Floor 3: The Hall of Respite.
The fifty survivors of the Caverns stood frozen, weapons drawn, adrenaline pumping. They had just stepped through the portal, expecting fire, demons, or poison.
Instead, they smelled... lavender?
"What sort of illusion array is this?" Ye Qingyu muttered, his sword humming with tension.
They stood in a massive hall. The floor was made of polished white marble that reflected their blood-stained robes. Above them, a chandelier made of thousands of crystals hung from a ceiling painted with frescoes of strange, naked cherubs playing harps.
Soft, rhythmic music played from nowhere. It wasn't the heroic drums of war, but a smooth, lazy sound (Elevator Jazz) that made their killing intent falter.
In the center of the hall stood a long counter made of mahogany. Behind it stood a figure.
It was a puppet. It looked like a young man made of brass and porcelain, wearing a crisp black vest and a white shirt. It had a permanent, painted smile.
"Welcome, Ascenders," the puppet spoke. Its voice was mechanical yet polite. "Congratulations on clearing the Tutorial Zone. You have entered the Safe Zone. Violence is prohibited in the lobby."
A burly rogue cultivator, his nerves frayed, roared. "I don't believe your tricks, demon!"
He threw a throwing knife at the puppet.
ZAP.
A bolt of red lightning shot from the ceiling. The knife—and the rogue's hand—vaporized instantly.
"Argh!" The rogue fell to his knees, clutching his stump.
"Violence is prohibited," the puppet repeated, its smile unchanged. "Please approach the counter to exchange your Contribution Points for rewards."
Silence fell. The display of power was absolute. This "Safe Zone" was guarded by a force far beyond their comprehension.
The Shopping Spree.
Fatty Wu was the first to recover. The smell of commerce was stronger than the smell of blood to him.
"Exchange?" Fatty Wu waddled to the counter. "Mr. Puppet, what can I buy?"
A holographic screen appeared in the air.
[The Heavenly Exchange]
Healing Elixir (Red Potion): 10 Points (Instantly heals flesh wounds).
Spirit Clarity Water (Cola): 5 Points (Restores Qi).
Meal Ration (Spicy Instant Noodles): 2 Points (Satiates hunger for 24 hours).
Weapon: Steel Katana: 50 Points.
Skill Book: Basic Fireball: 100 Points.
Fatty Wu's eyes sparkled. "I have 500 points from blocking damage! I'll take ten elixirs and... what is this 'Noodles'?"
Other cultivators cautiously approached. The hunger and injuries from Floor 2 were real. They needed supplies.
Zhang Wei approached the counter. He looked at his points: 150 (Awarded for Survival + Assist).
He bought two Healing Elixirs and a bowl of Noodles. He walked to a corner, sat on a strange, overly soft chair (a leather sofa), and began to feed the noodles to his sister, who was awake but pale inside the box.
"Eat, Xiao Mei," Zhang Wei whispered. "It is warm."
The Politics of Power.
While the masses shopped, the elite plotted.
Ye Qingyu stood in the center of the room, radiating the aura of a leader. He had cleaned the blood from his robes with a talisman.
"Listen to me!" Ye Qingyu announced. His voice carried authority.
The survivors turned to look.
"We are only on Floor 3," Ye Qingyu said. "The trials ahead will be harder. We cannot survive as scattered sand. The Azure Sword Sect invites all able-bodied cultivators to form an Alliance."
He swept his gaze across the room.
"We have the strength. We have the strategy. Join us, and your survival chances increase. Refuse, and you walk alone."
Disciples from the Iron Blood Sect glared, but their leaders were dead (Deacon Zhao and Liu Ming). They were leaderless. Reluctantly, many moved toward Ye Qingyu.
Ye Qingyu then looked at the neutrals. He walked over to Su Mei, the silent girl in black leather.
"You," Ye Qingyu said. "Your movement technique is excellent. Join my vanguard. I will guarantee you a share of the loot."
Su Mei looked at him, her eyes bored. She flipped a coin (a Jade she had stolen) and shook her head. "I work alone."
Ye Qingyu frowned, but he didn't press her. He turned to Zhang Wei.
"You there. Woodcutter. You survived the drop. You have guts. Carry my supplies, and I will protect you and your... box."
