Free Web Novel“My personal skill.” Bai Liu smiled weakly. “You’re pretty curious, aren’t you? Want me to demonstrate it again? My stamina’s bottomed out right now. Give me a bottle of physical recovery agent, and I’ll show you one more time.” freёwebnoѵel.com
“Of course, I don’t plan on freeloading your recovery agent for nothing.” Bai Liu repeated /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ the same old trick, pulling out a one-point coin with a smile. “How about I trade you one point for it?”
Mu Shicheng: “...”
Yeah right. Only an idiot would trade with you.
One minute later—
[System Notification: Transaction established. Wanderer Bai Liu has obtained one bottle of physical recovery agent.]
[System Notification: Player Mu Shicheng has gifted player Bai Liu one bottle of physical recovery agent worth 180 points, capable of restoring 90 points of physical stamina.]
Mu Shicheng was on the verge of losing his mind. Watching Bai Liu leisurely drink the recovery agent while his stamina replenished made him want to leap onto his back and strangle him on the spot.
“How the hell did you do that?!” Mu Shicheng snapped, glaring furiously at Bai Liu. “Stealing and robbery are prohibited here! Players can only trade or gift items! There’s no way you should be able to steal things directly out of my inventory!”
And right in front of him, too. Twice. A repeated offense.
Usually, Mu Shicheng was the one robbing other people. This was the first time in his life he’d been robbed himself.
“Personal skill.” Bai Liu tilted his head back and drained the last of the recovery agent in one swallow. Warmth slowly returned to his limbs. He glanced sideways at Mu Shicheng with a faint smile. “If you want me to demonstrate again, we can—”
“No need.” Mu Shicheng cut him off expressionlessly.
If he fell for Bai Liu’s bullshit again, he’d genuinely be an idiot.
“Ah, the residence fee I paid yesterday is about to expire. I’m logging out first.” Wang Shun waved at Bai Liu as he prepared to leave, then thoughtfully reminded him, “Bai Liu, staying in the Game Lobby requires paying the system a daily lodging fee. The amount varies according to player level. At your current level, it’s 100 points a day.”
“My fee’s almost up, so I’m heading out too. See you next time.” Wang Shun politely bid farewell to both Bai Liu and Mu Shicheng.
“Tsk, I’m logging out as well.” Mu Shicheng glanced at the watch on his wrist before looking back at Bai Liu. “I’ve got things to deal with in reality. I’ll come find you again sometime.”
“Next time,” Mu Shicheng suddenly grinned maliciously, “I’ll play a game with you personally.”
“Everything you scammed out of me today—I’m getting it all back, Bai Liu.”
With that, both men vanished from the Game Lobby.
Following the route Wang Shun had shown him earlier, Bai Liu returned to the exit of the [Newbie Zone]. Mu Ke was curled up in the corner near the exit, trembling violently, his face streaked with dried tears.
The little Shàoyé was actually quite handsome—a delicate, Japanese-style bishōnen. With his reddened eyes and tear-soaked lashes, most women would probably lose their minds and start screaming about wanting to mother him.
Unfortunately, Bai Liu was a coldhearted game designer whose only true love was money. Whatever tiny trace of “maternal instinct” he possessed was reserved exclusively for horror bosses and in-game currency. Human appearances did little for him. To truly impress Bai Liu, one would need beauty on the level of the Siren King.
Bai Liu crouched down.
Mu Ke immediately shrank back like a startled animal, metaphorical fur bristling. His eyes were still wet with tears, yet his expression retained a trace of spoiled young-master arrogance.
“Get lost!”
“The first—no, second time we’ve met, Mu-shao.”
The moment Bai Liu spoke, Mu Ke froze completely.
Slowly, Mu Ke lifted his head and stared blankly at the crouching Bai Liu. Tears dripped silently to the floor. A choked sob escaped him, and he stopped telling Bai Liu to get lost, instead staring at him in a daze without blinking.
He recognized that voice.
The voice of the being who had saved him at the brink of death.
The existence he had sold his soul to.
The devil who called himself a poor wanderer and had effortlessly incinerated monsters beyond Mu Ke’s ability to escape using only two hundred points.
Bai Liu looked calmly down at him.
“This is the second time you’ve met me, although it seems you don’t remember the first. It doesn’t matter. After all, we’re in a completely new kind of relationship now.”
“Mu Ke, nice to meet you. I’m Bai Liu—the owner of your soul debt.”
He extended a hand toward Mu Ke.
