470: Underworld Special Training

Li Xiaowei (Deceased 2020): Before death, she was a minor celebrity fashion blogger, proficient in the operating rules of short video platforms and fan psychology, and particularly sensitive to live-stream speaking techniques and persona management.

Wang Zhenguo (Deceased 1999): Before death, he worked in the Post and Telecommunications System. After retirement, he accessed the internet, cared about current affairs, and his speech carried the unique composure and organization of an Old Cadre.

Liu Shuo (Deceased 2015): Before death, he worked in delivery services and was also a veteran gaming enthusiast, active in multiple gaming communities and voice platforms, skilled in internet slang, and good at livening up the atmosphere.

Zhang Jinhua (Deceased 2010): Before death, she was a core member of community cultural and sports activities, cheerful and good at socializing, an active member among the elderly, skilled in communication and care.

XXX(...)

"Zhao Yun." She read the name. "A tailor before death, loved watching family dramas, speaks with a commoner's air. She'll do."

The Scribe Ghost Runner next to her, dressed in a Jailer's Uniform, heard this and swiftly drew a red circle next to the name on the roster, the Cinnabar mark standing out prominently on the list.

"Sun Lie." Chen Yu continued. "Construction foreman, loved arguing with people online before death... He doesn't count."

"Zhou Wenyuan, liberal arts graduate student, understands subculture. Keep him."

She read quickly, and the Scribe Ghost Runner checked names just as fast.

Seven or eight rosters were spread out on the long desk, each one thick enough to kill someone if dropped. Chen Yu specifically chose Ghost Runners who had used the internet before death, had distinct personalities, and unique ways of speaking.

The selection criteria were clear: they had to be able to act like "real people." Not mechanical copies, but living, breathing "people" who could cry, laugh, and swear.

The thin mist outside the window suddenly stirred.

Star pushed the door open and entered.

He was still wearing the gray hoodie from yesterday, his hair tied in a small bun, his face clean. Upon entering, he first nodded to Chen Yu: "Lord Prefectural City God."

Chen Yu jumped down from the desk, her bare feet making no sound on the blue bricks. "You're here? Perfect timing."

She pushed the finalized roster toward Star. "As you requested yesterday, I picked seventy-three people. Their former professions, personalities, and internet habits are all marked. See if they suit your needs."

Star took the roster.

He didn't sit, but flipped through it standing up. His speed wasn't fast; he examined each page carefully, occasionally pausing and lightly tapping his finger on a spot.

Chen Yu didn't rush him, waiting while leaning against the window with her arms crossed.

After about the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, Star closed the booklet. "It works," he said, looking up. "The number is sufficient, and the types are comprehensive. But there is one issue."

"Tell me."

"Most of these Ghost Runners used the internet primarily as 'users' before death—watching dramas, arguing, browsing posts... But sending private messages to flirt with a streamer, especially one of the caliber of 'Candle Shadow Shaking Red,' requires more refined acting."

Star paused. "Someone needs to train them."

Chen Yu raised an eyebrow. "You'll teach?"

"I will." Star nodded. "But not here. The City God Department is too formal; the Ghost Runners won't be able to relax. It's best to find a place like an internet cafe in the mortal world."

Chen Yu's red eyes shifted, and she suddenly smiled.

"We have one," she said. "A 'Wangchuan Internet Cafe' just opened on the east side of the Underworld Market, specifically for Ghost Runners to unwind. The setup is decent, and the private rooms are secluded."

She turned and instructed the Scribe Ghost Runner: "Go, call all seventy-three people here. In Two Quarters of an Hour, gather at Wangchuan Internet Cafe's number three large private room."

"Understood."

The Scribe Ghost Runner bowed and withdrew.

Only then did Chen Yu look at Star, pulling out a black wooden box from her Storage Ring.

"His Majesty approved this last night." She handed over the wooden box. "Inside are the Login Keys for one thousand Douyin accounts, all disguised exactly as you requested: different IPs, different device information, and registration spanning three months. The avatars and nicknames were randomly generated but fit the profile of real users."

Star took the wooden box; it felt heavy in his hand, and the Yin Energy was bone-chilling.

He opened the lid.

Inside, thousands of black Talismans were neatly stacked. Each Talisman was inscribed with a string of characters—account and password—written in Cinnabar.

The edges of the Talismans glowed faintly gold, a sign of encryption.

"I've already reserved the private room," Chen Yu added. "The number three large private room, over a hundred machines—that should be enough."

"You'll conduct their training there today. If you need any materials, just tell the manager, and the City God Department will cover the bill."

Star put the wooden box into his Storage Ring. "Yes."

"And one more thing." Chen Yu stepped half a pace forward. "His Majesty asked me to relay a message: Zhu Long is a Ninth-Rank Great Demon. Even if it's just a Clone, its perception far exceeds that of ordinary people. When you send private messages, you must avoid overdoing it. It's better to be subtle than to give yourselves away."

Star's eyes flickered slightly. "Subordinate will remember."

"Alright."

Chen Yu patted his shoulder. "Go now. I'll drop by later to check in."

...The Wangchuan Internet Cafe was located on the main Yin Street avenue. The storefront wasn't large; the sign was a faded wooden plaque engraved with the four characters "Wangchuan Internet Cafe," below which hung a small sign: Licensed by the Fengdu Cultural Bureau.

Pushing the door open, a breeze mixed with incense offerings and computer case heat blew into his face.

The lobby held thirty or forty computers, all occupied by Ghost Runners. Some were playing games, screen light flickering; others were watching dramas, absorbed with their headphones on; and a few were gathered together scrolling through videos, occasionally letting out suppressed laughter.

Star walked through the lobby, heading straight for the private room area at the back.

The door to the number three large private room was ajar; he pushed it open and entered.

The room was huge, large enough to hold about two hundred people. Over a hundred computers were arranged in an arc, with an ergonomic chair placed in front of each machine.

Acoustic foam lined the walls, and a small freezer sat in the corner, stocked with the Underworld's special supply of "Wangchuan Happy Water."

All seventy-three Ghost Runners had already arrived.

They were not wearing uniforms, having changed into casual clothes, gathered in small groups and talking softly. When Star entered, the talking stopped, and all eyes immediately focused on him.

Star walked to the open space in the center of the room.

He did not rush to speak, instead taking a moment to survey the group.

These Ghost Runners spanned a wide range of ages, including white-haired Old Women, burly middle-aged men, and young Scholars wearing glasses.

But at this moment, their eyes all held the same expression: curiosity, nervousness, and a hint of excitement that was hard to detect.

"Everyone. I have invited you here today to execute a special mission."

He took the black wooden box from his Storage Ring and opened it.

The golden light from the Talismans illuminated the room.

"There are one thousand Douyin accounts here," Star said. "Our mission is to use these accounts to send private messages to a streamer named 'Candle Shadow Shaking Red.'"

A slight commotion arose below.

A white-haired Old Woman raised her hand; it was Zhao Yun.

She was a tailor before death, speaking with a slight Wu dialect accent: "Miss Star, what are we supposed to do by sending private messages?"

"To probe."

Star was concise. "We need to use a massive volume of private messages to figure out this streamer's response habits. For example, how long does she take to reply? Which types of messages does she reply to? What tone does she use? Which messages does she completely ignore?"