Little Pink Starfish

Now, there weren’t many people left at the gathering point of the Azure Soul Hunters. In fact, their numbers had never been large. To better hunt the Azure Souls, most were scattered across the country. So even though this was their headquarters, there were still only a few people around.

Pei Sen looked at the sparse group standing before him and couldn’t help but sigh again.

No wonder these transcendents were in such dire straits. With their numbers, it was impossible for them to hold more prominent positions.

It was just like in the movies Pei Sen had seen before—where humanity always looked upon those with supernatural powers with suspicion. It was the same here. The Azure Soul Hunters were always under watch. However, unlike in those films, these hunters had always selflessly protected ordinary people and contributed to their safety. Even so, it hadn’t changed how they were treated.

Pei Sen glanced at the skinny old man, Chen Qingxu. Truthfully, it wasn’t that the Azure Soul Hunters couldn’t grow stronger quickly.

On the Yali Continent, whether one became a swordsman or a mage required certain qualifications—meaning there was a threshold. If one didn’t meet it, they might use expensive alchemy potions to barely become a low-level transcendent, but it was almost impossible to become stronger.

The Azure Soul Hunters were different. There were two ways to become one. One was through inheritance: a dying hunter could pass on their powers to someone else. The other was awakening—the awakening of the Azure Soul power.

The Azure Soul Affairs Research Society held the method to awaken this power. If they wished, they could produce a large number of hunters in a short time.

However, the Society was known for being extremely selective. Gaining qualification to awaken supernatural power was incredibly difficult.

Not far away, Vice President Jing Hui was examining the wall Pei Sen had just blasted. She wore a pale green qipao, her skin fair and demeanor serene. Her black hair was tied into a neat bun, and though her face bore few wrinkles, time had still left faint traces.

She turned back and said, “Compared to a high-level Azure Soul Hunter’s destructive power, this is already beyond what you’d call an ordinary transcendent.”

Chen Qingxu nodded with a smile. “Now that he’s joined our Research Society, he’s one of us. We share the same ideals. Since he has supernatural abilities, he can contribute to resolving the threat of the Azure Soul demons.”

Pei Sen couldn’t help but ask, “If there are still demons wreaking havoc outside, why not recruit more hunters? Wouldn’t that make things safer for everyone?”

Aside from Chen Qingxu and Jing Hui, there were seven or eight other Azure Soul Hunters present—including the tall man and the woman with the boots and gun Pei Sen had seen earlier. They all looked toward the two leaders.

In fact, these few were all newly recruited hunters. The more experienced ones were only around during their assigned shifts and otherwise had their own homes or bases.

After years of persecution, they rarely gathered in large numbers anymore.

Chen Qingxu pondered for a moment. “Come with me.”

Jing Hui sighed. “Let’s head to the meeting room. I’ll make some tea.”

Despite being at the top of the world’s transcendent hierarchy, neither President Chen nor Vice President Jing carried any airs. It was a completely different experience from the Yali Continent.

Inside the modest meeting room, Pei Sen watched Jing Hui personally prepare tea. The delicate leaves reminded him of the fine black tea Eagle enjoyed, yet this tea had been brewed by a top-tier transcendent… He wasn’t sure which was more valuable, and his feelings were mixed.

Chen Qingxu took a sip. “It’s not that we’ve been hiding things from you. It’s just that… this part of the Society’s history is not something to be proud of.” He paused, perhaps choosing his words. “Any unrestrained power becomes terrifying. We, the transcendents, are inherently destructive.”

Pei Sen understood. Transcendents were always viewed with fear. On the Yali Continent, nations paid dearly to support Sword Saints and Legendary Mages—not just to use their powers, but also to control them.

Just like when Sadin became a Sword Saint and could no longer stay near Burke Angre—same principle. Even with high-level power, there were always restrictions.

“Having extraordinary power doesn’t mean one should rise above others,” Chen Qingxu said solemnly. “There was once a radical extremist among the hunters. At our peak, the Society had over a hundred thousand members. But when powers were granted indiscriminately, the resulting chaos and destruction were unimaginable.”

Jing Hui sighed beside him. “Some hunters even joined the Southern Government or warlords, becoming assassins who slaughtered civilians. They forgot their vow—that our mission is to hunt demons, not harm the people.”

This dark history left the newly recruited hunters exchanging uneasy glances.

“When power grows unchecked, people themselves become the real monsters,” Chen continued. “The demons are dangerous, yes, but a growing hunter force became even worse than them. Demons lack intelligence. Hunters have it.”

The tall man frowned. “So the Southern Government and—”

“Yes,” Chen interrupted. “Since then, we’ve enforced strict selection and testing. We ensure candidates have the right beliefs, the right will, and limit the number to prevent tragedy.”

“We already have enough people to handle the demon outbreaks,” he added optimistically. “I welcome like-minded allies, but opportunists seeking only power are not welcome.”

Pei Sen remained silent, finally understanding why players had complained online about how hard it was to become a Hunter with skills like Demon Slayer Blade and Soul Hunter Gun.

Compared to the already hard-to-master Mage class or the obscure Priest class, at least these two had some known paths—though the difficulty still shocked many.

He recalled numerous guides about those two professions from the forums. What had once seemed like just game difficulty now carried a whole new meaning.

