Chapter 21: A Tinge of Sorrow

In the damp and chilly dungeon of Prince Huai’s manor, the Imperial Inspector Liu Quan lay weakly on a soggy grass mat. His breath was faint, his eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling, his expression one of utter despair.

Dirty, blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his cheeks and limbs, still oozing in places. He looked as miserable as one could imagine.

During the attempted palace coup, he had been the most active participant—and suffered the harshest punishment.

Ren Ye had slashed him more than a dozen times. Not only had he carved a large character “一” on Liu’s face with the blade, but he had also severed all the tendons in his hands and feet, leaving him completely paralyzed.  [The Chinese character “一” means one.]

If not for the servants who had been tending to his injuries, feeding him medicine, and dressing his wounds these past days—out of “kindness” to keep him alive—he would likely have already perished.

Keeping him alive, of course, served a purpose. But before Ren Ye could plan his next move, he became preoccupied with the Gu-curse incident and temporarily forgot about the man.

What Ren Ye didn’t know, however, was that Liu Quan was also a player, and his initial task upon entering the game world was the “Palace Coup Mission,” which offered extremely lucrative rewards.

Soon after, Chief Historian Li Yan had secretly contacted him, offering him the central role in the coup along with a mystical treasure as compensation.

Liu Quan, belonging to the “Opportunist Faction,” found the task naturally aligned with his character. His mission parameters already included opposing Prince Huai, whom his memories identified as a total weakling incapable of any resistance. Furthermore, with Li Yan clearly a staunch loyalist of the Emperor, accepting the role of the central figure would allow Liu to double-dip on rewards, putting him leagues ahead of others.

After a quick calculation, it seemed like a winning deal!

Thus, he eagerly took up the role of the coup’s central figure and brazenly confronted Prince Huai in the Hall of Sincerity.

And then… the Princess Consort stepped in.

And then… the court ministers collectively fell silent. He frantically signaled to Li Yan, but the latter seemed blind.

And then… Prince Huai’s sword came down in a flurry of strikes. The entire ordeal was agonizing and utterly helpless.

And so… he was imprisoned from the very start, accomplishing nothing in the first act of the story but lying uselessly in the dungeon for three days.

His wounds festered, pus oozed, and his spirits plummeted—he felt a tinge of sorrow.

For three whole days, he couldn’t fathom why that idiot Prince Huai still hadn’t sought him out!  

Would it kill you to just talk to me? I’m an opportunist, remember? I could totally swear allegiance to you, too…

…

A chilly draft swept through the dungeon, ruffling Liu Quan’s disheveled hair, but it could not blow away the sorrow of his “一”-shaped face.

[Dear Player, the “Agents in the Shadows” storyline of the first act in Qingliang Prefecture has concluded. Unfortunately, as you are currently in a state of “imprisonment,” you are temporarily unable to leave this Star Gate.]

“?????”

Liu Quan’s near-death brain erupted with a string of question marks as he politely cursed in his heart:  

“WTF? I’m already like this, and you still won’t let me leave? I need treatment, too!”

[Desperation Quest: Within six hours of the second act’s commencement, if you cannot escape, you will be eliminated by Star Gate spirits or players of your faction.]

“?????”

“You’ve got to be kidding me—what kind of garbage Star Gate is this? Couldn’t you have just poisoned me outright at the start?!”  

[Death Quest Triggered – Final Words: Do you have regrets in life? Do you have secrets you can’t share? Do you carry unspeakable pain and remorse? You’ve experienced Liu Quan’s story. Now, leave behind your own story.]

“Shua!”  

A flash of light appeared, and in the dazed eyes of the Imperial Inspector Liu, a phantom of an ancient tree emerged. Its trunk had a hollow emitting a soft, luminous glow.  

It seemed to say: the Tree of Wisdom is willing to listen to all “wise” stories…  

Liu’s eyes slowly regained focus, and he spoke politely in his mind: “Ridiculous Star Gate, I’ll tell you a pointless story…”  

Moments later, in the dim cell, he involuntarily closed his eyes and began murmuring softly, pouring his thoughts into the hollow of the tree.  

The tree hollow seemed to possess a magical quality, irresistibly drawing out one’s deepest confessions.  

“My name in the real world is Li Biao, but here in the Stellar Scar Gate of Qingliang Town, I ‘play’ the role of Secretariat Office’s Imperial Inspector, Liu Quan.  

My identity tag is: Traitor, part of the Opportunist Faction.  

My entry item is a large jade seal, called: Imperial Seal of the Previous Dynasty.  

My special abilities are tied to this artifact, and the character aligns well with my style.  

In the real world, I used to be a drifter up north—a lackey for gang bosses, a fixer for wealthy clients, even a ‘driver’ for a time. You know, the kind that helps foreign scam groups withdraw stolen money from domestic accounts.  [driver here means money mule.]

In short, I did whatever brought money.  

Of course, walking along the riverbank, you’re bound to get your feet wet. I’ve been in prison twice, spending a total of more than three years behind bars.  

Back then, I lived by one principle: life is what it is. If you’ve got booze, meat, and women, even if you die tomorrow, it’s a life well-lived.  

But looking back, I wasn’t always like that.  

I was born in a rural village up north. From what I recall, kids from my area had pretty similar life trajectories:  

Go to school, pick up smoking, drop out, move to the city to work, then marry, have kids…  

The kids grow up, go to school, pick up smoking, drop out, and head to the city to work again.  

