The identifiers within earshot swarmed toward him at once. What they wanted most wasn’t gold — it was the chance to raise their own Identification skill by working on real gear. And here, finally, was a piece worth identifying. How could they not scramble for it like they had?

But their swarming had the side effect of leaving Shattered Star-Heart’s slight, solitary figure isolated off to the side — impossible not to notice at a glance. The man was busy savoring the feeling of being looked up to by everyone around him, and when his eyes happened to land on Shattered Star-Heart, he froze for a beat before something greedy and stunned flared to life in them.

Nothing about her plain novice robes could hide the alluring shape of her body, and her face — flawless, without a single blemish to be found. A beauty who looked like she’d stepped straight out of a painting… and yet here she was, dressed in the most ordinary clothes imaginable, standing alone and waiting like everyone else, a clear trace of melancholy and longing between her brows.

The man holding the Silver-grade item nearly felt himself drooling, hardly able to believe the heavens had actually dropped a prize this perfect right in front of him. Pretty girls were common enough, but beauty on this level was vanishingly rare — and women with looks like this almost always came from wealthy, well-connected bloodlines, protected on every side. A woman this beautiful with obviously no money or power behind her, someone he could freely charm, pressure, or even force if it came to that… opportunities like that just didn’t come along. Basically never.

So if he let a chance like this slip through his fingers, he wouldn’t even be able to look himself in the eye anymore.

He strode over to Shattered Star-Heart at once, flashing a grin. “Hey, beautiful. You an identifier?”

Something about his voice, his bearing, his eyes made her recoil on instinct, her feet taking an involuntary step back — but she answered honestly all the same. “I am… is there something you need identified?”

“Yeah, right here!” He gave the Silver-grade item a smug little wave, holding it up high enough that no one could possibly miss it. But to his disappointment, he saw none of the shock, delight, or starstruck admiration on the beautiful woman’s face that he’d been expecting… He couldn’t have dreamed, not in a hundred years, that just minutes ago she’d handled a whole stack of Gold-grade artifacts and even one Immortal Spirit-grade piece. Next to that, a single Silver-grade item didn’t register with her at all.

The identifiers around them could only sigh quietly to themselves — a beautiful woman had a built-in advantage no matter the era — but it didn’t take them long to figure out exactly what this man with the Silver-grade gear had in mind. His hand, halfway extended toward her, suddenly pulled back, and a leering grin spread across his face. “Beautiful, call me ‘big brother’ first. Then I’ll let you identify it.”

Shattered Star-Heart’s brow furrowed sharply, disgust and a flicker of panic crossing her face. She took a step back and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I won’t be identifying this. Please find someone else.”

The man’s eyebrow twitched, and he let out a low chuckle. “Just call me ‘big brother,’ and I’ll pay you a hundred times the usual identification fee! Bring me any high-grade gear you get your hands on from now on, and it’s all yours to identify. What do you say?”

He’d been sure that an offer this generous, dangled in front of a girl who clearly needed the money, would have her falling all over herself to agree. Instead, all he got was the same firm shake of her head, the same polite refusal. His patience — never much to begin with — ran out completely. He rubbed his nose and said, “Fine, I’ll be straight with you. I’ve taken a liking to you. Why don’t we go somewhere and get to know each other properly… Hey, you know who I am? Ever heard of Battle Soul Hall? I’m the Third Hall Master of Battle Soul Hall — Thunderstorm! Heh. The Lei Group, ring a bell? That’s my family.”

Everyone around them understood immediately what this self-proclaimed “Thunderstorm” was after. And the moment the names Battle Soul Hall and the Lei family left his mouth, the handful of people who’d been quietly weighing whether to play hero shrank right back down.

Nobody dared cross him. Nobody could afford to. Powerful families who threw their weight around in the game world and lorded over the real one both — did they ever hold back from bullying whoever they pleased? In the real world, they had no fear of the law at all, because the law only ever existed under their heel. In the game world, they were exactly the same — untouchable to anyone ordinary.

“I’m sorry, I… I’m logging off.”

She’d been hurt too many times, and the fear inside her had only grown deeper because of it. When she was a child, she’d never had to be afraid of anything — someone had always protected her, and the family she used to have would never have let anyone get away with something this brazen. But now, she had no one, nothing. Faced with a moment like this, all she had was helplessness. Right now, she deeply regretted never once covering her face.

Thunderstorm was never going to just let her walk away. Hearing that she meant to log off, he lunged, grabbing for her without hesitation. Shattered Star-Heart flinched hard at the motion, stumbling backward in a panic until her back hit the wall, too rattled to even remember to log off. Thunderstorm’s hand froze halfway there and yanked back on its own. In the World of Fate, female players were rigorously protected — if a male player crossed a physical line with a female player, the System would punish the offender according to the severity of the violation and the woman’s own wishes: a lighter offense meant a savage bolt of lightning and a long stretch of full-body Paralysis; a worse one meant getting struck down a level on the spot.

