Liu Jiayi expressionlessly raised the bottle of poison.
Bai Liu glanced at the poisonous mist swirling inside the glass vial in her hand and immediately corrected himself.
“Although it was very quiet, I heard it perfectly clearly. Truly a thunderous apology. Exactly what I’d expect from Little Friend Liu Jiayi.”
“...”
Liu Jiayi rubbed her forehead tiredly.
“Stop trying to distract me with nonsense before running off to do something dangerous alone again. I’m asking because I want to know one thing—do you actually have a plan?”
Bai Liu never discussed plans with his teammates.
He always looked approachable, smiling, easygoing—but once it came time to execute a strategy, he became an absolute dictator. He only required the people around him to follow orders and charge forward. He never allowed anyone to question his decisions—
Because he would never change the plan anyway.
So in his view, discussing it beforehand was meaningless.
After all, this mentally unstable king always stood at the very front of his own dangerous schemes.
“If you have a plan, then communicate properly with your teammates...” As a reserve tactician who had undergone formal league training, Liu Jiayi found someone like Bai Liu deeply frustrating. “If something unexpected happens during execution, I can make adjustments and coordinate support on my side.”
Bai Liu quietly looked at her without speaking.
Liu Jiayi lifted her head and met his gaze directly.
“I know why you don’t tell people your plans. Your strategies are too extreme. The margin for error is practically nonexistent. Once something deviates from your expectations, there’s almost no way to recover. That’s why, to you, explaining the plan or not explaining it makes no real difference.”
“You understand games extremely well, so your gamble-like strategies always succeed.”
“But that only works in a single-player game.”
“In league matches, this is the worst kind of tactical thinking.”
Liu Jiayi spoke with complete seriousness.
“What you’re facing now isn’t a static dungeon mechanic. It’s five highly coordinated players with mobility, teamwork, and high stats. You’re not just trying to beat the game—you’re trying to beat people.”
“If you keep pursuing this kind of ‘high-risk, winner-takes-all’ strategy, you’re going to lose badly. The variables created by teammates are far more complicated than the variables inside a game.”
“Don’t underestimate your future opponents.” Liu Jiayi took a breath and stepped closer with her fists clenched. “And don’t underestimate the teammates you chose yourself.”
“Tell me the plan.”
Bai Liu stared at Liu Jiayi for several seconds.
She didn’t avoid his gaze.
Everything Liu Jiayi said was correct.
Without realizing it, Bai Liu had long grown accustomed to fighting alone. When working with others, he merely issued instructions rather than coordinating with them as equals.
The players he’d worked with before usually fell into two categories.
One type simply couldn’t keep up with his thought process because their Intelligence stats were too low—people like Mu Shicheng.
The other type could keep up intellectually, but their dependence on Bai Liu and their psychological burdens prevented them from properly participating—people like Mu Ke.
Neither type could truly join the planning stage of Bai Liu’s strategies because the input they provided rarely had practical value.
As a result, Bai Liu’s plans naturally evolved into the kind of strategy that either led to “instant wealth overnight” or complete annihilation.
In multiplayer competitive leagues, that style was obviously unsustainable.
Liu Jiayi, after setting aside emotional interference, was the first teammate Bai Liu had encountered with outstanding base stats, combat awareness, and competitive thinking all at once.
In terms of game experience, formal training, and understanding of league mechanics, Liu Jiayi was actually far more mature and stable than Bai Liu himself.
It was no wonder the Kings Guild had cultivated her as one of their core future players.
She existed on an entirely different level from the players Bai Liu had previously met.
Even in the previous game, while burdened by the emotional weakness that was Liu Huai, she had still managed to manipulate two league-level players with ease before ultimately triggering the main storyline to rescue Bai Liu.
After exiting the game, she was also the first person to calmly seek Bai Liu out—
And the first to realize Tang Erda’s condition was abnormal and step in front of Bai Liu to block the bullet.
No matter how one looked at it, Liu Jiayi was absolutely the kind of teammate worth seriously communicating with.
And the advice she offered Bai Liu was both objective and effective.
To Liu Jiayi’s surprise, Bai Liu crouched down until they were at eye level and admitted his mistake with startling honesty.
“You’re right. I didn’t think things through carefully enough. I should’ve discussed the plan with you.”
Liu Jiayi froze.
Bai Liu sat cross-legged on the floor so she wouldn’t need to tilt her head upward. Then he opened his system panel toward her without any reservation.
“My current plan is this...”
“...Their primary objective should be killing me and taking you back. If that’s the case, then we can approach it like this...”
After listening carefully from beginning to end, Liu Jiayi immediately rejected it.
“No. This turns you into solitary bait. Trying to lure five people alone is far too dangerous. If anything goes wrong, you won’t even have a chance to escape. You’ll die for certain.”
Bai Liu asked modestly, “Then how can the risk be lowered?”
Liu Jiayi fell silent in thought before opening her own system panel. She searched through her item inventory for a long time before finally taking out an Ace of Hearts playing card.
