As long as you have the courage, fierce ghosts go on maternity leave.

Everyone was utterly astounded.

Five hundred trillion!

What did that number even signify?

For the locals of Cangshan City, they had been aimlessly mired in an endless cycle of confusion. The only way out was to redeem themselves with ghost energy to be precise.

In this loop, every time they regained consciousness, the Mist System would grant them 10,000 units of this energy, sufficient only for a mere half-hour.

Within that timeframe, any energy harvested from killed participants would be seized by the slayer. Note, however, that this energy could not be converted to stored reserves.

So, even if someone discovered Alexander’s identity as a participant and killed him, they would only gain his nearly 200,000 energy units and not the reserves.

When the seized energy balanced out with one’s own, redemption was at hand. You could liberate yourself from the cycle, becoming something akin to an NPC like Alistair—free and aware.

There were, of course, limits. These NPCs also needed to buy life-days with their energy, and the price wasn’t cheap.

However, NPCs could trade with participants and even had job roles like salespeople, chefs, and doctors assigned to them by the system.

A lowly soldier needed just 100,000 energy units to break free; a general needed a mere million.

Five hundred trillion could liberate a multitude of Phantasms from this torturous cycle. That astronomical sum could free millions of king-level locals, hundreds of thousands of Imperials, or ten thousand Ghost Emperors. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

The staggering part was Alexander’s magnanimity. He generously gifted each local with 100,000 energy units—10 million in total!

Given their rate of energy consumption—10,000 every half-hour—Alexander had bought them five hours of leeway. The sense of urgency thus abated.

Some locals, more socially adept, took the initiative to approach Alexander and curry favor: "Chef Alistair, you are truly a brother to me. You lead here with two participants and then dole out 100,000 energy units per person. What would you have us do? Just say the word."

"What’s your name?" Alexander asked, eyeing a local who appeared to be in his thirties and who wore a sycophantic grin.

"My name is Owen! Whatever you need, Boss, just say it!" Owen blurted out without a second thought. Though he emanated an energy at the Ghost Emperor level, this was Cangshan City, where the scarce commodity wasn’t the rank of Ghost Emperor, but redeeming energy units.

"Excellent! I like your kind of savvy. A reward for you!" Alexander beamed, his demeanor that of a man who had just won the lottery.

Before Owen could even register the meaning of ’reward,’ Kassadin Imperial stepped forth and grasped his wrist.

In the next moment, the energy meter on Owen’s arm skyrocketed. From just under 110,000 units, it leapt to over a million in the blink of an eye.

A single utterance of the word ’reward’ had granted him one million units.

No one cast vicious eyes at the two participants anymore; every gaze directed at Alexander was now filled with yearning.

Owen himself sank to his knees before Alexander, clutching at his shins as he exclaimed, "Boss, Big Brother, Big Boss! Whatever you command, I’m at your service! I’ll do anything for you!"

The man was too wealthy for words! A mere tip was a million units, all for a flatteringly respectful comment. Imagine what he would give for some real work!

Compared to that, killing Kassadin for a few billion energy units seemed like small fry to Owen.

Slain Imperials could yield a maximum of a billion units—a seemingly large sum but, considering the crowd at hand, who’s to say you’d get it?

Even if you did, yes, you could buy your freedom. And then what? You’d still need a ton of energy units to sustain your life!

In contrast, following Alexander seemed far more lucrative. After all, the man had handed out a million units just as a tip!

"Very well, call me Boss from now on. I’ll take you under my wing. How does a daily salary of two billion energy units sound? If you perform well, there will be extra tips for you!"

"Twenty billion a day! And extra tips if I do well?" In that moment, Owen felt as though his G-spot had been touched, a shiver of excitement running through his body. He wanted to utter a word of gratitude but found himself too overwhelmed to speak.

"To put your mind at ease, I’ll pay upfront," Alexander said with a smile, and gestured to Edward, who promptly seized Owen’s arm.

