Chu Fu’s face was set tight, a faint sneer curling at the corner of her lips, her gaze as cold as if she were watching a clown perform.
“Who in their right mind would be friends with their enemy’s brother? Young Master Wang, don’t make me laugh.”
“The gear is right here—buy it or don’t. The one thing you’ve got over Wan Huanyu is that at least you didn’t try to wipe everyone out. Your external PR isn’t bad.”
And that was exactly it. This server still had other solo players.
If some big spender came out of nowhere and threw money at gear, they could clear the hell-level dungeon in no time too!
Wang Rongxun’s face twitched, a shadow of malice flashing in his eyes.
Chu Fu had hit a nerve.
He was the type to envy the capable while putting on a generous front, treating solo players with relative leniency to build himself a good name. Plenty of people actually thought he wasn’t that bad.
Some even spoke up for him.
Wang Rongxun was used to wearing masks, and even after being called out so bluntly by Chu Fu, he held it together.
“Fine, I’ll take this gear. But I have a concern—I’m worried you’ll sell us the equipment and then use my sister’s mistake as an excuse to massacre my guild’s players.”
Wang Rongxun put on a bitter smile, like a leader burdened by the weight of his people.
“My guild feeds a lot of families. We take in anyone—no high talent requirements. Every single one of them is just a working person.”
“If the guild gets destroyed, they all lose their jobs. I hope you’ll show some mercy.”
His little followers, listening to this speech, actually got teary-eyed.
They felt Wang Rongxun was so good to them.
Chu Fu sighed inwardly.
This was the smiling tiger, Wang Rongxun, through and through.
To be fair, he had a point. This wasn’t ancient times—why punish the brother for the sister’s crime? Wang Silu made her own mistakes; why should her brother bear the consequence?
Too bad he didn’t mean a word of what he said.
He was the kind who acted remorseful on the surface but would stab you in the back the moment he got the chance.
It didn’t matter. Chu Fu didn’t fear schemes. She could fight with open tactics.
“Don’t worry. We’re business people. We don’t do the ‘rob the buyer’ play.”
Wang Rongxun figured Chu Fu would want to protect the Thorns Guild’s reputation and wouldn’t stoop too low.
So he started picking through the gear, trying to haggle.
That was when Xie Lin’s megaphone announcement blared out across the server.
[Server 0258888] [Who’s Calling Who Blind]: “Thorns Guild recruiting! Seeking top talent—A-rank or above talent, base salary 100,000. S-rank talent, base salary 1,000,000. Guild provides room and board—luxury estate villas, family may move in, company allocates nearby housing with permanent usage rights.”
[Server 0258888] [Who’s Calling Who Blind]: “Sign a contract and A-rank talent gets a full set of silver gear as a bonus. S-rank talent gets a gold-tier weapon. Clear hell-level dungeons, and pay is distributed by contribution.”
Wang Rongxun’s eyes bulged like a bull’s.
Chu Fu hadn’t planned to kill him.
But this—this was digging out Wang Rongxun’s roots.
Was she planning to set up shop on Server 025?
The Thorns Guild was already notorious. She might actually poach those talents away.
Chu Fu’s eyes curved with a hint of a smile as she casually asked, “Still buying?”
“Buy!”
This time, Wang Rongxun didn’t play games. He gritted his teeth and purchased six full sets of gear.
That was about all his gold reserves could handle.
Chu Fu wasn’t disappointed.
She’d had only 600 gold in her pocket—the rest had been pulled out and sunk into Thorn Town’s construction.
She’d spent 3 gold on 60 pieces of junk-stat golden gear and 480 gold on 120 pieces of decent golden gear.
She’d sold 36 pieces so far and made a clean 1,200 gold in profit.
The remaining good gear? Chu Fu had no intention of selling it to Wang Rongxun.
Wang Rongxun took his gear and headed back into the dungeon, eager to clear it as fast as possible.
What he didn’t know was that the moment he returned, Xie Lin’s stall opened for business.
They said “recruiting.”
In reality, they were quietly selling gear on the side.
“Your talent’s not bad, but talent has its limits, you know? With some hard work, you might have a shot at joining the Thorns Guild someday. In the meantime, I can sell you a piece of golden gear at half price—just 15 gold. The stats are solid.”
“We sold to Rongxun Workshop at 33 gold a piece, in case you were wondering.”
“Your server hasn’t cleared hell-level yet—maybe won’t for days. Golden gear is pricey, but if you invest in one piece, go grab a dungeon reward, and sell it off, you’ll break even in no time. And even if not—with one golden piece, you’ll kill faster and die less. And if you die far from a priest who refuses to rez you, a resurrection scroll alone costs 100 gold.”
“You don’t want to be stuck under Rongxun Workshop forever, do you?”
The solo players exchanged glances. They were tempted.
A full set at 200 gold? No one jumped on that.
But one piece for 15 gold? They could scrape that together.
And what’s more, because Wang Rongxun had a reputation for being “reasonable,” plenty of corporate bosses played alongside him. But they hadn’t joined his workshop.
Why would they? In real life, they were big shots themselves. Wang Rongxun was just the crown prince of Shun Muyuan, not the emperor.
These men had no real conflicts with him and knew him outside the game, so playing together was fine.
Except they’d never gotten to clear the nightmare-level dungeon.
Now, finally, they had a chance.
“Alright, give me a full set!”
A full set at 90 gold—that was a far better deal for him than what Wang Rongxun had paid.
“I’ll take one piece!”
“I want this weapon.”
The small group was discreet, but the Rongxun Workshop players were everywhere. They caught on fast.
“Boss, something’s wrong. The Plant Lady is selling golden gear to the solo players. At this rate, the solos will be better equipped than we are!”
Wang Rongxun panicked.
There was no way he could let solo players outgear his workshop.
So he rushed out of the dungeon, found Xie Lin, and tried to buy gear too.
Xie Lin just packed up his stall and ignored Wang Rongxun completely.
So Wang Rongxun went back to Chu Fu.
“I only have full sets now—six pieces each, 20 sets left. This batch has better stats. I’m asking 250 gold per set.”
Wang Rongxun felt like Chu Fu was messing with him, calling him a “250” (idiot).
But 20 sets meant 5,000 gold. If he didn’t buy, the gear would flow to the solo players, and just on equipment alone, the Rongxun Workshop would lose its stranglehold.
And 5,000 gold was no joke.
Fifty billion in real-world terms.
Where was he supposed to get that kind of money?
Wang Rongxun couldn’t come up with it himself, but he had a workaround.
He issued a guild-wide decree.
“Every player, hand over all your personal funds. You’ll get a 5% kickback.”
That rule was... something else.
Technically, under the guild contract, any funds players earned while playing belonged to the workshop. It was like an employee who made the company fifty million—he’d get a year-end bonus of maybe 250,000.
But the company’s money belonged to the company. The employee didn’t touch it.
This, though? This was asking employees to dig into their own pockets.
What was this—paying to work?