After a long silence, Mu Ke finally seemed to reach his limit. He burst into tears and lunged forward, throwing himself against Bai Liu and hugging him tightly. The tears he’d been desperately suppressing flooded out all at once.
Like a lost child finally finding his parent, Mu Ke cried so hard he could barely breathe.
“Why did you take so long to come?!”
At that moment, Mu Ke believed he was clinging to a devil he had no choice but to depend on.
Much later, he would realize that the person he embraced that day was actually a god disguised as a devil.
He offered Bai Liu his faith and his soul.
And Bai Liu gave him a heart—and a new life.
—
Bai Liu brought Mu Ke out of the game.
The logout point was Bai Liu’s apartment.
By the time they returned, it was nearly midnight. Mu Ke’s tear ducts seemed endless. After logging out, he cried for an entire night straight until sheer exhaustion finally knocked him unconscious. Even asleep, he still clutched tightly onto Bai Liu’s shirt sleeve and refused to let go.
Worse yet, every time Bai Liu mentioned sending him home, Mu Ke’s crying practically threatened to blow the roof off the building. He stubbornly insisted that since he’d sold his soul to Bai Liu, Bai Liu had no right to chase him away.
He was remarkably confident about it, too.
Bai Liu concluded this was likely the result of the imprinting effect combined with the suspension bridge effect. The little Shàoyé had developed an overwhelming sense of security toward the “devil” who had saved him. At least for now, while Mu Ke remained trapped in fear, he probably wouldn’t willingly leave Bai Liu’s side.
But Bai Liu had absolutely no intention of letting Mu Ke stay.
The reason was simple:
His crying was unbearably annoying.
So five minutes after Mu Ke finally cried himself to sleep, Bai Liu called his former supervisor and calmly informed him that the company president’s son, Mu Ke, was currently at his apartment refusing to leave, and that someone should come pick him up.
The supervisor was so shocked upon receiving the call that he spilled coffee across his keyboard.
Truthfully, he had never liked Bai Liu much as an employee.
Mainly because Bai Liu always had too many ideas of his own while designing games. Whenever the supervisor demanded trendy market elements be added, Bai Liu would bluntly respond that the game’s design space was already overloaded or that those additions would create bugs.
At the time, the supervisor simply thought Bai Liu was being insubordinate.
An employee’s job was to obey instructions, not argue back as though he knew better.
But after Mu Ke took over Bai Liu’s former position and proceeded to contribute essentially nothing, the supervisor was forced to pick up all the leftover work himself. Only then did he realize that Bai Liu had never been making excuses.
Everything Bai Liu said had been true.
Now that the supervisor had inherited Bai Liu’s responsibilities, the person criticizing him every day had become Mu Ke instead. Mu Ke came up with three or four new ideas daily, tormenting the supervisor to the brink of collapse. Whenever the supervisor claimed something couldn’t be added or modified, Mu Ke would sneer coldly and remind him that if he refused to cooperate, someone else could always replace him.
The supervisor’s position had become incredibly unstable lately.
And now, after disappearing for an entire day, the little Shàoyé had suddenly resurfaced at Bai Liu’s apartment.
The supervisor couldn’t stop his thoughts from spiraling.
Just what exactly was the relationship between Bai Liu and Mu Ke...?
Unfortunately, no amount of speculation would save him. Nominally, he was Mu Ke’s superior. In reality, he was little more than Mu Ke’s babysitter.
So he had no choice but to come. freewebnσvel.cøm
By the time he arrived, Mu Ke was still asleep.
Seeing Bai Liu again made the supervisor feel awkwardly guilty, but Bai Liu himself felt nothing at all. Before leaving the game, he had exchanged his points for 100,000 yuan. Game points were surprisingly valuable—the exchange rate was 1:1,000 RMB. One hundred points translated directly into 100,000 yuan.
With money in his pocket, Bai Liu felt perfectly at peace with the world.
Even facing this supervisor who understood nothing yet constantly loved giving orders, Bai Liu simply opened the door politely and let him inside.
“Mu Ke’s still asleep. He cried all night before finally passing out. Don’t wake him.”
Bai Liu’s reasoning was simple: if Mu Ke woke up, he’d start crying again, and Bai Liu would get a headache.
Unfortunately, the scene before the supervisor’s eyes painted a very different picture.
Mu Ke was curled into a tiny ball on the bed, clutching Bai Liu’s shirt tightly in his arms—because Bai Liu had literally taken it off and given it to him. His eyes and nose were still red from crying, and faint bluish-purple bruises marked parts of his body from the game’s aftereffects.
Combined with Bai Liu’s previous statement...
