Chapter 370: Players Just Have It Easy! (Request Monthly Tickets)

Emperor Tomb Village, Library.

The interior was perpetually shrouded in dim amber light, yet players could see every detail clearly.

It felt as if the entire space had been steeped in amber stillness, time itself deliberately slowed here.

Towering obsidian bookshelves stood like silent sentinels, neatly aligned and reaching the dome.

The books displayed upon them resembled memory crystals storing vast quantities of data.

They sealed the roars of ancient battlefields, recorded the epics of lost civilizations, and captured the whispers of primordial deities… granting players memories that spanned the river of time.

The air carried a unique scent of spiritual materials intertwined with ancient texts; occasionally, bookshelves trembled slightly, dropping heavy volumes that automatically floated to the player who had completed their search and settled before them.

Ming Hou sat in the reading area at the deepest part of the library.

His silver hair glowed faintly in the shadows, and before him hovered a forum interface.

It contained the information he had organized and compiled regarding the Youlu Council.

At this moment, in the guild chat channel:

“Ming Zhu, I’m about to upgrade my Star Vein—can you give me less? Once I unlock the fifth Star Vein, my strength will surge dramatically, and my hunting output will rise accordingly. Maybe I can take a little less this time?”

“Ming Zhu, I’m not disrespecting you, but I just saved up enough sacrificial power to buy a fifth-generation Critical Hit Soul Soul—now if I give it all to you, I’ll have to start over again…”

“Yeah, Ming Zhu, my newly adopted Light Spirit Feather still needs a batch of Evolution Pills to boost combat power—could you possibly grant me a few more days?”

“I’d love to give more, but yesterday I spent everything on training combat techniques—my reserves are cleaner than my Iron Face.”

Messages in the guild chat scrolled rapidly, interspersed with various “broke” emoji packs.

Watching the rolling messages, Ming Hou’s temple veins throbbed.

He could fully understand the thoughts of these juniors.

Experiencing the Monster World as a player was genuinely addictive—every exploration, every hunt, brought intense anticipation.

Imagining the day when attribute feedback would manifest in reality, every step now was essentially patching their future lives.

He knew exactly what these clan members were thinking—they’d already been asked for funds to build the Fate Casino not long ago.

They felt another fundraising request was too sudden and wanted to use their remaining sacrificial power to enhance themselves.

But matters must be kept separate—the sacrificial power for building the Fate Casino was temporarily stored with him, and he wouldn’t touch it.

Right now, he still needed sacrificial power to arrange for acquiring the “Game Space” rules, and this sum naturally required the clan’s assistance.

“You have ten minutes to prepare.”

The moment he sent the message, the bargaining voices in the channel instantly fell silent.

Before anyone could react, Ming Hou added another line, his tone laced with unmasked threat:

“If your payment hasn’t arrived in ten minutes, no matter what you’re doing or how important it is, I’ll log off and wait at the main network switch of the Mingli Tower—anyone who hasn’t contributed will be the first to experience three days of disconnection.”

The moment he spoke, the chat channel exploded—“broke” emojis vanished, replaced by a chorus of wails:

“Ming Zhu, don’t! I’m transferring now—just sold materials in the trading market, and my sacrificial power suddenly suffices!”

“I’m sorry, Ming Zhu! I’m clearing all my materials and sending them over—please don’t cut the network! My dungeon progress is at the final stage—I’m about to clear it!”

“Ten minutes is enough—I’ll move the portion I saved for that idiot bird right now. Disconnection could kill someone.”

Watching the rapid-scrolling messages on screen, Ming Hou’s lips curled into a faint smile.

To deal with these juniors who treated “the game” as their lifeline, reason was useless—threaten to cut the cable.

Either comply, or get disconnected—choose one.

Soon after, challenge notifications for sacrificial power receipts chimed continuously in Ming Hou’s mind.

Having received the sacrificial power, Ming Hou turned to the hovering guide and respectfully inquired about the latest intelligence on the Youlu Clan.

Information on the forum represented the past, not the present.

Due to the Monster World’s unique environment, each race’s development was like wild grass swept by a gale—not necessarily progressing in orderly fashion.

One day they might be developing peacefully; the next, a sudden opportunity could grant them a rule-based power, triggering a leap in combat strength.

Such unpredictable changes caused by opportunities occurred daily in the Monster World.

Information about the Youlu Council from a year and a half ago on the forum might no longer be valid now.

Although Emperor Tomb Village Library’s data was updated in real time,

it only updated if a player inquired about the relevant content, and the guide analyzed that information, then transmitted it to the library.

