Chapter 67: Isolated and Helpless

Without a doubt, Rohan felt as though one wave had barely subsided before another surged forth. Who could have guessed that the few days he’d spent toiling in the fields of the game would be the most peaceful he’d ever know? From then on, what awaited him was nothing but upheaval and the uncertainty of ever-shifting challenges.

The Liu estate was raided, and one by one, the friends he could trust were arrested with scarcely a gesture. It was as if Rohan’s wings had been clipped—how could he not feel dejected?

He wandered, lost and dispirited, back to the Bamboo Grove Guild. As he stepped into a side alley, he saw constables pacing back and forth at the guild's entrance, searching for suspicious figures. The guild’s doors had been kicked in, left half open, which filled Rohan with unspeakable sorrow.

All his clothes and remaining possessions were inside the guild; his bundle of superpower-infused wine had vanished in the Sima residence. This was a bitter pill for Rohan to swallow.

Now, apart from the biting cold and the company of the winter blossoms, Rohan truly had nothing left.

Suddenly, subtitles flashed before his eyes: Don’t worry, I’m still by your side.

Rohan started in surprise—was this an AI interface lighting up in his vision?

The subtitles continued: Consider me a quasi-AI. I will communicate with you and offer guidance when you need it.

Rohan asked, “How should I address you?”

In his field of vision: I am you—just call me Advent.

Rohan exclaimed, “You’ve finally appeared! Otherwise, every time I’ve needed you before, I nearly had to slap myself awake.”

Advent replied: You can still slap yourself now. The functionality isn’t mutually exclusive.

Rohan managed a bitter smile. “Can I rush into the guild to retrieve my things?”

Calculations danced before his eyes, a flurry of data processing. At last, the message appeared: You can.

Rohan’s spirits soared; he pounded his chest in encouragement.

Advent added: Unless you no longer wish to continue the game.

“Hey! Why are you also so cryptic and half-spoken?” Rohan grumbled.

Advent answered: Because isn’t that just how you are in real life? I simply adapt intelligently to your user habits.

Rohan felt as if he were facing his own reflection—every flaw and shortcoming laid bare. Communicating with himself was truly an exasperating task.

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Rohan asked, “So what should I do now? Is there anything left for me to try? Show me a way forward!”

Advent replied: Use your brain. Think it through.

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. At least he knew that both the guild and the Liu estate were now off limits; but his thoughts grew muddled again. Who had betrayed them and caused the plan to fail? Was it Liu Buwen? Zhang Jifeng? Or… an unknown adversary? That medical diagnosis had been a warning sign—his rivals were close at hand. From the vision, he’d seen the enemy was a witness at the Cuju tournament; perhaps someone involved in the tournament was connected to the failed plan.

Damn it! The more he needed help, the more isolated he felt. Now he was like a cornered beast—was there anyone left he could turn to?

In this vast county town, there was nowhere he could go, and Rohan’s body shivered uncontrollably.

Then, a line of text flashed before his eyes: “Shopkeeper Hu” is in normal condition.

Shopkeeper Hu? He’d been warmly welcomed by him before—Hu ran the Wangqing Pavilion and, though a businessman, had always struck Rohan as honest and adaptable. He’d started selling farm produce, then turned to butchery. He might be a good choice.

No sooner thought than acted, Rohan, heavy-hearted, made his way to Hu’s shop. Shopkeeper Hu, bundled in thick cotton, was stretching at the door.

The store was completely transformed. No meat was sold anymore; instead, it was stocked with clothing: hemp robes, padded jackets, bedding, and pillows of every kind. Old Hu, with his round belly, paced back and forth at the entrance, looking for all the world like a living mannequin in his winter wear.

“Hey, Old Hu!” Rohan called out in greeting.

At the sight of Rohan, Shopkeeper Hu approached respectfully, waddling over with open arms.

“My good fellow! What wind blew you here today?”

“The cold wind, Old Hu. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

They fell back into easy conversation as Shopkeeper Hu led Rohan inside to sit.

“It’s been over a month since I last saw you at the Cuju tournament. You seem to be in good spirits.”

“A month?”

“Yes indeed. I was butchering until two weeks ago, then switched to selling clothes. I’m sure about the timing.”

Rohan recalled the time-warping effects in the Sima residence. From the Cuju match to leading people into the Sima mansion, it must have taken a week. Then, with the three trials inside, he hadn’t expected three weeks to have passed. Time waited for no one; he was already trailing his competitors, and now—what would happen next?

Rohan’s eyes darted restlessly, lids fluttering with anxiety. Shopkeeper Hu noticed his distress.

Old Hu placed a comforting hand on Rohan’s shoulder. “My friend, you seem troubled—what’s going on?”

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“I…” Rohan almost blurted it out, but caught himself. Now that enemies were lurking nearby, whom could he trust? Was Old Hu really reliable? They’d met only a handful of times and got along well, but would saying too much come back to haunt him?

He swallowed his words, and seeing Rohan’s hesitation, Shopkeeper Hu looked conflicted.

“My young friend, is it a business problem? Money troubles? Don’t worry—I have a little saved up. If you need it, it’s yours.” Hu’s offer was warm and sincere; it was the best medicine for Rohan’s solitude.

“No, no, it’s just… Well, it is a business problem, but not about money.”

Old Hu sensed it was no simple matter. He glanced around, stepped outside to close the door, making sure there were no eavesdroppers.

“We should be safe now—tell me, what happened?”

“We were helping the common folk complete a bounty, entered the Sima residence, and got caught. The guild members were taken away by the authorities.”

“The Sima residence? That place!” Old Hu was astonished, then added, “Most people wouldn’t dare go there—it’s filled with yin energy, everyone’s afraid of attracting something unclean.”

“We only wanted to do good, but the whole affair was exposed in the end.”

Shopkeeper Hu lowered his head in thought, and silence settled between them.

“If you ask me, the authorities wouldn’t let anyone in, so it’s not surprising you were caught. But it’s still unlucky—do you know anyone at the yamen who could put in a good word?”

“Anyone at the yamen…? No, I don’t anymore.”

A city without acquaintances is as alien as a strange land.

Old Hu sat down, deep in thought. A biting wind whistled in through the window, swirling into the room and making him sneeze.

“Ow, this cursed weather! If the grain doesn’t thaw soon, it’ll all be spoiled.”

The harvest in the county was likely a total loss; all the grain had frozen, though the surrounding villages seemed to be faring better.

As soon as grain was mentioned, a spark lit in Rohan’s mind—wasn’t there Dr. Du, an old acquaintance of Lord Liu?

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