Chapter 8: Accepting the Mission

This victory went to the despicable Li Changluo.

The oddballs in the tavern scattered, satisfied after venting their curses.

Hei Wa, too, had witnessed firsthand the effectiveness of a tactic he’d read about in books: subduing the enemy without fighting. Indeed, it was powerful. Indeed, it was peerless. Indeed, it was… still rather underhanded.

Looking at Li Changluo before him, Hei Wa found that the eyes which gleamed only in darkness now shone even brighter, as if Li Changluo himself radiated an almost blinding light. It made Hei Wa squint, as though he were gazing upon Jehovah himself, and for a moment, he wondered if he ought to find himself a god to worship—a lucky god to make him a blessed black boy.

While Hei Wa was mulling this over, from behind Li Changluo stepped out a bewildered child—a flashlight monster.

“Uncle, can I go now?” the child asked.

Li Changluo’s eyes flashed menacingly as he gently patted the glowing head of the child. “Say it again.”

“Big brother, can I go now?”

“Go on, go on—and remember, save electricity,” Li Changluo said with a childlike glee.

Then he ran over to Xiao Qing, clasped his hands behind his back, and with a coy twist, said, “You nearly scared the life out of me—I ought to thump your little chest for that…”

As he spoke, his hand reached out with roguish intent.

But Xiao Qing simply gave him a slap that sent him spinning in place several magical circles.

Xiao Qing was utterly speechless. Was this delicate-looking man before her a devil in disguise?

“The task is nearly done,” she said.

“What a bizarre mission—paint monster?” Li Changluo griped.

“People these days are getting stranger and stranger,” sighed a foreign missile monster in army fatigues. Reminded of how, in his previous life, he’d just banged on missiles with a hammer for fun, he let it go.

Before the mission board, the warm, pale yellow glow still shone, though the monsters who had come to take up the tasks were slowly dispersing.

Li Changluo and Hei Wa quickly hurried over.

On the wooden board, sheets of yellowed paper bearing missions shimmered faintly in and out of sight—they were about to disappear.

In this tavern, tasks ranged from grade F to grade A. It was rumored there was an even more difficult mission board somewhere, with tasks ranked from 9 down to 1, but only the most powerful monsters were qualified to attempt those. Where it was exactly, Li Changluo neither knew nor cared: he simply wasn’t strong enough for that.

Li Changluo and Hei Wa’s demon power was only enough for the lowest, F-grade missions, which refreshed about once a week and were always bizarre.

For example, once they’d received a task to feed the fish in the tank.

They’d thought it was an easy score—just feed the fish, what could go wrong? They had taken it cheerfully.

But after nearly being eaten alive by the fish tank monster, they realized—

This was a death trap, not a freebie.

Who was feeding whom, exactly?

Or rather, were they the ones about to be fed to the tank?

Completing these missions allowed them to earn food and drink at the tavern—essential for survival in this world. Some missions could raise their demon power or grant mysterious items, but such generous rewards didn’t exist for F-grade missions.

One could only hope to scrape by.

Take the corpse-ginger monster they’d painstakingly caught—it could only crouch in a corner gnawing on steamed buns, not even allowed near the tavern tables.

Li Changluo and Hei Wa were in dire straits. If their only achievement this month was catching a single corpse-ginger monster, they’d likely be kicked out.

To think: monsters who couldn’t even get a meal.

Where was the promised all-you-can-eat monk meat?

All those years watching the Monkey King fight monsters—wasted.

And then there were the monster-hunting missions—most of the monsters targeted were wild ones, unable to enter the tavern, unwilling to accept extinction, living by preying on humans.

Li Changluo knew about wild monsters, but hadn’t realized until Hei Wa helped him sign a contract that he’d nearly become one himself. Or worse—he might not even have made it that far, and simply died outright.

He’d even considered—why not just become a wild monster and go have his fill of havoc in the human world?

But then he thought again—given his strength, if he went out there, he’d be hunted by the authorities, compete with other monsters…it would be exhausting. He probably wouldn’t survive the first chapter of a novel.

One way or another, survival was the goal. After all, only by living could one keep taking missions.

Li Changluo rarely took missions himself; Hei Wa usually did it for him. When two monsters wanted the same mission, the one with higher demon power had priority.

The first time Li Changluo tried to take a mission, he was terribly proud. “I’ll crush you all, you bunch of losers…”

He failed to get a single mission.

Second time, he found a mission no one else wanted. “Let’s see who dares compete with me now.” He lost to an old man who moved like a flash—the dry tobacco monster.

Third time, he gave up. The law of the jungle seemed the same wherever you went.

Equality? Maybe within the rules, you could call it that.

Just like Li Changluo himself—his demon power was a measly one, and he didn’t even know what kind of monster he was.

Where was the equality in that? Who could argue otherwise?

Though he did his best to seem indifferent, Li Changluo still anxiously searched the board for F-grade missions.

Where were they?

Today’s board seemed odd. Usually, even if you didn’t scramble for them, there’d be a few so-so F-grade tasks left at the end. But today, there was not a single one to be found.

Finally, in one corner, he spotted an F-grade mission.

“Quick, Hei Wa!”

Li Changluo urged Hei Wa, who reached out to slap his hand onto the remaining mission.

But another hand hit the board at the exact same time, and the last F-grade mission sheet drifted down, dissolving into countless shimmering motes that circled the other hand and vanished.

“My thanks for yielding, Brother Hei,” said a man dressed like a scholarly gentleman, bowing politely to Hei Wa. “Truly, I am ashamed.”

He looked refined.

“Ashamed?” Hei Wa was all smiles and hope. “How ashamed are you? Ashamed enough to give the mission back?”

The scholar smiled awkwardly. “You jest, brother. Once a mission is taken, it cannot be returned.”

Hei Wa shook his head in disappointment. “You people are just so insincere—always tricking others. Like, while pushing someone out the door, you’re still grinning and asking if they’d like to stay for a meal. Or pretending to know just a little when you’ve read five cartloads of books. Or stabbing someone in the chest while kindly asking if the angle is uncomfortable—does it hurt? Can’t you just be straightforward, a promise worth its weight in gold, with nothing in between?”

“One word, a thousand in gold, straight and true?” The scholar was flustered by the black man’s idioms—too clever by half.

He grew anxious. What if this black man tried to start something with him? What then?

But maintaining his composure, he smiled politely. “Perhaps, brother, you’d like to join me on this mission?”

“Great, let’s happily do it together!” piped up Li Changluo before Hei Wa could answer, grinning.

To Hei Wa, Li Changluo was the only one who spoke plainly—so plain, in fact, that he sometimes left all decency behind.