It was like a cycle—rarely broken. Sure, some people managed to escape it, but in my time, most just followed that path to the end.  

When I first moved to the city, I was honest and quiet. I started as an apprentice at a barbershop. The income wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to get by.  

Oh, and from the moment I stepped into society, I stopped asking my family for money.  

My parents had saved a small amount from their labor jobs for their funeral. I couldn’t bring myself to take it.  

My life took a sharp turn because of an ad—one you’re probably familiar with.  

‘Still worried about borrowing money?  

XXX Loans. All you need is an ID card to get a 100,000 yuan credit limit. Funds disbursed in two minutes. Safe, fast, and hassle-free, solving all your borrowing woes.’  

Damn, those were loan sharks. Anyone borrowing from them was a fool. The first time I saw the ad, I swiped right past it.  

Five minutes later:  

‘XXX Loans. All you need is an ID card…’  

There it was again. Why was it everywhere?  

Swipe.  

‘XXX Loans…’  

That ad was like an omnipresent ghost. At first, I resisted, rejected it, grew numb, and then, to my own horror, I began to feel a twinge of desire. Yes, the desire to borrow.  

At first, I was restrained, borrowing only 500 yuan. It was around the New Year. I bought myself a pair of knockoff sneakers and picked up some cheap clothes for my parents at the local market.  

It was the first time I ever gave them gifts. They were delighted, and relatives praised me for being successful.  

But from that point onward, it was as if I’d become addicted. 500, 1,000, 3,000… Whenever my wallet was empty, I thought about taking another online loan.  

Social events I used to avoid and indulgences I couldn’t afford—all became part of my life. During that time, I even became more outgoing and started dating someone…

Before long, my salary wasn’t enough to make payments anymore. I had to rob Peter to pay Paul, constantly filling one hole with another. In just six months, I found myself unable even to pay the interest. Across seven or eight legitimate loan platforms, I owed a total of over a hundred thousand yuan.  

You ask me, why didn’t I exercise some restraint? Hell, I wanted to!  

But spending money felt so damn good—so addictive!  

Money—it gives people confidence. It makes you feel respected!  

And those online loans were way too easy to get. Just a few taps, filling in some personal info, and boom—you had money. It was so convenient, so “user-friendly.”  

It’s worse than drugs. It’s utterly addictive, especially for those already poor—the poorer you are, the harder you fall for it!  

What happened next was predictable. Collection calls flooded in from everywhere. I quit my job and started stealing with a group of small-time thugs. Initially, I wanted to repay the loans. But then I realized the interest was too high, and the collectors had even gone to my parents’ house.  

Repay them? Hell no. I gave up completely.  

Later, I went to jail twice, spent over three years inside, and met more people living on society’s margins. My guts grew, and I walked further down the crooked path.  

When my parents passed away, I didn’t make it home. At the time, I was on the run and didn’t dare return.  

That’s the one thing in my life I regret the most and feel the guiltiest about.  

To this day, standing where I am now, I can’t say I regret much of my life. I don’t even bother blaming those so-called legitimate loan platforms. No one forced me to borrow money. It was my own insecurity, my poverty combined with a desire to show off, and my utter lack of self-control…  

Still, one question has lingered in my mind.  

We’ve always cracked down hard on drugs and achieved significant results.  

But I don’t understand—why can something even more addictive than drugs, like online loans, freely bombard people with advertisements? It’s everywhere—you can’t escape it!  

And who’s the one granting them the “legitimacy” they flaunt?  

I can’t figure it out.  

Can you?  

At 35, I stumbled upon the concept of Star Gates and became a player.  

I realized this world was far more profound than I had ever imagined. Inside the Star Gates, all beings are equal—everyone has the chance to ascend to godhood.  

Sure, you might lose your life in the process, but that fairness is something you’ll never find in the real world…  

Thank the heavens for giving me this chance. I’ll hold onto it tightly, strive to make something of myself, and aim to stand above others.  

If I truly manage to ascend to godhood… I’d like to see my parents again. I miss them…  

Alright, my name is Li Biao.  

I spent three months preparing, participated in two death-enabled preliminary missions, and was lucky enough to obtain the entry token for Qingliang Prefecture. For this, I even gave up two highly rewarding Star Gates…  

I had planned to make a big impact here, but I didn’t expect to be cut down right at the start.  

I feel so sad…  

If the heavens allow me to escape this time, I swear I’ll kill Prince Huai. He’s so goddamn stupid. Why hasn’t he come to question me yet??!”  

…

Shanghai.  

In a guest room on Lianhu Road No. 88, bright light flickered as a distorted Star Gate appeared.  

Ren Ye fell onto the bed from mid-air.  

“Damn it… finally back…” Completely exhausted, Ren Ye relaxed as he took in the familiar surroundings. His tense nerves unwound, and he fell asleep immediately.  

In the front building, a long-legged beauty sat in an office, snacking and watching a web series. Suddenly, her body froze.  

“Whoosh!”  

She shot up, grabbed her phone, and dialed a number. “Red-Eyed Berserker! Why the hell are you still gaming? The Seven-Shot Warlord is back. Yes, I sensed it.”  

…

Fifteen minutes later, Huang Wei and the long-legged beauty entered the room. Inside, they saw Ren Ye sprawled out on the bed, snoring loudly.  

“What… what’s going on?” Huang Wei was stunned. “Damn, stepping out and falling asleep right away? How big does your heart have to be?!”