Chapter 30: Uncle and Aunt's Scheme (1)
Bro Chose The Worst Group
The arena fell into stunned silence - the kind that happens when someone drops a truth bomb so devastating even the crickets stop chirping. Clan Leader Bo's smile looked about as genuine as a three-dollar bill, his voice oozing that special brand of politician rizz. "Fang Yuan," he purred, "as this year's champion, you may join any group you desire. No restrictions."
Translation: Pick a team so we can stalk you 24/7, you absolute menace.
Fang Yuan's gaze swept across the three main factions like a Walmart security camera:
Qing Shu's Group - The clan leader's personal hype squad
Chi Shan's Crew - Built like refrigerators with the social skills to match
Mo Yan's Team - Still salty about getting mogged in the exams
Joining any would be like walking into a lion's den wearing a steak suit. The Chi faction would assume he was a spy. The Mo family would think he was trolling. And Qing Shu's group? That was basically volunteering to be Clan Leader Bo's new chew toy.
Just as Fang Yuan was calculating his exit strategy, a voice croaked out like a dying frog:
"Why don't you join our team?"
The crowd parted to reveal Gu Yue Jiao San - a man whose complexion suggested he'd been left in the microwave too long. His triangular eyes gleamed with that special kind of sketchy energy usually reserved for back-alley noodle vendors.
The reaction was immediate:
"Bro picked the dollar store faction!"
"That's some sigma-level trolling right there."
"Clan Leader Bo's eye twitch could power a small village."
Fang Yuan's lips curled into his signature "I know something you don't" smirk. "I accept."
I ALONE AM THE SIGMA
Three days later, Fang Yuan found himself trekking through knee-deep snow like some kind of winter survival show contestant. Jiao San led the way with that special brand of fake cheerfulness usually reserved for pyramid scheme recruiters.
"Don't worry if you can't keep up, Fang Yuan!" he called back, his voice dripping with that "I'm totally not setting you up to fail" energy.
Translation: Please faceplant dramatically so I can assert dominance.
Fang Yuan moved through the snow with the ease of someone who'd done this before - which, given his 500 years of experience, he absolutely had. Meanwhile, the other group members:
-Tripped over invisible rocks
-Ate snow like it was their last meal
-Wheezed like asthmatic steam engines
-One guy faceplanted with the grace of a falling refrigerator
Their mission? Collect "permafrost decayed soil" - which was basically dirt that had been frozen so long it developed commitment issues. The clan needed it to fertilize their moon orchids.
The veterans were already snickering about how the "academy golden boy" would surely fail this simple task. "Bet he comes back with a box of regular dirt," one muttered between wheezes.
One hour later...
Fang Yuan returned with a wooden box overflowing with premium-grade decayed soil. The others stared at their half-filled containers like they'd just been personally insulted.
"How...?" one member gasped, their voice trembling with the kind of awe usually reserved for magic tricks.
Fang Yuan shrugged. "It's purple and smells like regret. Wasn't hard."
Jiao San's smile became so strained it looked painful. "Excellent... work..." he managed through gritted teeth.
Back at the village, the reward distribution was about as fair as a rigged carnival game. Six primeval stones total:
Jiao San pocketed two ("leadership bonus")
The others got one each
Fang Yuan also got one ("because screw you, that's why")
As Fang Yuan pocketed his single stone, the realization hit him like a poorly thrown snowball. This wasn't just hazing - this was targeted suppression. But why? Unless...
Someone had put Jiao San up to this.
The game was afoot. And Fang Yuan was just getting warmed up.
Snake With a Low Taper Fade
The five of them stood on the walkway like a group of washed-up influencers trying to recruit Fang Yuan into their pyramid scheme.
Gu Yue Jiao San smiled—the kind of smile a used-car salesman gives right before mentioning the "minor" transmission issues. "Little brother Fang Yuan, gotta say, your performance back there was sigma as hell. No cap. We made the right call inviting you. Since you're fresh out the academy, let me put you on game real quick."
He launched into his spiel like a corporate HR video no one asked for:
Mandatory monthly missions. One per month, or the clan docks your social credit.
No refunds, no redos. Pick a mission, suffer through it.
Rank 1s can't quit. Rank 2s get one free L per year—still tragic.
