Chapter 122: Eastward Confusion, Westward Jest

“Ah, isn’t this the elder? Here for another friendly cameo, I see.”

When the other party pulled down his face covering, Chen Fan immediately recognized him, utterly shocked. Though his appearance changed constantly, that timeless aura of mischief could be felt even through the mask.

“Elder, my foot. I’m here to take your miserable life.” The elder refused to acknowledge the greeting, rummaging through his sleeve to pull out a sachet of fragrant powder, throwing a handful straight into Chen Fan’s face.

“Ugh! You old poisoner, sprinkling pepper powder like that—so pungent! Dare you add some cumin too?” Chen Fan tried hard to brush it off, but still inhaled a good deal.

“Sure, and it’s barbecue-flavored too. If you want, I’ll oblige.” The elder shook the other sleeve pocket, scattering more powder down.

“Good grief, you actually have it! I was just joking earlier. You’re not here for revenge, are you?” Chen Fan softened his tone, begging for mercy.

“Revenge, my foot. I’m here on business. You felt the magical aura this morning, right? That Left Alliance Leader is a genuine host, a rare appearance in the VR world. I can personally intervene.” While speaking, the elder emptied the rest of the powder out, blowing several gusts that scattered it everywhere.

“So, you mean this time I can hitch a ride on your power?”

The elder snorted, “Hitch a ride? Don’t be ridiculous. I mean I can personally join the battle as an observer. You’re still the main force; I’m just support. For some reason, in this cursed script, I can only use the parasite’s abilities, but none of my own skills. It’s maddening, you know?”

“What? You’re useless? Then what good are you?” Chen Fan couldn’t help but roar.

“What? Speak up, I can’t hear you,” the elder feigned deafness, tossing in a handful of mustard powder for good measure.

“I’m saying we should work together, sit down, and seriously consider a strategy.” Chen Fan held back tears, forcing a strained smile. His throat felt like it was burning, barely able to speak.

“Correction: It’s you, not ‘we.’ What else can you do? To deal with NPCs, you have to confront them head-on.” The elder put away the spice packets and donned his face covering again.

“Aren’t you the Western Poison Master? Just slip some exotic poison into his food, knock him out, then bind and torture him for answers. Won’t he crack? That’d be the perfect way to reclaim the card, right?” Chen Fan clapped his hands, the problem seeming straightforward.

The elder glared at him with disdain. “The key point is, I have to actually be the Western Poison Master.”

“Aren’t you an old poisoner, then what are you...” Chen Fan trailed off, confused.

The elder asked, “Do you know the story’s concept of the Five Great Eccentrics of the Central Plains?”

“What’s that?”

“East is clueless, West is daft, South is foolish, North is dull-witted, and the Center is brainless. The martial world fondly calls them the Five Living Treasures of the Central Plains.”

“Ha! Your identity’s truly a rough road.” Chen Fan chuckled, almost laughing out loud. “Might as well call them East, South, West, North, and Center White. At least it’s a winning hand in Mahjong.”

“Shut up. I don’t even know any poison techniques now, nor am I a deadly Western poison master. According to the story, I’m just a cook of dark cuisine. Rumor has it that anyone who eats my dishes loses their mind. I’m called ‘Going Crazy.’” The elder recalled his tragic cameo life.

“So then, why don’t we just prepare a full Manchu-Han banquet for that... Left Alliance Leader? Guarantee he’ll go mad for weeks.”

The elder frowned. “Idiot, that guy recognizes me. I can’t get close. Besides, my cooking smells so strong you can smell it ten miles away—worse than a bursting cesspit.”

“So, it looks like the martial world still needs me, Chen Fan, to save the day.” Chen Fan brushed back his bangs, feeling the weight on his shoulders grow heavier.

“You’re not saving the martial world. You’re just saving yourself.” The elder cut through his thoughts.

“Right, right! By the way, you haven’t told me—if the game ends and I haven’t reclaimed the card, will I never get another chance?” Chen Fan’s spirit sank after being seen through, then suddenly remembered something important.

The elder pondered, then slowly said, “In theory, if you meet that guy again in the next dungeon run, the card should still be on him. But if a different NPC shows up, then who knows?”

“That’s as good as saying nothing. No, wait, it’s somewhat helpful. No, no, very helpful! I’ve learned a lot—my mind’s opened!”

Chen Fan looked at the spice bags hanging from ‘Going Crazy’s’ waist, feeling he couldn’t mess with him. He retracted his earlier words.

“Han Youyi, can you hear me? May I ask a question?” Chen Fan temporarily disconnected from the game and called out to the person in charge outside.

Han Youyi was busy but quickly grabbed pen and paper upon hearing him. “Is this about a bug report?”

“Not exactly a bug. Is the Left Alliance Leader in the martial arts dungeon supposed to appear in every game round? I find his behavior a bit unusual.”

Han Youyi checked the database with advanced access, then replied, “That NPC’s appearance rate is quite high. You’ll see him in four out of five games. Unusual behavior? Could you describe it in detail?”

“Oh, that’s it. Nothing much. I just think the Left Alliance Leader talks too much. Also, the Western Poison Master knocked on my door last night, muttering strange words. Shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” Chen Fan asked what he needed, then casually tossed in a few more words.

“As long as it doesn’t affect the game’s normal operation, we’ll leave it for now. But I’ve taken note.”

“Okay, thanks.” Chen Fan reconnected and re-entered the game.

“Let’s check out the Left Alliance Leader’s quarters first. Maybe we’ll find something.”

It was still dawn, so there was time for a quick visit.

“You’re just using me as a shield.”

“Come on, it’s tiring to make up excuses on the spot. This one’s ready-made—why not use it?”

“Shh, so loud—you’ll wake the ghosts.”

“Okay, okay.”

Chen Fan mimicked a sneaking technique from movies, wetting his finger and gently poking through the window’s paper screen. Peering through the tiny hole, he surveyed the room inside.

“The old Left Alliance Leader isn’t in bed. The bedroom looks empty.” He shifted his angle from left to right but saw no sign of anyone.

The elder stood beside him, eyes wide, urging, “Can you see clearly? Want me to take over?”

“Really no one here—unless he’s hiding on the beams or something.” Chen Fan squinted, but inside were only antique paintings and some unidentifiable trinkets—no living soul.

Suddenly, a pair of eyes appeared in Chen Fan’s sight. Through the dim morning light, they glimmered with a dark green hue, locking eyes with him.

Chen Fan broke out in a cold sweat, trembling as he whispered, “Someone’s... watching us...”