Online Game: My Decay Drives the Entire Server Crazy

Chapter 99 Qin Wentian’s Real-World Revenge Backfires, Leading to His Company’s DownfallQin Wentian disappeared for two full weeks after being banned. No one knew what he was doing. Ghost monitored all his game and social accounts, which were all offline. Kim Hyun-tae posted on the Korean Server forum speculating that Qin Wentian might have returned home to inherit the family business. Yamada Ichiro commented that he had probably given up and quit the internet. Only Lin Ye didn’t express an opinion. He told Su Qinghan that Qin Wentian was the type of person who had an obsession with not being able to lose in his bones. Having lost all face in the game, he would definitely want to win it back in reality.

Lin Ye guessed right. Qin Wentian hadn’t been idle these past two weeks; he had emptied out the last of the Qin family’s assets. The Qin family used to be a top-tier conglomerate in the country, and Qin Wentian was the sole heir. Three years ago, he could casually throw hundreds of millions into the game. Although things were not as good as before, a starving camel is still bigger than a horse. He sold the last property he owned in the city, mortgaged part of the Qin family’s old estate, and took out a short-term, high-interest loan from old connections who were still willing to deal with him, scraping together nearly 20 million in real currency. He didn’t use this money to spend on the game again; instead, he threw it all into the hands of Lin Ye’s real-world competitors.

Since opening, the studio had accumulated a reputation for Vile Power-leveling and protection fee packages, and it began taking on more and more rights protection cases in the real world. Helping migrant workers recover unpaid wages, tackling workplace bullying, and tracking down funds from scams—these matters caused the studio’s reputation among ordinary people to skyrocket, which inevitably stepped on some people’s toes. The first person Qin Wentian found was the major shareholder behind the chain brand group that had been ruined by Lin Ye’s client-loss debuff. The major shareholder’s surname was Qian, known as President Qian. Ever since the stores were disciplined by Lin Ye, causing the group’s stock price to plummet, he had been gnashing his teeth in hatred toward Lin Ye, but he struggled to find a way to strike back. Qin Wentian found President Qian with 20 million in cash, and the two hit it off immediately.

Their plan was meticulous, attacking from three directions simultaneously. The first route was commercial sniping—President Qian used his connections to contact several suppliers who originally cooperated with Lin Ye’s studio, cutting off the supply chain at a higher price, while arranging for people to spread anonymous whistleblower letters online claiming that ”Gods Domain Immoral Trouble Studio is suspected of illegal operation and tax evasion,” attempting to cause trouble for Lin Ye from the industrial and commercial and tax levels. The second route was public opinion attacks—Qin Wentian paid to hire a group of internet trolls to pose as ”victims” on major social platforms, fabricating scripts like ”Vile rights protection is actually extortion” and ”Ye the Wicked’s team privately takes money to help big spenders suppress casual players,” hoping to dismantle the studio’s foundation from the perspective of reputation. The third route was more direct—they contacted the construction company whose unpaid wages Lin Ye’s studio was helping migrant workers recover. The boss of the construction company had already been backed into a corner by the evidence organized by Su Qinghan and was about to bow his head and pay the compensation in labor arbitration. Qin Wentian offered to pay half of the compensation as an exchange condition, demanding the other party drag it out without reconciling, while countersuing Lin Ye’s studio for ”malicious interference in normal enterprise operations.”

With all three routes advancing, money flowed like water. Qin Wentian sat on President Qian’s large leather sofa, watching the burly construction company boss opposite him sign the countersuit agreement, a curve appearing at the corner of his mouth that hadn’t been seen for a long time. He told President Qian that this time Lin Ye was in the light while they were in the dark. They couldn’t beat him in the game, but in reality, Lin Ye was just a poor kid without any background, and the studio’s registered capital was only 50 million; they were simply no match for them.

However, less than 24 hours after the countersuit agreement was signed, President Qian’s secretary rushed into the office, her face as pale as paper. She held a fax she had just received, her voice trembling as she said that the joint investigation team of the Industrial and Commercial Bureau and the Tax Bureau had just issued a formal investigation conclusion—Gods Domain Immoral Trouble Studio had complete business qualifications, clear financial accounts, and complete tax payment records; the anonymous whistleblower letters were purely false accusations. At the same time, the Human Resources and Social Security Bureau officially accepted the labor arbitration application from the group of migrant workers. Not only did they not revoke the compensation decision, but they added an administrative penalty because the construction company had ”maliciously delayed and forged countersuit materials,” with a fine three times the original compensation amount.

