Wang Shun felt helpless, trying to stop Bai Liu. "There's no such thing as playing in the league and gambling on it."
"Do the rules allow it?" Bai Liu shot Wang Shun a sidelong glance.
Wang Shun hesitated. "The rules allow it."
But he quickly added, "But the players that participated rarely survive the preparation season. Controlling the gamble requires a lot of resources and manpower, and also puts a huge amount of psychological pressure on the players. They'll get hammered by the crazed gamblers if they lose!"
"Then we'll just keep winning." Bai Liu responded simply.
He cut off Wang Shun, who was about to argue further. "The guild is in your hands now. The next move shouldn't be too obvious—be careful not to draw attention from the other guilds."
"—Or we'll get beaten up by them." Wang Shun mumbled.
"...Why would you get beaten up?" Before Wang Shun could respond, Bai Liu lazily waved him off and headed toward the group waiting outside the circus.
Soon, Wang Shun understood why Bai Liu had said that the next move shouldn't be too obvious.
"Mr. Wang Shun, there's a commotion on the forum!" Someone rushed in to report, nervously glancing around. "Where's President Bai? Someone is impersonating him and making posts on the forum!"
Wang Shun opened the system panel, his face quickly turning pale.
At the top of the forum, dozens of red posts had appeared, all posted by someone using Bai Liu's real name. In these posts, he mocked the top ten guilds while praising his own, the Wandering Circus. Most provocatively, he sent a letter of challenge to Spades, the number one player in the rankings:
[— I'm not thrilled about having Spades right before me, but I sure enjoy seeing my name right behind his.]
Wang Shun staggered back, nearly dropping to his knees.
It was the height of the support season, and any spark between fan groups could escalate into chaos. Guild teams took great care to avoid giving their opponents any advantage.
Now that Bai Liu had dropped so many "atomic bombs," all the attention on the forum was focused on him, and the situation had exploded into a full-blown brawl.
Angry fans had already begun surrounding Bai Liu, eager to vent their frustrations by taking him down.
Wang Shun, left to clean up the mess Bai Liu had made, slumped in his chair, bitterly laughing with vacant eyes. "You're a real bastard, Bai Liu..."
On the other end, instead of feeling guilty, Bai Liu grew more arrogant. He pulled on a pair of exaggerated sunglasses and strutted to the game registration portal, flanked by his circus members. Tilting his head, he began selecting the game he wanted to log into.
Mu Sicheng looked around, puzzled. "Is it just me, or does it feel like a lot of people are really hostile towards us...?"
"It's not your fault." Muke clicked on the forums, frowning. "The forums are full of discussions about us, but it's all negative... someone using Bai Liu's name has been posting a lot of provocative stuff about other guilds."
Liu Jiayi approached, reading the posts. After skimming them, her expression soured.
It was clear that Bai Liu had masterminded this chaotic stunt.
—This reverse-marketing tactic is extreme, and while it's gotten them plenty of attention, Wang Shun is probably going to have a major headache.
After all, if the fans can't vent their anger directly at Bai Liu, they'll likely take it out on the guild instead...
As they discussed this, angry players continued to approach Bai Liu and his team.
In his posts, Bai Liu had gone into detail about the entire Wandering Circus, even describing the type of sunglasses he was wearing. These players recognized him immediately.
Once Bai Liu finished selecting his game, he turned and flicked his sunglasses down slightly, revealing a pair of smiling black eyes as he faced the approaching players.
He seemed to find the scene amusing.
But then Bai Liu quickly turned back to his team. "Get in the game. We plan to play at least ten games a day. If anyone can't keep up, take a break and come back later."
The five of them disappeared into the crowd.
In the corner, a pair of apple-green eyes watched the scene before shifting to a secondary game.
Inside the Gamblers' Guild, Charles pulled a silk scarf from his chest. The golden threads of fate embroidered a crown on the scarf, and Bai Liu's face flickered in and out of view. With a smile, Charles pocketed the scarf and raised his red wine glass, clinking it into the void.
"To victory and money given by fate, here's to it."
Inside the King's Guild, Hearts shook a bottle of Psyche's tears, which Liu Jiayi had returned to her.
Hearts' gaze drifted far off, staring through the teardrop-shaped bottle as if remembering some long-lost soul. But her reverie was interrupted by a soft knock on her door.
Someone entered uneasily, whispering, "Empress, Bai Liu seems to be entering the league this year…"
"Then let him enter." Hearts put away the bottle and replied flatly. "We've done all we can to stop him. This outcome... it's probably the best we could've hoped for."
