Si Nuocheng hadn’t played games in years. First, he found them a waste of time. Second, they drained his energy. Third, they lacked any real challenge.
As someone who always pulled legendary cards on his first draw, consistently crafted top-tier items, looted orange-grade weapons from random boxes, and ranked first in esports like an overpowered cheat, Si Nuocheng quickly earned titles like “The Developer’s Favorite Son,” “Living Glitch,” and “You’re Basically the GM, Aren’t You?”. After securing the “Three Big Achievements,” Young Master Si completely lost interest in gaming.
Decisively quitting the scene, he used his red envelope money to start a gaming company, earning his first bucket of gold in the process. From then on, his ventures in money-making grew smoother, expanding into various industries. Even though his first company still brought him significant quarterly profits, he no longer cared much about it.
However, “not caring” didn’t mean “being clueless.”
Even after leaving the gaming world, Si Nuocheng still knew the basics. If his memory served, a profession like “High Priest” should specialize in healing and magical attacks, right?
Setting the newspaper down, Si Nuocheng carefully examined the Silver Branch Moon Crown atop Ji Si’s head. It appeared to be made of several intricately entwined branches, detailed with lifelike veins. The silver leaves shimmered with a moonlit glow, accented by the faint twinkle of stars. Both its craftsmanship and level of detail marked it as a premium item.
It looked just like high-quality game merchandise crafted from 999-purity silver…
Sensing something, Ji Si turned his head. Si Nuocheng coughed lightly, raised his newspaper, and leisurely turned a page, muttering, “The property at Yujing Courtyard needs to be purchased. Not buying it would be a loss.”
Ji Si turned back to the scenery outside, not wanting to disturb the businessman lost in his musings.
Lowering his newspaper without a sound, Si Nuocheng’s scrutinizing gaze drifted to Ji Si’s white robe. It featured a silver-embroidered pattern, with intricate, ornate designs on the collar and flowing cloud-like sleeves. The material resembled silk but wasn’t thin; it also seemed like brocade but wasn’t too heavy. Though understated and unflashy, it exuded elegance and refinement.
It was obviously a handcrafted, high-end custom outfit modeled after a game character—certainly not cheap…
Ji Si let out a small sigh and slowly turned his face. Si Nuocheng, unfazed, calmly raised the newspaper again, turning another page with practiced ease. This time, he pretended to snap a photo with his phone. “Gotta take a picture of this property too. Definitely going to buy it.”
Ji Si: …
After a long silence, Si Nuocheng subtly lowered the newspaper blocking his face, preparing to inspect the wood and lacquer used for Ji Si’s staff.
To his surprise, instead of Ji Si’s profile gazing at the scenery, he was met with Ji Si staring directly at him, unblinking.
Si Nuocheng: …
Ji Si smiled politely. “Had your fill of staring?”
“No,” Si Nuocheng instinctively replied.
“…”
The silence in the small two-seater space became palpable. The atmosphere turned awkward as both felt an urgent need to explain themselves but knew any words would only dig the hole deeper.
Fortunately, both were masters at playing dumb and thick-skinned enough to withstand even an eighteen-ton truck rolling over. After a three-second daze and a quick white lie, the situation passed like it never happened.
Si Nuocheng calmly flicked his newspaper, adopting the composure of a seasoned commuter reading the news. “That ‘High Priest JS’ who posted the prophecy online—was that you?”
Lowering his voice to avoid drawing attention, he asked with a casual yet deliberate tone.
Ji Si admitted openly, “Yes, that was me.”
Si Nuocheng flicked his newspaper again, now resembling a financial guru analyzing stock trends. “Why use the name ‘High Priest’? Are you really a High Priest?”
Ji Si responded evenly, “Yes, that’s my profession.”
Si Nuocheng: …
Si Nuocheng took a deep breath and pressed on, “This profession of yours—what are its main attributes? What’s its specialty?”
Ji Si responded with practiced ease, “It’s an all-around type of profession. When there’s no healer, I can save lives. When the warriors go berserk, I can control the field. If the ranged fighters are injured, I step in as backup. On quieter days, I serve as the core of formations and a lookout. And when I’ve got downtime, I tell fortunes and do divinations to earn points.”
Si Nuocheng continued to probe, “Where does one even find a profession like ‘High Priest’?”
What kind of game would create such a ridiculously unbalanced profession? Any developer doing this is just asking to upset regular players. From his perspective, the game was doomed to fail.
Ji Si’s eyes turned nostalgic. “The Samsara Space. But it’s already shattered.”
Si Nuocheng: … No wonder I’ve never heard of it. Figures—it went under!
So Ji Si, possessing some unique abilities, must’ve chosen the High Priest class in a game because it matched his personality. He probably got too immersed in the game, neglecting his studies, and ended up enrolling at Green River Excavator College, where he split his time between theory in the morning and practical digging in the afternoon.
Now that he thought about it, the theory made a lot of sense… The truth was plain as day.
Seeing Si Nuocheng not only accept this explanation without question but also wear a “That checks out” expression, Ji Si—despite all his worldly experience—couldn’t help but admire Si Nuocheng’s mindset and rationality.
Ji Si’s life had been extraordinary, shaping him into who he was today. On the other hand, Si Nuocheng had lived for over two decades under Earth’s ordinary worldview, yet he could still approach everything with intelligence and open-mindedness. That was no small feat.
No wonder he was so sharp—it was truly a pleasure interacting with someone like him. Ji Si was very satisfied.
Thus, the two of them, in a cross-realm mental dialogue, miraculously connected on the same wavelength. After a delightful conversation, they both believed they had gained a deeper understanding of each other.
