Volume One, Chapter One: The Swindler

(Page 1/3)

(Warning: Not for fans of brainless power fantasy. No poison. Infinite flow. The antagonists are intelligent. This novel focuses on [suspense] + [instances] + [deduction]. The pacing is slightly slow, so please be patient, dear readers. The humble author thanks you...)

[Welcome to the Divine Path Game]

[Information synchronization complete. Please keep your wits about you…]

...

When Qin Shang awakened, he found himself in an exceptionally cramped environment.

Dim, damp, pitch-black—so dark he could not see his hand in front of his face, with barely any light.

Once his eyes fully adjusted, he glanced around.

Utter darkness.

In the shadows, he could just make out rows of seats and boxes on either side. The space was narrow and somewhat claustrophobic, as if he were inside a train carriage.

He had no idea how long this train had been abandoned. Occasionally, a pungent, stinging odor drifted through the air.

Perhaps... it was the smell of moldy leather seats?

“Where am I?”

“What is this place?”

“Why am I here?”

The confusion faded from his eyes. He tentatively raised an arm, relief flickering across his handsome face.

He was uninjured.

He felt his pockets—his phone, keys, and other personal items had all been confiscated.

Voices seemed to murmur not far away. Instinctively, Qin Shang stepped toward the front of the carriage.

He needed to understand why he was here!

He had barely taken two steps when he caught sight of a shadowy figure in the gloom.

Qin Shang’s vigilance rose sharply.

At that moment, a slightly mocking voice called from not far ahead.

“Looks like another guy’s joined us. What are the people who kidnapped us after, grabbing so many?”

“That cop over there... so, are you finally going to tell us why we’re here?”

Qin Shang was startled—so he wasn’t alone in this carriage.

He quickly peered into the darkness, only now noticing six other figures.

The one who’d just spoken was a sharp-faced young man, looking every bit a street punk.

Aside from the punk who first spoke, everyone else wore expressions ranging from fear to suspicion.

Not only was Qin Shang observing them—they were sizing him up, too.

Just then, a clear, ethereal female voice echoed through the carriage.

[Attention all players: The roster for this round is full. The instance will begin in ten minutes.]

A game!?

[Ding! You are currently on the Death Train; the Death Train was a mid-19th century London train where passengers began to mysteriously disappear one after another. In the end, not a single one was spared. Curiously, aside from the vanishing passengers, the train continued to shuttle daily between its terminal stations, eventually becoming a household ghost train legend.]

[Difficulty: S-class]

[Instance ID: 0927]

[Type: Exploration, Survival, Multiplayer]

[Your mission this round: Uncover the mystery behind the disappearances on the Death Train.]

[Time limit: 24 hours]

[Exploration progress: 0%]

[Your identity in this instance: Passenger]

Just then, a cold electronic prompt sounded in Qin Shang’s ear.

His pupils widened slightly. The reactions of the others nearby were much the same.

“You all heard the system prompt for the instance just now, didn’t you?”

“Clearly this is a game. The game’s about to start. If we clear the instance, we can return…”

A burly man spoke up from the group.

Qin Shang observed him warily. The man was broad-shouldered, dressed in a pale blue uniform.

A sheriff?

Was he really a sheriff?

Yet, the man’s words offered little reassurance. The hint of mockery and derision in his tone only deepened the group’s sense of foreboding.

Anxiety rippled through the group, reaching a fever pitch as everyone began talking at once.

“A game! What kind of game?”

“I’m telling you, kidnapping is a crime! Locking us up like this, you’ll go to prison!”

“Even if you’re a sheriff, you have no right to kidnap us. Who are you?”

Qin Shang stared at the supposed sheriff, mind racing.

That electronic prompt just now was clearly something supernatural.

A game—this is a game?

A virtual reality game?

“I’m a player, just like you. You’re here not because of anything I did…”

The sheriff spoke calmly.

“We have ten minutes before the game starts. Let me give you all a brief explanation.”