Hearts glanced at the photo on her desk—a group picture taken after a major clearance. Guild leaders, like all people in power, needed these ritualistic images to solidify their authority.
In the photo, Liu Jiayi lifted a corner of her witch's veil, offering a rare innocent smile on her typically cold face. She looked trustingly at Hearts, who stood beside her in a treacherous fog—the perfect backdrop for their dangerous game.
But the danger seemed to fade when Liu Jiayi's pure smile shone through.
Behind them, a goofy Liu Ji stood, while a wounded Qi Yifang crouched at Liu Jiayi's feet, smiling widely. In the background, the massive Titan knelt silently, his chin captured by the camera, his head lowered in an attempt to stay out of sight.
Hearts stood at the center of the group, Liu Jiayi cradled in her arms—the twin core of this year's team, encircled by everyone.
Her gaze lingered on the photograph for a moment before she reached out and covered it with her hand.
Silently, she placed the glass jar in the deepest drawer, then looked up. "Spread the word—The Little Witch has defected from the King's Guild."
The reporter flinched, his back stiffening as he lifted his reddened eyes. "Empress, the Little Witch… she really isn't coming back, is she?"
Hearts continued giving orders, her expression void of emotion.
"…Activate our original secret rotation player, [Sister], to replace the Little Witch. Have her enter the game pool today—I will begin her special training as a full team member."
The debriefer lowered his head in defeat. "...Yes, Empress."
As he turned to leave, Hearts suddenly called out.
"Wait."
He turned back, surprised to find the ever-composed Empress now resting her forehead against her hand, gaze unfocused on the photograph she had just hidden away.
For some reason, she had stood it up again.
The debriefer hesitated before asking, "Is there anything else, Empress?"
Hearts' eyes lowered as her pale fingertips traced Liu Jiayi's image in the photo. She let out a soft sigh, as if in quiet despair, then closed her eyes wearily and tossed two small boxes onto the desk.
"—These were originally meant for the Little Witch," she said evenly. "One contains a pair of contact lenses that grant permanent vision—no environment can impair their function." She paused before continuing, voice quieter now. "The other is a potion that restores sight permanently."
She looked up, her expression unreadable. "Take them to her for me."
Then, more softly: "And give her a message—next time we meet, it'll be on the battlefield."
"Tell her… whatever she chooses—whether it's the future, betrayal, or doubt—she must not regret running away. She must watch it all unfold with her own eyes."
"That is the last thing I'll teach her."
The reporter stood still for a long moment before bowing deeply. "Yes, Empress."
When he was gone, Hearts remained in the darkness, staring at the photograph in silence. Eventually, she placed it inside the same drawer that held Psyche's Tears.
In the deepest recess of that drawer, barely visible, lay a much older photograph—a young Hearts sitting on the lap of a faceless man, her tiny arms wrapped around his waist as she laughed, carefree.
Hearts locked the drawer. She rose, left the room without looking back.
-------
Golden Dawn Guild.
Despite its radiant name, the third-ranked guild's headquarters was located in one of the game's darker districts. From the outside, the building was dull and unassuming—much like the guild itself: quiet, efficient, and understated.
Inside, however, it was as bright as a summer morning. System panels flickered with streams of data, their analyses displayed before players moving with focused determination. The atmosphere was more akin to a high-tech research lab than a guildhall.
Golden Dawn was an enigma. Unlike open guilds that saw frequent player turnover, it operated in secrecy, much like the Killer Sequence. Few entered, fewer left.
Most outside guilds shared the same impression of Golden Dawn as Wang Shun did—it seemed to be almost exclusively foreign.
And, as Wang Shun recalled, its president was a foreigner as well.
A sharp knock interrupted the silence of the office.
"Captain Georgia, I have a report."
"Come in."
The door eased open, revealing a tall, slender man seated behind the desk. His long, dark brown hair was neatly tied back, his dark eyes calm yet piercing.
Captain Georgia had a sharp but elegant profile—high cheekbones, a regal nose. Fans often described him as possessing an otherworldly refinement, as if he were dawn itself streaked with gold. Or, more simply, he looked expensive.
The moment he debuted in the league, fervent supporters had voted him into the safety rankings, earning him a coveted gold medal—a medal infamously awarded more for his looks than his performance. Currently, he ranked third in popularity, just below Hearts, largely due to his reclusive nature.
