Infinite Game had never ended.
The game system, though once severely wounded by Yin Chen, possessed resilience and self-repair capabilities that could not be underestimated.
That was not particularly surprising. Back then, after Song Zang forcibly opened the wormhole channel, the system had still been able to suppress the Collective’s devouring progress, develop the official version of Infinite Game, recruit players in an orderly way, and steadily enforce the game’s rules.
Even the café had been upgraded into a cool luxury version.
Infinite World was not only extremely stable, but its system was orderly and restrained. No matter how immense its power, it had never allowed terrifying 【incomprehensible】 energy to leak out and drive ordinary people insane.
No matter how vast a framework it laid down, it could still draw everything back under perfect control. Even the Collective found that difficult to accomplish.
Countless players had died miserable deaths inside instance worlds, but if one thought about it carefully, that did not actually seem to have anything to do with the system itself.
It was only responsible for restarting worlds, maintaining their operation, assigning roles as fairly and randomly as possible, and giving players appropriate rewards after settlement. If everyone survived, there were even bonus points.
That meant the system had deliberately built in a mechanism encouraging players to survive.
The seemingly cold elimination rules therefore were not quite as terrifying as they looked. So long as players did not leak secrets and successfully completed the game, the system would never go looking for trouble with anyone.
Its purpose in selecting players on Earth did not seem to be the destruction of humanity either.
The people chosen had either long since lost the will to keep living and become hollow and numb, or possessed extraordinarily powerful obsessions and desires, or were sinking and drifting inside the pain of losing something “important.”
In truth, at the beginning, everyone had willingly joined the game for a chance to completely change their life.
A reasonable inference, then, was that Infinite World would not become humanity’s enemy for the time being.
Strict secrecy requirements and game rules also prevented players from doing whatever they pleased in the real world. They had to be careful, careful, and careful again. Up to now, no player had been stupid enough to act out some urban-billionaire fantasy in reality.
The system might want something special from humanity, but it had never disrupted the order of the real world.
The only one secretly creating lunatics was the Collective.
Looking back over the years since Infinite Game was born, only Song Zang had ever developed such a massive conflict with the system, and that had come purely from irreconcilable differences in position.
There might have been obsession and stubborn persistence, but no blatant malice.
Precisely because of that, Chi Yan held an extraordinarily deep interest in how the game system existed, what its ultimate purpose was, and even… the system’s developer.
She had been lucky in her birth, born with abundant resources and a broader view of the world, which only made her even less willing to waste such a precious opportunity.
For herself, and also for humanity’s future. After all… the better humanity’s future, the more money she could earn. Chi Yan never hid her ambition from anyone.
Deep exploration and positioning work on Infinite World continued to advance methodically. With a few casual pointers from Yin Chen, equipment development and research directions became clearer and clearer.
As for detecting the energy fluctuations of Code X, meaning the Collective, the danger was simply too high, so the entire project was temporarily shut down.
The holographic game had already entered official public beta. Chi Yan completely delegated its operation to her employees because she was researching something more interesting.
While “speeding” through the Rose Empire to rescue Xie Chun Ye, Chi Yan had brought the devil giant clam back with her.
The heritage museum had classified the devil giant clam as a fossil, but it actually still contained signs of life. By rights, it should have fallen under the 【Living Being】 category and been impossible to place inside storage space.
Yet Chi Yan had somehow muddled her way into taking it with her, then inexplicably cleared the game and inexplicably returned to the real world.
She went to ask Yin Chen what exactly had happened.
Yin Chen did not reveal the secrets between him and Song Zang. He only said meaningfully that she had been lucky enough to exploit a system malfunction.
She had taken the clam with her, but not the embryonic wormhole continuously expanding inside it. Without the wormhole, the devil giant clam no longer seemed to possess the same terrifying power as before.
Even so, studying nothing more than the structure of its shell and the principles of its life was enough to create enormous value for humanity.
Chi Yan threw herself enthusiastically into her work. Every day after returning to Helin Manor, she still had enough energy to lead the Future Research Institute’s “little brats” through special training and supervise Xie Chun Ye’s rehabilitation.
