Chapter 60: Abnormal Phenomena Bureau

Looking at Zhao Yan and the masked man lying on the ground, and the several assistants who instinctively stepped back as he approached, Wu Chang knew his goal had been achieved.

He had never intended to join the Bureau in the first place, which was why he submitted a D- rating on his preliminary assessment.

But now that he had joined, he had to salvage his reputation.

Even if the Bureau was friendly to newcomers, and even if Meng Yawen backed him, making him something of a connection, the fundamental tone within the organization remained survival of the fittest, beneath the Abyss Game.

The weak were meant to be humiliated brutally by the strong.

Submitting a rating record so pathetically weak would inevitably draw attention and targeting from many.

Whether they disliked him personally or simply disliked all the weak, they would inevitably come to step on him, openly or covertly.

Changing his rating record was no longer possible.

He could only adopt another approach: make those who wanted to step on him unable to do so.

He remembered a Duan Zi: ever since I turned into a pile of shit, no one dared step on my head.

What he was doing now was becoming that pile of shit.

The Manba Iron Elbow had weak power, but its control ability was so potent even instructors struggled to evade it, and its duration was long, with a nauseating effect.

Once this information spread, everyone who came to cause him trouble would have to think twice.

After all, bullying a D- rated Level 7 newbie, even if successful, yielded no real benefit.

But if he got elbowed by him in public, lost face before everyone, and became a laughingstock, the amusement would be immense.

After weighing the pros and cons, in some people's minds, he would become a pile of shit they disliked but dared not step on.

Wu Chang glanced at Zhao Yan on the arena, his eyes showing regret.

It was just that Zhao Instructor would have to be inconvenienced.

On the arena, Zhao Yan took a long time to accept the reality that he had lost a sparring match to a newcomer.

Thinking that for a long time he would become gossip fodder, he felt a headache coming on.

But soon he let it go.

Now, when people in the Bureau mentioned Wanghai City, the first thing they thought of was the branch director livestreaming himself naked running, and no one cared that a lowly nobody like him lost a sparring match to a newcomer.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but thank the director, and thank the mysterious newcomer who made the director run naked.

Tsk, these days, is the word "newcomer" poisonous?

Revived, Zhao Yan leapt up from the arena like a leaping carp and continued completing his employment registration.

He led the group to the Bureau's server, entered their information into the system, then said: "Now open your attribute panel, and in the social section, you'll see a mini-program named Bureau."

Wu Chang couldn't help asking: "Is the Abyss Game so intelligent it lets players write their own mini-programs?"

Zhao Yan said with slight pride: "It's not like smartphone mini-apps—it represents management authority over the Wasteland Realm."

"Only organizations that clear enough dungeons and complete special team trials can obtain temporary administrator permissions, allowing them to exert control over the Abyss Game within those permissions."

"Throughout the entire Wasteland Realm, only four organizations hold temporary administrative permissions."

Wu Chang had never heard of temporary administrator permissions before.

Previously, while reading forum discussions about the Moonlight Sanatorium, someone had claimed the Bureau had sealed off the dungeon's entrances and exits—he'd wondered how they managed it.

Now it seemed clear: it was the effect of temporary administrator permissions.

But a question arose, and he couldn't help asking:

"Doesn't the Abyss Game have administrators? Why are management permissions being delegated?"

His talent description openly suspected he had hacked the system, suggesting administrators should exist within the game.

If administrators existed, there was no reason to delegate management permissions.

Zhao Yan shook his head: "I don't know the specifics, but I once heard a senior official compare the Abyss Game to a self-driving car—the autonomous system only handles forward motion and doesn't interfere much with internal management, meaning the game itself."

"Off-topic—the Abyss Game's administrators are too distant for us. Let's focus on what's right in front of us."

Zhao Yan steered the topic back and continued:

"Open the Bureau mini-program, and you'll see your position, rank, contribution, task board, and benefits within the Bureau."

"The task board updates frequently with internal bounty missions—all posted bounties are verified by administrators, and the rewards are never less than 90% of market value; you don't have to worry about being scammed by public bounties, and completing them grants contribution points."

After briefly scanning a few bounties with the group, Zhao Yan exited the task board and led them to the benefits interface.

At the top of the benefits interface was "Dungeon Intelligence Brief."

Zhao Yan emphasized: "The Dungeon Intelligence Brief updates dungeon information in real time and pushes relevant data based on your level. Though important intel requires payment, for newcomers like you, the free portion is more than enough."

Wu Chang opened Dungeon Intelligence Brief, declined the mini-program's request to sync his in-game attribute panel, and entered Level 10 in the custom level field.

After brief loading, real-time information suitable for Level 10 players appeared on the screen.

"Player level: 10. Dungeon difficulty match probability: F-class: 10%; E-class: 60%; D-class: 25%; C-class: 5%; B-class: 0.01%."

"Recommended: Focus on D-class dungeons. Open the tactical board and formulate an appropriate clear plan based on your current abilities." "Detected: User data unsynchronized. Input player attributes and skills to generate a virtual player profile card, aiding customization of personal data and tailored clear strategies."

