Little Pink Starfish

空 already had a very ominous premonition. “What if I fail the trial?”

“Hmm…” Pei Sen pondered for a moment. “Then it’s unfortunate. You’ll have to wait at least three days before you can reapply for the trial. When you reapply, your Good Person Level must be maintained at 15 or above. If you request the trial three times, the required level will be 20.”

空 fell silent. In other words, once failed, there would be a three-day cooldown before he could take the unsealing trial again. Three days wasn’t a big deal, the real issue was the Good Person Level. That wasn’t nearly as easy to raise as it seemed. It had already taken considerable effort to reach level 10. Getting to 15 in three days… was definitely impossible. So the three-day cooldown was essentially meaningless.

Since the punishment for failure was just barely acceptable, 空 decided to give this so-called gold-level trial task a shot.

Only after 空 accepted his misfortunate “fate” as a non-lucky player did Pei Sen finally smile slightly and hand over a task.

Regarding the trial for becoming a Soul Hunter, the Soul Management Research Association had always maintained its own set of guidelines. Over the years, the Association had managed to develop some connections and influence.

In fact, Chen Qingxu hadn’t wanted to make things hard for the Bix tribe. It was Pei Sen who had proactively requested that the trial’s difficulty be increased.

“It’s fine. I also hope the Association can better observe my clansmen.” That was Pei Sen’s excuse to Chen Qingxu, which made him feel quite gratified. After all, Pei Sen had helped immensely lately.

But in truth, Pei Sen only wanted to make the game more “interesting.” If the trial were too easy, it’d be boring.

Luckily, the players didn’t know this. Otherwise, they’d definitely roast this supposedly kind and helpful guide NPC for being a devil in disguise!

So, Pei Sen worked overtime with Chen Tian to compile an extensive trial catalog based on the Association’s original trials. Using this as a standard, every branch of the Soul Management Research Association had the same materials. The trial’s category and number were determined by drawing lots. As long as a branch had a staff member present, the process was easy and straightforward.

When compiling it, Chen Tian was still a little embarrassed. “So this trial to become a Soul Hunter is also bringing income to our Association. We really must thank them.”

Pei Sen didn’t see a problem. The Association was so poor it was painful to look at.

Besides, to players, this wasn’t a loss. They weren’t natives of this world, and were profit-oriented. In their eyes, it was just a trial task.

Because the Association was so poor, many Soul Hunters worked part-time jobs while hunting Soul Spirits to support themselves and pay dues. Honestly, most of the contacts in the trial catalog came from these actively job-seeking Soul Hunters.

Many people liked hiring Soul Hunters for short-term jobs because they were generally educated, highly moral, and, being transcendents, had physical abilities far beyond ordinary people. One person could often equal several others. Who wouldn’t like that?

As a result, the Soul Management Research Association also doubled as a job agency. Soul Hunters could pick work from the Association directly. Employers registered with the Association paid a small fee to help sustain its operations.

空 watched as Pei Sen flipped to a certain page by number, and suddenly felt nervous.

A gold draw—only a one-percent chance. It clearly wouldn’t be anything simple.

Was it going to be killing monsters way above his level? Or some task requiring wit and strategy?

No matter what, the difficulty level was enough to make his heart race.

“Ah, this one,” Pei Sen said with a small smile as he glanced over.

For some reason, 空 felt that expression was a little too subtle, and an ominous premonition struck again.

Ding.
Soul Hunter Trial.
At the Jade Butterfly Theater in Mengnan City, several lead actors have fallen ill and can’t perform. The theater master, Boss Yu, is urgently seeking replacements: one dan (female role), one laosheng (old male role), and one wusheng (martial male role) for a duration of five months. If you lack stage experience but have some talent, it’s acceptable.
Player “空” is to take on the role of dan for five months. If the task is completed excellently and smoothly, the trial is considered passed.

空 had to read the task several times before he could gather his thoughts.

What… what kind of crazy task was this?!

Pei Sen gently patted 空’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

空: “???”

As an otaku from another country, 空 didn’t even have a good grasp of his own culture’s history, let alone understand what this task entailed.

He posted a thread titled “Beware of Trial Task Level Traps,” complaining about how he had been tricked, and included a screenshot of his assigned trial task.

For a while, foreign players didn’t think much of it. But domestic players flooded the post with exclamation marks and question marks.

“This task… if it were me…”

“This player is male, right?”

“Yes, male. Actually, I’ve seen the Jade Butterfly Theater myself—the dan roles are all played by men.”

“Damn, bro. Respect. Truly respect you for accepting this task.”

“Looking at the task description, I’m full of question marks. But bro, why did you have to land the dan role? Even laosheng or wusheng would be better.”

“Forget it, don’t underestimate dan roles. Singing alone is enough to break you.”

“I’m right near the theater. Saw their flyer. The show’s starting soon. I’m definitely going to watch.”

“Watch +1.”

“Why are you guys so gleeful about someone else’s misery? Dude, you’ve got it rough. I genuinely sympathize with you.”

“Also, trial tasks can’t be abandoned, people. This dude has only two options—either do it properly and hope for a miracle, or wait out the five months and then grind Good Person Level again for a new trial.”