“...This is a skill-storage card the Queen gave me. It’s a one-time-use trump card meant for self-protection.”
She slowly exhaled before handing the card to Bai Liu.
“Based on the strategy you just described, I think this item might help reduce your risk.”
Bai Liu lowered his gaze toward the Ace of Hearts.
“...Jiayi, you’re suggesting that both of us become bait of equal value.”
Only then did he finally reach out and take the card between two fingers. A faint smile curved at the corner of his lips.
“But I trust your ability to survive as bait.”
“This gives me a very interesting tactical idea.”
Then Bai Liu casually asked:
“Among those people, is there anyone you’re especially close to?”
Liu Jiayi paused.
“...Yes. Qi Yifang. I’ve saved him before. More than once.”
“Oh.” Bai Liu’s expression brightened slightly. “Hearing the processor explain the workflow earlier reminded me of something. Qi Yifang’s personal skill is actually extremely useful during the processing stages.”
Halfway through walking forward, Bai Liu suddenly stopped and turned around.
The smile on his face became so gentle it was almost frightening.
“Really? Then can you tell me more about him?”
Liu Jiayi: “...”
A chill instantly ran down her spine.
Bai Liu’s expression practically screamed:
[Wow. Another laborer delivered directly to my doorstep.]
...Sorry, Qi Yifang.
Liu Jiayi silently apologized in her heart.
——————
Qi Yifang sneezed.
He rubbed his nose while struggling into the thick black protective suit, hopping on one foot as he tugged his boots on.
The other two Kings Guild players changing clothes nearby both looked miserable.
Although they hadn’t personally cleared many Level 3 games, they’d studied plenty of gameplay videos before.
But this was the first time they’d encountered a dungeon with such absurd rules.
Two hundred and forty kilograms of dried roses per day—
This wasn’t a game anymore.
This was straight-up factory labor.
“Brother Qi, this workload is insane,” one of the players complained. “The three of us together need to process 720 kilograms of dried roses every single day. We still have to sort them, dry them, roast them, and process them afterward. There’s nowhere near enough time!”
Qi Yifang finally finished changing and patted down the thick protective suit, though he still felt somewhat uncomfortable inside it.
As he recalled the processing procedures he had observed earlier in the open-air plaza—
Sorting.
Sun-drying.
Roasting.
Processing.
—his expression remained completely relaxed.
Not only was he unpanicked, he even casually slapped the two anxious players on the shoulders and gave them a confident thumbs-up accompanied by a dazzling grin.
“I can’t help much with harvesting the roses.”
“But leave those three processing stages to me.”
The two Kings Guild players exchanged glances.
Then realization hit them simultaneously.
Right!
Qi Yifang’s ability was perfect for this kind of work!
He was a [Weather Forecaster]!
——————
Tang Erda adjusted the collar of his protective suit, but his ankles were still exposed. He shifted uncomfortably. The zipper around the waist and chest had been stretched almost to the limit.
The suit was clearly too small for him.
The factory worker who had brought him over scratched his head helplessly.
“This is already the largest protective suit we have. Wait here for a moment—I’ll see if I can find an extra-large one.”
The worker’s gaze drifted subtly toward Tang Erda’s forearms, which strained tightly against the fabric.
“...You’re too tall.”
“And your muscles are way too developed...”
This new processor looked more like a professional athlete than a factory worker.
Tang Erda ignored the scrutinizing stare entirely. He removed the protective suit and politely handed it back.
“Sorry for the trouble.”
“But having muscles is a good thing.” The worker laughed while taking it. “Processing work is physically exhausting. Work hard. Once you’re promoted from processor to factory worker, you’ll officially become permanent employees and won’t be dismissed so easily.”
Just as the worker turned to leave, the usually silent Tang Erda suddenly spoke.
“Do processing workers usually work together?”
The worker paused.
“Not exactly. The dried-rose processing zones inside the factory are divided into East, South, West, and North ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) sections. The outdoor drying areas are huge, and technically you can dry roses near the flower fields too...”
“But if you dry them outside, someone has to guard them. Otherwise the Refugees will steal them. So most people prefer drying them inside the factory.”
He shook his head.
“Of course, rookie processors like you probably won’t get space inside. The veteran workers will push you out. You’ll most likely end up drying your roses outside the factory.”
Tang Erda continued calmly:
“Is there any place where all processors gather together?”
The worker thought for a moment.
“Yes. After sun-drying is complete, everyone gathers at the northern factory entrance for centralized weighing.”
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, the worker added another warning while carrying over a new set of clothes.
“Oh, right. One more thing.”
“Pay close attention to the weather while drying the roses. If it rains, you’re finished.”
“Dried roses that fail to dry properly will start molding. And if the roses mold, the factory punishes the processors for wasting materials.”
The disclaimer at the end is just the translator’s personal commentary and not part of the novel itself, so it shouldn’t be included in a clean edited release.