The construction company boss jumped up on the spot, pointing at Qin Wentian’s nose and asking how this could happen. Before Qin Wentian could open his mouth, the phone on President Qian’s desk rang. It was the person in charge of the suppliers, his voice urgent and panicked. He said that this morning, several manufacturers who had already agreed to cut off supply to Lin Ye’s studio had suddenly backed out. One supplier told him privately that the online system newly launched by the Unscrupulous Business Center could track abnormal flows of supply chain funds, and they were afraid that if they were targeted by Lin Ye’s team, they would never be able to do business again. There was something even more outrageous—several stores under President Qian’s own group found that customer traffic had plummeted as soon as they opened this morning. Even though there were many customers wandering at the entrance, no one was willing to enter the store; even the internet-famous milk tea window that used to have long queues was deserted. The staff thought it was due to the weather, but when they checked the backend data, online orders were also falling off a cliff in synchronization.

Lin Ye had made a move. But it wasn’t the kind of one-shot kill debuff he was accustomed to in the game, but a weaker, more elusive projection in reality. Since the last cross-server wipeout of the Anti-Unscrupulous Alliance, his Talent had begun to show faint signs of Reality Synchronization, but he hadn’t encountered an opportunity that required active mobilization until now. Only when Ghost sent the full set of bank transfer records of Qin Wentian and President Qian’s collaboration, photos of contracts hiring internet trolls, and original scans of the construction company’s countersuit agreement to Lin Ye’s private mailbox, those pieces of evidence acted like a key, completely activating the chaotic Decay energy that had been dormant in his body for a long time.

Su Qinghan looked at the evidence on the tablet and asked him softly if he wanted to go through legal procedures first. Lin Ye said there was no rush; let them spend their money first.

He sat by the window on the third floor of the Unscrupulous Business Center, his right hand resting flat on his knee, a faint dark purple light slowly condensing in his palm. This light was not as overwhelming as it was in the game; it was only the size of a palm, and its brightness couldn’t even compare to the neon sign opposite. Ghost stared at the numerical changes on the energy monitor and whispered that the Reality Synchronization rate was very low, only a few thousandths of that in the game, and it decayed very quickly, with an effective range estimated to be no more than two kilometers. Lin Ye nodded; this intensity was enough. He didn’t need to kill anyone instantly; making everything go wrong for them was enough. He gently clenched his fist, and the ball of light exploded silently, as fine as invisible dust.

Consequently, a bizarre phenomenon appeared in front of President Qian’s stores—even though it wasn’t raining, the entrance was shrouded in a layer of faint but impossible-to-dispel dark purple mist; several key cooperation signing links that the group headquarters were negotiating went wrong all at once—printers jammed, the electronic signature system crashed, the official seal suddenly couldn’t be found; all the small problems that could happen happened together. Several investors who had already agreed to cooperate called at the same time to say they would ”consider it some more,” and the banks also suddenly tightened the credit line for President Qian’s group. The batch of internet trolls hired by Qin Wentian ran into unexpected trouble as soon as they started working—their accounts were automatically labeled ”suspected false information” by the entire network as soon as they posted, likes couldn’t be racked up, and reposts seemed to fall into a black hole. A troll leader wailed in the group that this was the first time in all his years of doing this that he had encountered such a ghostly and bizarre situation.

President Qian slumped in his leather chair, looking at the red loss figures across the board on the computer screen, and slowly turned his head to stare at Qin Wentian, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible: ”You said he was just a poor kid. You forced him from the game into reality, so why is he even harder to deal with in reality?”

Qin Wentian didn’t answer. He slumped into the sofa, his hands unconsciously gripping the seams of his pants on his knees, his knuckles pale and blue. After a long time, he said in a hoarse voice: ”He can use his Talent in reality too.”

President Qian’s group completely collapsed within the next week. Several core suppliers terminated their contracts simultaneously, bank loans were urgently recalled, market regulatory departments launched a formal investigation into the group’s stores due to anonymous reports of ”false advertising,” and the stock price hit the daily limit down repeatedly. Because of the additional administrative penalty, the construction company boss’s company was put on a credit blacklist, and cooperative banks would no longer approve any loan applications. Qin Wentian himself didn’t have it easy either. The loans he obtained by mortgaging the Qin family’s old estate had been spent, his last remaining property was frozen, and even the limited edition co-branded credit card that once belonged to the chairman of the Heavenly Temple was stopped by the bank.

With nowhere left to turn, Qin Wentian finally appeared alone at the entrance of the Unscrupulous Business Center. He didn’t use cross-server teleportation, nor did he take a car. He was wearing a faded old trench coat, his hair was messy, and his eye sockets were deeply sunken. He stood at the entrance of the Unscrupulous Business Center for a long time. Zhao Kai was counting the Abyss Crystals that arrived today in the first-floor lobby. When he looked up and saw that figure at the door, the barcode scanner in his hand almost fell to the ground.

