Chapter 9: Do You Crave Power?

Chen Fan gazed at the blank wolf card, his mood weighed down. He opened his palm—no wolf claws there. He touched the back of his head—no tail either. He certainly had no desire to howl.

“I thought you’d never notice, but you figured it out on the second day.” The greeting was reminiscent of those exchanges between powerful figures in movies. Chen Fan turned around; behind him was only the bed, nothing else in sight.

“No need to look, it’s the card right in front of you.” Chen Fan felt a twinge of panic, but curiosity prevailed. He looked around and realized it was the Elder card speaking. Memories of chilling scenes from horror films flashed through his mind; he dreaded the card’s figure would crawl out and possess him, so he kept a safe distance.

“Is my ability something you’ve given to me?” Chen Fan glanced at the mirror and noticed a change in his eyes, a deep gaze now tinged with translucent emerald.

“Are these wolf’s eyes?” He raised his hand, but felt no urge to lick it.

“That’s right. Every day at midnight, your abilities are refreshed. Each identity card represents a different attribute: some are powerful, others trivial, but all last only one day.” Chen Fan stared at the Elder card. When it spoke, its mouth moved, matching the words perfectly—not a pre-recorded voice.

“So, yesterday I was able to choose correctly because my role was the Seer?” Chen Fan guessed, a hint of disappointment lingering.

“Clairvoyance and mind-reading—those were your abilities yesterday. Your uncanny intuition was the feedback from clairvoyance.” Seeing no hostility, Chen Fan let his guard down. “But I don’t feel like I can control these abilities. It was more like unconscious instinct. Now that I know you’re here, can I choose my identity and ability each day?”

There were many questions, and the Elder seemed troubled, scratching his tangled white hair as he replied, “Control depends on how well you merge with your host. Only after you’ve adapted to all the identity cards can you freely choose your daily role. Until the New Moon event arrives, the abilities are assigned randomly each day.”

“So you mean each role’s abilities might evolve over time?” Chen Fan was feeling optimistic, but suddenly realized something. He picked up one card and held it to the Elder. “Will I ever be the Fool?”

“Some roles’ abilities will evolve, others will just differ in proficiency. And yes, you will be the Fool one day. As for the Fool’s ability, you’ll find out then.” The Elder chuckled.

Chen Fan was startled, a bit uneasy, but with forty or fifty identity cards, only one was the Fool. That wasn’t too bad—he could just stay home that day.

“It’s because werewolves can open their eyes and kill at night that I get night abilities, right? I guess it’s not just better vision, but improved mobility too.” The bedroom was too small for any real testing, and Chen Fan didn’t want to wake his family.

“You’re quite perceptive as a host. Try to master the abilities of each card first, then you’ll be able to use them flexibly. But cards in the werewolf faction are special—if your willpower is weak, there can be minor backlash.”

It sounded frightening, but Chen Fan wasn’t worried at all. When it came to willpower, he’d spent entire days writing simulation exams in internet cafes. The lure of daily special abilities far outweighed any side effects.

“All right then, pleasant cooperation. I’m going to try and master my power now.” Chen Fan grinned mischievously and, before the Elder could react, flipped the card over with a soft thud.

“If I can’t even control my sleep, what’s the point of life?” He pulled the covers over, determined to clear his mind and not think of anything.

…

“Player Seven speaking. I’ve drawn a strong role card and can verify my identity. I’m firmly siding with Player Three, the Seer. Good players, follow my lead and vote out Player Eight, the werewolf pretending to be Seer.”

Chen Fan, sporting dark circles the size of his fist, spoke weakly, even forgetting his seat number. If not for the credibility of his role card, no one would believe him.

“Game over. Werewolf faction wins.”

“Damn it, I sided with the wrong team again.” Chen Fan yawned and stretched. Without the clairvoyance ability, his skill had reverted to square one; he lost three games in a row that morning.

“Player Six, what kind of nonsense are you playing? You haven’t woken up, have you? Go home and sleep before you play again.” The player in seat seven complained. As someone who strongly sided with the real Seer at seat eight, losing like this felt unjust.

Chen Fan nodded apologetically. “I played poorly, it’s my fault. Sorry about that.”

He didn’t actually feel sleepy at all. Last night, he had been in a half-awake state, unsure if he’d slept at all.

“This ability is a bit scary. I’m afraid I’ll drop dead when midnight strikes.” He washed his face and looked in the mirror, gaunt and aged as if he’d lived half a life in one night.

“I shouldn’t have come out. Better to go home and sleep, though I’m not used to sleeping during the day.” Chen Fan flexed his wrist—it felt normal, and his vision was back to usual. It seemed the abilities only functioned at night.

He had just stepped out the door when he immediately turned back, realizing something was amiss.

“Excuse me, is the club owner here? I’d like to meet him.” Chen Fan leaned on the front desk, flirting with the receptionists.

The two pale young men exchanged smiles. “Sorry, the club manager rarely comes here and does not accept appointments. However, if you make it into the top three on the werewolf leaderboard, you’ll get your wish.”

“Top three?” Chen Fan’s heart trembled. There were countless players, and he wasn’t even in the top ninety percent, let alone the top three.

“All right, thanks.” He had to shelve the idea for now. Even if he kept winning, it would take at least two months.

Was the club owner who gave Chen Fan the card the previous host, or the creator of the card system?

Chen Fan opened his palms; nothing had changed.

“Let’s eat something before going to bed. I’m craving pig’s blood stewed with vermicelli.”