Chapter 100: A Very Depressed Yao Sen

It was close to noon, and the sun was shining brightly.

In the Capital City, in the parking lot of a hotel, an old off-road vehicle was parked in a corner with its engine off. The windows were covered with dark-tinted film.

Inside the car, Yao Sen leaned back in the driver’s seat, arms crossed, staring expressionlessly at the bar across the street—its sign read “Annual Rings.”

According to the informant introduced by Old He, a man named Ren Daguo, an ordinary person, was bound to walk out of that bar.

Lying in wait was a dull and tedious task, one that easily led the mind to wander into the past…

Yao Sen’s face was blank, his eyes devoid of life, his entire expression steeped in weariness and decay.

He looked like a man whose life had already rotted away, waiting only to fester, exuding an aura of complete defeat.

But Yao Sen had not always been like this. Three years ago, he had already been a second-stage player of a Star Gate. Under normal circumstances, he should now be challenging the third-stage class inheritance quest—or perhaps he would have already succeeded, standing at the threshold of the third stage.

Every major advancement in Star Gate was a qualitative leap for a player. It unlocked new inheritance abilities, brought significant physical transformations, greatly enhanced supernatural powers, and granted higher-tier exploration privileges within the Star Gate—even offering a chance to obtain rare and precious items.

In short, Yao Sen should have had a bright and colorful future, just like other players.

But the battle three years ago had utterly crushed him, leaving him trapped in the past.

Yao Sen had originally been a player from the Freedom Faction. He had formed a small team of eight players with the aim of mutual aid—working together to clear multiplayer Star Gate instances, relying on each other for support, and avoiding the bullying of larger player factions.

His team’s approach was peaceful and amicable. They had no interest in faction conflicts and avoided crossing any moral lines for personal gain—no assassinations, kidnappings, or politically motivated under-the-table dealings.

Yao Sen and his teammates understood well that they were just independent players, unable to afford offending anyone. So they stuck to their principles, playing it safe, content to be nothing more than Star Gate miners.

The term Star Gate miner was a playful label for those who dedicated themselves to grinding instances and completing missions in Star Gate—earning Stellar Essence, accumulating items, and steadily growing stronger, all while avoiding unnecessary conflicts.

Such players generally stayed out of trouble, forming small, close-knit teams. As long as they didn’t stir up conflicts, they were rarely targeted by larger factions. Besides, these players often led stable lives in the real world. Since Stellar Essence could be materialized and items could be traded between players, it was entirely possible to convert in-game wealth into real-world currency.

That peaceful life had come to an abrupt end three years ago.

Due to a single miscalculation by Yao Sen, his team got caught up in a battle that led to the deaths of all seven of his teammates…

Among the dead were his wife, his younger brother, and the close friends who had fought by his side for years.

Yao Sen had lost his parents at an early age and had spent his late teens struggling at the bottom of society. His wife, his brother, and his teammates had been everything to him.

They had grown together, faced life-and-death trials together, witnessed their lives improving together, shared laughter together, and comforted each other in sorrow…

And so, when they were gone, Yao Sen completely collapsed—mentally and emotionally.

He blamed himself for their deaths, convinced that his mistake had cost them their lives.

And… if not for the fact that Yao Sen had been carrying a very precious item… If not for the fact that, in their final moments, his wife had forced him to activate it…

He would have died too—perished alongside them in that battle.

That item was called the Time Music Box, a hand-cranked wooden music box with a smooth, polished surface and an exquisite texture.

It looked like an antique masterpiece that might sit atop a noble’s desk in an ancient castle.

Yao Sen had stumbled upon the Time Music Box while completing his second-stage class inheritance quest.

It had no offensive capabilities—it was a strange, auxiliary-type teleportation item.

…

Inside the car.

Yao Sen continued to stare at the Annual Rings bar, a plan already forming in his mind.

Although the Time Music Box had a retroactive teleportation ability, it came with many limitations.

Yao Sen had thought it over countless times and had decided that he couldn’t act recklessly. He needed the perfect opportunity to execute his plan.

Tap, tap!

Just then, footsteps echoed from inside the Annual Rings bar.

Ren Daguo stepped out, dressed in an ordinary T-shirt and casual pants, wearing a pair of knockoff sneakers worth forty yuan.

Tucked under his right arm was a large oil-paper bag, its contents unknown.

Six Vigil Keepers followed behind him. One of them, a young woman, spoke up, “Mr. Ren, headquarters has issued orders—we must escort you back and safely hand you over to Boss Yan and Huang Wei.”

Ren Daguo sighed helplessly. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Thank you for understanding.” The Vigil Keeper, dressed in sportswear, had no idea why Ren Daguo had spent nearly twenty hours in Vermillion Bird City. But due to his status, ensuring his safety was a top priority.

In the parking lot, Yao Sen straightened up, pulled his seat forward, and prepared to start the car—his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Ren Daguo’s retreating figure.

Screech!

At the same time, two off-road vehicles pulled up in front of the bar. The young Vigil Keeper woman responsible for escorting Ren Daguo back smiled and said, “You can take the front vehicle.”