The numbers on Owen’s energy meter skyrocketed again. Ten million, a hundred million, a billion... And when it hit a hundred billion, Edward showed no sign of stopping.

Owen was now bordering on panic. He looked at Alexander incredulously, blurting out, "Boss, didn’t you say it was only twenty billion?"

"You’re now under my employ, and you’ll be responsible for distributing tips to the others. Do you really expect me to do such petty work myself?" Alexander said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

By this time, Owen’s meter had clocked a staggering hundred billion units. Edward finally stopped. A hundred billion, just for giving out tips? Owen was flabbergasted, and the locals behind him were equally stunned.

"Remember, when I say ’reward,’ it means one hundred thousand units. When I say ’big reward,’ it means one million units. And when I say ’reward generously,’ you give a billion. Understood?" Alexander’s persona of a reckless spendthrift was displayed in full glory.

Owen was so shocked his mind went blank, but he still instinctively nodded in agreement.

"Let’s try this out! A reward for everyone around!" Owen jerked to attention, his eyes locked onto Alexander until Alexander himself grew slightly impatient. Only then did Owen realize he wasn’t joking.

Soon, hundreds of people once again received a reward of a hundred thousand units. The weaker, soldier-class ghosts even accumulated enough to break free from their servitude. Yet, no one moved.

After all, they were in a state of clarity now. As long as their energy units weren’t depleted, they could briefly escape the cycle of servitude.

However, a benefactor as wealthy as Alexander was exceedingly rare. No one wanted to lose this golden opportunity.

From the time the Mist Instance had come into existence, there had only ever been one Alexander, and chances were, there would never be a second. Why wouldn’t they seize this golden opportunity to win his favor?

"Boss, the rewards have been distributed!" Owen returned, his face flush with excitement.

"Good. Remember to keep a billion for yourself as a tip," Alexander said, leaving Owen so moved he nearly performed a ritual suicide to show his loyalty. "Boss, what else do you command?" he asked, trembling with emotion.

"Oh, it’s a minor thing really..." After all the groundwork laid out, Alexander finally revealed his true intention with a slightly narrowed gaze.

"I’ve been meaning to run some experiments and require some corpses. Cangshan City should have plenty, right? Ask around to see if anyone is willing to help transport them for my research.

Whoever is willing to work for me in this macabre task will be handsomely rewarded—their commission will match the rank of the corpse’s original owner. For each corpse brought in, an additional 10% will be given on top of the base salary."

The atmosphere was electric at Alexander’s words. The promise of energy units equivalent to one’s own rank was a siren song. It meant that if they worked hard enough for Alexander, even just for a day, they could earn enough to buy their freedom.

Cangshan City was a hive of countless cycles, each usually resulting in death and, therefore, corpses. These cycles could be as quick as every ten minutes, generating fresh corpses each time.

They, the locals, were under no moral constraints like the so-called "goodwill limitations." Even if the other party went berserk, what did it matter? They were all locals here—just fight it out and be done with it.

"Deal, Boss, we’re in!"

"If you’re not in, you must be out of your mind!"

Such was the consensus, for an opportunity like this was as rare as a celestial alignment, a providential lottery win that no sane person would ever think to decline.

....

The room erupted in a chorus of roars from the hundred-odd locals gathered there, and a smile crept onto Alexander’s face. He knew that from this point on, he would never be in want of "ghost food" again. A ceaseless supply of corpses would be funneled to him through the Mist instance.

Moreover, the quality of the local population of Cangshan City was in a league of its own compared to the outside horror world—even the worst among them were soldier-ranked.

Feeling rather pleased, Alexander called out, "Same as always, pay first, work later! Owen, distribute the commissions first, and then let’s get to work!"

The gathering consisted of more than a hundred individuals—two Emperors, six Imperials, over a dozen at the King level, and the rest were either Princes or Generals, with the lowest being Soldier-ranked.

In a single stroke, hundreds of billions of energy units were distributed, and Alexander didn’t bat an eyelash. After all, these units could only be spent within the instance of the mist, and they were essentially just a string of numbers.

