Chapter 10: The Consortium

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Da Chun stepped out of the private room and headed downstairs. Although feeling drained, he still tried to put on the appearance of someone who had just woken up, with yawns and all. The network admin young man approached, holding Da Chun’s tablet. “Thanks, Brother Chun. We just managed to get the cracked version this morning for online outfit changes…”

Da Chun was surprised. “So, does that mean many internet cafes across the country only became accessible this morning?”

The admin sighed. “Yes, it’s a disaster. The starting advantage has basically been claimed entirely by foreign teams. Who would have thought they’d be so shameless as to plant Trojan horses in factory-default machines? Now some small hacker group is putting out a fake statement claiming it’s an April Fools’ joke…”

Damn, that’s utterly despicable!

Thinking that some of the influential figures he had intercepted must belong to that group, Da Chun’s heart was struck by an inexplicable, faint sense of mission—but for now, survival was the priority.

Meanwhile, the top players on the first floor leaned idly in their seats, watching movies, eating takeout, and dozing off.

“Morning, Brother Chun?”

Da Chun glanced at their screens. “All mining and AFK? No early battles?”

The veterans sighed. “Since midnight when the servers opened, a mysterious large group brought tens of thousands of level-one newbies to block three city gates. They’ve been PK-ing anyone trying to leave for 17 hours straight. The prison’s red-name list is reportedly full.”

Da Chun hurriedly asked, “Which organization is behind this?”

“No one knows. They’re from all countries. Definitely some idiots involved.”

“The Royal Clan’s tens of thousands thought they’d rush villages at the start but got completely ambushed. They didn’t expect their opponents to organize so many people. So now they just keep sending newbies to feed kills and increase red-name values…”

“Even without the blackout, the Royal Clan wouldn’t necessarily have won. They’re scattered, with branches in every major city, so no single city is strong.”

“Now all players in the city are either mining or sailing out to sea. Nothing else to do…”

“Only 1,000 warrior guild members have completed their quest monsters—these are all their team. They monopolized warriors right from the start.”

“Let’s wait for news to break. Such a huge move can’t last forever…”

Da Chun was truly shocked. Though he had seen big moves before, he never imagined they’d be so massive that even the nation’s wealthiest alliance’s Royal Clan was being crushed!

He knew the village-rush strategy: either tens of thousands charge recklessly at the start, accepting heavy losses since death cost is lowest then, or they spend three days leveling to about 30, clearing monsters all the way. But now, with city gates blocked and warriors monopolized, how could Black Iron City play the game?

After the chat, Da Chun went to a small eatery for a meal, then leaned back on a park bench, drifting off to the rhythm of the plaza dancers. It was his habit: the quieter it was, the more his mind raced and the harder sleep came; this noisy environment was just right.

…

On the other side of the Earth, beneath a bustling city, lay an underground cabaret. Next door to the decadent music and dance was a cybercafé as futuristic as a galactic battleship command center. The young master of the Shinzen conglomerate, Shinzen Soji, stared at the LCD wall, remotely commanding mercenary teams worldwide in the Black Iron City PK war.

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This was the secret network financial organization, the Shinzen Clan.

Finance required technological support, but technology lagged far behind the speed of money printing. Thus, this mining game, boasting artificial intelligence and consciousness uploading for eternal life, became a sought-after investment project among major conglomerates. The Shinzen consortium invested heavily and customized a “newbie starter pack” within the game, guaranteeing an absolute advantage at the outset.

But the game world ran on internal algorithms, and NPC intelligence would not ignore huge profits. Even if the starter pack was buried in the desert, it would most likely be claimed first by high-level, powerful NPC treasure-hunting teams, leaving no chance for weak players.

So the conglomerate carefully designed an “S-Rank Whale Hunting Bounty.”

Whale hunting had always been a traditional national specialty—an entry-level sea monster that laid a solid foundation for a team to dominate the seas. Whales were given a “strong adversary alert” trait: the higher the level and power of approaching hunters, especially demons, the more vigilant and ferocious the whales became. Thick barnacles and shells on the whales served as armor against formidable hunters.

The key question was: how could weak newbie players access this starter pack?

The answer lay in the thick barnacles—parasitic tumors on the whales. By dispersing large amounts of meat debris around the whale’s waters, the barnacles would voraciously consume and multiply, severely weakening the whale. The dying whale would return to its birthplace to die—an island hidden in the tidal space, rich in high-grade spices.

The tidal space entrance was set to open around 5 a.m. and 5 p.m. As long as no special treasure-hunting NPCs searched there, the spices remained safe—these spices were the team’s first huge financial capital.

At the game’s start, players had no ships and could only work on them, with no autonomy. Thus, they couldn’t sail close to whales to scatter meat debris.