At first glance, he seemed approachable. But the instant he turned to face you, that illusion vanished.
Georgia's gaze was intense, unwavering. It gave people the eerie impression that they were important to him—until they realized he was merely assessing whether they were a threat.
As meticulous as his demeanor, his sleek dark hair was bound into a high bundle, yet his complexion was unnaturally pale. A faint coldness lingered around the edges of his lips, betraying his otherwise composed appearance.
The man who had entered stiffened upon seeing Georgia bracing himself against the desk. Instantly, he moved to steady him.
"Captain, you're still recovering from the contamination wounds from the Heretical attack! Please, just sit and listen to my report!"
Georgia clenched his fist, coughing lightly before murmuring an apology and taking his seat.
His subordinate exhaled in relief before continuing.
"Captain, the Heresy Authority in District One has recently taken in two heretical entities. One is called Rose Perfume, classified as Extra Class 1 Red. The other… appears to be a mass of corpses related to Rose Perfume—highly dangerous. The current classification system can't even properly categorize it."
"The issue is, these remains have the ability to trigger evolution in other heretics. Keeping them in District One—where the most heretics are concentrated—is too risky. They're considering transferring them abroad."
"Currently, the leading proposal is to relocate them to our division, Sector Three." He handed over a system panel. "District One has given us clearance to prepare a stronghold to contain this unidentified heretic. If you approve, we'll log out of the game and begin preparations."
Georgia skimmed the document but frowned at the signature.
"…Why is Captain Cen Buming from the Second Detachment handling this? Normally, the Third Detachment captain would submit a request for an Extra Class Red transfer."
The subordinate hesitated, glancing away before finally surrendering under Georgia's sharp stare.
"I heard… the Third Detachment's captain left the team."
"Left?" Georgia blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Why? I thought they loved the job."
The man shrugged. "Captain, not everyone is like you. Unlike you, some people actually take their vacations instead of working through injuries. The Heresy Authority is exhausting, and it doesn't pay as well as gaming does. I completely understand why they quit."
Georgia's expression remained unreadable. "It's a sacred duty."
The subordinate wisely shut his mouth, miming a zipper across his lips.
Georgia approved the transfer, handing the system panel back. But instead of leaving, his subordinate hesitated.
Then, in a softer voice, he asked, "...Georgia, is your brother still mad at you for leaving him behind on that mission? For getting hurt without him there?"
The shift in tone was clear. Instead of Captain, he had called him by name. A personal question.
Georgia's grip on his pen tightened. He didn't look up.
The subordinate studied him carefully. "Or… are you still angry that he hid his gaming from you for a whole year? That he secretly joined our guild and trained for the league—only for you to shut it all down?"
Georgia remained silent.
The team member couldn't help but chatter, "Young people are reckless and impulsive. He did it because he was worried about you. Maybe you could talk to him—you're the last family he has. You know you're not well after being affected by that heretic, and you're always getting injured. He just wanted to protect you..."
"He's the last of my family too." Georgia looked up, cutting the player off. "If he had considered my feelings, he wouldn't have done this behind my back."
A faint flush appeared on Georgia's usually composed face as his emotions surged. His breathing quickened, and he abruptly looked down, covering his mouth as he choked violently.
"Okay! Okay! I'll stop!" The player stepped back, hands raised in surrender. "Just take a deep breath, Georgia!"
Georgia raised a hand, his expression cold. "Please leave."
The team member hesitated before finally turning toward the door. Pausing, he murmured one last thing before stepping out, "Georgia, I heard that the leader of the third detachment quit the team for a man named Bai Liu."
"It's said he made the rose perfume. Somehow, District One let him go, and the captain of the third detachment ran off with him. Some say he followed Bai Liu because he fell in love with him—otherwise, there's no reasonable explanation."
The player shrugged. "Sounds ridiculous, right? I think so too. Just gossip, so don't take it too seriously."
With that, he quickly shut the door behind him and fled before Georgia, the old curmudgeon, could scold him for spreading rumors.
Inside the room, Georgia remained seated, lost in thought. "...Bai Liu?"
On the other end, Bai Liu and his group emerged from the game lobby, having completed their tenth game in a row.
Bai Liu's shirt and trousers were completely soaked, as if he'd been fished out of the water—but it was all sweat. Muke collapsed onto the ground the moment they stepped out, while Liu Jiayi fell onto his back, panting heavily.
Mu Sicheng fared slightly better, leaning against the wall and downing a stamina rejuvenator, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair.