“From the looks of you, you must all be newcomers.”

“This is the Divine Path Game!”

Divine Path?

Qin Shang narrowed his eyes, his resolute chin making his already striking features even sharper.

A hush fell over the group.

The sheriff cleared his throat.

“We are all players in this game.”

“Divine Path Game—called a game, but it’s not something humans created. It’s a supernatural phenomenon that the authorities have yet to unravel. I don’t know much.”

“I only know that we are all chosen.”

“There are many types of Divine Path instances—exploration, puzzle, survival. Usually, only by clearing an instance or completing a mission can we return to reality…”

The sheriff’s tone was calm but carried an inexplicable eeriness.

“What happens if we fail?” a woman—mature and anxious—suddenly interjected.

This place was too bizarre. Ordinary people, suddenly dragged into a supernatural game—no normal person could accept it calmly.

The sheriff glanced coolly at her.

“You die.”

Boom—

Those words plunged the atmosphere into suffocating dread.

Outside, thick fog pressed against the windows, making it nearly impossible to see beyond.

Inside the dim carriage, under the faint light, no one could see anyone else’s expression clearly.

But the mention of death sapped the air of hope.

Qin Shang’s heart felt as if it had been struck by a cannonball; his breath caught.

“Is this a joke? Die!?”

The punk who’d been the calmest at first now lost his composure.

“No way! I’m not playing a game that kills you! I didn’t even join voluntarily—I just picked up a ‘ladies’ service’ card off the street and ended up here!”

“What did I do to deserve this? Fine, say I’m soliciting—I’ll turn myself in, just let me go!”

The woman echoed him, voice trembling.

“Exactly! I was just depositing money at the bank. The ATM swallowed my card, and when I tried to pull out the jammed card, everything went dark. Next thing I knew, I was here.”

“I didn’t volunteer for this—why should I risk my life?”

The others also began to complain, their voices rising in panic.

Qin Shang kept silent, listening carefully.

He easily caught a key detail: everyone’s entry into this place seemed tied to a card.

He, too, had a card.

Ninety days ago, his wife, Jiang Qiqi, vanished without a trace while on a business trip to Yanjing.

No news. She’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

For three months, Qin Shang went daily to the sheriff’s office to inquire, but always received a shake of the head.

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Every year, hundreds of thousands of people go missing across the country. Qin Shang knew that perhaps his wife would never be found.

But he refused to believe a living person could simply vanish.

Three days ago, the Yanjing Sheriff’s Office closed the case and returned Jiang Qiqi’s belongings.

Among them was a cellphone and a small, silver card.

[Role Card: Swindler]

The moment Qin Shang’s hand touched the card, he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, he was here.

“If you’re in an instance, it means you’ve already bound a role card. You can’t leave unless you clear the instance.”

“So instead of whining, you’d better think about how to survive this round!”

The sheriff cut off the group’s complaints with impatience.

Qin Shang’s eyes narrowed.

If the card had brought him to this so-called Divine Path Game, maybe his wife’s disappearance was finally coming into focus.

Now, he cared about something else even more.

Clearly, Jiang Qiqi’s disappearance was almost certainly linked to this game!

Was the card he received actually his wife’s role card?

“How can I unbind a role card?”

“And can a role card be given to someone else?”

The sheriff seemed the most knowledgeable about the Divine Path. Qin Shang could only ask him.

“You mean unbinding?” The sheriff shot him a glance.

“As far as I know, a Divine Path player’s identity cannot be unbound. The only way to remove a role card is death, and cards cannot be transferred.”

“The Divine Path is more like a massive server—it has its own criteria for selecting players. The recipient might not meet the requirements.”

“When a player dies, the Divine Path usually recycles the card and passes it to another chosen player.”

“The scenario where you get the card varies. Some find it on the street, some in an ATM…”

“Mine was tucked into my daughter’s test paper!”

Death?

Qin Shang’s face went pale—did that mean his wife was dead?

