!”
It thrashed its tendril in fury. A phone call, inside a domain it had created? How?
It staggered to its feet. Every eye on its body spun out of control. Energy. It needed energy.