Chapter 6: The Wanderers' League

The first day in Texas—a day of great significance. Long Yin spent the entire day in a state of self-hypnosis.

The second morning, he woke to the sound of birds. Without glancing at the pink curtains or paying attention to the missing trousers, it was, in truth, a promising beginning, wasn’t it?

He opened the door and entered the narrow bathroom, where, in a corner, he found the card slot. First, he slid in the daily water collection card, then added a one-star energy card. Soon, water began to flow gently. Once he’d gathered enough for washing, Long Yin quickly removed the energy card and tucked it into his pocket. A first-level energy card cost a gold coin—wasn’t it? Economy is a fine virtue.

His small frame, childish body, executed these tasks with remarkable efficiency. Long Qi’s favorite morning ritual was to watch Long Yin do all this. As for the burning gaze from the tree stump, Long Yin had learned to ignore it. He was a four-year-old child, yes, but his soul was that of someone in their twenties. Why couldn’t his second sister understand? There was nothing extraordinary about a child washing themselves.

“Yin, you’re amazing!” Long Qi clapped cheerfully.

Long Yin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment—he felt undeserving of such praise.

“Second Sister, I want steamed eggs!” To prevent further applause and exclamations, Long Yin spoke quickly.

“I’ll prepare it right away!”

At that moment, Long Qin emerged, dressed in cool attire, stepping out in ten-centimeter sandals. A pink hat perched on her head, silver sunglasses shielded her eyes, a matching pink handbag dangled from her wrist, and she carried a pink lace umbrella. She gently closed her bedroom door, a charming smile on her face, waving to her siblings who stood neatly side-by-side, “Bye-bye! I’m off to find a job!”

Both siblings bowed in unison, “May your trip be successful, Sister!”

Long Qin touched her red lips, sending two air kisses, “No need to prepare lunch for me!”

Again, they bent, “Yes, Sister.”

Long Qin turned, every step graceful, and slowly left the rented house.

“Yin, what job do you think Big Sister wants this time?” Long Qi mused deeply, unable to fathom it.

Long Yin shook his head; Big Sister was always unpredictable. Judging by her outfit, she must have her eye on something fancy—probably planning to infiltrate the inner circle under the guise of proximity.

“Big Sister’s off to work, Second Sister will head out soon too. Yin, are you afraid to be alone?” Long Qi deftly shook the frying pan; the eggs inside were tender yellow, sizzling and fragrant. She flipped the golden eggs onto a plate, three fried eggs lined up neatly, clapped her hands, and smiled at Yin Long, “Yin, your breakfast!”

Long Yin stared at the appetizing eggs, looked up, and for some reason, facing Long Qi’s smiling face, couldn’t bring himself to say that he’d actually meant steamed eggs. He speared one with his fork, pushed the remaining two toward Long Qi, “Second Sister, you eat.”

Long Qi pushed them back, “You eat, I’ll eat outside later!”

Long Yin paused, then quietly ate. He knew in his heart there was surely no food stored at home.

“Water! Eat slowly, don’t choke.” Long Qi poured him a glass and then watched him with happiness, “Tonight, I'll bring you milk. Drink every day, so you’ll grow tall!”

“Okay!” Long Yin suddenly felt choked up, lowered his head, and ate the eggs quickly.

“By the way, are you afraid to be home alone?” Long Qi asked again, remembering he hadn’t answered earlier.

Long Yin shook his head, “Not afraid! Second Sister, I’m done eating!”

“Good! Yin is so obedient! Second Sister’s going out now!”

Long Yin nodded, then stood by the door, watching as his second sister left, carrying the neighbor’s axe. The local thugs would surely suffer again.

With both sisters gone, it was time for him to go out as well. Long Yin clenched his tiny fist and surveyed the flashy bridge—surely it cost tens of thousands of gold coins. He closed the wooden door, stepped onto the wooden bridge, and felt the solid earth beneath his feet. At least at this moment, he didn’t regret that the bridge had burdened him with debt on his very first day.

Living in such a place, Kashu never worried about damaging anything on the ground—but Long Yin was different. He aspired to be a card maker. In his previous life, he never considered becoming a Kashu, and in this life, he didn’t want to either. A card maker only needs to break through to Level Eight, the “Hall” level. Above that is the “Mystic” card maker. An Eight-level Kashu is like an ant to a Mystic card maker—even a Saint-level Kashu can challenge them. In his last life, he reached the Hall level in his twenties; in this life, given the right opportunity, he was sure to reach the Mystic level again.