Yes. Although Xie Chun Ye had survived, his original limbs had been torn apart by the wormhole’s tidal forces. Beneath skin that looked apparently unharmed, almost every bone had shattered into fragments, twisted into his flesh, with pieces even traveling through blood vessels into his heart and lungs… extremely dangerous.
For safety, Xie Chun Ye had no choice but to spend points on limb replacement and obtain brand-new hands and legs.
For now, they still did not “fit” very well. He could easily trip over flat ground while running and needed long-term training to adapt.
Chi Yan watched him whenever she came home from work, so Xie Chun Ye was extremely motivated.
That young couple certainly had plenty of energy. As for Song Zang… Yin Chen dragged Song Zang into becoming addicted to the holographic game.
As friends of the boss, each of them received a fully equipped luxury account. Their IDs were 99 and 66, along with matching couple names that came with a gold-label effect.
Anyone could tell at a glance that they were a couple. Yin Chen was extremely satisfied with this and played almost every day.
Song Zang, meanwhile, carried the heavy responsibility of supporting the household. At the beginning of their life together, he had actually considered going out to find a job.
After all, he had recovered his old identity. He no longer needed to hide everywhere for fear of dragging innocent passersby into danger.
With Yin Chen around, humans driven insane by the Collective could not get close to Song Zang at all. Even quietly infiltrating Earth had become much harder, as though Yin Chen himself formed an invisible deterrent.
Any lunatic reckless enough to show themselves would simply be “accepted” by Yin Chen without the slightest guilt.
Even a thread of wool was still wool. Whenever the Collective shed even a few wisps of energy on Earth, Yin Chen absorbed every trace cleanly, perhaps indirectly contributing to world peace.
The three-way tug-of-war still revolved around Infinite World. Yin Chen had long since openly seized the upper hand and had even bundled up the Collective and driven it out of the dark world.
Song Zang wanted to help. After all, he had caused all this chaos and felt responsible for it. But Yin Chen flatly refused.
“If you help, the Collective will concentrate all its firepower on you and destroy you at any cost. In their logic, destroying you means destroying my will to resist.”
Yin Chen finished gloomily, then added an explanation. “Don’t you humans always have tactics like that? Let me think… kick the crippled man’s good leg as hard as possible.”
Song Zang nearly died laughing. “Wait. Shouldn’t I be your bad leg? I’m the one who caused all the trouble.”
“Baby, don’t imagine yourself as some unforgivable sinner. Even if you hadn’t done anything, the Collective would’ve descended into Infinite World one day. If you hadn’t opened the wormhole early, Earth would’ve been finished.”
“…Wait, what do you mean Earth would’ve been finished?”
“Before you opened the wormhole, the Collective couldn’t cross the barrier set by the system at all. So it had been secretly devouring the energy of more celestial bodies while observing vulnerabilities in the game system’s operation, preparing for a single fatal invasion.”
Yin Chen spoke meaningfully. “Your sudden move is what made me break away from the Collective. It also ruined a plan that had once been perfectly prepared, forcing everything into a rushed melee while the system’s anti-intrusion mechanisms tangled it up completely.”
Otherwise, the Collective could not possibly still be wandering through the gaps between worlds to this day, exhausting itself trying to “reclaim” Yin Chen without having made a move against the giant feast that was Earth.
“So I blundered into doing something good after all?” Song Zang asked hesitantly.
“Of course. You saved billions of lives in another spacetime.
“They should have been crushed and swallowed by the Collective, and I would naturally have chosen to devour them too. But now… they’re living perfectly well on the far side of the wormhole, never imagining that the star system they depend on for survival once came within a hair of annihilation.”
As Yin Chen spoke, his warm fingertips settled against the back of Song Zang’s neck and slowly pinched the tender skin. “You’re a savior. Greater than me.”
Song Zang felt much better, though that description was far too grand for him to accept.
He had no great ambition or ideals. He only wanted to work hard in instance worlds every month to earn points, save up enough as soon as possible to exchange for another 【Life】, and then return to living a peaceful little life after each safe clear.
He did not need to build a beautiful image in front of anyone. As long as Yin Chen liked every side of him, that was enough.