—
The Ningyuan Mountain Range stretched across Qu Kang Province, spanning thousands of miles and winding like a dragon. To the east, it bordered the land of propriety and culture; to the west, the ancient imperial capital; to the south, the great rivers; and to the north, the bustling metropolis. It was a heritage site that combined humanity, ecology, tourism, and history, as well as a natural barrier against foreign invasions in the northern part of Central Continent.
In winter, snow blanketed the 3,000-meter-high peaks. Dead trees were draped in white, evergreens stood proud, wild pheasants fell silent, and foxes and bears were nowhere to be found. Developers had paused their projects midway up the mountains, leaving new hiking paths marked only by fresh footprints.
As snow began to fall again, not a single wild creature ventured into the human-occupied areas to forage.
Shen Yunting exhaled a puff of white breath, scanning his surroundings before pressing the communicator by his ear. “Report to headquarters: Falcon Team 31 has reached Ningbei Zone 0031. No abnormalities detected so far.”
“Copy.”
Since their arrival in Qu Kang on the 29th, they had set off along their designated routes. Unfortunately, the mountain range was vast, and the prophecy hadn’t specified where disaster would strike. Left with no choice, the forces split into small teams, each assigned to different areas.
Though numbering in the thousands, the manpower wasn’t much considering the mountain’s size. Among them were even some temporarily reassigned police officers. But with sufficient caution, they could hold their own against a giant serpent or buy time for reinforcements against a demon.
On another end, Jiang Ziying pressed her communicator and reported, “Headquarters, Falcon Team 36 has reached Ningbei Zone 0036. No abnormalities detected.”
“Copy.”
Next came reports from Falcon Team 93, followed by other three-digit teams, and finally, the four-digit teams standing by.
Even with so many people spread across the mountain, it felt empty and desolate. The soldiers blended into the snow-covered forest, standing as silent sentinels. Over time, they became one with the environment.
Snow fell harder, piling on their shoulders.
Time blurred in the timeless mountains, with most of the day passing unnoticed. The prophecy seemed to fizzle out, with not even a shadow of a threat in sight. But everyone would rather stand in the cold for nothing than see it come true.
At noon, they took a 15-minute break for rations. In the afternoon, they remained on high alert.
Still, nothing appeared. Nothing happened. And yet, this eerie calm made seasoned experts all the more anxious.
“It’s not natural. It’s too quiet,” muttered an old professor in a tent at the foot of the mountain. Lowering his binoculars, he shook his head repeatedly. “I’ve spent ten years in Ningyuan. Around this time, rabbits usually come down to nibble on grass, and foxes hunt the rabbits. But today, there’s nothing.”
“Not even a bird has taken flight. It’s… far too quiet.” The entire mountain range was steeped in deathly silence, broken only by the vitality of the newcomers.
Cold winds carrying the scent of humans swept through the forest, curling into deep, bottomless caves. The smell of fresh blood and life stirred the carnivores within.
As darkness descended early, rustling sounds began to grow. In the pitch-black depths, pairs of blood-red eyes flickered to life. Something was breaking through the soil, clawing its way to the surface!
“Caw—!” The sudden flurry of birds breaking into the sky shattered the day-long silence, their shrill warning cries piercing the air.
The soldiers immediately abandoned their dinner, grabbed their weapons, and began erasing all traces of their presence while donning night vision gear. They huddled together, their vigilance heightened.
“Captain…” came a faint voice seeking instructions.
“Shh!” Shen Yunting raised a hand to signal for silence, his narrowed eyes fixed in one direction. “They’re coming…” He heard the crunch of snow being pushed aside, the sound growing louder and spreading in all directions.
What was it?
Instinctively, everyone activated their team-wide communication and raised their guns, aiming at the trembling bushes ahead. Then, a dark, tidal wave of “monsters” surged toward them.
Rats!
An endless swarm of giant rats, each bigger than a cat and astonishingly strong. Wherever they passed, grass, bark, and insects vanished like locusts in a plague. For a moment, the humans locked eyes with the rats’ greedy, glinting pupils, frozen in shock.
“Open fire!” came the desperate scream as they fought tooth and nail to resist.
They hadn’t expected the prophecy to be true, nor had they imagined that Ningyuan’s awakening “monsters” would be a terrifying horde of rats.
They’d thought a thousand people per zone was sufficient, thought mutual support would buy time, thought even if they couldn’t win, it wouldn’t lead to total annihilation. But reality crushed their expectations. The truth hit like a slap to the face, raw and unforgiving.
Would they be eaten alive? Starving rats were far more terrifying than locusts or army ants.
If they failed to hold the line, what would happen to the villages, towns, and cities below the mountain? But if they held their ground, their ammunition would eventually run out. There were just too many of them—too many to stop.
“Hold the line!” Shen Yunting’s eyes burned red. “Kill as many as you can! Headquarters, start evacuating civilians immediately!”
“Evacuate now!” Jiang Ziying roared. “We can’t hold out for long—it’s rats! A massive swarm of man-eating rats!”
Amid the chaos of gunfire and screams, a chilling sound came through their headsets—chewing. A wet, crunching sound, like bones and flesh being torn apart.
To their horror, the person being eaten was still alive.
He sobbed and shouted, “Leave me! Run!”
Death cast its shadow over Ningyuan.
Meanwhile, on a path leading to the nearest village, a staff plunged mercilessly into the skull of the first giant rat.
Blood splattered everywhere.
Ji Si smiled coldly. “This path is closed.”
—
Author’s Note:
Ji Si: Since you can handle everything without dying of fright, I’ll stop holding back and go all out!
Si Nuocheng: You think this is a game where you can just… Holy crap! AHHH! WHAT THE HELL?!
Later, Si Nuocheng called Jiang Qining: “You were right. I saw God. Pure 24K gold.”
Jiang Qining: … Has the seawater in your brain not dried out yet?
