Along the journey, unexpected encounters always arise. In the blink of an eye, the virtual character welcomed another unknown meeting.
The virtual character was carried back, and despite several attempts, no one could remove the bundle he clutched tightly.
"Boss, I'll get some water to wipe this guy down."
"Sheesh, what a miser. Wonder what's in that bundle he's clinging to like his life depends on it."
The voice was somewhat hoarse, yet young and energetic.
But the live stream bullet screen overflowed with worry.
[Oh no, aaaaaah! Could this be another dream? Sob, so scary.]
[I hope not, but we should be cautious. Something feels off—how does a house suddenly appear in the desert?]
[My bet's on no. There are two people this time, and they're talking! Must be part of Lily's pre-set game plot.]
[Notice anything? The clothes of the two who saved the virtual character look different from those in the Loulan ruins.]
[Lily probably designed that sandstorm too—just to blow the virtual character right out of the desert. Hahaha, poor virtual guy.]
A damp cloth wiped the virtual character's face and exposed skin. After days in the desert without cleaning, he finally looked somewhat cleaner.
The young guy muttered while wiping:
"Hey, miser, you awake? Whoa, you're even wearing silk on your face—looks like a woman's. Could it be your old flame's?"
"Huh, didn't take you for a romantic."
"I'm setting this aside, okay? Can't wipe your face with it. You're lucky to survive that black sandstorm and get blown here. Let me tell you, this is the only inn near the desert, outside Jade Pass. Might be divine will that you're alive."
"They say great misfortune brings great fortune. Wonder if your old flame's still around... Ugh, foot-in-mouth again." The turbaned guy suddenly stopped and smacked his lips.
"You better wake up—for your old flame's sake. Our inn doesn't feed freeloaders, can't keep you long."
Viewers laughed at the chatterbox:
[This NPC's hilarious! Lily's got quite the setup. This human guy sure talks a lot.]
[But these characters feel more ordinary than her previous ones—like Prince Nezha or Lei Zhenzi.]
[The theme's a journey! And we've already seen the Investiture of the Gods realm. Those were deities—do you meet immortals on regular trips?]
[What did the guy call the other person? "Boss"? Must mean owner, superior. And the boss is a woman.]
Meanwhile, in the inn, the virtual character regained consciousness under the waiter's care but remained silent. The waiter had a realization:
"So you're mute? Can you write?"
No response. The waiter grumbled:
"You better be useful. Maybe your head's still foggy. Useless folks end up as human flesh buns in the boss's kitchen."
The waiter brought a pot of water, poured some into a cup for the virtual character, then was called away:
"Waiter! What are you doing? Get over here and help!"
Left alone on the bed, the virtual character's cracked lips soaked up water, soothing his throat. He coughed repeatedly, as if expelling every grain of sand from his lungs.
The bullet screen exploded—viewers were shocked by the waiter's casual remark.
[Guys... did I hear that right? Did he say "human flesh buns"?]
[You heard right! StarSea, did the virtual character walk into a black inn? Human flesh buns—horrifying, simply horrifying. What's Lily thinking?]
[Journeys aren't all scenic views and kind strangers. Landscapes change, people change—meeting bad guys is normal. Even now, taking unlicensed ships might get you kidnapped by space pirates.]
Lily's stream erupted in debate. Some thought the waiter was just joking—if they'd saved the virtual character, they couldn't be bad. Others insisted the comment meant trouble was coming; maybe they'd rescued him specifically to make buns.
[Um... timidly asking... what do human flesh buns taste like?]
This ill-timed comment stunned the entire chat.
Viewers:???
Was that appropriate? Logical? Why not ask about monster meat buns or wood elf buns instead?
[Wait, first we need to know what a "bun" is. Can we stop arguing?] After this brief commotion, calm returned. Foodie netizens began searching for "bun."
The virtual character dragged himself out of bed. The mattress was hard and unusual, like all the room's decor.
Simple, dust-covered—but different from the desert's ancient city.
The virtual character poured himself a drink. Viewers noticed details:
[That cup looks like the ones Lily created before, but different material, similar shape.]
[Like the one with Tu Xingsun in the last livestream! They have them in the Dreamweaving Exhibition Hall—called teapot and teacup.]
The virtual character touched everything in the room—furniture, tea table, stool, bed, cabinet, even the mattress and bedding—as if confirming reality.
He set down his bundle, refilled his cup but didn't drink, instead staring at his reflection in the water.
He opened the door and descended the stairs, seeing his rescuers: the chatty waiter, and a tall woman with long hair pinned up by a wooden hairpin, wearing a strange yet striking dress—bold and sharp.
"Oh, you're up. Waiter, you saved him, you manage him. Let's be clear: this inn doesn't feed freeloaders. Mute, huh? We'll call you Mute then. Waiter, assign him work."
The landlady sounded fierce. She sat at the counter tallying accounts, glancing outside occasionally.
"Dammit, I did a good deed today. Wonder if heaven'll drop a couple rich patrons into my lap."
"Don't worry, boss," the waiter replied, pulling the virtual character aside.
"Dunno your name, and you can't talk, so Mute it is. I'll show you around. You look like a poor soul—born mute or made mute? How'd you end up in the desert? Anyway, you'll handle chores. No need to serve guests."
The virtual character settled at the inn.
With no way back to his home planet, knowing nothing about this world's customs, he accepted being called Mute—working silently, never speaking.
Each day, he rose amid swirling sand. Despite constant winds, occasional sandstorms, the landlady demanded cleanliness. He worked mechanically: cleaning, fetching water with the waiter, sometimes hunting desert creatures, transporting the inn's few supplies.
Day by day, he grew proficient. On good days, the landlady even gave him coins—round copper pieces with square holes, called "copper coins."
Occasional guests arrived: riding horses, carrying swords, dismounting loudly, striding in shouting, "Waiter, wine!"
Passing by, Mute served jars of wine—mostly water, as the landlady had diluted it—catching whiffs of sweat and blood on their clothes.
The waiter said these people came from "jianghu" (rivers and lakes).
And their inn? It was also jianghu.
The virtual character didn't understand. Viewers didn't either. But he'd stayed so long—they wondered why Lily kept him here. Was he waiting for some special scenery?
What was jianghu?
Could this tiny inn—with just a boss, waiter, and temporary worker—really be jianghu?
One day, the virtual character rose early, grabbed his bundle.
He finished all chores, ate lunch.
The landlady opened a wine jar, poured Mute a bowl—still mostly water.
A toast to gathering and parting: three drank, then closed the inn's doors and fences.
Having learned to ride horses and lead camels, the three—each on a horse—galloped through desert half a day, reaching its edge.
The landlady pointed ahead.
Across the vast, endless desert—yellow sand stretching forever—a single column of smoke rose straight into the sky, beneath boundless heavens.
A turbulent river reflected the setting sun; waves roared like they could swallow sun and moon. The red sun hung low over the water, its golden light piercing every ripple.
The long river swallowed the setting sun, painting the waters crimson.
Sunset over the frontier: desert smoke rising straight, river holding the round sun.
The image froze. Silence filled the stream.
Another landscape card appeared. Viewers stared, unblinking, silently reciting the poem matching the scene:
Desert smoke rises straight; long river holds the round sun.
Majestic, vast—a wonder of heaven and earth.