God and Demon Game

"Looking for Tathagata doesn't mean I want him to save me. What if this whole thing is his doing?" Tang Luo said.

Tathagata, the professional scapegoat.

Everything was Tathagata's fault. There were enough of his various corrupted incarnations to circle the earth.

"Heh, interesting idea. Are you a monk?"

The owner of the hoarse voice looked at Tang Luo, who had already gotten to his feet.

A shaved head didn't necessarily mean someone was a monk. They could just be an unfortunate bald guy.

There were no tonsure scars on Tang Luo's head.

But it was the modern age, and it was perfectly normal for monks not to have tonsure scars, so the man had asked.

"I am."

Tang Luo turned around.

The owner of the hoarse voice was a truly unremarkable middle-aged man, neither tall nor short, somewhat burly, with the beer belly many middle-aged men couldn't shake.

Now that he was standing, Tang Luo could see the whole carriage.

It was much shorter than the original carriage.

Besides Tang Luo and the middle-aged man who had spoken, there were five other people.

Three men and two women.

Of everyone there, the middle-aged man was the oldest.

The youngest was a high school boy in a uniform, with a faint shadow of dark fuzz on his upper lip.

The rest were all young adults who looked to be in their twenties—including Tang Luo.

Tang Luo's conversation with the middle-aged man had clearly drawn everyone else's attention.

Some people had stood up, while others craned their necks to get a better look.

Everyone was watching the two of them.

The middle-aged man didn't ask Tang Luo anything else. Instead, he clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention away from the two of them and onto himself.

"Looks like you're all newcomers. I'll give you a quick rundown," the middle-aged man said.

"Kill City, the Main God's Space, the Reincarnation Worlds?" Someone raised a hand and asked.

The three terms made some people look enlightened, while others became even more confused.

In this age of information overload, there were always people who had heard a thing or two.

Even if they didn't quite understand what was happening, at least they weren't reacting with, "I don't believe any of this! It's all fake! Come out, camera crew!" or "My dad is XX. You'll regret kidnapping me!" or "I'll pay whatever you want. Just take me home."

Everyone was waiting to see what would happen.

To use the industry jargon, this batch of newcomers was pretty sharp.

Facing a group of sharp newcomers—or "ordinary folks," for short—the middle-aged man nodded. "More or less. Simply put, we've been chosen and brought to a special place to complete missions."

"But—"

The middle-aged man paused. "It's not a Reincarnation World. Most people prefer to call it the God and Demon Game. We're a bunch of 'players,' entering dungeons and risking our lives to complete missions."

"And then we earn reward points to exchange for power-ups?"

The man who'd asked before, a bespectacled fellow who looked like a college student, continued.

As he spoke, he pushed up his glasses.

He had the air of a cool-headed intellectual.

Of course, that was if you ignored his cute pink teddy-bear pajamas and slippers.

The overwhelming girlishness was hard to miss.

The middle-aged man shook his head slightly. "No. There aren't any points. You only receive 'rewards' after completing a mission. As for getting stronger, you either gain something while completing a dungeon mission or receive a reward afterward. At least, that's what I've learned."

He didn't mind the bespectacled man asking questions. In fact, he was happy to explain things to everyone in this question-and-answer format.

They were all in the same boat.

Zhou Zhenguo didn't mind sharing what he knew to help the newcomers get up to speed. It was little trouble.

Some people might make a big deal out of this sort of thing.

But Zhou Zhenguo wouldn't.

"What kind of rewards are there?"

"Skills. Mostly skills. That's why it's called a 'game,'" Zhou Zhenguo said.

"What happens if you fail a mission? Do they erase you on the spot? Since there aren't points or anything to deduct."

"Probably. Though I've heard some people say they don't get erased—they 'disappear.'"

"Disappear?"

"Right. They vanish without a trace, and nobody can prove whether they're really dead. But there's no need to worry too much. You don't disappear just because you fail a mission once. It takes around three to five times, I think. I've failed a few missions myself, and I'm still doing fine."

"Okay." The bespectacled man in pink nodded.

"Any other questions?" Zhou Zhenguo asked. "I'll tell you whatever I know—"

Just as he spoke, the train, which had still been moving, began to slow. A few seconds later, it came to a stop.

The carriage's only door slowly opened.

Beyond it lay a world of utter darkness.

The light inside the carriage illuminated less than a meter past the open door.

Beyond that meter, everything was black.

The carriage windows were coated in dust, making it impossible to see outside.

Even without the dust, they would only have shown reflections of the carriage interior.

Zhou Zhenguo glanced at the darkness beyond the door, then exhaled. "Come on. We'll talk as we go."

With that, he strode toward the door.

The bespectacled man followed without hesitation.

The other two men followed as well. The two women seemed to know each other.

They stayed close together and hesitated for a moment before following.

Just as Zhou Zhenguo led the way, about to leave the dirty but brightly lit carriage, Tang Luo spoke.

"Benefactors, please wait."

Zhou Zhenguo stopped and looked back, frowning slightly. "What is it, monk? We can talk while we walk."