Tang Erda, of course, was in the best shape. Apart from a damp patch on his back, he looked as composed as he had before entering the game.
The players who had tried to mess with Bai Liu's group in the login area had long gone numb—this was the tenth time they'd seen these lunatics appear here.
This group of freaks... They could clear a Level 2 or even Level 3 dungeon in less than half an hour. One after another, games on the screen were being devoured by them.
The mini-TV section's audience was just as dumbfounded. Even with their screens set to 32x speed, some couldn't even tell what the game was about before Bai Liu's team had already moved on to the next one.
The forums had been flooded with accusations of Bai Liu being ungrateful, but now? Silence. No one dared to say a word.
Tang Erda was an absolute powerhouse. A one-man wrecking machine.
Where did Bai Liu even find such a terrifying main attacker? How high was this guy's attack stat? And how the hell were the others managing to keep up with his speed? Could they even see his attacks?
With the sheer amount of attention they were drawing, the discussion around Bai Liu quickly shifted, dominated by speculation about Tang Erda's overwhelming strength.
Bai Liu, still sprawled on the floor, ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing the damp strands back. He let out a relaxed breath before glancing at Tang Erda with a teasing smile.
"You racked up the highest charge points in those ten games. Looks like the spectators love your strength. And your looks, of course."
"..." Tang Erda wasn't particularly skilled at handling conversations about his own attractiveness. He changed the subject bluntly. "That's enough training for today. Log out—we need to gather intel on your future opponents."
"Ugh, why is there more...?" Mu Sicheng let out a dramatic groan and slumped over lifelessly.
Bai Liu made an OK gesture.
------
Inside Bai Liu's rented house.
Bai Liu pulled out a whiteboard and markers from somewhere, setting them up for Tang Erda to use. The rest of the team sat cross-legged on the bed across from the board, all lined up and waiting for Mr. Tang's lecture.
Tang Erda felt... uncomfortable. Being stared at so intently by a former enemy eager to learn from him was unnerving. But he suppressed the feeling, cleared his throat, and picked up a red marker.
"The top ten guilds in the game are your primary enemies. You need to be ready to fight any of them. As the saying goes, know your enemy and win a hundred battles. I'll go over each major battle group in order of guild ranking..."
Tang Erda's gaze swept over the room before he continued.
"I'm not particularly familiar with the Slayer Sequence warbands, and you all already have extensive knowledge of the King's Guild. So today, we'll focus on the third-ranked guild—"
He turned back to the board and wrote:
Golden Dawn Guild.
Once the lecture was over, the others packed up and left, either heading home or back to school. Bai Liu lingered, watching as Tang Erda sat in front of the whiteboard, still staring at the words Golden Dawn.
Bai Liu poured a glass of water and placed it beside him. "You know their president, don't you?"
Tang Erda hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding. "...I'm not even going to ask how you know that anymore."
Bai Liu smirked. "I figured as much."
Tang Erda remained silent.
"You're deliberately avoiding explaining his skills," Bai Liu observed. "That's usually how people act when they know someone personally. So, tell me—who is Georgia, the president?"
Tang Erda pulled out a cigarette and held it up. "Do you mind?"
Bai Liu chuckled. "You know I don't like the smell of smoke. But go ahead if you want."
Tang Erda lit the cigarette and took a slow, deep drag. "...I don't actually know him well. We were colleagues. He worked at the Heresy Processing Bureau in Zone 3, handling high-risk heretics."
"To be precise, the one person who really knows him—" Tang Erda exhaled a long, deliberate stream of smoke before looking Bai Liu dead in the eyes.
"—is you, Bai Liu."
Bai Liu's expression didn't change. "What happened between me and him in the other timeline?"
Tang Erda leaned back slightly, his voice calm but laced with something unreadable.
"Your man, Mu Sicheng, was smuggling heretics overseas when he ran into Georgia on patrol. He captured him and handed him over to you. And after you... did something to Georgia—used some kind of heretical contamination, maybe—you released him the next day."
"But when Georgia returned, his body deteriorated rapidly. Day by day, it was as if he was suffering some kind of violent, unseen torture. He became delirious—so much so that he couldn't even say what exactly you had done to him that night. Sometimes, he even exhibited suicidal tendencies."
Tang Erda exhaled another slow breath of smoke.
"Later, Georgia's brother, Armand, ambushed the smuggling line Mu Sicheng was running, trying to avenge him." His voice dropped slightly. "...He died with him."