Ch 160: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Colleague One: “Lu Yao’s Creative DIY Workshop? The storefront is so small, looks pretty ordinary.”

He Baiheng: “It’s definitely inconspicuous, which is why I hadn’t noticed its appearance before.”

Colleague One: “External plugins in holographic games are pretty much impossible, right? With Polaris monitoring virtual worlds around the clock, even using external plugins within a game would leave a personal record. No one with any sense would do such a thing.”

Colleague Two: “By the way, did you ask Polaris?”

He Baiheng furrowed his brows slightly, his expression troubled: “I submitted a report to Polaris twenty minutes ago. Their reply was ‘No issues detected.'”

Colleague One: “Then it’s not an external plugin; the bug must still be within the game.”

Colleague Two: “I can’t take it anymore. The rain this morning was so heavy I rushed out without eating. Let me grab some food first.”

Colleague One pulled up a chair next to He Baiheng and, without looking up, said, “Grab me a yogurt. The sweetest one.”

Colleague Two came back with a tray piled high with reheated pre-made breakfast items, handed a full-sugar yogurt to Colleague One, then froze mid-reach. Staring at He Baiheng’s screen, he blurted out, “Whoa, that scythe-wielding girl is insane!”

Amid the heavy downpour, a massive golden octopus sprawled across several rooftops. Dozens of players surrounded it, hurling an array of skills, but they barely scratched it. Instead, they only enraged the creature. The octopus lashed out with its tentacles covered in suction cups, like raging ocean waves, sweeping away four or five players in one swing.

The scythe-wielding girl appeared at that moment. A petite figure with her hair tied into a bun, dressed in a simple gray-white tracksuit, carrying an enormous death scythe on her shoulder.

With a flick of her wrist, she effortlessly lifted the scythe and brought it down on the octopus’s tentacle. The blade gleamed silver as it sliced through as smoothly as cutting tofu.

A severed golden tentacle rolled off the rooftop, freeing the players caught within its grasp.

Furious, the octopus lashed out with multiple tentacles at once, aiming straight for the scythe-wielding girl.

Another player with red dragon wings sprouting from their back swooped in faster than the tentacles could strike, snatching the scythe-wielding girl and flying away just in time to dodge the attack.

Colleague Two: “This isn’t normal! Where did they get this stuff? The mechanics and gameplay feel like a completely different game.”

He Baiheng: “That octopus is doomed.”

After being rescued, the scythe-wielding girl quickly returned to the fight. Her weapon had the ability to unleash “wind blades” mid-air. Crescent-shaped blue energy blades shot toward the octopus with incredible precision, almost every third strike severing one of its tentacles.

In less than two minutes, the enormous octopus was reduced to a bald, shiny head with countless severed stumps. The tentacles cut by the death scythe couldn’t regenerate, with their edges sprouting clusters of grotesque pinkish growths—a horrifying sight.

On Ghost Street, Chen You twirled the enormous scythe with ease, a satisfied smile on her face. “I think I’m starting to like this weapon.”

Xiao Cai: “Take a look down below.”

On the street, countless players gazed up at Chen You, their expressions a mix of awe and envy.

One player shouted, “Hey, Scythe Girl! Did you make that weapon yourself?”

Chen You: “I’m not called Scythe Girl.”

Player: “Uh… no offense, miss. I just think your weapon seems way stronger than ours.”

Someone nearby chimed in, “It’s on a whole different level.”

Chen You weighed the scythe in her hand and didn’t bother hiding the truth: “No, I didn’t make it myself. The scythe was crafted by the shop owner.”

Player: “The DIY Workshop’s owner?”

Chen You didn’t deny it.

Immediately, someone in the crowd exclaimed, “I knew it! No wonder her fees are so high—turns out she’s the real deal.”

Another player said, “I have zero crafting skills, so I did consult the shop owner. Her fees are ridiculously expensive, so I ended up finding a skilled crafter to make something for me using materials from the DIY Workshop. The weapon turned out great, but it’s clear the shop owner is on a whole different level.”

“Other than the price, no complaints.”

Someone couldn’t resist asking, “Miss, how much did this scythe cost, including materials and labor?”

Chen You was still locked in combat with the transformed Huang Qi and quickly replied, “The shopkeeper hasn’t mentioned the cost yet.”

Chen You raised the scythe, its blade piercing through the massive eyeball of the octopus-like creature. The golden-yellow eye burst, spraying a viscous, pus-like liquid.

Fortunately, Xiao Cai reacted swiftly, grabbing Chen You and taking flight to avoid the splatter.