"You misunderstand, benefactor."

Tang Luo shook his head, one hand raised before his chest. A sense of calm and tranquility seemed to radiate from him.

It inspired goodwill and made people want to listen.

After all, he had been officially recognized as a Buddha. Victorious Fighting Buddha was a Buddha, too.

"This poor monk's dharma name is Xuanzang," Tang Luo said. "I am a direct disciple of the Buddhist sect and know a little about subduing demons and exorcising evil. If you encounter danger, come to me. I can keep you safe."

In Tang Luo's eyes, these people weren't merely players risking their lives to complete missions.

They were each "walking merit," ominous signs written across their faces, death stars hanging over their heads.

If they were risking their lives to "play," sooner or later they would get in over their heads.

Saving one life was better than building a seven-story pagoda.

He needed merit to heal his injuries, and this sudden turn of events was exactly what he needed.

It was as if a pillow had appeared just as he was nodding off.

Fate worked in mysterious ways.

"Is that for real?" Tang Luo's words left everyone speechless. They didn't know how to react.

Xuanzang?

Why not say your dharma name was Pilgrim?

"A monk does not lie," Tang Luo said. Every word he spoke was true.

"Master, can you fly?"

The bespectacled man had a sudden flash of inspiration and asked, sounding somewhat teasing.

"No."

Tang Luo shook his head.

It wasn't one of those boastful "I can't fly, but I know a divine art even better than flying" answers.

He really couldn't.

He was an extremely one-sided cultivator who followed the path of "overwhelming all laws with sheer force."

He didn't know any profound techniques or divine arts. None at all.

Whenever he needed one, he relied entirely on the Merit Jade Lotus.

"...So you really can't." The bespectacled man gave an awkward laugh.

Everyone turned back around, preparing to leave the carriage.

Tang Luo didn't care whether they believed him.

All that mattered was leaving that impression in their minds.

When danger came, they would naturally grab for this last lifeline.

Then Tang Luo could save them.

If they truly didn't believe him, he wouldn't force them.

How could a Buddha not be easygoing?

Zhou Zhenguo led the way out of the carriage, while Tang Luo was the last to leave. The instant he stepped outside, his eyes flickered.

The spiritual energy here was much denser than on Earth.

It would help him recover from his injuries.

The group whispered among themselves as they explored their surroundings.

Beyond the carriage was an abandoned subway platform, very cramped.

It was almost like a cage surrounding the carriage.

One thing worth noting was that the carriage Tang Luo and the others had ridden in really was just one carriage, with no engine or rear car.

The tracks they had arrived on had disappeared. All they could see was a wall.

The only way out was a sealed, perforated iron gate on the platform.

Beyond the gate was a flight of stairs leading upward.

Everything was pitch-black, and chilly gusts of wind blew from who knew where, raising goosebumps all over their bodies.

Once their eyes had adjusted to the dark enough for them to make things out, Zhou Zhenguo reached out and felt around the iron gate, then tugged at it twice.

"Step back a little." Unable to open the gate, he told the group gathered behind him to move back.

Then he swung a kick at it, and a loud bang echoed through the platform.

Zhou Zhenguo grunted and crouched down.

"What happened, Uncle Zhou?" the bespectacled man asked.

They had already exchanged basic information, such as their names and occupations.

However, Zhou Zhenguo had advised them not to give their real names and to use code names instead.

He had introduced himself as Old Zhou.

Everyone had taken to calling him Uncle Zhou. After all, he was a powerful ally they needed to cling to.

The others had followed suit, giving surnames that may or may not have been real.

There were all sorts of Little X's, like a company team-building trip.

"I'm fine. I kicked my toe..." Zhou Zhenguo said.

"..."

They'd have to fend for themselves. Better to rely on yourself than on heaven or anyone else.

Although Zhou Zhenguo had kicked his toe, his kick had still done the trick.

The iron gate soon opened, and everyone climbed the stairs.

The stale air gradually grew a little fresher.

Before long, a faint light appeared ahead, followed by another iron gate.

This time, Zhou Zhenguo picked the right spot. One kick sent the gate tumbling down.

The group entered a small room even more cramped than the underground station. Stone walls flanked them on both sides.

Only a narrow passage in the middle was wide enough for two people to stand side by side.

Moonlight streamed into the room through a half-open door at the far end of the passage.

"Is this a tomb?" Someone recognized the room.

It was a Western-style tomb.

The kind with a little coffin-like room.

The "stone walls" on either side of the passage were actually "coffins." Usually, they had names and dates of birth and death carved into them.

Some even had brief biographies.

Nobody liked staying in a tomb, so they quickened their pace and left.

Tang Luo was at the back of the group. Just as he stepped out of the tomb,

a cold gust of wind from nowhere slammed the door behind him shut.

At the same time, dark clouds blown in by the wind completely covered the half-hidden moon.

The relatively bright moonlight vanished, and for an instant, everything before them went pitch-black.

Tang Luo glanced back at the tomb. A strange, thoughtful look crossed his face.

It quickly returned to its usual calm.

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