Evaluations = your entire future. High score? Promotion. Low score? Enjoy being a NPC forever.
Fang Yuan nodded like "yeah, sure, whatever", already knowing all this. Jiao San's speech was technically accurate, but it skipped over the fine print—like how "high evaluations" mostly depended on nepotism, not merit.
"Anyway," Jiao San continued, "next up is a deer-hunting mission. Low difficulty, perfect for a newbie like you. Consider it a… trial run."
Fang Yuan's internal monologue: This man's rizz is drier than the Gobi Desert. Does he really think I'm falling for this? Out loud, he just said, "Appreciate it, group leader."
Gu Yue Kong Jing, the human equivalent of a "live, laugh, love" sign, jumped in. "Bro, you should be grateful. Group leader's basically carrying you. Simple mission means easy rewards—don't be a salty noob."
The two female Gu Masters nodded along like bobbleheads, their smiles so forced they could crack porcelain.
"Fang Yuan, actions speak louder than words! Treat the group leader to lunch—networking is key!"
"The real world's tough, little bro. Stick with us, we'll guide you."
Jiao San waved them off like a bad actor playing humble. "Now, now, don't pressure him. Kid's probably broke after academy life."
"NAH," one girl gasped, clutching imaginary pearls. "Year-end champ gets a hundred primeval stones! That's a bag right there."
Kong Jing smirked. "See? Bro's stacked. He ain't cheap… right, Fang Yuan?"
The other girl leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Here's the tea: You don't gotta suck up to us, but you gotta suck up to the group leader. His eval report decides if you're HIM or just another background character. Choose wisely."
Jiao San chuckled like a cartoon villain who just remembered he's supposed to be subtle. "Oh, don't listen to them. I'm totally fair. But since you're new… I'll take special care of your eval."
A normal teenager would've folded like a wet napkin, but Fang Yuan's expression didn't even flicker.
Clan evaluations? Couldn't care less. My plan: Hit Rank 3, bounce, never see these clowns again.
So he just said, "Cool. I'm out."
"…Excuse me?" The four of them short-circuited simultaneously.
One girl's eye twitched. "Did he just—? Is his comprehension stat set to ZERO?"
Kong Jing looked like he wanted to shake Fang Yuan by the shoulders and scream "SOCIAL NORMS EXIST!"
Jiao San's smile froze. This kid's immune to peer pressure. What kind of freak is he?
Forcing another grin, he jogged after Fang Yuan. "Wait up! You need a place to stay, right? I know some prime real estate. Let's get you settled."
Fang Yuan paused. "Sure. Hostel's kicking me out."
"Say less," Jiao San said, already mentally calculating how much kickback he'd get from the landlords.
House Hunting (It's Giving Scam)
Every landlord they met was sketchier than the last:
"Fifteen primeval stones a month. Final offer." (The house looked like it'd collapse in a light breeze.)
"Eight stones? In your dreams, bro." (Said while standing in a literal shed.)
"Twenty-five percent deposit. Standard procedure." (It was not standard.)
"This place has ambiance. Right next to the clan leader's pavilion—only twenty-five stones a month!" (The "pavilion view" was a sliver of roof visible between two crumbling walls.)
By nightfall, Fang Yuan still hadn't signed anything.
The two girls groaned. "Dude, you're too picky. Just take the overpriced one!"
Kong Jing smirked. "Or hey, there's always the basement apartments. Dirt cheap! Sure, you'll get lung rot in a month, but budget-friendly, right?"
Fang Yuan didn't even dignify that with a response. These people wouldn't know honesty if it bit them.
Just as he turned to leave, Mother Shen materialized like a poorly timed ad.
"Young master Fang Yuan! Your uncle and aunt have prepared a feast in your honor. Come home! No need to rent—family's offering free room and board!"
Fang Yuan's internal alarm bells went off. Ah. There it is. The trap.
Jiao San nodded along like a puppet. "See, Fang Yuan? Family's got your back. No need to waste stones."
Fang Yuan stayed silent, but his mind was already three steps ahead.
Uncle and aunt's plan:
Lure him home.
"Accidentally" poison his dinner.
Inherit his Gu worms.
Profit.
…Cute attempt. Too bad I've seen this script before.