During the public beta, the team planned a quest to establish a maritime guild—normally very hard to complete. But the outstanding member, Yuko Maruno, through building good relations with NPC fishermen and renting their boats, created an informal franchise guild, solving the seafaring problem.

The demon alert on whales was also tied to a hidden clue related to the city’s backstory. Every major city faced fierce monster attacks at its founding, making expansion difficult. They had to dig underground for resources, reaching a lava hell and encountering demons. In a sense, the five port cities stabilized and expanded with demonic power, harboring hidden masters with demon abilities.

Another goal of the consortium was to reach the city’s deepest mining zones, where the environment was so harsh that ordinary miners refused to go—only the worst red-name criminals were exiled there. Demons favored the wicked.

Hence, the consortium’s initial blockade and mass PK aimed to rapidly cultivate the “worst” red names while monopolizing warrior slots, securing an absolute starting advantage. Players unwilling to level outside city gates or bore themselves mining were forced to sail out, join the maritime guild, and work—fulfilling the consortium’s guild quest demands, invisibly forcing massive player labor to accelerate guild development.

In summary, this was a grand triple-pronged strategy! Even if one or two parts failed, at least one would succeed.

…

Now, the young master gazed at the frontline battle reports with great satisfaction.

The warrior monopoly was complete. The maritime guild quest was near completion—a prerequisite for whale hunting. As for red names, honestly, even with NPC algorithms, how could they prevent the birth of massive red names? Sending a holy angel to reform them?

More amusingly, that so-called Royal Clan kept sending newbies to feed red names. If their leader, Ma Yinglong, knew the truth, would he cry bitterly?

Of course, there were still dissatisfactions. The April Fools’ hacker operation was coordinated with higher authorities, but all the blame and hatred fell on the consortium itself.

A beautiful maid approached with a tray of wine, her voice soft and gentle: “Young master…”

He took a sip and then slowly poured the remaining wine over her head.

The maid shyly laughed, “Stop it…”

Amid their playful banter, a team member hurriedly reported, “Young master! The S-Rank Whale Hunting Bounty for the maritime guild has been canceled!”

The young master was incredulous, angrily threw the maid aside, and rushed to the member’s console. Sure enough—it had been canceled!

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The young master erupted in fury. “Who is responsible? Investigate! Immediately…”

…

April 2nd, midnight.

Da Chun woke up in the park, grabbed some skewers as a late-night snack, then leisurely returned to the internet café.

By now, the veterans were slouched in their chairs, dozing to conserve energy—proof that the boring PK chaos continued.

Back in his private room, he logged in and was immediately bombarded with system messages:

—System Notice: Congratulations! You have successfully mastered Advanced Mining Technique… You learned six advanced skills within a day, earning the “Three-Day Newbie Big Discount Blessing” achievement: +1 Wisdom.

—System Notice: Congratulations! Your Advanced Mining Technique, Advanced Underwater Mining, and Advanced Underwater Construction skills have all reached level 10…

—System Warning: Your pickaxe durability is nearly depleted. Please repair promptly.

…

Da Chun was stunned for a moment.

After several hours of offline AFK, his mining skills had indeed advanced, gaining an extra point of wisdom and pushing two other skills to level 10—a remarkably fast progression. Yet, he was still capped at “Advanced,” not quite crossing into “Expert,” leaving a slight regret.

Curious, he checked the current player rankings: the top ten remained dominated by the so-called Holy Angel Empire’s Michael and his entourage—Sariel, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel. This game was their creation, so their privileged first-tier status was indisputable. If you didn’t like it, don’t play.

The top 100 were composed of elite super players from global professional teams.

Old Jiang was stable around the one-thousand-plus rank—fortunately, he hadn’t started in Black Iron City, as high-end players tended to avoid that start.

Finally, Da Chun checked his own rank: 16,911th!

His heart pounded wildly—not because the rank was rubbish, but because it was too high. During the public beta, he had been beyond a millionth place! Even with six advanced skills and the Scavenger profession’s achievements, his reputation was nearly negative 100,000, hardly enough to hold steady. He needed to be cautious.

Now, with a broken pickaxe, he should wait for the elevator to return for repairs, but that risked meeting players from rival organizations repairing their pickaxes. If they realized he wasn’t in their mining zone, he would be scrutinized… So now, he must absolutely avoid other players.

Better to stop mining for now and explore the flooded mine pit. No players would be here, but the mining lamps on the walls proved NPC maintenance. Perhaps encountering a red-name NPC with a story could trigger a hidden quest.

If nothing turned up, he’d dig by hand. He refused to believe he couldn’t break through the Expert level even with bare hands.