His generosity was utterly infectious, sweeping across the crowd like wildfire. To receive payment upfront and then work was a capitalist ideal that was seldom encountered.

The crowd dispersed almost instantly, each individual eager to earn their handsome commission. The prospect of being paid handsomely just for transporting corpses was as if money were lying on the ground, waiting to be picked up—an offer too tantalizing to resist.

Though the group was only about a hundred strong, when dispersed throughout Cangshan City, they were like a hundred droplets of poison in a glass of milk, creating immediate chaos.

On the route of the No. 45 bus, a devastating collision between the bus and a tanker truck triggered an ear-splitting explosion.

Bystanders, as well as arriving emergency medical teams and fire trucks, were all left stunned. Before anyone could approach the wreckage, three or four locals, shrouded in dark mists as if they were corrupted, rushed to the bus door and yanked it open.

Were they Good Samaritans rushing to the rescue?

But the next moment dispelled any such illusions. The crowd watched as these figures darted into the wrecked bus, only to emerge moments later carrying charred bodies and debris.

What were they doing? Looting corpses?

Meanwhile, at Mingzhu Apartments.

Buou stood on the rooftop, his eyes clouded and bewildered as if contemplating a fatal leap.

"Someone’s going to jump!" a cry rose from below, capturing the immediate attention of several pedestrians.

Among the flower beds below, one particular individual was keenly observing the situation.

This observer, nicknamed "Ghost Chicken King," was originally named Little Chicken and hailed from the Red Flame Hell. Disliking his own name, he insisted on being called ’Mr. Dinosaur’ or ’King Dinosaur’ in his home realm.

However, in this mist instance, his considerable strength in Red Flame Hell was irrelevant; here, he was just a sniveling child. Calling him Chicken was already granting him some respect.

Little Chicken was part of the same group of participants as Alexander and even resided on the same floor as him. Yet, he was far more cautious than Alexander.

This was not his first time observing the loop at Mingzhu Apartments, nor was it his first time hiding here. He was biding his time, trying to discover the loop’s vulnerability.

While cautious and intelligent, Little Chicken was also patient. He hid quietly among the flowers, his attention fully absorbed by the unfolding drama.

The shouts from the crowd garnered even more attention, causing people to gather. Some took out their phones to call the police or ambulance, while others tried to talk Buou down from the edge.

"Just jump already!" At that moment, a discordant voice broke the tense atmosphere.

This was a deviation from the usual loop! Had the vulnerability he’d been waiting for finally appeared? Little Chicken was instantly exhilarated and leapt out of the flower bed.

However, his elation was short-lived. Just yards away, a local emitting black mist, who was evidently feral, was sprinting toward him while shouting impatiently at the rooftop.

Had he been exposed? A chill ran down Little Chicken’s spine as he turned to run.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t just any local; this was a true feral one operating at full strength—Imperial-level, to be precise. And he was further enhanced by forbidden powers.

Escape was futile. Resigned to his fate, Little Chicken plopped down onto the ground, waiting for his imminent demise.

But then the improbable happened. The feral local, in his frenzied state, simply dashed past him.

Although the local didn’t vocalize, Little Chicken could barely make out the meaning from the movements of his lips: "You call yourself a King-level participant? Scared into paralysis by a mere leap off a building? Have some dignity! You’re in my way, idiot!"

Although insulted, Little Chicken felt no anger, only shock as he stared at the man’s retreating figure. What could possibly interest a feral local enough to completely disregard him?

His question was soon answered and he wasn’t the only one left bewildered. The man actually lifted Buou’s lifeless body and bolted.

Meanwhile, Alexander, along with Edward and Kassadin, were casually strolling through the streets. In a short period, they had spent hundreds of trillions merely for the advanced settlement of commissions.

From soldier-level locals to emperor-level ones, the loyalties across the entire street had been bought with Alexander’s wealth. Nearly a hundred thousand locals had started collecting corpses for him.

Soon enough, the chaotic activities drew the attention of the Cangshan City Police Department.