Zhang Wei looked up from feeding his sister. "Thank you, Young Master Ye. But my burden is heavy. I cannot carry yours too."
Ye Qingyu scoffed. "Fool. Opportunity knocks but once."
Finally, Ye Qingyu turned his gaze to the far corner.
There, leaning against a pillar, was Lin Fan.
Lin Fan was currently inspecting a ring on his finger. It was the Ring of the False King. It was a gaudy gold band with a crying face carved into it.
[Item: Ring of the False King]
[Effect: Strength +10, Agility +10.]
[Curse: 'The Face that Begs for a Beating'. Passive Charisma -50. Increases Aggro generation by 200%.]
"And you..." Ye Qingyu's voice dripped with sudden, irrational irritation.
He had planned to ask Lin Fan about the gun. He had planned to perhaps recruit him or threaten him politely. But the moment he looked at Lin Fan wearing that ring, a primal urge to punch him surged in Ye Qingyu's chest.
"You look absolutely disgusting," Ye Qingyu spat.
Lin Fan looked up. "Excuse me?"
"Your face," Ye Qingyu snarled. "It offends the Dao. You stole my kill, you stole the chest, and now you stand there looking smug. You are enemies with the Azure Sword Sect. No one is allowed to trade with him! Anyone who speaks to this trash is my enemy!"
The crowd murmured. They looked at Lin Fan.
"Yeah... he does look kind of annoying."
"Look at how he stands. So arrogant."
"I just want to kick him."
The Ring was working. It was amplifying their latent jealousy into active hatred.
Lin Fan looked around the room. He saw the sneers. He saw the isolation.
He laughed.
It wasn't a bitter laugh. It was the laugh of someone who had stopped caring about the rules of society.
"Good," Lin Fan said, polishing the ring. "Group up. Hold hands. Sing songs. It makes it easier for me to step over your corpses later."
He walked to the counter. The crowd parted, not out of respect, but out of disgust.
"Puppet," Lin Fan slapped a bag of Spirit Stones (looted from Liu Ming) onto the counter. "I want bullets. All of them."
The Sovereign's Palace.
"The Reputation System is working as intended," the Sovereign chuckled.
He was watching the live feed on a split screen. On one side, Ye Qingyu was giving a speech about honor and cooperation. On the other, Lin Fan was loading magazines with a face that looked like he wanted to eat the world.
"Master," Unit Alpha interrupted. "An anomaly in the Tower lobby."
"Oh?"
"The Woodcutter, Zhang Wei. He is approaching the System User."
The Sovereign looked.
Floor 3. The Corner.
Lin Fan sat alone, cleaning his gun. The hatred from the room was palpable.
A shadow fell over him.
Lin Fan looked up, his hand instantly going to the trigger. "Come to lecture me, 'Hero'?"
It was Zhang Wei. He held two steaming cups of "Spirit Clarity Water" (Cola).
Zhang Wei sat down on the floor next to Lin Fan's chair. He didn't look at Lin Fan; he looked at the bubbles in the drink.
"Everyone hates you," Zhang Wei said simply.
"They hate me because I'm strong," Lin Fan lied. "And because I took what they couldn't."
"No," Zhang Wei sipped the drink. "They hate you because you act like a villain. And that ring... it carries a chaotic aura."
Lin Fan narrowed his eyes. "So? Are you here to slay the villain?"
Zhang Wei placed one of the cups near Lin Fan's foot.
"You tried to shoot me," Zhang Wei said.
"I missed," Lin Fan replied coldly.
"You missed because you ran out of Qi," Zhang Wei corrected. "But you tried."
Zhang Wei stood up.
"I am not here to be your friend, Lin Fan. But I am not Ye Qingyu. I do not form mobs to bully one man. That is cowardly."
He walked away.
"Drink the water. The next floor will be hot. You will need the energy to run away from everyone who wants to kill you."
Lin Fan stared at the cup of black, fizzing liquid.
He wanted to kick it over. He wanted to shoot Zhang Wei in the back.
But his throat was parched.
He snatched the cup and downed it in one gulp. The sugar and caffeine hit his system, restoring a sliver of his Qi.
"Hypocrite," Lin Fan muttered, crushing the paper cup. But he didn't throw it at Zhang Wei.