The supervisor stood there stiffly, overwhelmed by the implications.
“Oh.”
So Bai Liu and Mu Ke were that kind of relationship.
Why hadn’t Bai Liu said so earlier?!
If he’d known, he never would’ve dared fire him!
“Then maybe... maybe Mu Ke should just stay here tonight, Bai Liu.” The supervisor genuinely didn’t dare wake Mu Ke. The little Shàoyé had terrifying morning temper issues. Waking him up after a nap was already dangerous enough, let alone after being “tossed around” all night.
And honestly, the whole thing felt weird.
Bai Liu had apparently “tossed” the little Shàoyé around in bed all night, then immediately called someone over to take responsibility afterward.
It felt suspiciously like scumbag behavior.
Naturally, Bai Liu refused.
“No. Take him away. His crying annoys me.”
Supervisor: “!!!!”
What a scumbag.
How could Bai Liu say something so unbelievably heartless with such a calm expression?!
Mu Ke was eventually woken by their conversation. His eyelashes fluttered twice as he slowly stirred awake, still half asleep. Instinctively, he hugged the shirt in his arms tighter and murmured softly:
“Bai Liu...”
The supervisor’s expression became even more complicated.
Meanwhile, Bai Liu remained completely unmoved. Back when he still worked under this supervisor, the man had often looked at him with the same expression whenever Bai Liu rejected one of his suggestions. Bai Liu was thoroughly accustomed to it by now.
“Mu Ke, get up,” Bai Liu said calmly. “Someone’s here to take you home.”
Mu Ke slowly woke fully and immediately realized Bai Liu had called someone to pick him up.
His reaction was instant and violent.
He reached for Bai Liu instinctively while snapping furiously at the supervisor, arching his back like a cat resisting being carried away somewhere unwanted.
“Get out! I’m not going back! I’m staying here!”
“This is my apartment.” Bai Liu effortlessly avoided Mu Ke’s grasp. “And I’m not allowing you to stay here. Mu Ke, go home.”
Mu Ke froze.
His hand hung suspended uselessly in midair.
His eyes reddened again almost immediately, lips trembling as he stared at Bai Liu.
“Bai Liu... I’ll behave. Please don’t throw me out...”
“I’m issuing this as an order based on our relationship, Mu Ke.” Bai Liu’s voice remained calm and detached. “You do not have the right to refuse.”
In truth, Bai Liu understood perfectly why Mu Ke was unwilling to leave.
Mu Ke possessed an extremely powerful survival instinct. Because Bai Liu had saved him at the edge of death, his subconscious had already equated [remaining by Bai Liu’s side] with [being able to survive].
It wasn’t so much dependency on Bai Liu himself as sheer terror of existing without Bai Liu’s protection.
Tears slid down Mu Ke’s face.
He bit his lower lip hard and stared silently at Bai Liu for a long moment before finally climbing obediently out of bed. Pale-faced and trembling, he stood behind the supervisor like a frightened child.
Seeing this, Bai Liu felt it necessary to offer guidance to the player whose soul he possessed—much like the system itself guided players.
“Mu Ke,” Bai Liu said softly, “if you remain this weak—if you can’t survive without me, or if you fail to become someone valuable to me—then eventually I’ll abandon you. Do you understand?”
“Because I can possess countless people like you.”
“But you only have me.”
“I... understand.” Mu Ke’s lips had gone white. He lowered his head and wiped at his eyes, struggling to steady his voice. “I’ll work hard to become useful to you.”
The supervisor listening nearby felt his brain short-circuit.
What the hell was this?!
It sounded exactly like some coldhearted, manipulative scumbag gong emotionally controlling a pitiful little shou. The supervisor stared at Bai Liu in horrified disbelief.
And Bai Liu actually dared speak to Mu Ke—the company president’s son—like this?!
Just who exactly was Bai Liu?!
Mu Ke followed the utterly shell-shocked supervisor out the door.
The moment they stepped outside, the supervisor finally blurted out the question he’d been holding back.
“Mu-shao... what exactly is your relationship with Bai Liu?”
“What relationship?” Mu Ke answered blankly, almost as though speaking to himself. “I belong to him. My soul belongs to him. He’s my Master.”
Supervisor: “...”
What kind of insane play were these two involved in?!
He had genuinely never imagined that the seemingly upright and respectable Bai Liu was secretly this terrifyingly dominant.
He’d somehow managed to tame a proud young master like Mu Ke into an obedient little cat.
The supervisor shuddered violently.
As he led Mu Ke away, only one thought remained in his mind:
He had definitely fired someone terrifying.