“You can’t just wait the five months either. If you accept a trial and refuse to work, you lose 100 Good Person Points per day. Got enough points for that?”

“Task performance also affects Good Person Points, so dear friend, whether or not you have talent, get to the Jade Butterfly Theater immediately.”

“…”

Seeing all the advice from fellow players, 空’s ominous feeling only grew stronger.

Still, as someone who always played seriously rather than casually, he couldn’t just give up five months. That was way too long. In five months, other players would easily surpass him while he’d fall behind.

That was something 空 absolutely couldn’t tolerate.

To be honest, he hadn’t expected a trial task to take this long. It wasn’t just about cooldowns or Good Person Points anymore. The sheer duration of the task made it unthinkably difficult.

He flipped through the forums and found that most other players had normal jobs for their trials—like working as a waiter, helping in a wealthy household’s kitchen, substitute teaching at a school, or doing office work in a small department. Other than one foreign player who had some trouble with written language, the tasks weren’t that hard.

At least on the surface, they looked fairly normal.

But one thing was consistent across all the trial tasks—the duration was always five months.

Some players joked that they’d rather delete their characters and go to Yali Continent. The long trial duration meant you could gain many levels over there in that time.

Pei Sen just skimmed those posts. He knew that those who successfully became Soul Hunters wouldn’t regret it. They’d get to kill plenty of Soul Spirits afterward. The overall grinding and leveling environment was way better than on Yali Continent.

Over on Yali Continent, to kill even slightly stronger monsters, you needed a reliable party and heavy team coordination, even for dungeons. Soloing was basically out of the question unless you were an “all-out mage”—like Pei Sen himself, who was essentially a cheat-level high-end player.

Otherwise, team play was the only realistic route.

In contrast, the five Soul Hunter classes were perfect for lone wolf players. Not only that, even old Yali players enjoyed the Soul Spirit kill rewards and drops, but they still couldn’t compare to actual Soul Hunters, who got massive bonuses.

Even years later, on the Soul Era server, the five Soul Hunter classes remained among the most popular. There were always tons of players using the Soul-Extinguishing Blade or the Soul-Hunting Gun. The appeal lay in the uniqueness. Spending time upfront to raise Good Person Points and complete the trial was totally worth it.

空 turned away from the forum discussions. For now, he wasn’t planning on deleting his character. Even if he switched to Yali, the skill gap between players would still exist. He might as well gamble on completing this trial.

The Jade Butterfly Theater in Mengnan City was easy to find. 空 rushed over and handed over the referral letter Pei Sen had given him. Someone quickly took him inside.

Due to all the forum sympathy, 空 had mentally prepared himself for how tough this task would be. But he still didn’t know the specifics, so he followed the attendant to meet Boss Yu.

“You’re the one they recommended?” A soft, husky voice sounded. 空 froze. This Boss Yu wasn’t quite what he’d expected.

In the dim room, a “woman” in a light green cheongsam lounged on a soft divan. Her long black hair cascaded down, highlighting her snow-white skin. Despite appearing older, she radiated mature charm and grace. 空 took one glance and didn’t dare look again. As a purebred otaku, his ears were already red.

“Heh, still a bit innocent, huh.” With that, Boss Yu stood up, wearing slippers, and walked over. 空 felt a cold, soft finger lift his chin and turn his face.

…This game’s NPCs are way too…

Because they were so close, 空 accidentally saw Boss Yu’s neck. It wasn’t obvious, but—he spotted an Adam’s apple!

This man in a women’s cheongsam—was actually a man!

空’s eyes widened in shock.

“Your looks aren’t great,” Boss Yu said disdainfully. “But maybe you’ll be passable with makeup.”

He let go of 空 and walked to the dressing table. “Come.”

Still in shock, 空 mechanically followed, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Boss Yu pushed him into the chair, opened his makeup box, and began applying makeup while asking, “What songs have you performed before? Warm up for me in a bit. The show we’re putting on is quite excellent—you can’t mess it up.”

空: “…”

He watched in horror as his reflection in the mirror grew more—uh—feminine?

His heavily made-up face now had very distinct feminine traits.

Glancing at the cross-dressing Boss Yu, 空 suddenly understood why so many people had sympathized with him.

Warm-up? Opera? Singing?

In an instant, 空 felt an overwhelming sense of despair.

At this point, more and more players were taking on their trial tasks, and everything was beginning to move forward in earnest.

Pei Sen finally had time to contact Bix Magic Cube. “No matter what, I need to head to Yali Continent.”

Too much time had passed. If he didn’t go now, he had a feeling something big would go wrong.

Bix Magic Cube: “Approved.” Clearly, it was satisfied with Pei Sen’s recent work.

Pei Sen let out a sigh of relief. After negotiating his vacation days with Bix Magic Cube, he prepared to take the two-day space-time train to Yali Continent as soon as possible.

Hopefully, Eagle wouldn’t be too mad…

He really had tried his best, seriously!

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Pinky says: I am forcing everyone to learn the Chinese character for empty, pronounced kòng. I hope you all recognise the word when you dilly dally out and about, so you can agonise if someone is talking about feeling empty inside or if their water bottle needs filling.