Chapter 21: I Know You

I know you’re pretending to be clueless

[Chaos] is the First Deity of the [Chaos] Path, the prologue of [Chaos], the madness of disorder, and the mortal enemy of [Order].

His will holds that no laws exist in this world, that the ultimate fate of the universe must be utter chaos; thus, His followers often suffer mental distortion under the influence of His will, becoming somewhat unhinged.

If one were to choose the most popular player, the followers of [Order] are unquestionably it.

But if one were to choose the least popular player, the followers of [Corruption], [Annihilation], and [Foolishness] would all rank behind—[Chaos] followers would win by a landslide.

Because in trials, they rarely help—and often hinder.

Of course, “hindering” here is already a euphemism; driven by their disdain for rules and their desire to trample order, they frequently act with “malice.”

Yet to them, this “malice” is born of “goodwill,” for they believe they are guiding the trial toward disorder.

And disorder, they hold, is the universe’s “ultimate.”

Do not provoke the followers of [Chaos]. Let them be.

Fang Shiqing swiftly skipped past Huang Bo and turned to Bai Ling.

Bai Ling likewise waved her hand listlessly:

“No issues found. If I must say something, it’s that all the men here are just too muscular.”

As she spoke, she couldn’t help licking her lips, “Excessively muscular.”

“None of them... this is odd.” Fang Shiqing instinctively filtered out Niao Niao’s feverish nonsense and began to frown in thought.

If every corner of the memory scene is unusually clear, then there is only one possibility: the memory’s owner knows everyone, so he can fully reconstruct every individual within the memory.

But according to prior investigations, the patrons seemed to be strangers to one another.

How could strangers achieve such crystal-clear memories?

Could someone be plotting something inside the tavern?

While everyone was lost in thought, Cheng Shi idly raised his cup and complained:

“Where are the bartenders? The drinks are gone and no one’s coming to refill them. Aren’t they supposed to constantly watch every table and serve customers proactively?”

No sooner had he spoken than Xu Lu shot him a look of contempt, as if he were a useless hooligan.

But Bai Ling agreed wholeheartedly, blew him a flirtatious kiss, and silently added a new label to Cheng Shi in her mind: troublemaking hooligan.

Fang Shiqing heard it too. At first, she felt utterly drained—she thought everyone in this group, except the hidden little assassin Ming, was just wasting time.

But for some reason, watching Cheng Shi crane his neck, searching for the bartenders, a sudden flash lit up her mind. She slammed the book onto the table.

“Bang!” The sound startled everyone.

“Bartenders!”

“Huh?”

“?”

Fang Shiqing spoke with excitement:

“It’s the bartenders! Cheng Shi is right—only bartenders watch every table constantly, and only they know these patrons well. That’s why every corner of the memory is clear—they already know everything here!”

Xu Lu stared wide-eyed at Cheng Shi. Seeing his equally bewildered expression, her shock lessened slightly.

He probably didn’t realize it himself—this must’ve been a lucky accident...

Cheng Shi indeed played the part of bewilderment perfectly. He widened his eyes, blinked rapidly, and mumbled:

“Did I say that?”

Fang Shiqing gave him a long, knowing look, then rose swiftly to approach the bartenders.

She had heard the bartenders talk during earlier reconnaissance, but since they spoke so little and offered so little useful information compared to the patrons, she’d quickly passed over them.

Seeing her move so quickly, Cheng Shi kindly offered a reminder:

“Big Sis, slow down. These patrons are all so strong and have drunk so much—they’re in a bad mood. Don’t rush and provoke them, or they might start a fight and we’ll be in danger!”

The remark sounded like deliberate obstruction. Xu Lu, trailing behind Fang Shiqing, frowned and turned back. Even Ming, who had just risen, awkwardly glanced at Cheng Shi.

“Cheng Shi, you...”

But Fang Shiqing froze at these words, another flash of insight striking her mind.

Human memory is never a purely objective replay—it’s always colored by subjective bias.

There’s a saying: when I observe things, they take on my own hue. That’s the perfect description of memory.

