The Chosen Young Masters, Go Forth and Create Miracles

Murphy, accustomed to cities with rationing, easily found the underground black market and made a purchase. He spent the large sum of money he'd acquired for free on a pile of goods, which he then brought back to the manor.

The reason he didn't give the money to Triss was simple.

She would have spent it all on alcohol, then relied on a vampire's extreme endurance to fight off hunger while living in drunken stupor. She had proudly mentioned that she'd lived like that for sixty years straight.

Murphy suspected this was the main reason Triss was so pathetically weak.

A perfectly good, beautiful young woman, utterly starved into foolishness.

Triss was still resting upstairs, and Murphy didn't disturb the patient. He placed the sliced bread and some canned goods into the creaky mechanical refrigerator.

If Murphy recalled correctly, this hulking, dark, and crude contraption was nicknamed "Steam 800." It was said to have been invented in the year 800 by a Shardo Halfling mechanic, a unique creation of this world's "steam mechanics."

Honestly, Murphy could understand the principle of heating food with steam, but how on earth did they use steam for refrigeration?

Of course, now wasn't the time to delve deep into the fantastical physics of this Otherworld and scramble his own brains.

The unfortunate vampire packed enough food for three days and some miscellaneous items into his satchel. He also wrote down the recipes for a few dishes he'd made, with instructions so detailed that as long as Triss wasn't too drunk to function, she'd be able to prepare them.

Finally, he pulled out his worn pocket watch and checked the time.

It was nearly dusk; he had to leave.

Behind Murphy was a dimly lit room, its windows covered. He didn't bother to light the Gas Lamp, which was older than he was, and instead walked slowly out of the place he'd called home for a month in the dim light.

The vampires' sense of punctuality was evident here.

As Murphy reached the door, the sound of horse bells rang out, and a black carriage emerged from a small alley across the street, stopping at the manor's entrance.

It wasn't a luxurious vehicle, just an ordinary four-wheeled carriage used for trade. In the carriage's canopy sat eight gaunt, hollow-eyed Blood Servants, making Murphy frown.

"Blood slaves" would be a more fitting term, he thought.

They looked like chronically ill patients, kept penned up and bled dry for so long that they could barely survive until tomorrow morning without dying in front of him, let alone go to war or carry out missions.

The driver was a burly man wearing a hood that obscured his face. He was the only one among the people the "kind" Patriarch's Guard had assigned to Murphy who looked presentable.

Healthy and tall, he exuded a sense of security.

Upon seeing Murphy, the man immediately greeted him:

"Salutations, Mr. Murphy. We are servants dispatched by Lord Jed to assist you. Your requested armor and weapons are already in the carriage. Shall we depart now?"

"So that guard's name is Jed," Murphy noted mentally.

Although the man had likely taken pity on him and offered this "help," help was help. Despite his current predicament, Murphy didn't want to be indebted.

If he returned, he would find a way to repay this kindness.

He nodded to the driver but didn't sit in the cramped canopy. Instead, he took out the bags containing the armor and weapons from it.

He then sat in the seat next to the driver.

This position offered a good view and ventilation, and if any danger arose, he could make a quick escape.

"Let's go," Murphy said, pulling his hood up to cover his face.

The driver, however, didn't crack his whip. Instead, he said in a low voice, "Sir, your elder is there!"

"Hm?"

Murphy turned his head in surprise and saw Triss, who had been resting moments ago, now standing barefoot by the garden in the dilapidated courtyard, clad in a red cloak. She watched him silently, as if bidding farewell to a traveler.

"Wait a moment," Murphy said to the driver, jumped off the carriage, and quickly walked to Triss's side. He frowned and asked, "Why aren't you wearing shoes when you came out?"

"So, is this the first thing you want to say to me before you leave, Little Murphy?"

Triss brushed her long hair aside and rolled her eyes.

Shaking her head, she reached out and adjusted Murphy's hood and mask into the proper position. As she leaned closer, Triss looked at him with an unusually serious gaze. A strange light flickered in her crimson eyes, a light that Murphy found unfamiliar.

She patted Murphy's chest and whispered, "Once you leave, don't come back! Take this opportunity to leave Cadman City and completely escape the Blood Vultures' territory!

Whether you go to the Nordtov Kingdom to the north and seek refuge with the Thorn Clan, or head south across the Dark Mountains to the Mist Coast and join the Bloodfear Fleet, or even search for the Blood Pact Knights who patrol around the Dark Mountains.