No, wait…

His mind spun rapidly, extracting the sheriff’s information.

If a player dies, the card is recycled.

So how did his wife manage to send the card to him?

The sheriff’s office said the package was mailed before her disappearance. In their investigation, they intercepted it, and only after closing the case ninety days later did they send it to him.

If cards can’t be transferred, was this not his wife’s card?

Or did the sheriff also have limited knowledge, and this was indeed his wife’s card, preserved by some means?

Either way, if the card wasn’t recycled, it implied his wife might still be alive.

This thought steadied him.

Now, he needed to focus on clearing the instance…

The Death Train.

A virtual reality instance reminiscent of urban legends?

The sheriff interrupted the arguing crowd.

“This should be an A-rank novice trial instance.”

“Our role card profession doesn’t conflict with our in-instance identity.”

“Different professions have different skills.”

“For example, someone with the [Teacher] profession can easily decipher foreign or ancient scripts; [Priests] can see in the dark.”

“Let’s share our professions so I can coordinate your roles.”

“In an A-rank instance, if we don’t work together, our chance of survival drops to zero.”

The sheriff commanded respect. His words calmed the chaotic group into resigned silence.

He was right—without cooperation, they were as good as dead.

Qin Shang had observed the carriage: the whole train reeked of the uncanny.

The front seats showed signs of use, but those in the back were inexplicably pristine, as if no one had ever sat there.

Even stranger, the front windows were covered with newspapers, as if to guard against something dreadful outside.

Beyond that, everything was shrouded in darkness.

If he wanted to discover why he was here and what happened to his wife, he needed to survive this game.

The Death Train, the mystery of the vanished passengers…

Where had they gone?

Just then, an elderly man standing to the sheriff’s left spoke.

“My profession is [Priest], with the skill [Night Vision].”

“I can see in the dark. The next carriage is connected to this one…”

“So I can tell you what’s ahead. Brace yourselves.”

He paused.

“The next carriage is filled with Hello Kitty dolls…”

“Everywhere, large and small, all kinds.”

???

Hello Kitty?

That was… bizarre.

Pink plush Hello Kitty dolls, beloved by girls, appearing in a dark, sealed train carriage.

They were just toys, yet in this eerie gloom, the sight was chilling.

Especially in such a sinister environment—a carriage full of fluffy pink cats.

Nothing cute about it—instead, it was deeply unsettling.

Who placed them there?

This old man was a priest, able to see in the dark thanks to his profession.

He must be remarkably composed, having kept this to himself for so long.

After he spoke, everyone else displayed various emotions: surprise, fear, worry.

Qin Shang, meanwhile, replayed the Death Train’s introduction in his mind.

The previously panicked woman had calmed down, finding some comfort in the sheriff’s steadiness.

She realized that without him, she’d likely be stuck here forever.

She forced herself to cooperate.

Lips trembling, she said, “I… I don’t know my profession. When I pulled the card from the ATM, I didn’t look at what it said.”

The sheriff replied matter-of-factly, “You’re probably a novice. Your role card is on you—just touch it with your palm to view your profile.”

At his words, she searched her body, then paused as she found it in her pocket. “I… I’m a Teacher. My skill is Deciphering…”

Qin Shang did the same and, sure enough, found a card in his pocket.

The instant his hand touched it, a pale blue screen appeared before his eyes, not obstructing his vision—more like it was projected onto his retina.

[Name: Qin Shang]

[Race: Human]

[Game ID: Cockroach-Licker]

[Profession: Swindler]

[Experience: 0%]

(Page 3/3)

The earlier information was basic, but when Qin Shang saw the game ID, his eyelid twitched.

He recalled a pair of bright eyes, a playful figure in a pink dress—his heart confirming that this card must be connected to his wife!

Jiang Qiqi had always had such quirky tastes; her online shopping ID was the same. Picking up parcels for her had been mortifying.

The rest of the profile repeated the Death Train introduction.

