Chapter 75: The Ancestor's Belated Rebellion (2)

Ling Qiong sent the visitors away and immediately sought out Sparkle for a confrontation.

“Explain yourself—what do you mean by ‘logout function malfunction’?”

[It means you cannot log out for now,] Sparkle replied in a rather weak voice, perhaps aware of its own culpability.

Ling Qiong inhaled deeply, exhaled, inhaled again, and then forced a smile.

“May I ask, are you actually serious about developing this game?”

[Dearest, we’re truly dedicated to making this game,] Sparkle insisted.

Ling Qiong sneered, “Dedicated to milking money, more like.”

How could such a mishap occur in a game made with genuine effort?

Hands on her hips, Ling Qiong paced the room, cheeks puffed in frustration. “If I die in the game pod, whose fault is that? Can you afford the compensation?”

[Rest assured, dearest. Our game pod is different—it can sustain your life for three years,] Sparkle replied, perhaps with a hint of pride, confidence returning to its tone.

“…That’s your excuse for not putting effort into the game?”

A game that can’t even manage basic log-in and log-out functions—how dare it try to make money!

Who gave them the nerve?

[Dearest, we sincerely apologize for the poor experience.]

“Hah!”

“So you think a hundred consecutive draws will placate me?”

[…]

“You know perfectly well what can be drawn from a hundred pulls, don’t you?”

[…]

Pressed by Ling Qiong’s relentless questioning, Sparkle, realizing it was in the wrong, raised the compensation to five hundred.

Still a paltry sum… but better than nothing.

Ling Qiong opened the illustrated card collection for a glance. The homepage had changed; now there was a card occupying the entire page, marked with a question mark.

Beneath the card were a few words—Lover Exchange Card.

The two previously collected cards had been moved to the next page.

“What’s this?”

Aside from the bold ‘Lover Exchange Card’ at the top, the only other feature was a progress bar at the bottom.

[0/100]

[Dearest, it’s a special card,] Sparkle resumed its sweet voice, [You need to use the Golden Fur item to exchange.]

Ling Qiong: “…You have quite a variety of gameplay, don’t you?”

She glanced at her item count—just over a hundred…

A special card… She was curious to see what was so special about it.

Ling Qiong dragged the progress bar to one hundred.

[Congratulations, you’ve received: Mystery Fragment ×1]

A small piece of the question-marked card flipped over, pure black, impossible to discern what it was.

Truly, a fragment.

Ling Qiong nearly spat blood.

Looking at the progress bar below—

[0/1000]

Ling Qiong instantly felt as if she’d been pierced by a thousand arrows.

What devilish gameplay was this?!

[Dearest, I did remind you to collect more Golden Fur items,] Sparkle chimed in.

Ling Qiong’s smile twisted, “What’s the use of this card?”

[Giggling, dearest, once you collect all the fragments, you can exchange them in reality.]

Ling Qiong: “??”

Exchange for what?

A lover?

Ling Qiong: “A living one?”

[Yes, indeed.]

“…What is wrong with this game! Why can you exchange for a living person?! How did you get through approval?”

[Dearest, we’re still in beta operations.]

Ling Qiong understood. “So you haven’t passed approval—operating illegally?”

What kind of trap had she fallen into?

Ah!!!

She was done!

[Dearest, you signed a participation contract. You can’t breach it.]

[Besides, you’ll receive a generous reward, and you can exchange for a lover in reality who will be absolutely loyal to you. What’s the point of owning them in-game? Having them in reality is much more satisfying. Multiple times the happiness—don’t you want it?] Sparkle’s voice was oddly coy.

Ling Qiong: “…Given the quality of the game, I am a bit tempted.”

But it was clearly a scam, wasn’t it?

Ling Qiong looked at the flipped fragment. If each piece was that size, it would take thirty or forty fragments to complete the card.

And the progress bar—ten times the requirement…

And each item needed a sub-card; how many draws would she need to collect them all?

Ling Qiong could practically see the pit looming before her.

No, no.

She absolutely must not play along!

But then, the reward… That sum was truly substantial.

And it wasn’t her own money she’d spend.

Just scamming some NPCs…

Ling Qiong stared at the fragment she’d turned over, feeling her heart itch—she wanted to flip them all.

No! Stay calm!

It’s a trap—don’t fall for it!

Ling Qiong paced her room, mind wrestling with itself.

In the end, forced by the fact that she couldn’t log out, she decided to continue this round… and quit next round!

…

Ling Qiong calmed herself and pointed at the special card, asking Sparkle, “Will the person exchanged be comparable to the one in the game?”

If it was some ugly, misshapen thing, what was the point?

[The target is modeled after the special card, and the real person will be even more perfect.]

Ling Qiong: “…So it’s the same person?”

Her dream of three thousand consorts was shattered.

[Dearest, are you tempted? Don’t just think—act!]

“But wait, according to your design, aren’t all players playing for the same thing? You copy and paste so many for players to exchange?”

Even cloning wasn’t done like this!

[Dearest, each player’s instance is based on a different special card. One player, one special card—they’re not the same.]

Ling Qiong: “…This game… Something feels off.”

Such a game required an enormous computational load. A handful of players, perhaps, but thousands?

A real person even more perfect than the in-game target—where would they find so many to exchange?

Human trafficking wouldn’t suffice!

Was the real-life exchange truly possible, or was Sparkle boasting? Would she end up with a genuine companion doll?

After all, companion robots were already called “living beings.”

The more Ling Qiong thought, the more plausible it seemed…

When she pressed for further details, Sparkle feigned death and fell silent.

“…”

Damn!

Ling Qiong cursed Sparkle for half an hour.

Even after venting, she was still upset, squatting on the floor in distress.

Ling Qiong felt her dream of three thousand consorts could still be continued—after all, they were modeled after the template, not the original!

Thinking this way made it seem somewhat acceptable.

Ling Qiong stood up, clenched her fists, and cheered herself on.

…

Ling Qiong stayed at the manor for several days, gradually clarifying the situation.

The main person in charge was Jiang He.

There were several elders whom Ling Qiong had met a few times. The elders always wanted to kneel and pay her great respect, which Ling Qiong disliked.

Not being favored by Ling Qiong, the elders were quite distressed.

In the end, Jiang He alone took responsibility for caring for Ling Qiong and answering her questions.

A thousand years had passed; they had no idea what Moonfall Candle was like now.

Therefore, Ling Qiong’s behavior aroused no suspicion.

Everyone in this manor was a descendant of the Moon Clan.

After the great war of old, they had concealed their identities, but never forgot their ancestral duty to restore the Moon Clan.

———A Message from the Fairy———

Adorable readers who have tickets, don’t be stingy, cast your votes! If you don’t vote and I don’t vote, when will the Qiong God rise to fame!