No matter where you go, it will be much better than staying here! Of course, be sure to avoid those thugs and ruffians from the Wolfsbane Clan.

When you arrive, find the clan chiefs or elders and mention my name.

I'll only say it once!

My full name is Triss Cavandina Ja Lorraine Lesombra.

Although I'm just an ignored and forgotten nobody in Cadman City, officially declared dead, I still have some reputation in other clans. If those old men and women from my era are still alive, they will take you in.

Little Murphy, listen to me carefully!"

The Thorn Clan is beyond saving.

We've violated the 'Edict of Seclusion' that all vampires have followed since the Holy Blood Pilgrimage. We've stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight, brazenly provoking a conflict between civilization and the kingdom. Even the most tolerant Blood Pact Knights won't help us anymore.

And that's just the least of our transgressions.

Let's go, little Murphy.

Ignore that order that's clearly meant to get you killed."

These words didn't sound like they came from the drunkard and useless king he usually was, and it genuinely surprised Murphy. He looked at Triss in astonishment.

She shook her head, signaling him not to say anything more, then turned to leave without hesitation.

She gave Murphy no chance to ask further questions.

Murphy, meanwhile, pondered her advice.

He watched Triss return to the main house, then turned and got into the carriage. Soon, the jingle of bells signaled its disappearance down the desolate street in the twilight.

He could feel eyes on his back.

He knew Triss must be watching him leave from the balcony. At that moment, a strange sense of reluctance welled up in Murphy's heart.

Although he'd only lived here for a month, the experience was truly unforgettable. After all, he'd lived for over thirty years in another world and never endured such hardship.

But the reluctance was real.

Lady Triss was a truly unique person, and this final warning seemed to shroud her in even more mystery, leaving Murphy to his thoughts. But... leave?

What a joke!

He wouldn't just leave in such disgrace!

If he had to escape, he'd take Triss with him. Though he was down on his luck in this Otherworld, Murphy didn't owe anyone anything!

Meanwhile, on the main house's balcony, Triss stood in the shadows of the evening light, her alluring eyes narrowed. Her pale fingers, wrapped in a handkerchief, clenched into fists beneath the cover of her cloak.

In the now-empty, dilapidated courtyard, she gritted her teeth and whispered:

"Does it really have to come to this? Salokdar! It wasn't enough to almost kill this child with a botched summoning ritual. Now you want him to go to his death after barely surviving?

You truly don't allow me anyone close, do you? You filthy old dog, afraid I'll expose your sordid secrets.

But you've crossed the line!

I'm not going anywhere, Salokdar. I'll stay right here! I'll stay in this doghouse where you keep me penned up, and I will personally witness your downfall and that of your family.

Heh.

It won't be long now."

After Murphy's carriage vanished from Triss's senses in the encroaching night, she turned and, with a cough that grew more violent, returned to her dimly lit room. Her eyes immediately fell upon the papers Murphy had left on the table, a detailed "cooking guide" with step-by-step instructions.

The strange handwriting made Triss shake her head.

She remembered picking this child up on a snowy night over a year ago, and his handwriting hadn't been this bad then.

Sigh, such a handsome young man, and he's managed to make himself foolish.

Triss, Triss, you truly are a woman burdened by sin.

She opened the creaking steam refrigerator with a self-deprecating smile. Inside, she saw it filled with bread and half-prepared dishes. The child had likely bought so much food out of fear she'd starve herself.

This silly yet warm concern made Triss roll her eyes again, but the next moment, an indescribable, intense loneliness washed over her.

She could have endured this!

Just as she had in the past hundred years, acting in solitude and madness.

She really could have!

She was strong enough and not a cowardly five-hundred-year-old!

She could have done all of this, provided she hadn't spent this past year and more depending on someone.

"Alas, in the end, I'm still alone."

A long sigh.

It dissolved into the shadows.

As Murphy's carriage, carrying eight lifeless figures, left Cadman City under the stars to meet his death, another "grand adventure" was unfolding in a different world.

In a university dorm room, five "conjugal fathers" were gathered around, watching "Ge Bao" hold a screwdriver, preparing to dismantle the black, somewhat high-tech, perfectly round helmet in front of him.

"Ge Bao" was "Leading Big Pigeon," one of the two young players who had just completed the first round of testing for the game "True Otherworld."

Yes!

The short, lewd guy who had tried to drop his pants in front of Murphy and was stopped.