The octopus monster deflated like a punctured balloon, rapidly collapsing. The grotesque tumors on its body burst, leaving a thin humanoid figure lying on the rooftop.

Chen You and Xiao Cai didn’t look back and instead moved to the next battlefield, where three other octopus monsters awaited.

The large ghost creature had already been purified by Ji Linkai and other players.

…

In Mingshi City’s Tech Tower, He Baiheng and his colleagues watched the entire battle between the players and the monstrous aberrations.

Colleague Two remarked, “That aberration was a person.”

He Baiheng pulled up the aberrant player’s information: “ID: Huang Qi, from Mingshi City, first logged into ‘Ghost Street’ three years ago.”

Colleague One: “The silver bracelets on the players look like specialized equipment designed specifically to counter these aberrations.”

Colleague Two: “The two defeated monsters both had people beneath their skins. Their IDs are still intact, meaning they weren’t killed.”

He Baiheng: “Regardless, we need to patch this bug as soon as possible.”

The two colleagues returned to their workstations and began working. Colleague Two logged into the “Ghost Street” player forum to see if anyone had started discussing the silver bracelets.

The “Ghost Street” forum, as of 7 a.m., had posts from players. However, most of them were meaningless chatter, with very little actual discussion about the game.

Colleague Two skimmed through posts from the last three months, growing increasingly perplexed. “Is it just me, or does it feel like there are no real people on this forum?”

Colleague One’s fingers flew over his keyboard, his expression equally grim. “That DIY workshop is highly suspicious. There’s no game data for it, and the shopkeeper’s personal information is completely untraceable.”

…

In the Central City area, Lu Yao and Pei Qi had been walking briskly through the rain for nearly half an hour before finally stepping into the fabled central district.

The Central City was more fittingly named “Ghost Street” than any other part of the world. A vast, silver-white metropolis with towering skyscrapers reaching the clouds, yet not a single soul in sight.

Within the district, the “purifying” beams were far more dense and omnipresent than in the outer areas.

Moreover, the roads were peculiar—narrow, winding alleyways paved with disturbingly red cobblestones. The surrounding buildings appeared largely indistinguishable from one another.

Following Pei Qi, Lu Yao estimated they had walked for over ten minutes when Pei Qi suddenly stopped, glancing around in confusion.

Lu Yao: “Are we lost?”

Pei Qi frowned. “I made marks the last time I was here, but we’ve walked this far without finding them.”

Lu Yao: “Does this mean we’ve been discovered?”

Pei Qi: “If he had noticed us, He wouldn’t remain idle.”

Lu Yao pulled out the Regulation Rod. The black mist coiled around the rod’s handle dissipated, revealing the menacing visage of an evil spirit.

Lu Yao: “We don’t have much time. Let me find the way.”

The green-faced, fang-bearing ghost slowly opened its eyes as Lu Yao stepped in front of Pei Qi.

Pei Qi stared at the Regulation Rod for a moment. “Is there a benevolent face on the back of that evil spirit?”

Lu Yao didn’t look back. “Why do you ask?”

Pei Qi: “Usually, it’s like that—light and shadow intertwined, people with both good and evil sides. Your weapon is unlike ours, so it must have an unusual origin.”

Lu Yao: “Nothing is absolute. The face of evil might have another evil face behind it.”

Pei Qi pondered her words.

Lu Yao suddenly stopped and looked up at a building in front of her. “Found it.”

Amidst towering skyscrapers stood a small red building, less than three stories high, tucked away so well it was no wonder Pei Qi couldn’t find it earlier.

Pei Qi: “This is it, but there’s no door.”

Lu Yao: “No key or anything?”

Pei Qi shook his head. “Based on my guess, this house doesn’t use a key. It can only be opened from the inside.”

Lu Yao: “Then we’ll have to break in.”

Pei Qi: “We’ll definitely get noticed.”

Lu Yao: “Can’t be helped. We’ve come this far—no turning back now.”

She stowed the Regulation Rod and retrieved the Nine Treasures Grand Staff from her personal inventory. “I’ll handle the door. You get ready—once it’s open, rush in and shut down the system.”

The Nine Treasures Grand Staff was even more ornate than the Regulation Rod. Completely black with a majestic dragon perched on the tip, it was adorned with nine vividly colored gemstones. It radiated power, looking far more formidable than the Regulation Rod.

Pei Qi’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What is that?”

Lu Yao: “A staff. When casting magic, especially offensive spells, a staff works better.”

Pei Qi: “…What’s the difference between magic and willpower?”

Lu Yao: “…Not much, really. It’s just terminology.”

Before she finished speaking, a dark magic circle formed under her feet. Black, lightning-like spikes shot out from it, instantly piercing the sturdy red building.

