Players: All NPCs in the Sect Are Moles

Above the royal city, a corpse suddenly twitched.

It was the very player who had first lit the fuse of civil unrest in Biqu City. He slowly climbed to his feet, his face twisting until it became a painted opera mask slathered in thick greasepaint. The lines on this face were formed by countless, tiny, writhing runes. One eye was painted in a vicious sneer, while the other wept tears of blood, its corner drooping downward.

He was none other than Huodou, the "Jing" Pillar of the Floating Life Opera’s "Four Great Pillars."

Around him, the members of the "Ensemble" who had previously been playing the roles of "imperial spies" and "concerned officials" also revealed their true forms. Their faces all transformed into various opera masks—some with mouths split open to their ears, others with eyes growing on their cheeks.

Several of the "Luogu Dan," wearing the opera masks of qingyi roles, let out shrill laughs as they teased one another.

"The Boss pulled off a masterpiece! He toyed with us like it was a game, but now it’s finally their turn to crash and burn! Hehe, all the players in an entire dynasty crippled, and they’re all red-named now! The Sect Leader played them good!"

"Yeah, yeah! What goes around, comes around! Sacrificing a dynasty to finally teach these so-called ’players’ a lesson! Hehe!"

"Aren’t you one of them? Don’t you dare lump yourself in with us natives! You’re one of the damned lot too, hehe!"

"Then come and kill me. Seems my acting skills aren’t up to snuff, since you saw right through me..."

"Hee hee... Boss, the show’s over. Let’s hurry up and open the ’Illusory Opera Sect’! This harvest of ’Lingding Sha’ is a huge one!" another voice chimed in, filled with impatient excitement.

The speaker was a petite player. Her face was the "tofu block" mask of a clown, with a comical swirl painted on her nose.

She was Youcai’er. The moment she finished speaking, the greasepaint on her face receded like a tide, revealing a much more familiar face—Xiaohui.

The very same female player who had caused the destruction of the Yin Yuan Sect.

The Troupe Leader stood at the edge of the royal city wall, his back to the others, gazing down at the capital that had become a city of the dead. He turned around slowly, his half-crying, half-laughing mask looking all the more grotesque under the dim sky.

"Why are you all in such a hurry for me to open the Illusory Opera Sect?"

Huodou and Youcai’er exchanged a look. "Hehehe... Why don’t you guess? We’ve spent about enough time here."

Just as they were about to say more, a furious roar echoed from the sky. "Xiaohui! You can’t escape!" A flash of sword light tore through the clouds. A Daoist with his hair and beard flying wildly hovered above the royal city on his sword. The immense pressure of a mighty cultivator crashed down!

But Youcai’er (Xiaohui) didn’t even bother to glance at him. She just giggled at the Troupe Leader. "See, Boss~~~? The cavalry has arrived."

Huodou chimed in, "That’s right, Troupe Leader. Since you’re unwilling to open the Illusory Opera Sect, why don’t you... join us for the ’final curtain call’ right here?"

"Hehehe..." The Troupe Leader let out a strange laugh and shook his head. "Just him? You think he can kill me? Besides, what makes you think the one standing here is me?"

As he spoke, the Troupe Leader’s crying-laughing mask suddenly flaked away, piece by piece. But what lay beneath was not his true face. It was another mask, the wizened face of an old man from the "Mo" character role.

The one playing the Troupe Leader, the Thousand-Faced Elder, continued, "Hehehe... I fooled all of you. Why don’t you stay and be buried here with me? Heeheeheehee..."

The smiles on Youcai’er’s and Huodou’s faces didn’t falter.

"What a pity. I tricked so many of you for nothing. If I’d survived, I would’ve definitely gotten a promotion, you know. Heeheeheehee," the Thousand-Faced Elder prattled on.

High above, the mighty cultivator clearly had no more patience for this farce. "All of you, die!" He formed a sword seal with his fingers and slashed down fiercely at the Star-picking Platform below.

Youcai’er and Huodou just glanced at each other, their faces full of regret.

"Ah, we lost this round. Didn’t manage to ’take out’ the Boss."

"Yeah, and we’ll lose a level. We’re red-named, so we’ll lose gear and get locked up for a while, too. A bit of a loss. Guess we’ll have to postpone killing the Boss. Hopefully, he won’t get poached by our other sect brothers before we get out, hehe."

Meanwhile, the Thousand-Faced Elder, who had been impersonating the Troupe Leader, crossed her legs and swung them back and forth in the air. "What’s there for you to regret? You’ll just lose a level. You all deserve to die anyway. The real pity is that when most of us in the troupe die, we actually die for real! Still, playing you ’star performers’ for fools before I go makes this trip worthwhile. What a riot! Hahahaha!"

The next moment, a pillar of sword light that blotted out the sky descended. But in her eyes, the world-ending attack seemed to slow down.

In the brilliant light, the Thousand-Faced Elder felt as if she had returned to that small village bathed in the light of the setting sun.

That day, she had returned from the city with the malt candy her child loved most. She hummed a little country tune, smelling the aroma of dinner wafting from her home from far away. It was such a peaceful, warm day.

However, what shattered it all was a deafening explosion and blood-curdling screams.

