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The golden font in the game—Zuo Chengan had seen it only twice before. Both instances were through his Eye of Truth: once in the annotations for the Tower of Ascension and another time in the cryptic notes about the Red-Eye.
That stingy—#... No, better not think about it anymore.
Zuo Chengan vividly recalled the unsettling sensation of being watched by an unknown presence. It was not an experience he wished to repeat unless absolutely necessary.
"Just because you're powerful, you think you can punish someone for even thinking badly about you in their head?" he grumbled internally.
Then, with a resigned shrug, he muttered, "Well... maybe having power does mean you can do whatever you want."
On second thought, could the shared golden text indicate a deeper connection between the two? Or wis it just another quirky stylistic choice by the game?
Like how system messages in the public chat channel had distinct fonts to stand apart from player texts. Or how high-tier items were highlighted with unique typography to show off their rarity.
Unable to settle on an answer for now, Zuo Chengan shifted his focus back to the task at hand.
The quest title, [???'s Farm], clearly prompted players to solve a fill-in-the-blank puzzle. A blank line followed, as if beckoning players to write the correct answer.
There was even a hint—if Zuo Chengan entered the wrong answer, the text would vanish automatically, and one of his limited attempts would be deducted.
So, the "???" wasn't a one-character-per-question-mark kind of thing. Instead, it hinted at a short phrase, the exact length unknown.
The phrase "???'s Farm" immediately brought to mind the dungeon title [Uncle Red-Eye's Farm].
Red-Eye referred to that rabbit.
But the rabbit's voice sounded like a child's, which made pairing it with "Uncle" feel oddly mismatched.
Could it be that "Uncle" was part of the original name of the farm?
Zuo Chengan decided to test his theory. Carefully, he wrote the word "Uncle" on the first part of the blank line.
The text didn't disappear. This meant it was part of the correct answer.
A step closer to solving the puzzle, Zuo Chengan couldn't help but feel a spark of triumph.
Technically, he was exploiting a loophole.
The game only erased answers that were completely wrong. If the answer was partially correct but unfinished?
It stayed.
With a playful shrug, Zuo Chengan muttered to himself, "So what if I write slowly? My pace is one character per hour. Who's going to stop me?"
The game: "..."
Fine. As long as you're happy.
…
Zuo Chengan continued to search the room meticulously. He lifted picture frames, checked behind them for secret compartments, and even removed the photos to examine their backs.
He pulled open drawers, feeling for hidden layers or false bottoms.
And he found something.
Inside a bedside cabinet, he discovered a scratched photo of a tall figure and their shepherd dog. Judging by its placement in such an accessible spot, it must have been cherished by the room's owner.
The figure held a hayfork over one shoulder, exuding rugged strength, while the long-haired dog at their side looked majestic—save for the cute little bell tied around its neck.
Flipping the photo over, Zuo Chengan found two characters written on the back: Mo Dou.
Could "???" stand for "Uncle Mo Dou"? Or perhaps just "Uncle Mo"?
Rather than guessing immediately, Zuo Chengan opted to keep investigating. Rushing an answer wasn't worth burning precious attempts.
Using his earlier route, Zuo Chengan exited the house and headed for the sheep pen.
If the black sheep, the 21st member of the flock, was special, it might hold a clue to the quest.
"Maybe '???' could also mean 'Uncle Black Sheep'," he speculated, adding it to his list of possible answers.
With only three attempts allowed, Zuo Chengan decided to wait until he was at least 70% sure before taking action.
…
Surprisingly, near the sheep pen, Zuo Chengan spotted Wang Guangfei sitting on the ground.
He wasn't searching the hills for sheep as expected. Instead, he appeared lost in thought.
It seemed the reality of this game was beginning to dawn on him. Mindlessly completing quests would only lead to failure.
This epiphany clashed with the survival strategy he'd developed from over a dozen low-level dungeons.
In typical beginner dungeons, the rules were straightforward—no tricks, no word games.
Black was black, white was white. The game told you what to do, and as long as you followed directions and had the strength, you'd succeed.
Never before had he encountered a situation where the game asked for 21 sheep, but only 20 could be found in the entire dungeon.
Based on his experience, the missing sheep should be locked in a basement somewhere on the farm. A pitiful "baa" would serve as the hint, luring players to the hidden location.
And, of course, a fierce monster would be waiting in the basement, ready to attack anyone trying to save the sheep.
But the pre-ascension trial dungeon refused to follow these conventions.
More than half the time limit had passed, and aside from a group of overprotective hens in the coop, there wasn't a single traditional enemy.
This wasn't normal.
Wang Guangfei's frustration boiled over. "Who designed this game? Do they even know how to structure a proper flow?"
As for the locked red-roofed house? It wasn't even on Wang Guangfei's radar.
In all his experience with entry-level dungeons, scenarios that required convoluted steps to access were unheard of. The standard setup was always straightforward: a sealed corridor, a flat-level supermarket, or maybe a bus interior.
The entire game typically played out within small, enclosed spaces. Even in outdoor settings, invisible walls or barriers clearly defined the playable area.
Over time, Wang Guangfei had developed a habit: if a place wasn't easily accessible, it wasn't part of the dungeon.
Anything out of reach? Pure decoration. Background fluff. No need to waste brainpower on it.
And this, of course, played right into the game's hands.
The trial dungeon wasn't about spoon-feeding success. Only players who could break free from their ingrained assumptions and adapt their thinking stood a chance of clearing it.
The lack of guides for this advancement system? Deliberate. The purpose was obvious—to weed out the least capable players, funneling resources to those who could earn their place at the top.
As for those who coasted to victory by clinging to stronger players?
Well, even the smartest needed a few sacrificial pawns to make sense of the game mechanics. Call it an efficient use of resources.
…
Back at the sheep pen, Wang Guangfei kept a vigilant watch over the 20 sheep, guarding them like a hawk.
The moment Zuo Chengan approached, he stepped in to block his path.
"What are you doing here?" Wang Guangfei demanded, his tone suspicious.