Many knew that Mystic card makers could stand against Saint-level Kashu—though such legendary figures were rare. For most card makers, even reaching the Hall level was a distant dream; the Mystic level, even more so. The first three levels could be attained through lifelong effort, but breaking through to Level Four required talent. Each advance from Five to Seven relied on hard training and chance. The Hall level was a miracle; the Mystic was a miracle among miracles. No one knew exactly what was needed to break through.

Currently, because of his physical condition and his mental strength not yet restored to the SS level of his previous life, Long Yin could count himself as a Level Four card maker. Though he was born with terrifying S-level mental strength—far greater than the A-level of his last life—he hadn’t begun the grueling mental training that had shaped him before. In his previous life, everyone noticed his monstrous talent, but none saw the price he paid. In this life, Long Yin hesitated to begin mental training—not only to enjoy his childhood a little longer, but also because he remembered the shadow of his past life, that bone-deep feeling of wishing for death. He was still a bit afraid.

Mental strength could be improved through training, but only by one level above its original state. In his past life, he crossed two levels, from A to SS. That difficulty was unimaginable. He’d clung to that twisted training method, dragging others with him, and surely infuriated his adversary. Now, he felt cheerful—he’d died, his family destroyed, and no one would ever know that sadistic method again. He was now Long Yin, and the thought filled him with exhilaration.

Tomorrow, he would begin training. For the sake of those who died miserably, for his tragic past life, and for his two sisters now, he owed it to himself to face it.

He boarded a free cloud car, which floated along gently. Below, only endless stretches of forest could be seen—no sign of anything else. Amid blue sky, white clouds, and green trees, who would imagine the filth and intrigue lurking beneath? Texas was called the Little Federation. Long Yin never underestimated it—how could things be peaceful below? The wealthiest people in the Federation were in Texas; the best card makers, too; even the most formidable Kashu, and it was said, the top mechanics. Texas truly was a remarkable place. Living in its distinctive tree-hollows, how many harbored hidden agendas? Ah, he was among them, after all. Long Yin pulled down his hat, hugged his knees, and smiled quietly.

He arrived at the only Wanderers’ Guild in Texas. Every state had one, though Long Yin never cared who was behind it. It had sprung up in recent years, frequented by people who loved wandering or had no fixed abode—of every profession. The so-called Wanderers’ Guild was merely a bar, but unlike ordinary bars, it featured an electronic wall listing all manner of tasks—bizarre and varied, with different rewards. It collected assignments from all over the seven continents; thousands were posted daily, thousands resolved. Its efficiency and high completion rate allowed it to carve a niche among the major guilds, even if only at the bottom of the rankings—it was enough to command respect.

Stepping inside, Long Yin was enveloped by a paradoxical blend of languid quiet and chaotic noise—a unique atmosphere only found here. The crowd was diverse—Kashu, card makers, adventurers, ordinary folk, the downtrodden, those in elegant attire. It was a microcosm of society. Yet, when a four-year-old child appeared, he drew many stares. Long Yin tilted his hat, curiosity in his eyes, and a sweet smile on his lips, like a mischievous child exploring a strange place.

Most, after a glance, returned to their business.

He entered the guild smoothly, quickly spotting several enforcers. Long Yin instinctively kept his distance; though they paid him no mind now, he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t toss him out later.

Inside, the Wanderers’ Guild was divided into two worlds, separated by the task wall. On one side was the bar, filled with people drowning their sorrows—tattered clothes, wrinkled eyes, a spirit of defeat marking them as wanderers. On the other, people actively completed tasks, handed in assignments, and negotiated rewards. It was hard to believe the daily surge of posted and completed tasks happened in just this half of the space—though some who’d just finished a task and received payment crossed over to drink.

Tasks were constantly being completed. Long Yin observed for a long time; when multiple people took up the same task, it was assigned based on their rank—the higher the rank, the better the chance at desirable tasks. To increase one’s rank, both completion rate and speed mattered—the faster, the better.

Each completed task earned between one and ten points. To get ten points, one needed to quickly finish a difficult, high-paying task—rarely did anyone achieve that. One hundred points was Level One, a thousand was Level Two, ten thousand was Level Three, a hundred thousand was Level Four, a million was Level Five, and so on. To reach the highest Level Ten required an astronomical number of points. It was said one person had reached Level Ten, but in reality, it was a team of a hundred, pooling all their points into one person over eight years of relentless effort. The highest individual score belonged to someone not yet thirty, who achieved Level Five in just five years.

After that, for fairness, the guild separated individual and team tasks; team ranks required a hundred times more points. Thus, a team needed ten thousand points for Level One.

As Long Yin fretted about joining the guild at his age, the door swung open, letting in a wave of summer heat. Long Yin turned and met a pair of cold, silver eyes.