Perhaps the Youlu Council, having captured a sentient being who controlled a rule, had enabled rapid growth among its members, causing a complete overhaul of the clan’s combat system.

Before acquiring the Game Space, he needed detailed knowledge of the Youlu Council’s combat strength.

In response to Ming Hou’s respectful inquiry, the guide opened its drowsy eyes and began explaining with obvious boredom.

Throughout the exchange, Ming Hou compiled and recorded all the information into the “Information Editing Page” of the forum interface.

After half an hour of conversation, he looked up at the guide again.

“Guide Brother, thank you for your guidance,” Ming Hou said humbly.

The guide’s water sphere ignored him and slowly closed its eyes.

Yet Ming Hou still respectfully pressed his hand to his forehead, using the Fate Clan’s gesture of reverence.

The hovering guide water sphere was called “Guide Brother” by forum players.

Forum saying: When in doubt, ask the Guide.

It meant the Guide never intervened directly to solve problems—but always provided the correct answer to every question.

To players, the Guide’s persona was that of a rude, yet nearly omniscient, portable encyclopedia.

But Ming Hou knew the water sphere beside him was likely a projection of that being.

The ancient legends of the Monster World spoke of four supreme deities, second only to the Creator God Di Zhao, who were the true rulers of the world—every move they made shaped the world’s course.

Among the four supreme deities, one held the authority of “Omniscience.”

It was said that this supreme deity, who wielded the power of “Analysis,” could perceive the essence of all things—from the microscopic flow of veins to the rise and fall of entire civilizations—all laid bare beneath His gaze.

The Niu Chao God, whom the Fate Clan had sealed underground, ranked even lower than these four supreme deities.

Though the guide water sphere had never displayed the apocalyptic power of a supreme deity, its ability to “analyze all things” matched the legends exactly.

Coupled with information gathered during his investigation of Earth, it was nearly certain that the guide water sphere was a fragmentary projection of that supreme deity.

Calling it “Guide Brother” was pure opportunism.

Though he had never lived through the Monster World’s most turbulent eras, he knew that back then, countless races stronger than the Fate Clan had pledged loyalty to the four supreme deities.

Had he not possessed the identity of a player, even touching its projection would be an act of treason.

It was a height he could never reach in this lifetime.

His own meager cultivation was like a grain of sand—unworthy of even a single glance from Him.

So the guide water sphere’s attitude toward him didn’t matter—but he must still show the proper etiquette expected of a junior in the same faction.

This was his way of expressing reverence toward the high-dimensional deities.

His gaze returned to the forum interface.

Through his conversation with the guide, he obtained more detailed intelligence on the Youlu Council’s power.

This faction’s combat strength was low, controlled by a clan of 320,000 members, following an elite cultivation model.

The strongest Youlu Council Chairman had a hunting level of only 289.

The game space rules they controlled were extremely simple.

Similar to the Joyful Lord, they randomly captured external sentient beings and threw them into game modes to harvest derivative energy aligned with rule logic.

But in terms of safety, they were far inferior to the Joyful Palace under the Joyful Lord’s control.

The Youlu Council’s game space had no branch halls—the captured sentients entered directly into the main space where Youlu Council members resided.

This created high risk of unforeseen dangers.

Many clans left spatial markers on their members; if a member encountered danger, reinforcements would cross dimensions to assist.

In such cases, the Youlu Council might Iron Face extinction.

In contrast, the Joyful Lord’s model was far more mature.

He employed a “three burrows” strategy, strictly confining risks to branch halls while isolating the main hall from danger.

Under any circumstance, the Joyful Lord could abandon a branch hall at any time and reopen elsewhere with a new setting.

The process was like a gecko shedding its tail—closing more branch halls posed no threat to the Joyful Lord or the Joyful Clan’s safety.

This was the vigilance a true hunter must possess.

The Monster World was never short of opportunities—there were endless chances for growth—but risks could instantly sever the path to its peak.

Therefore, in the Monster World, safety always came first.

Development speed came second.

The Youlu Council had clearly considered this issue and implemented targeted improvements.

According to the guide’s description, the Youlu Council classified external sentients into three categories.

They were: intelligent, unintelligent, and untouchable.

Unintelligent sentients were instantly shattered into blood energy upon entering the game space, becoming game rewards. Intelligent sentients with low life strength were selected as game participants; those who clearly appeared untouchable were immediately sent back whence they came.

They were teleported into the game space one second, and out the next.