"Damn, how do I even cut this?"

The fourth-year student, who had already achieved the status of "Dorm Leader" at a young age, looked at the screwdriver in his hand and then at the "game helmet" in the other.

He sneered.

"There aren't even any screw holes. Do I really have to bash this thing open with a stick?"

"Tch, if you're too stingy to take it apart, don't put it together!"

The six brothers in the dorm had lived together for four years. How could they not see through Ge Bao's true intentions? They teased him:

"We all understand the feeling of finally getting something that looks awesome. Good boy, we don't mind you playing with a motorcycle helmet, just stop bragging that you played a super realistic game.

We all submitted that weird game test application at the same time, right?

Why is it that only you got this thing?"

The chubby kid with glasses snorted, pushed his glasses up with a "washing machine drum" motion, and said with an all-knowing tone:

"So, this is your elaborate prank, right? I knew it, the application interface was so crude. If they really had such advanced virtual reality technology, they couldn't even make a decent webpage?"

"Damn it! I'm telling the truth!"

Ge Bao, being mocked repeatedly, lost his temper for a moment. He hugged the beloved black game helmet to his chest and shouted:

"If this is fake, I'll let you guys do whatever you want to me tonight without a peep!"

"???"

The other five brothers stared at each other, then, with unspoken agreement, took a step back simultaneously, distancing themselves from the enraged Ge Bao. Another brother said softly, a little scared:

"Don't be like that, Ge Bao. We're just joking when we talk about 'doing' people. Don't take it seriously. Of course, of course, we don't discriminate against sexual minorities.

Just don't wear your long johns backward, and we'll still be brothers."

"Rebellious son!"

The Dorm Leader was furious, his face turning red. Amidst the rebellious sons' wild laughter, he grabbed a broom handle and swung it, shouting:

"I'll beat you all to death, you little brats!"

"Dorm 2149! Your package is here! Come down and get it!"

Before Ge Bao could finish his outburst, his phone rang. He opened it and heard the voice of the delivery guy, who was also teasing:

"Are university students at famous universities buying motorcycle helmets in bulk now? Is there a discount for buying five at once?"

"Heh! I got lucky!"

Ge Bao grinned instantly, hung up the phone with a flourish, and ordered his good sons to go pick up the packages.

A few minutes later, the six brothers in the dorm stared blankly at the black helmets of the same style in their hands. The chubby kid with glasses swallowed hard and touched the helmet's strange, matte-textured material.

He said softly:

"Damn, you're serious about this. Why am I a little scared? Ge Bao, tell us honestly, is that game really that amazing?"

"Nonsense, I tried it. I'll just say one thing: you can take off your pants in that game! Tell me how amazing that is?"

"666! Let's go up and try it, see if I can 'do' someone in the game."

"Damn, there's a pervert here! Someone call the police, quick!"

"Hey, hey, hey, that's not right. Why does it say 'Test time TBD' here? Is there no forum or anything? And this thing doesn't have any labels or anything."

"Yes! It's inside the helmet. Look closely, it's called 'Alpha' company. I have to say, the name and icon are quite stylish."

While the dorm mates were making a ruckus, in another city a thousand miles away in the same country, two middle-aged men, drunk in a spacious office, stared wide-eyed at the black helmets they had just unboxed.

They looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"That weird webpage with the domain? The one for the test game Old Yang forwarded a few days ago? Didn't that page return a 404?"

One man asked, rubbing his helmet. The other tilted his head back and downed a glass, waving his hand with a look of dejection.

"Who cares? If we can play, we play. If not, so be it. Damn it, it really doesn't feel good to hand over the factory I've worked in for half my life. I have money now, but I'm just not happy!

Fuck!

Now I just have to live the rest of my life waiting to die.

I just heard Old Yang on the phone say he went in to try it and said the game is amazing, telling us to add him as a friend, something like Wu Miao, and that the game is just like real life.

It would be better if it were real.

Are you raising fish here?

Come on.

Let's each punish ourselves with a drink first, and then we'll have another one."

Across the ocean, in a student apartment, a long-haired young woman who was exhausted from writing her thesis rubbed her head, staring blankly at the black helmet she had taken out of the box.

She rubbed her eyes and wailed:

"What weird thing did I buy this time? My subsidy for this month is almost gone. What am I going to do if this continues? Huh, this thing lights up?

It's quite comfortable to wear. Looks like a custom model.

But can someone please tell me what the hell this is?"