[You are currently on the Death Train; the Death Train was a mid-19th century London train where passengers began to mysteriously disappear one after another. In the end, not a single one was spared. Curiously, aside from the vanishing passengers, the train continued to shuttle daily between its terminals, eventually becoming a household ghost train legend.]

[Difficulty: S-class]

[Instance ID: 0927]

[Your mission: Uncover the mystery behind the disappearances on the Death Train.]

[Time limit: 24 hours]

[Exploration progress: 0%]

[Your identity: Passenger]

Having familiarized himself with the card, Qin Shang composed his expression.

But a question nagged at him.

According to the sheriff, different professions have different skills.

Why did he have no skill at all?

He subtly glanced at the others.

The profession-revealing session continued. The punk pointed at himself:

“I’m a Martial Artist.”

“I’m a Doctor. My profile says I can mix potions and heal…”

“Teacher. My skill is Deciphering…”

“Priest, same as the old man.”

Some professions were repeated. As they introduced themselves, the atmosphere grew less tense.

The sheriff seemed relieved.

But Qin Shang frowned.

None of them had the same profession as he did.

Counting himself, there were seven—five men, two women.

The sheriff and the punk were both Martial Artists.

The anxious woman was a Teacher; another man was a Doctor.

The old priest and a little girl in a pink dress were both Priests.

Only Qin Shang stood alone.

“Young man, what’s your profession?”

Now it was Qin Shang’s turn.

In this strange environment, he was an anomaly.

He grew more uneasy as he realized just how different he was.

The others all had starting skills, but his skill panel was blank.

Did Swindlers have no starting skill?

His frown deepened.

[Skill: …]

He hesitated, wondering whether to reveal his odd profession, when—

A prompt sounded.

[The train is about to depart]

[Instance exploration progress: 0%]

[Instance name: Death Train]

[Difficulty: S-class]

[Player count: 6]

[Mission: Uncover the mystery behind the disappearances on the Death Train]

[Attention: Among the players is a Godslayer. By the end of the journey, you must identify the Godslayer within your group.]

Godslayer!?

What was that!?

Qin Shang had just furrowed his brow when he caught another key detail.

Wait a moment…

Six players!?

But there were seven of them!

Meaning, one among them was not actually a player?

A chill swept down his spine, his scalp prickling.

At that moment, for the first time, the usually unflappable sheriff lost his composure.

“Godslayer!?”

“There’s a Godslayer among us?”

“Could there be a Swindler among us?”

“Why would an A-rank instance have a Godslayer?”

“Godslayers only appear in Swindler instances! Is this Death Train a Swindler instance?”

Swindler!

At last, his profession was mentioned.

And another thing—

Qin Shang had noticed this discrepancy earlier but hadn’t spoken up.

The sheriff called this an A-rank instance.

But on his own panel, it had always been S-class.

When the sheriff said A-rank, no one objected—so on their panels, the Death Train was indeed A-rank.

Did that mean his instance was harder because he was a Swindler?

Or did his profession mean his mission differed from theirs?

Qin Shang swallowed hard.

He turned to the sheriff.

“What is the Swindler profession?”

On the surface, he remained calm, but inside he was desperate for clues.

“Swindler—a profession naturally suited for clearing instances. When facing challenges, Swindlers receive far more hidden clues than other players, but they also receive a hidden mission.”

“Among all Divine Path players, Swindlers have the highest survival rate.”

“But Swindlers are the public enemies of all other players!”

The sheriff’s expression turned severe.

Public enemy!?

Qin Shang was beginning to grasp the scale of the Divine Path—its player base was likely far larger than he’d imagined.

That explained why, in reality, people sometimes vanished without a trace.

As the public enemy, his opponents were not just instance NPCs—

But other players as well.

He blurted out, “Why?”

This time, the sheriff did not answer directly, but instead fixed Qin Shang with a penetrating gaze, eyes narrowing.

“You… haven’t told us your profession or skill, have you?”

“Could it be that you’re the Swindler in our group?”