Chapter 121: Can NPCs Be Possessed Too?

“Cards can actually possess NPCs inside the game?” Chen Fan couldn’t believe it for a moment. The VR world was clearly a fabrication—so where did the card’s magical power come from, slipping through some rift in time and space?

“It must be a misperception. Yes, that has to be it,” Chen Fan tried to convince himself, but his mind had long since drifted away from the game, and he completely forgot about hunting for bugs.

Zuo Lengchan sat upright in the center, his sleeves brushing aside as he spoke: “Gentlemen, you are all righteous heroes of the jianghu. It’s rare and fortunate that we gather here today at Mount Hua. In the contest for the title of Wulin Alliance Leader, each of you has expended great effort. But alas, only the strong can bear such a heavy responsibility. I hope all of you will compete earnestly today.”

“Tired of endless fighting, no doubt,” he continued. “Everyone here is a top-tier expert. Losing lives in this contest will only invite gossip. Better to die with honor in the martial world. Let us abandon the bloodshed and chaos, and return to true peace and purity. Therefore, the position of Wulin Alliance Leader today will be decided by civil contest, not by combat.”

“That’s not right,” Chen Fan thought, overturning his earlier judgment. “This reckless Zuo is definitely possessed by the card.”

“I have already instructed my disciples to draft a proclamation outlining the detailed procedures, which you will find on the desks before you. I believe you have all heard of it before arriving, so I will not repeat it. Let us cease idle chatter. This arena is set for your contest—may you all strive together,” Zuo Lengchan said.

Though Zuo was the head of the Songshan Sect, here atop Mount Hua he presided over the duel as host. Chen Fan didn’t bother delving deeper. His focus was entirely on this card.

“What kind of card could it be?”

Chen Fan’s worries went far beyond that. Not only were the card’s abilities unknown, but he feared that once the NPC gained the card’s power, it might develop traits of a higher intelligence being.

Most crucially, after exiting this game, would the card’s state change? If it couldn’t be retrieved, Chen Fan’s life might be doomed to await a twisted, explosive collapse.

No matter what, after nightfall Chen Fan resolved to personally confront the aloof and sinister Zuo Alliance Leader. Whether it helped or not, at least he would have tried—his usual consolation for failure.

Zuo went on reciting a long list of irrelevant rules. Looking up at the sky, Chen Fan saw a flock of geese flying in a V-formation amid the colorful clouds of sunset. “Well, the day grows late. I have arranged guest rooms for everyone. Please do not find fault with your accommodations,” Zuo announced.

“Just wait to be the first victim—I’ll come collect your corpse tomorrow morning,” Li Peijun teased with a smile.

Chen Fan’s train of thought was abruptly interrupted. He muttered a couple of non-committal replies and didn’t retort.

As Li Peijun left, he waved back, “Farewell, Lord Chen.”

Chen Fan snapped out of it. “Damn right you’re the eunuch! I curse you to be pierced by your own flying knife in your sleep!”

Closing the paper-thin wooden door behind him, Chen Fan began reconsidering his entire plan. Approaching Zuo shouldn’t be difficult—the Alliance Leader’s bed was nearby in the guest chambers. But how to confirm the card’s attributes? That was the real challenge.

Merely confirming wasn’t enough; he had to retrieve the card. Chen Fan didn’t know the thought processes of an NPC brain, nor which philosophical framework could be used to deceive it.

Or maybe this NPC’s bones were extraordinary, impervious to such tactics?

As Chen Fan turned, his head bumped against a dusty bookshelf. There were no secret manuals, only a hand-copied diary.

“Hm? The Sunflower Manual?” Chen Fan glanced at the cover. Recalling Li Peijun’s words, he couldn’t help but flip through it.

“Maybe I can use my sect’s martial arts in this wuxia storyline and beat that big dog Zuo till he’s gnashing his teeth. Scholars talk with words; the jianghu speaks with fists,” Chen Fan said with enthusiasm.

Though the handwriting was sloppy and the cover ragged as if chewed by mice, Chen Fan knew that only these hidden, obscure texts counted as truly peerless martial arts. The well-printed, glossy books were just candy for kids.

“To master this skill, one must first castrate oneself...” Chen Fan stared at the preface and drew a sharp breath. “Is it asking me to become a eunuch?”

Chen Fan didn’t know what losing his manhood in the VR world would feel like. Although not real, the sheer humiliation would surely be unbearable.

“I don’t believe it. I’m going to keep reading,” he declared, ignoring all caution.

[No need to castrate. That part was just a joke.]

“This engineer is a bit cheeky...” Chen Fan murmured, flipping to the next page.

[Sunflower Manual, Style One—Little Sunflower Mama’s Classroom Begins...]

Chen Fan read aloud, picturing the scene of practice in his mind.

A sissy on the edge of becoming a eunuch, performing some incomprehensible Orchid Tai Chi, mumbling, “Child’s cough won’t go away—likely broken.”

“Good heavens, what kind of ridiculous manual is this? Totally unreliable,” Chen Fan shook his head, continuing to leaf through.

[Sunflower Manual, Style Two—Sunflower Oil: stir-fry your dishes, fresh and light, jump and move...]

As he read, Chen Fan was pulled into an advertisement.

“Seriously... can anything be reliable?”

[Sunflower Manual, Style Three—Sunflower does not equal chrysanthemum, but the critical hit feels even stronger.]

“Unbelievable, this is so half-hearted,” Chen Fan grumbled, flipping directly to the last page.

[We hope this Sunflower Manual brings you joy in your studies and work. Wishing you academic progress, career success, and good health. Thank you for reading.]

“Ha ha ha! So this Sunflower Manual is a joke book,” Chen Fan laughed, his cultivation frenzy fading into madness. He tore a few pages and tossed the book aside carelessly.

“Knock knock knock~”

Suddenly, urgent knocking sounded at the door.

“Who’s there?” Chen Fan walked over. Through the thin paper, he vaguely saw the silhouette of a burly man. He called out twice, but there was no answer—only intermittent knocking persisted.

“Am I about to be the first victim? Could that guy be an assassin sent to kill me?” Chen Fan felt uneasy. Even if he killed the would-be assassin outside, strange accidents might still kill him before dawn—falling into a well while admiring the moon, pacing back and forth until collapsing, or dying from a bacteria in an antique.

In short: whether fortune or misfortune, fate couldn’t be escaped.

Chen Fan opened the door. Standing before him was a masked man clad entirely in black—a classic assassin’s garb.

“Who are you?” Chen Fan asked.

“Heh, who am I? I’ll show you right now,” the man said, arching his eyebrows as he reached up to pull off the black cloth covering his face.