Chapter Three: The Rules of the Tower of Sorcery

A short sword appeared in Murong Xun’s hand. He said nothing, but his eyes gleamed with a chilling, steely light as he silently fixed his gaze on the youth before him.

“A rookie is a rookie!” the boy sneered dismissively. “You really don’t know a thing. In the Tower of Despair, except for the PK Arena, players can’t attack each other anywhere else. If you don’t believe me, go ahead and try.”

“Oh? What about in mission worlds?” Murong Xun’s cold eyes bore into him, forcing the boy to step back involuntarily.

“Hey, hey, we’ve got no grudges between us, there’s no need for this!” The boy’s mind worked rapidly, and he decided it best to leave. There was no need to tangle with a lunatic who’d draw his sword at the slightest provocation.

[Ding! You have received 50 Paradise Coins from account number xxxxxx!]

The boy’s face fell immediately. Who pays with a string of unknown digits?

“I asked for 100 coins!” He looked at Murong Xun in distress.

Murong Xun merely looked back calmly—fifty was all he had, no more.

“Forget it. Guess I’m just unlucky; I’ll take your commission. It’s crowded here, let’s change locations.” With that, the boy led the way, and Murong Xun followed without a word.

“Listen, I wasn’t planning to take your job, but since you’ve paid and the deal’s sealed, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Qiqige, a life-class player, a member of the Succubus race from the Abyss.”

A life-class player? Murong Xun recalled his own chef profession but said nothing.

Soon, weaving through the throng, Qiqige brought Murong Xun to a shop called Guns, Blood, and Roses.

“Welcome! Oh, Qiqi, you’ve brought a new customer—impressive!” A burly man with a full beard and an apron strode forward. A long scar slashed across half his face, lending him a fearsome appearance.

“Uncle, one bowl of noodles with fried bean sauce for me. And you, what will you have?” Qiqige asked Murong Xun.

“Hot water,” Murong Xun replied casually. He was wary of eating anything here, especially since the owner looked like a ruthless character.

“Don’t worry, we’re life-class players, not like you bloodthirsty combat players. We don’t play tricks,” the bearded man said.

Murong Xun raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “What’s the difference between life-class and combat players?”

Qiqige cast a longing glance at the uncle busy behind the counter, clearly eager for his noodles, then quickly explained the difference.

In the Tower of Despair, there were many players, but generally, they were divided into two types.

One type was the combat player, like Murong Xun. They had to complete various dangerous missions, with a minimum of three assignments per month. Each task could be their last.

The other type was the life-class player, who functioned like non-combat professions in a game—providing services, running businesses, or crafting weapons and equipment within the Tower. Typically, these were people who failed their first main quest but managed to survive. Afterward, they remained in the Tower, developing their own skills—those who didn’t, were eliminated by the Tower.

Without life-class players, combat players would face much greater hardship—most basically, with food. Daily necessities could be exchanged directly from the Tower, but the price was prohibitive for most. Thanks to the life-class, combat players didn’t have to worry about food and clothing.

The most obvious advantage for life-class players was safety; although they could no longer pursue great power in the mission worlds, they only had to enter once every three months, a much lower frequency.

Why was Qiqige so afraid when Murong Xun drew his sword? Because he still had to enter mission worlds—Murong Xun was a rookie, and they could easily end up in the same world. Facing such a ruthless individual, a life-class player like Qiqige wouldn’t stand a chance. Even if the odds were slim, he didn’t want to take the risk.

Qiqige produced a palm-sized device that looked like a mini computer and handed it to Murong Xun. “Here, all the information you wanted is inside. Take a look. If you have questions, ask me. The Tower itself witnesses this transaction—the information is certified and fair. No tricks.”

Murong Xun accepted the device. It was small but packed with options, even capable of 3D projection to display images vividly before his eyes.

After browsing quickly, he gained a general understanding of the Tower.

The Tower of Despair was vast, rising high into the sky. No one knew when it had appeared. The total number of players was a mystery—no one could ever tally them all. Every day brought new deaths and new arrivals.

Just in the first novice mission, the mortality rate was as high as 75%. Of the remaining 25%, only 10% completed the main quest; the rest became life-class players. Those who couldn’t survive afterward disappeared silently.

Even after the first mission, safety was never guaranteed. The first three missions were notoriously unfriendly to newcomers. The terrifying recorded death rates made it clear how hard life was for players in the Tower.

He also learned that most of the buildings he’d seen were owned and operated by players themselves; only a small portion belonged to the Tower. These Tower-owned buildings were vital for players wishing to grow stronger.

At the end of the information was a note: [This information pertains only to the Novice District. Do not extrapolate to other areas.]

Murong Xun lowered his eyes.

“The data says players can stay in the Tower for a while after a mission, or choose to return to reality and wait for the next assignment, or even pick their own tasks. Does that mean we can go back to the real world?” he asked.

As Murong Xun read, the uncle brought over the noodles. Qiqige, busy slurping them up, paused to answer, swallowing quickly.

“You’re right. After each mission, players can remain in the Tower for about three days. Any longer, and the Tower forcibly returns you to the real world. In reality, you usually get seven days. If you only stay in the Tower for one day, you get nine days outside. In short, the maximum interval between missions is ten days—rest for ten, then the next mission begins. Three missions per month. You can schedule them yourself, say, do three in a row then rest, but that’s not recommended. After combat, your body and mind need time to recover.”

At this, Qiqige looked at Murong Xun with envy.

As a life-class player, he avoided danger but paid the price—freedom. Each month, he had only a few days to return to reality.

Murong Xun fell silent. For now, he couldn’t see what difference this made.

“Oh, one more friendly tip: you can spend Paradise Coins to change your appearance, or have the Tower hide your looks. That way, no one can recognize you in reality—avoiding revenge or pursuit from other players, and protecting those around you, including your family. Take me, for example—this isn’t my real face. I spent a few hundred coins to have the Tower alter it!”

In Qiqige’s eyes, a guy like Murong Xun—who’d draw a sword at the drop of a hat—would inevitably make a lot of enemies. He needed this function the most.