Overall, this clan was merely a potential race with rule control, but its combat strength was negligible in the Monster World.

If he used his true body, he could easily handle this entire clan alone.

But now that his true body had entered Earth and could no longer leave for safety reasons, he needed to acquire the “Game Space” rules using his player identity.

The least efficient method would be leading 32 clan members to take turns attacking the game space.

With infinite resurrection, he could eventually wear down the Youlu Council to death.

But this was clearly not a wise decision.

It would be better to first hunt and grow stronger, then strike only when our strength is sufficient to crush the Youlu Council.

Or wait for subsequent clan members to enter as players, and act only when the clan has developed enough power.

But these plans take too long and cannot be implemented at the current stage.

In thought, countless ideas wove through Brother Ming Hou’s mind.

Most of these ideas were feasible, but lacked efficiency.

Half an hour later, Brother Ming Hou decided to first test the bug-exploiting strategy.

According to the guidance’s description, as a player, one may employ any strategy consistent with player behavior—so exploiting bugs as a player is entirely reasonable.

But out of caution, he still chose to ask the guidance whether this specific plan was viable.

The guidance’s affirmative answer instantly gave Brother Ming Hou confidence.

Although this plan had many flaws, at least it could consume some of the Youlu Council’s combat units.

With his intention clear, Brother Ming Hou rose and left the library.

Instantly, the various books on the desk floated into the air and returned to their shelves.

Not long after, Brother Ming Hou’s figure appeared in the Colorful Mist Coast region.

Arriving at a scene untouched by players, he gently floated down to the ground.

The sea breeze, swirling with colorful mist, brushed against his silver robes—but halted just before him, blocked by an invisible force.

His eyelids lifted slightly; the murderous wind swirling around his fingertips surged violently, like a solidified blue-black torrent, sweeping toward the dense, impenetrable forest ahead.

Instantly, the soft rustling of shattering leaves grew dense.

The ancient trees, thick as several men could embrace, disintegrated the moment the murderous wind touched their trunks, turning into countless fine wood shavings that drifted with the wind toward the sea.

Thick roots, tangled vines—all were crushed to dust by the sweeping wind.

In the blink of an eye, the once lush corner had been cleared into an open space, the ground as smooth as if polished, not even a pebble to be found.

When the murderous wind receded, Brother Ming Hou’s robes remained as pristine as ever.

And the open ground before him was the canvas he had prepared for his next move.

He summoned the Trading Hall interface and began rapidly purchasing spatial materials.

These were the core resources needed to construct a spatial teleportation array.

Such popular materials were typically listed by players at fixed prices, with prices steadily rising as player factions developed.

In fact, the output of spatial materials increased at every stage.

Yet it still failed to meet player demand.

Top-tier player teams and organizations required spatial materials to construct spatial teleportation arrays.

Pet-stream players needed spatial materials to create pet spaces.

Newbie players also consumed spatial materials when opening space slots.

But the sources of output were few.

They mainly came from the internal mines of Emperor Tomb Village, two rare mining sites in the wild where spatial materials could occasionally be found, and one mine excavated by a group of Lingxi Clan members led by the Little Mage.

Other channels produced negligible quantities.

This was why spatial materials remained so expensive—even the Gold Coin Guild could not lower their price through existing trade channels.

But compared to the value of the rules, the price of spatial materials meant nothing to Brother Ming Hou.

Three minutes later, after completing his purchases, Brother Ming Hou extended a finger and pinched the air—immediately, the materials in his space satchel floated before him.

Luminous azure Kongyuan stones, silver-thread-wrapped Xu cotton, and several thin, cicada-wing-like Jieyu scales.

He lightly tapped his toe and glided across the open ground like drifting clouds; as his fingertips fell, they left delicate trails of light, like a brush dipped in starlight, sketching a spiral array base upon the ground.

He casually tossed the Star-pattern stones into the air; they lodged themselves at the intersections of the light trails, slowly melting and glowing as translucent barriers hummed to life.

His palm’s wind swept over the Xu cotton, instantly unfurling it into countless silver threads that traced the array’s pathways, firmly locking in the scattered spatial energy.

He used his fingers as blades to gently slit open the Jieyu scales; the escaping airflow merged with the light trails, causing ripples to spread along the array’s edges.

Unlike the Gold Coin Guild’s spatial teams, who needed to consult data while refining their arrays,

Brother Ming Hou’s process of setting up the spatial array showed not the slightest hesitation—his movements were light, as if dancing a sacred ritual.