There was no PK inside city limits, so if Shattered Star-Heart wanted to log off right now, nothing could stop her. Thunderstorm’s teeth ground together, and he said, low and vicious, “Want to log off? Fine by me… I’ll just have someone camp this exact spot, waiting for you to log back in. Every single day. How’s that sound?”

Shattered Star-Heart bit her lip, both hands twisting the hem of her clothes, not knowing what to do. Aside from her little sister, she had nothing left in this world. The only one who could protect her was herself — and with a body and temperament this soft, this fragile, how could she possibly protect herself at all? That was exactly why she’d chosen the slums to live in — it was quiet there, no one with cruel intentions to worry about. Whenever she went to the hospital, or out to buy things for her sister, she always wore a wide-brimmed sun hat. She knew exactly how beautiful she was, and exactly how dangerous that beauty was for someone as unprotected as she was now.

And even living in the slums, trouble had still found her. She hadn’t even been in this world for very long, and already, trouble had found her again.

Was she supposed to just stop coming into this game entirely, just to avoid this one man? She couldn’t… She’d become an identifier. She’d found hope — the hope of being able to stay home and watch over her sister while still earning enough to pay for her treatment. She didn’t want to give that up…

But who could she possibly turn to now…

Suddenly, she thought of the one person who’d given her hope, who’d moved something in her — and, as if clutching at the last lifeline she had left, she reached out to him with everything she had.

“Shameless.”

Just then, a cold voice cut through the crowd of onlookers — a voice that landed like a blade straight in Thunderstorm’s ear. Those two words were unmistakably meant for him. Thunderstorm spun around in fury, and the first thing he met was a pair of eyes, sharp and merciless, staring straight into his.

A man in a plain Warrior’s coat, his face rigid and cold. And yet there was nothing deliberate about that expression — it seemed as natural to him as breathing, like this was simply what his face did, cold and still and humorless by default. His gaze was so razor-sharp it made something twist uncomfortably in Thunderstorm’s gut, and he forced out a cold laugh. “Heh! There’s always someone who doesn’t know when to shut up and just wants to die. Kid, go find somewhere else to have your fun, and don’t go ruining your grandpa’s good mood. If this were out in the wilderness… I’d fucking cripple you where you stand!!”

A cold laugh first, then a sudden roar — his short temper and vicious streak on full, unguarded display, enough to make anyone faint of heart go pale.

But Thunderstorm’s words only sent something dark flashing across the Warrior’s face, a blade-sharp light cutting through his eyes. His brow dropped low, and he ground out, one word at a time: “You… want… to die!!”

Clang!

A cold flash of light swept across every watching eye as an enormous two-handed greatsword appeared in his grip… and along the length of its blade, flowing like liquid, ran a gleam of silver.

“S-Silver-grade equipment!”

The instant the silver greatsword appeared, a wave of startled gasps tore loose from the crowd, every eye locking onto him at once, shock and envy plain on every face. Even Thunderstorm’s own expression shifted sharply.

Both of them were Sword Warriors, and a sword was a Sword Warrior’s soul — the single most vital piece of equipment they could ever carry. Thunderstorm’s was Bronze-grade. The instant this Silver-grade blade appeared, it completely crushed his own aura and standing beneath it. His expression cycled through half a dozen shades… anyone who could own a Silver-grade weapon was, without question, no simple player. No wonder he’d dared to challenge him so openly.

Putting on a show of indifference, he turned away with a sneer. “What, you think you’re gonna kill your grandpa? Ha ha ha ha, then come kill me! I’m standing right here. Come on. Cut me down!”

The instant Thunderstorm’s arrogant words left his mouth, a private message chimed in his ear: “Third Hall Master, that’s Cloud-Piercing Sword — seventh place on the Level Ranking! Don’t provoke him!”

Thunderstorm’s face changed again.

Players could normally choose to hide their personal information, keeping other players from viewing their profile. But Assassins running the invisibility build and Hunters running the trap build both had access to a skill for scouting monster and player information — one with a certain chance of revealing details about higher-level monsters, or about other players and NPCs. That was exactly how Thunderstorm had gotten this piece of intel: a Hunter-class companion of his, standing somewhere in the crowd.

Cloud-Piercing Sword. There wasn’t a single person who didn’t know that name. And there wasn’t a single person who didn’t know what it meant to hold a spot in the Level Ranking’s top ten, let alone hold it for as long as he had. Because that top ten was drawn from a player base numbering in the hundreds of millions — every single one of those ten had been filtered out from among tens of millions of others. Call any of them a “simple player,” and who would ever believe you? Making it into the Level Ranking’s top ten meant either monstrous personal ability, or backing and connections on a staggering scale — or, often enough, both at once. However they’d fought their way in, one thing was beyond doubt: every single one of them was someone you could try to win over, but never, ever someone you wanted to cross.

Win one over, and you might gain a powerful ally. Cross one, and you were guaranteed a powerful enemy.

(End of Chapter 160)