Qin Wentian spoke in a hoarse voice: ”Zhao Kai, help me report it. I want to see Brother Ye.”

When Zhao Kai took him upstairs, Qin Wentian kept his head down the whole time. In the VIP room on the third floor, Lin Ye was sitting by the window drinking tea, Su Qinghan was flipping through the tracking report Ghost had just submitted, Fatty Wang was standing against the wall holding a tablet, and Pojun was silent as always. Qin Wentian stood in front of Lin Ye, his hands clenched and released, released and clenched again, his knees slightly bent, and finally he slowly knelt down.

”Brother Ye, I was wrong.” His voice was as hoarse as sandpaper scratching on glass. ”I shouldn’t have colluded with the lead planner to steal your Talent data, and I shouldn’t have caused trouble for you in reality. President Qian and his company are finished, and the construction company is finished too. The mortgaged old estate was confiscated, and all my accounts were frozen. I really have no other way. Can you give me another chance? I’ll do anything—working to pay off debts, running errands, doing chores, I just want a place where I can start over.”

Lin Ye put down his teacup and looked at him: ”When you quit the game before, you said you would never touch online games again. Later, you colluded with the lead planner to try to steal my Talent data. Now that your company has collapsed and your bank accounts are frozen, you say you want to start over. How can I believe you?”

Qin Wentian took a piece of paper out of his pocket and placed it on the table. The handwriting was neat; it was a letter of commitment he had written himself. It stated that he voluntarily joined Gods Domain Immoral Trouble Studio, starting from the most basic logistics position, with a one-year probation period, no salary, only board and lodging, and all bonuses would be used to repay the losses caused to the studio previously. If there was any act of betrayal again, he would voluntarily accept any form of accountability. Su Qinghan picked up the letter of commitment, read it carefully, and placed it gently by Lin Ye’s hand.

Lin Ye stood up and walked to Qin Wentian: ”You used to be the chairman of the Heavenly Temple, the number one big spender in the whole server, throwing hundreds of millions in real currency like it was nothing. Now, if I ask you to start from the very bottom collecting protection fees, bowing and scraping to casual players every day, can you do it?”

Qin Wentian raised his head, his eyes red, but his voice was steady: ”I can. I used to think that money could buy everything. Now I have nothing left, only this mouth and these two hands. I want to pay off my debts. Not just money, but what I owe those casual players. When the Heavenly Temple monopolized materials back then, I bullied too many people. I want to pay them back one by one. Even if I can’t finish paying them back in a lifetime, I accept it.”

Lin Ye looked at him and was silent for a moment. Su Qinghan added a line to the logistics schedule on the tablet, then looked up and told Lin Ye that the logistics department happened to be short of someone responsible for collecting protection fees from overseas guilds and coordinating international logistics. Zhao Kai couldn’t handle it alone, and Qin Wentian was already very familiar with the situation of overseas guilds, and his English level could handle most communication scenarios, so he could start from this area. Pojun stood at the door and rarely spoke up: ”Although he went down the wrong path before, his execution is indeed quite good.”

Lin Ye handed the letter of commitment to Su Qinghan for filing and said to Qin Wentian: ”One-year probation. Start with overseas protection fee collection and international logistics coordination. No commission on salary, only basic guarantees. If you do well, you will become a regular employee after a year. If you don’t do well, leave on your own. One more thing: while you are at the studio, you are prohibited from actively participating in any conflicts between players, whether in the game or in reality.”

Qin Wentian stood up and bowed deeply to Lin Ye. When he walked to the door, his footsteps paused. He looked back at Lin Ye, his lips moved but he didn’t say anything in the end, just nodded, then turned and went downstairs. Zhao Kai was waiting at the top of the stairs, took him to the second-floor logistics warehouse to familiarize himself with the environment, and while walking, he lowered his voice to tell him how to keep track of the serial numbers of every type of Abyss Crystal in the warehouse, how to fill out cross-border express delivery forms, and how to phrase collection emails to overseas guilds so as not to get complaints.

Lin Ye stood by the window on the third floor, watching the two figures disappear at the entrance of the warehouse. The lights in Dawn City Square under the night sky were gradually extinguished, and that golden custom gaming pod that he insisted on keeping for casual players to experience for free was still glowing with a soft light. The sign of the Unscrupulous Business Center shone brightly in the night, and at this moment, in a remote town in the distant US Server, in the abnormal IP address segment that Ghost was still monitoring, a piece of key data leaked from Liu Jingming’s unfinished analysis report was being dismantled line by line by a pair of hands that were colder and stranger than Qin Wentian’s.