If the patrons in this memory scene are universally muscular, then the memory’s source likely perceived them as muscular when interacting with them.

Reversing this logic, the person is almost certainly thin—thinner than an average person.

A frail bartender is very likely the answer to this layer of memory.

Fang Shiqing’s eyes gleamed. She glanced again at Cheng Shi, saw he was still pretending ignorance, chose not to expose him, and hurried upstairs with Ming.

“I recall you said there’s a sleeping bartender in the upstairs lounge?”

Ming immediately recalled and replied: “Yes, tall, thin, and with a leg disability.”

“That’s him!”

Fang Shiqing walked upstairs without looking back. The other two followed closely. Bai Ling, seeing she’d found the answer, rose instantly to chase after them.

As she passed Cheng Shi, she lightly dragged her fingernail across his wrist and cooed:

“Underestimated you, boss.”

And silently added another label to him in her mind: expert at fishing.

Cheng Shi smiled but ignored her.

Fang Shiqing led everyone to the locked lounge. Ming merely pointed at the lock on the door—the door clicked open.

“What’s this?” Xu Lu asked in surprise.

“Class talent: Finger Key,” Ming replied shyly.

Cheng Shi silently upgraded Ming’s rating in his mind—this talent was A-rank, and a hard-to-obtain one at that.

Moreover, this talent was genuinely tied to the Assassin class, meaning he hadn’t lied about his profession.

He’d only concealed his score.

So then—did he worship [Order] or [War]?

Fang Shiqing stepped into the dark room and tore a page from her book. She shook it in the air—it shrank into a lantern, illuminating the entire space.

From the paper lantern came a melodious song: “O gods~ bring light~! O mortals~ sing in joy~!”

The scholar’s trick finally appeared before them.

“Hmm, surprisingly pleasant.”

The voice was clearly Fang Shiqing’s own. Cheng Shi hadn’t expected this English teacher to sing so well.

But the door opening and the singing woke the sleeping bartender. He blinked sleepily, saw the group standing before him, and said nervously:

“If you need help, go find Zha Duo—I’m off duty.”

Fang Shiqing smiled gently at the bartender:

“We’re here for you.”

“For me?” The bartender grew fearful, clutching his blanket, voice trembling: “I don’t think I know you...”

“Don’t be afraid. We’re not here to trouble you.”

As she spoke, she glanced back at Cheng Shi and gave him a subtle signal.

Cheng Shi understood her intent. He cast a Calm spell on the bartender, then added a Sleep spell.

After all, he was a priest—basic skills were never missing.

Fang Shiqing smiled approvingly, then turned back and said:

“Calm down. Think carefully. Everything you see is merely your memory. This is already the past. You should not be lost in memory now, correct?”

The bartender’s eyes grew more confused, then he nodded:

“Yes, right... I remember now. This is my memory.”

“Huh—”

“Shhh...”

As he spoke, the bartender’s body suddenly shattered like a mirror, dissolving into countless star-like specks, which slowly coalesced into a deep, azure, mirror-like portal.

Correct answer—the players had found the exit of this memory layer.

Everyone exhaled in relief. Fang Shiqing raised an eyebrow, signaling they could leave in order.

“Huang Bo hasn’t come up yet...” Ming whispered cautiously.

“Forget him. Let’s go.”

Cheng Shi rolled his eyes and stepped through first.

Before leaving, he turned his head and met Fang Shiqing’s gaze. They both understood each other’s eyes.

Fang Shiqing said: I know you’re pretending to be clueless.

Cheng Shi said: Aba aba aba.

Seeing the idle Cheng Shi rush ahead, Xu Lu, behind Fang Shiqing, whispered under her breath:

“What kind of person is this? Always the most eager when he doesn’t lift a finger.”

Fang Shiqing heard it and smiled faintly, but silently thought:

“What kind of man would like this kind of squeaky voice? So clueless, so pitiful.”

Everyone followed. Ming lagged behind, hesitating as he glanced downstairs, then finally turned and stepped through.