Yin Chen called him a savior. What a ridiculously strong filter.
Hehe.
Song Zang excitedly wrapped his arms around Yin Chen’s waist. “Baby, I love you so much. I’m going to earn money and support you right now!”
Yin Chen: ?
Filled with fighting spirit, Song Zang immediately began sending résumés everywhere.
Although he had a gap of several years, the code Song Zang wrote on pure ability was still exceptionally strong.
He smoothly joined a technology company, created a persona for himself as a rich second-generation heir casually collecting a salary, and planned to lead some small technical-development projects. Easy work and good money. At least, it was easy for Song Zang.
Less than a week after he started, Yin Chen silently came to inspect the workplace and appeared beside Song Zang’s desk like a wandering ghost.
As luck would have it, an intern who had joined the company on the same day as Song Zang fell in love with him at first sight. After holding back for several days, the intern finally came over with flowers to confess, only to run straight into Yin Chen…
What a heart-stopping horror experience.
If Song Zang had not stopped him, that foolish intern could have quietly turned into corpse-water that very day and flowed through some unknown sewer.
Of course, Yin Chen was not the only one who encountered love rivals. Song Zang had countless rivals of his own.
To help Yin Chen adapt to an ordinary life, Song Zang sometimes took him out and about and occasionally sent him on errands.
Buying suitable furniture, decorations, and little ornaments; searching the flower-and-bird market for appropriate plants and fertilizer; finding the most convenient supermarket and vegetable market for everyday groceries; taking their two dogs to walk around the artificial lake and the park…
Yin Chen never got cheated out of money, but people asking for his contact information were everywhere. It happened most often when he passed bars at night.
Inside Infinite Game, no player dared express interest so recklessly because Yin Chen had frightened them with too much killing. In ordinary society, however, things were completely different.
Whenever Yin Chen walked the dogs with a serious, expressionless face, both puppies stayed obediently beside his legs, instinctively behaving sweetly and acting cute enough to melt anyone.
The power of that contrast worked everywhere in the universe.
Whenever Yin Chen led the dogs into a crowded area, he inevitably attracted a huge audience.
Song Zang became genuinely jealous. He dragged Yin Chen home and did it with him until dawn.
He had never imagined in his life that he too would someday become this dark and twisted, wanting to scratch up Yin Chen’s face so people would stop hitting on him.
Unable to tolerate it any longer, Song Zang dragged Yin Chen up for a heart-to-heart in the dead of night and poured out all his dark thoughts, only to discover… Yin Chen also frequently wanted to scratch up Song Zang’s face.
There was nothing left to say. They were two of a kind.
After several incidents piled together, the two of them reached perfect agreement on becoming homebodies, each driven by an equally dark mindset.
Song Zang quietly decided to keep working from home, just as he had right after graduating: write some code, make a few small games to sell to other people, and earn a respectable amount of money.
Enough to support three Yin Chens with room to spare. Perfectly stable.
Aside from his regular disciplined training, almost all of Song Zang’s free time was completely occupied by Yin Chen.
In the blink of an eye, his playtime in the holographic game exceeded a thousand hours.
At first, Song Zang did not understand Yin Chen’s gaming addiction.
The holographic game had long-form story instances and an open world, sure, but… wasn’t Infinite Game already exciting enough?
Before long, however, Song Zang gradually discovered the fun too. They could parade their couple names around the open world showing off their relationship, then make two broke little alternate accounts and start from scratch together. The experience was just as satisfying.
Song Zang also discovered another layer to Yin Chen’s little scheme.
There were quite a few Infinite Game players inside the holographic game. Most had come specifically after hearing about Chi Yan and the Future Research Institute.
Yin Chen played conspicuously, so the players quickly discovered his identity. He dragged Song Zang around calling him Baby all day long, sickeningly sweet.
There was no possible way the players could overlook Song Zang’s existence either.
So recently, his reputation on the game forums had grown rather subtle.
Some players even made posts using Song Zang’s full name and practically got on their knees begging him to teach them how to date.
The progress of 【Mask】 also began skyrocketing, not because of mass contempt or abuse, but because people were genuinely shocked and envious.