A group of people were laughing maniacally in the village. With casual waves of their hands, they sent out flashes of light that made houses collapse with a BOOM. They slaughtered their fleeing neighbors with abandon, as if they were playing some amusing game.

She dashed home like a madwoman, only to find a field of charred ruins and mangled corpses. The blood-stained rattle-drum... she had just bought it for her child that morning...

She knelt in a pool of blood, frantically clawing at the rubble. A "player" covered in filth and blood walked up to her. She raised her bloodshot eyes and demanded, "Wh... Why?"

The person tilted their head and laughed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Why? Because it’s fun! When I play city-sim games, I love driving into crowds. This is fun, too! See? One little explosion and people go flying everywhere. How interesting! But you probably can’t understand me anyway! I’ll send you to meet up with them~"

’Fun...’ Her world, her sanity, completely shattered in that instant.

Just as that person was about to casually dispose of her as well, a figure appeared without a sound.

The figure wore a bizarre mask that was half-crying, half-laughing. With a mere lift of his hand, the villain who had seemed so incomparably powerful in her eyes turned to ash.

He was the future Sect Leader of the Floating Life Opera...

The Sect Leader extended a hand to her. He told her that *they* treat this place as a game. They act without restraint, do not fear death, and have no moral bottom line. It seemed not even the gods could stop this calamity.

They were—the "Fourth Calamity"... one of this world’s "malignant tumors"...

The Cultivation Technique he taught her drove her already-broken mind into deeper madness, but in that madness, she glimpsed a sliver of the truth.

She seemed to remember. Anomalies like this had apparently happened many times before. It was just that this time, the one who came was a "player" who enjoyed slaughtering NPCs. Because of the bone-deep agony, her complete descent into madness, and the effects of the Cultivation Technique, the memory was seared into her mind. So much so that even cognitive alterations would be corrected and re-corrected by her own insanity.

Their resistance was so pathetically weak, so meaningless, before these so-called calamities. But the Sect Leader gave her a new path, a glimmer of hope.

From that day on, she abandoned her name, her past, and everything she once was, becoming the Thousand-Faced Elder.

For this goal, she could become even more insane, more unscrupulous, than the players themselves.

Even if it meant sacrificing an entire nation, she would not hesitate...

...

The fragments of memory dissipated within the sword light.

The corners of the Thousand-Faced Elder’s mouth twisted into a maniacal grin. The old man’s mask on her face seemed to come alive, shedding two streams of murky tears.

’This seems to be the limit of what a mere native like me can do... But I haven’t had enough fun yet... If I had just survived, I could have been promoted, gained more power, staged more plays, created more chaos...’

’But now... this is the end...’

The next instant, the heaven-sundering sword light crashed down. A peal of wild laughter—exultant yet utterly desolate—accompanied her annihilation, echoing throughout the entire royal city.

"Heeheeheehee... Haha... HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The entire Biqu Royal City, along with every member of the "Floating Life Opera," every player, and every native on it, was razed to the ground by that single strike of sword light...

...

In stark contrast to the Biqu Dynasty, the Daqian Dynasty’s Anhe City was a scene of peace and prosperity.

The afternoon sun shone through the clouds, illuminating the racetrack that stretched across the sky.

Outside the south gate of Anhe City, at the starting point of the sky-high staircase, a veritable sea of people had gathered, their clamor deafening.

Su Ling’er stood at the race’s starting line, looking down at the dark mass of the crowd below. She saw that Zhang San and Li had expanded their joint "begging and steamed bun selling" business from inside the city to outside its walls. Not only that, but they had also inspired a group of newcomers to join their ranks.

On the left was a row of "Beggar Gang disciples" kneeling and begging, their broken bowls lined up neatly as they chanted slogans in unison. On the right was a row of "steamed bun vendors" pushing small carts, loudly hawking "charity steamed buns." Business was booming, with disciples from the Guixi Sect constantly tossing money at them.

Some local townsfolk who felt they had no hope of winning the race had even joined them. A few set up gambling tables on the side, taking bets on who would win first place, while others weaved through the crowd, peddling tea and rations.

Su Ling’er had grown numb to the scene, but she noticed a group of beggars who weren’t squeezing into the liveliest inner circle. They huddled in a distant corner, a clear distinction between them and the vigorous, loud-voiced "professional beggars."

Those people seemed to be real beggars. Some had broken legs, others were blind. They cowered in the shadows, not daring to compete for space with their able-bodied "colleagues."

Su Ling’er’s heart sank. She recalled what her Eldest Brother had told her before: "Your seemingly kind-hearted charity can also create profitable black markets, breeding something truly dark." She decided to follow these real beggars and see what was hidden behind them.

In the west of the city, Qin Sihai, the Hall Master of Jingtang Hall, was warming up with a group of his disciples, clearly aiming for the Cultivation secret manual.

Liu Yue stood under a large tree, gazing lovingly at a burly, grinning man in the crowd—Ma Tietou.

The man was from Masterless Hall in the west of the city. He noticed Liu Yue’s gaze, flashed her a wide grin, and thumped his chest.

Meanwhile, a shadowy figure vaulted into the An Family’s estate...

Everyone before the starting line was poised and ready to go. Su Ling’er retracted her gaze and glanced at the sky. It was time.

"The ’Heaven-Ascending Run’ competition... now—begins!"