Pei Qi: “…Liar.”

Lu Yao: “Let’s go. Hurry.”

As they approached the building, reinforcements arrived. Human-sized golden octopus creatures began converging on them from all directions like a disciplined army.

Lu Yao inwardly cursed the inevitability of trouble and shoved Pei Qi through the door. “Hurry and find it!”

Pei Qi stumbled but quickly regained his balance. He glanced back at her once, then turned and ran deeper inside. All that mattered was activating the logout system. If he succeeded, everyone would be saved.

Meanwhile, Lu Yao retrieved a set of black and red armor pieces from her spatial storage and began attaching them to her fingertips. “The Ten Thousand Dragons Battle Armor—crafted from scales shed by young dragons in Dragon Valley. I’ve never had a chance to wear it. Today’s the day.”

The combat nails were a birthday gift from Harold and Tina earlier that year.

The idea had been Tina’s, but Harold had gone out of his way to gather the hardest scales from the baby dragons.

Apparently, the process hadn’t been peaceful. Harold had spent an entire day challenging his peers to duels, and after winning, he plucked the toughest scales from the dragonlings.

Originally, Harold’s personality made him dislike including scales from other dragons—especially baby dragons—in gifts meant for Lu Yao. However, Tina argued that scales from different dragon species carried unique magical properties, making them the perfect match for the Nine Treasures Magic Staff. Her reasoning managed to convince the stubborn Harold.

Scales from adult dragons were far too precious. Asking for them would incur significant debts, but plucking scales from their peers during sparring matches was different. If their classmates lost a fight and failed to protect their scales, they’d be too embarrassed to complain about it publicly.

As for the concern that baby dragon scales might lack durability, that was true only by dragon standards. For Lu Yao, the strength of the Ten Thousand Dragons Battle Armor was more than sufficient.

The armor, a mixture of black and red, adjusted itself around Lu Yao’s figure. Her nails transformed, and her hair was tied up, drastically altering her demeanor and aura.

However, the battle armor and the Nine Treasures Magic Staff were not a perfect match. Lu Yao softly chanted a spell, causing the black gem atop the staff to shine brilliantly before fading. The staff transformed into a radiant longsword, shimmering with a soft light.

Lu Yao had learned some swordsmanship from Edward during the New Year celebrations but had rarely used it in actual combat.

Surrounded by the army of octopus-like monsters, she took a deep breath, recalling the techniques Edward had taught her. She assumed a combat stance, ready to face the horde.

The creatures had no sense of honor or strategy, swarming her en masse to overwhelm her with sheer numbers.

Lu Yao continued chanting softly, enhancing her physical abilities. The armor felt light and unrestrictive, and the sword, surprisingly well-balanced, felt like an extension of her arm. Feeling confident, she took a step back and swung her blade. Its arc was as dazzling as a rainbow yet as gentle as a breeze. With a single sweep, six or seven of the creatures collapsed, spilling sticky pus all over the ground.

The octopus monsters in the central city seemed to be purely NPC constructs. Upon being slain, they dissolved into bubbles and vanished.

Lu Yao suspected these creatures were entirely data-based because no matter how many she defeated, their numbers never seemed to dwindle.

Meanwhile, in the control center, Pei Qi ran breathlessly through the building, searching every corner of the third floor. Finding nothing, he took the elevator to the basement, where he finally stumbled upon what appeared to be the logout device.

Unfortunately, it was password-protected. Pei Qi wiped the sweat from his face, growing increasingly anxious as he thought about how long Lu Yao could hold out. He forced himself to calm down and considered what password he might have used.

After two failed attempts, Pei Qi’s hands trembled, and sweat dripped from his flushed face. His frustration was palpable, teetering on the edge of despair.

A sudden communication buzz from his wristband startled him.

Lu Yao: “How’s it going?”

Hearing her voice, Pei Qi exhaled deeply in relief—she was still holding on.

Without replying, Pei Qi steadied his breathing and focused on cracking the code. Three minutes later, the logout device was finally unlocked.

Pei Qi didn’t hesitate. He reached out and pressed the activation button.

Above Ghost Street, the rain had stopped without notice.

The post-storm sky, which should have been a clean and vibrant blue, was instead dominated by a massive gray-black protective dome.

The dome lingered momentarily before splitting open from its apex, as if some kind of shielding mechanism had been disabled.

The army of octopus monsters besieging Lu Yao vanished along with the dome.

Lu Yao rested her sword on the ground for support, breathing heavily as her wristband buzzed with another notification.

Pei Qi: “Lu Yao, thank you. See you in Mingshi City—I’ll find you.”

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