At that moment, as Ren Daguo held onto the oiled paper bag, his gaze suddenly froze. He turned his head to scan the surrounding streets.

“What’s wrong?” the Vigil Keeper woman asked, puzzled.

“I’m hungry.” Ren Daguo’s eyes landed on a noodle shop across the street. He turned to the six Vigil Keepers and invited them, “I haven’t really eaten anything at your headquarters. Let’s grab a bowl of noodles before heading back.”

“Uh… sure.” The Vigil Keeper woman hesitated for a moment before replying, “Then let me treat you.”

“Wow, that generous?” Ren Daguo joked with a smile.

“Our salaries are decent. If you want to eat something better, that’s fine too, but it has to be somewhere nearby.” The young woman was very cheerful, a dimple appearing on her right cheek as she smiled.

“I’ll treat instead. I feel bad always troubling you guys,” Ren Daguo said, despite putting on a socially anxious expression. He still enthusiastically urged them, “Come on, let’s go together. We’ll head back after we eat.”

Seeing him insist, the others could only follow along.

They crossed the street and entered a rather simple noodle shop. The dining area wasn’t large, with only seven or eight tables, but since the lunch rush had passed, there weren’t many customers.

“Don’t be shy, order whatever you like.” After saying this, Ren Daguo walked up to the counter and ordered a bowl of beef noodles, two small side dishes, and casually grabbed two cloves of garlic.

Outside, after stepping out of the worn-out off-road vehicle, Yao Sen blended into the crowd, pretending to be just another pedestrian as he wandered along the street.

His main goal was to observe what kind of people the Vigil Keepers protecting Ren Daguo were and whether there would be a shift change at night.

At such a close distance, he wasn’t too worried about being exposed. First, the street was crowded with people; second, as long as he didn’t use any supernatural abilities, the Vigil Keepers wouldn’t be able to detect his presence.

As Yao Sen moved, Ren Daguo’s beef noodles were ready. He went to the counter to pick them up, then glanced around the dining area. “You guys go ahead and eat. I’ll sit over here to check something.”

“Alright,” the young woman replied.

With that, Ren Daguo carried his bowl of beef noodles to a separate table. He reached into his oiled paper bag and pulled out a worn-out leather notebook and an ordinary black gel pen.

The notebook’s cover was cracked, its edges curled, and there were many greasy stains on it, giving off the impression that… Ren Daguo was quite unkempt.

He hunched over the table, eating his beef noodles while scribbling in the notebook.

At one point, he even sent two voice messages via social media:

“Yeah, I’m working on it. Stop rushing me. Just thought of two details—I’ll tidy them up when I’m done and send them over.”

Nearby, the young woman eating a bowl of chili-laden oil-splashed noodles stole a glance at Ren Daguo and couldn’t help but admire him. “Wow… what a dedicated writer.”

“Of course. The more they write, the more they earn. Who wouldn’t work hard?” her colleague replied.

“Ah, so spicy!” The young woman fanned her oily lips, withdrew her gaze from Ren Daguo, and reached for the soda on the table.

Outside, Yao Sen pulled out a cigarette pack, casually observing the noodle shop while strolling along the street corner.

Click!

The lighter sparked, igniting the cigarette. Yao Sen took a step forward, his foot landing on an iron grate covering a storm drain.

Crack!

A crisp sound echoed as the metal grate, corroded by rust, suddenly fractured.

One of the rusted bars snapped under Yao Sen’s foot.

Whoosh!

His right side lurched downward as his foot plunged into the gap, his ankle getting caught in the middle of the grate.

“Fuck!”

Even with his usual downcast demeanor and stable emotions, Yao Sen couldn’t help but feel unlucky at this moment, swearing under his breath.

Frowning, he tried to pull his right leg free, but the opening was too narrow, and his ankle was wedged tightly. After two attempts, he still couldn’t get it out.

Vroom!

Just then, at an intersection down another street, a heavy box truck was speeding along at about 70 mph.

Inside the cab, the driver was engrossed in an audiobook.

Thud!

Suddenly, his phone, placed on a dashboard mount, fell due to the vehicle’s jolt.

However, since the phone was plugged into a charging cable, it didn’t hit the floor immediately. It dangled midair, caught by the cable near the driver’s right leg.

“Damn, I really need to replace this crappy mount,” the driver grumbled, glancing down to grab the phone.

Unexpectedly, after two sways, the phone disconnected from the charging cable and dropped again.

The driver instinctively bent down to catch it.

Smack!

He caught the phone. But as he lifted his head, he realized the truck had veered off course—heading straight for a parked car on the roadside.

“Shit!”

Panicking, the driver yanked the steering wheel.

The truck swerved violently to the side, causing the vehicle to rock. Trying to regain control, he steered into the side street, attempting to stabilize the truck.

Clang!

It was the right decision—after a violent jolt, the truck straightened out and continued down the side road.

However, as the driver looked up, he saw a man standing over a storm drain, frantically pulling at his trapped leg.

The truck was still moving at least 60 mph.

Above the drain, Yao Sen heard the tires screeching against the asphalt. He whipped his head around—only to see a massive truck hurtling straight toward him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”