Looking at Chen Qingxu, Jing Hui, and the bright spirits of the new hunters, Pei Sen knew these were people of true conviction—unlike the mercenaries back on the Yali Continent.

“I need to think about how to guide players properly,” Pei Sen mused. “The Hunters are principled. If players enter through deceit, I need to ensure they won’t violate those principles. With in-game constraints, that shouldn’t be an issue.”

Unlike the real Hunters who were bound by belief, players were restrained by practical in-game systems. If they broke rules, the game itself would punish them.

To players, this was just a game. Pei Sen knew he couldn’t expect them to embrace selflessness. “Strategies are essentially a form of deception.” They were here to have fun—not truly hunt demons for a cause.

Still, the game rewarded demon-hunting, and that motivation was strong.

“Maybe the Bix Magic Cube wants to maintain this order,” Pei Sen thought. “Player influence on the Society is inevitable, but rules can minimize the impact. At least, they won’t become like the traitors Chen Qingxu described.”

Pei Sen relaxed. He knew what he had to do. Even if players weren’t selfless, he could guide them to respect the Hunters’ code. If they broke it, the cost would be too high.

Most players, even thrill-seekers, weren’t foolish enough to deliberately self-destruct.

Especially not in a game as addictive and irresistible as Bix Magic Cube.

“President,” Pei Sen suddenly said, “I truly admire your ideals and beliefs. Since I’ve joined the Society, I thought I’d contribute in some way.”

As he spoke, he exchanged his visible gold binit for universal currency, then into gold yuan. One gold yuan equaled a hundred silver, and a hundred silver could be exchanged for copper coins. This amount had more purchasing power than money on the Yali Continent.

Gold yuan looked like gold notes, while silver resembled Republican-era silver coins. Thanks to commissions from selling magic stones, Pei Sen had accumulated wealth to the point that it was just a number.

“When you’re rich enough, money is just a number,” he mused.

“I want to get us a better base,” Pei Sen said with a smile. Looking at Jing Hui, who seemed ready to refuse, he added, “Don’t be too quick to say no. This place has probably been exposed—otherwise, I wouldn’t have found it so easily. The Southern Government hasn’t made a move in a while, but that doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“This area is too remote and too dangerous.”

Hunters had a good reputation among the public. They often saved people from demons, and civilians, simple and sincere, were grateful. The ruling class feared the Hunters. The people did not.

Even when the government moved against them, it was always in secret, never publicly.

“I’ve seen a large house with a garden near the Southern Government headquarters. If we move there, it would be harder for them to act.”

It was the most prosperous and densely populated area in the south. Even if the government wanted to act, they wouldn’t do it there.

The Hunters knew this but had always been too poor. They couldn’t afford such prime real estate.

Chen Qingxu shook his head. “No, we can’t accept your gift. Besides, our young comrades need a place to train. That house might not be suitable.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Pei Sen insisted. “That house actually belongs to the Qingyi Gang. Underneath it is a large space with excellent ventilation. It’s not just the surface mansion.”

Jing Hui frowned. “Qingyi Gang?”

“Yes, the group that worships the Azure Soul demons. Their remnants are hiding there.”

Chen Qingxu’s expression turned cold. “In that case, we’ll pay them a visit.”

After demons first appeared, humanity suffered great losses. A group emerged worshipping them, hoping to gain power. They called themselves the Qingyi Gang. They even raised humans to feed the demons.

Though demons were unintelligent and violent, once fed, they became less aggressive—and learned to cooperate with the gang in exchange for food.

The Qingyi Gang spread slogans like “worship the demons and build a new world,” claiming those who joined would be spared. Many naïve people believed them.

Eventually, the rise of the Hunters and advanced weaponry pushed them into decline, but diehards remained.

The Hunters viewed them as filth and showed no mercy.

Pei Sen had learned of the hideout from player forum posts. In the original timeline, the government would destroy the gang months later and take over the house. That sparked a series of quests, which Pei Sen remembered clearly.

He had scouted the place on the way here. Sure enough, it was still in the gang’s hands.

Originally, he could have taken them out and handed the house over, but knew the principled Hunters would never accept it.

Better to provide the intel and let the leaders handle it themselves. That way, when they inevitably took over, it would be a natural transition.

“After they take it, they probably won’t have the money to maintain the place,” Pei Sen thought. “That courtyard was a mess.”

“Well, I have money. And after being Eagle’s butler, I’m great at organizing this kind of thing.”

“Hmm… but Chen Qingxu might not allow outsiders to live there long-term.”

“No problem. Players are coming soon, and they’re great at doing this kind of work through quests.”

Pei Sen had planned everything. He even began considering how to talk to Chen Qingxu about the Bix race—in this world, players were seen as an ethnic minority from the Sumen Mountains.

Only… this “minority” was quite large.

His thoughts drifted as he looked at the bustling streets ahead, dazed.

“I wonder how Young Master Eagle is doing… Has he woken up yet?”

At that very moment, beneath the cathedral in the Holy City of Light.

In the spring of light, inside the blood cocoon that had faded from golden red to a hue nearly indistinguishable from blood, Eagle suddenly opened his eyes.

After more than a month of slumber, he had finally awakened.