Song Zang had now become the most successful… scheming little white lotus in Infinite Game, a delicate pretty face who lived off his looks, a beautiful useless thing who could lie back and win by relying on a powerful backer.
The pinnacle example of climbing upward by latching onto a big shot.
Song Zang silently accepted this characterization and never clarified it. He even deliberately replied a few times just to show off his love life.
【What can I do? My husband loves me too much.】
【He bought me a house and a car and gives me all his points. He’s gentle, romantic, and clingy. Sigh, what a sweet burden. What am I supposed to do?】
【I’m so happy. I’m the little useless thing Baby keeps~】
Because Song Zang’s relationship bragging was so nauseating, the forum insults grew louder again.
Excellent. That would make the character setting even richer.
One afternoon, Song Zang lay half-reclined on the bed, scrolling through posts angrily cursing him on the forum, extremely satisfied.
Yin Chen laughed in exasperation and deliberately mocked him. “I’m trying to clean up your reputation, and you’re going out of your way to get insulted again? Song Zang, how about visiting psychiatry? I’ll book the appointment for you.”
Song Zang had originally been the one teaching Yin Chen about mental and psychological health, along with assigning him large amounts of legal reading so Yin Chen would not suddenly kill someone and bring the police to their door.
Now Yin Chen had learned quite well and was turning those lessons back on him.
Song Zang slowly turned over, draped a leg across Yin Chen, and asked with a smile, “Then tell me first. What happens when 【Mask】 reaches max level?”
“…”
Yin Chen instantly fell silent.
“Tell me. Hm?”
“Song Zang, you know that at the beginning, I really did want to kill you.” Yin Chen wrapped an arm around Song Zang’s leg and rubbed it, his tone difficult to read.
Song Zang blinked. The smile faded from his dark eyes as he stared steadily at him. “So the name Mask also became a tool you could use to kill me?”
“No. It really is the Mask, just without the self-awareness that developed later,” Yin Chen denied softly. “Its source-code collection has always remained beside you.
“Before you left the game world, you never redeemed the 【Free Wish】 reward. The system analyzed what you wanted most and gave you this instead.”
But what did that matter?
Perhaps one day the Mask’s source file would generate a new self-awareness again, but it would no longer be the Mask from before.
Song Zang understood perfectly well. Everything they had experienced together during the beta was known only by Yin Chen, understood only by Yin Chen… and lived on only in symbiosis with Yin Chen.
“Keep going, Baby.” Song Zang tilted his head.
“When I discovered the source file was still attached to you, I put some of my energy into it too, just in case.” Yin Chen met his eyes, faint guilt almost imperceptible in his gaze. “You can think of it as a safe, harmless gu poison. I can’t touch it directly, and even the system won’t detect it.”
Elio’s Notes: Gu (蛊) is a traditional Chinese concept involving a cultivated poison or curse, often associated in folklore with poisonous creatures. Yin Chen is using the term jokingly here for the hidden energy he planted in the Mask.
Song Zang looked thoughtful. “If I became hostile toward you, could you use it to kill me?”
“When the Mask reaches max level, that trace of energy will reconnect with my consciousness and give me a chance to forcibly merge with you, devouring your mind and memories.”
Yin Chen’s voice grew softer and softer as he carefully watched Song Zang’s expression.
“Ah… that’s so erotic?” Song Zang stared blankly for a long time before a blush gradually rose over his pale cheeks.
The slightly frozen, oppressive atmosphere loosened all at once.
Yin Chen pressed his thin lips together and pulled Song Zang into his arms, inexplicably feeling a touch of relief like someone who had survived a disaster.
“Song Zang, when you don’t smile at me…” He paused, hot breath spilling beside Song Zang’s ear. “You’re pretty scary.”
“I wasn’t angry. I just wanted to scare you. I finally managed to act well enough to fool you, didn’t I?”
Yin Chen gave a low “Mm,” perfectly honest.
Song Zang curved his lips. “Yin Chen, I figured it out. Deep down, you never actually wanted to kill me. From the very beginning, you were reluctant. It was all bluffing.
“You just didn’t know it yourself.”