Wu Chang ignored the virtual player profile card, declined the intelligent recommendation feature, and directly viewed the general content pushed to Level 10 players.

The dungeons players matched with are heavily tied to their real-world location.

Players in Xia Nation are highly likely to enter dungeons under the Bureau's authority, such as the Moonlight Sanatorium.

Players have a low chance of entering public zones, such as Suishui Ping'an.

These zones are ungoverned, unmanaged by any faction, and the most complex.

There's an extremely low chance of entering areas managed by other factions—if they happen to be multiplayer dungeons, encountering other players of different skin tones and nationalities adds considerable complications to clearing them.

The information pushed by the Bureau mini-program mostly concerns dungeons under the Bureau's jurisdiction.

The format follows public zone leaderboards: divided into Dungeon Danger List, Special Attention List, and Bounty List.

For dungeons under Bureau authority, once contamination exceeds safety thresholds, the Bureau responds immediately; rarely do dungeons approach out-of-control levels.

For example, the top D-class dungeon on the Danger List, named Terrifying Tunnel, has contamination rated only as Dangerous.

The top C-class dungeon on the Danger List, named Midnight Bus, has contamination nearing out-of-control, but its status reads: "Sealed, Under Processing."

If nothing unexpected happens, the Bureau has already arranged a suitable Breaker to go handle it.

What's worth noting is that on the C-rank instance special-watch list, there's an instance called Quiet Town; its instance status is only "Dangerous," yet its title has been marked in color.

The notes show that this instance is a newly appeared one, with extremely high difficulty, and recently multiple players have already failed their runs.

Wu Chang only skimmed through the C-rank instances; given how the Abyss Game has been targeting him, at level 8 it already matched him with a C-rank rampaging instance—now that he's reached level 10, how could it possibly let him off easy.

For other level-10 players, the probability of entering a B-rank instance is 0.01%; for him, even a 50% chance would count as the Abyss Game acting human for once.

So his focus was mainly placed on the B-rank instances.

Unfortunately, once you get to C-rank and B-rank instances, the content visible in the free portion is especially scarce.

The game files are like an answer sheet filled in with scribbles—only the titles are visible, and the truly meaningful answers have all been blacked out by black boxes.

Want to see the answers beneath the black boxes? Pay up!

The unlock cost for each piece of information ranges from 1,000 to 100,000 Rotten Silver Coins, and especially anything involving safe points and life-saving intel is absurdly expensive.

And within each instance, there are at least fourteen or fifteen encrypted pieces of information.

Even if you bought all the intel and achieved a perfect clear, the gains might not cover the cost.

It boils down to one thing: intel is money.

Zhao Yan led everyone in a quick rundown of how to use the mini-program, then headed toward the club's inner hall, waving for everyone to follow.

He led the group into an elevator, pressed the button for basement level three, and said:

"Among you, quite a few have expressed disappointment with the Bureau's building, thinking it's not as special as imagined."

"The Bureau in reality is just an office—however special it is in reality, could it be more special than the Abyss Game?"

Ding.

As the elevator stopped, the group stepped out and discovered they had entered the Crimson Courtyard directly.

Wu Chang looked around in surprise; his Inspiration value told him that what surrounded them wasn't an illusion, but a genuine Crimson Courtyard.

During the elevator ride, he hadn't used his consciousness to connect to the Abyss Game, and the player pass on his attribute panel hadn't changed either.

This meant they hadn't entered the Crimson Courtyard through player identity—the Bureau's underground in reality could lead directly to the Crimson Courtyard!

The spot where the group appeared was a massive plaza; looking around, it was filled with futuristic skyscrapers and research institutes, and farther in the distance one could even see enormous steampunk-style factories.

Wu Chang looked toward an even more distant place, his gaze passing through the light cast by neon signs outside the buildings, the white steam vented by the factories, and the multicolored energy ripples emanating from the tops of the research institutes, and faintly made out a colossal red temple.

Its architectural style was complex—resembling both a Daoist temple and a Buddhist monastery, with a few traces of the immortal palaces found in poetry and paintings mixed in as well.

Countless fiber-optic-like lines descended from the celestial canopy, connecting to the top of the red temple, as if a Milky Way woven of data were pouring straight down into the mortal world.

Within the Bureau's jurisdiction, every time an instance is generated, a line drops down from the celestial canopy; every time an instance is broken, a line snaps.

That red temple is the embodiment of the Bureau's temporary management authority over the Abyss Game.

The Bureau calls it—Primordial Chaos.

Zhao Yan was quite pleased with the look of awe on everyone's faces; he said, showing off: "Welcome to the real Bureau!"

"Now, it's time to go collect your new-hire gift packs."

Begging for bookmarks, begging for follows, last round of recommendations—brothers, don't let the book sit, even flipping to the latest chapter each day is good, this is extremely heavy for a newbie.

(End of chapter)