Make money, make money, make money!

As those words fell, the room instantly went quiet. Several gazes turned in unison toward the clone in the big joker mask, and the atmosphere immediately grew delicate.

Clone No. 1 coughed twice and slowly stepped forward, deliberately suppressing his earlier air of affected dominance. Adopting the manner of a seasoned senior, he spoke unhurriedly:

"The boss didn't tell you to stock up on masks just to make trouble. There are three main reasons.

First, if you really run into a tough opponent, whether it's a fight, a collision, or a surprise attack, once your mask shatters, gets knocked off, or gets scratched up, you can replace it with a spare on the spot instead of exposing your face and identity.

Second, it makes it easier to disguise yourselves on short notice and switch identities to make a getaway. If someone targets you or some faction investigates you, just put on an ordinary mask, and nobody will recognize you as those ruthless characters-the big joker, little joker, two of hearts, and two of diamonds. That makes it easier to escape and operate in secret.

As for the third reason-"

Clone No. 1 deliberately paused, his tone growing meaningful, carrying a touch of the insight of someone who had been through it all:

"This is the most important and most genuine reason.

Think about it. Look at your identities: the little joker, two of hearts, and two of diamonds. You're all cards with names and standing. If you have to handle some trivial matter, run errands, pick up resources, or do odd jobs like earning luck points, and you still go around wearing your main masks, what if someone photographs you, investigates you, or recognizes you? These illustrious big shots, actually doing petty little chores like that-where would you put your faces? Your aura of badassery would shatter all over the floor. How would you keep posing as experts in the circle after that?

If it really came to that, someone would look into it and go, 'Oh, the people wearing the two of hearts and two of diamonds did this.' Wouldn't they laugh their teeth out?

So, while our organization still hasn't grown powerful, we'll inevitably need to do odd jobs and play bit parts. Just switch straight to background-extra masks like the three of hearts, three of diamonds, or clubs, get it done quietly, and nobody will recognize you. You won't expose your identities or lose your standing. Safe and respectable.

Those first two reasons were just for appearances. Protecting our badass image, saving face, and keeping people from laughing at us-that's the point."

As those words fell, the other three clones instantly looked enlightened, yet utterly speechless. Inwardly, they all griped, So all that serious talk earlier was just excuses. The real reason was actually being afraid that doing odd jobs would lower our status and make us lose face!

Standing to one side, Xing Yao listened to Clone No. 1's utterly earnest yet all-too-real bizarre reasoning, and the corner of his mouth couldn't help twitching hard. For a moment, he genuinely didn't know what to say.

At that moment, all three clones silently planned to grab a batch of ordinary little masks in a bit and keep a few extra on hand.

Xing Yao glanced at the subtle, stiff expressions on the three clones before him and couldn't help inwardly grumbling, Just as I thought. Every one of them looks arrogant enough to own the world, but deep down, they're all desperate to save face. They don't dare argue out loud, but they care more than anyone about looking badass. They're afraid someone will see them doing odd jobs as the big joker, little joker, two of hearts, or two of diamonds and ruin their big-shot image. Now they're all behaving themselves, each working his abacus harder than anyone else. He fought back a laugh, knowing perfectly well what was going on. These guys follow the rules with their mouths, but their heads are full of drama. They don't say a word, but they act faster than anyone. In a bit, they'll definitely swarm off to stockpile little masks, terrified of lowering their status, embarrassing themselves, and losing their badass image. It's both funny and exasperating.

He couldn't be bothered to expose their little schemes any further. With a slight stir of his thoughts, a faint glow quietly rose at his fingertips. As his mental power circulated, he casually condensed several more ordinary little masks: background-extra styles like the three of hearts, three of diamonds, four of clubs, and five of spades. Plain and inconspicuous, they were just right for odd jobs, errands, and earning luck points. Once he finished, he put the entire batch of newly made masks into his mental world so the four clones could take them whenever they wanted, sparing them the trouble of sneaking around looking for more.

There were still six days until the secret realm opened, and the atmosphere in the room had just relaxed. Wearing the two of hearts mask, Clone No. 3 looked around the dilapidated room, its walls nearly stripped of plaster, and couldn't help complaining on the spot. "Seriously, we've already gotten this far, so why are we still holed up in this crappy little dump? Doesn't it cheapen our image way too much? We need to make money fast and move into a grand villa. Otherwise, this really is too embarrassing to look at!"

Xing Yao followed his gaze and glanced at the house, which couldn't have been more rudimentary. His tone was calm but realistic. "It's not that I don't want to move. The time just isn't right yet. Our forces are still weak. If we suddenly move into a mansion, it'll be too conspicuous. We'll easily attract attention and have our backgrounds investigated, bringing trouble down on ourselves instead. Growing stronger quietly is the safest option."

But Clone No. 2, wearing the little joker mask, immediately chimed in confidently, thumping his chest. "Isn't that simple? Just send a masked clone to buy it! Stay invisible the whole way and only turn it off when we arrive. Who could trace that? If we enter and leave invisible every time, they won't find the slightest trace even if they try!"

Clone No. 1's eyes lit up at once, and he immediately joined in. "Exactly, exactly! This plan is practically seamless. Safe and discreet, with absolutely no worries about exposure!"

Usually steady and sparing with words, Clone No. 3 watched these fellows getting more carried away the more they talked. He shook his head helplessly, a smile tugging at his lips as though he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Xing Yao listened to them chime in one after another, spinning such dazzling plans that it sounded as though they could move into a big fancy villa with their bags the very next second. He fell silent for two seconds, his expression stiffening bit by bit. The corner of his mouth twitched wildly, and his eyes were filled with the helplessness of someone who had nothing left to live for. His entire being radiated the exhaustion of, Guys, I can't carry this team.

He took a deep breath and, enunciating each word, delivered an ultimate point so devastating it could shatter their defenses on the spot. His voice wasn't loud, but it pressed everyone's beautiful dreams to the ground and ground them into the dirt:

"...We don't have any money."

The clones, who had just been arguing boisterously with their heads full of mansions and sprawling luxury apartments, collectively shut their mouths. The air grew so quiet that a pin hitting the floor could have been heard.

Xing Yao held his forehead, his face full of utter mental exhaustion and helplessness, and drove the knife in with brutal realism. "Are you drawing giant pies in the air here? Your ideas sure are lovely-villas, covert operations, the whole lot. Then you feel around in your pockets, and they're cleaner than your faces. Zero funding, empty savings. Our specialty is being consistently poor, uniformly poor, and poor in perfect sync. Want to live in a mansion? Sure. Make money first. Make some serious money before we talk. Stop daydreaming and thinking about nothing but lovely things!"

At those words, the clones instantly erupted into an uproar, clustering together and chattering away as they frantically brainstormed ways to make money.

Clone No. 2's eyes lit up, and he shouted first, "How about farming equipment in the secret realm and selling it? Get some good drops and strike it rich!"

Clone No. 1 shot that down on the spot, his tone turning urgent. "Forget it! With our strength, going in there would just be feeding kills! Besides, the secret realm administrator is shady as hell and takes seventy percent right off the top. We work ourselves to death and only keep thirty percent. Are we supposed to live on the northwest wind?"

Clone No. 3 hurried over as well. "Then how about taking bounties, running missions, and grinding for money?"

The suggestion had barely left his mouth before everyone scorned it. "High risk, lousy money, and we could easily give ourselves away. Only total suckers would do that!"

With every option rejected, the room fell cold again.

Just then, Clone No. 3, who had remained quiet and spoken the least, suddenly raised his eyes. His voice was steady, but he instantly caught everyone's attention:

"I do have an idea. We make special items."