Chapter 23

In the gaming group, a player who had previously been thoroughly duped by the game clicked on the hint bar out of curiosity. Before the update, clicking here would immediately pop up an advertisement, with a line of text above your head telling you that you’d get a hint for this screen after watching the ad. But now, the hint bar was split into two boxes: on the left, “Watch a 30-second ad for a hint”; on the right, “Beat up the developer for a hint (estimated time: two minutes).”

Thirty seconds versus two minutes...

Obviously, I’ll pick the latter!

Without a second thought, the player clicked the right option. What a joke—ever since he started playing this game, he’d wanted to do just that!

After he selected the “beat up the developer” option, all the members of Jiang Qiubai’s studio, including Jiang himself, appeared on the screen as stick figures with drastically altered faces, each with a job title floating above their head: “Developer,” “Programmer,” “Artist,” “Operations,” and so on.

Since it was his first time opening this feature, a helpful arrow appeared beside it: Swipe the screen to beat up the developer. After 100 hits, you will receive a hint. (No matter how many times you hit over 100, you can only get one hint at a time.)

The text in parentheses was highlighted in red.

At the bottom of the screen was a hit counter.

Having read the instructions, the player didn’t hesitate. He swiped fiercely at the developer stick figure.

You wretched developer—prepare to meet your doom!

On the screen, a red handprint appeared on the developer’s face. The corner of his mouth curled up, and a string of bubbles appeared above his head: “I’m sorry, and I’ll do it again next time.”

What?!

So arrogant?!

The player couldn’t help but tap a few more times, but the developer stick figure just repeated the same line.

Perfect. That’s exactly the kind of developer he expected.

After a dozen more swipes, seeing that the bubble still said the same thing, the player figured each character might only have one line, so he tried poking around at the other stick figures.

Who to hit first… The programmer, of course—this game was their doing.

He tapped the programmer stick figure, who began shedding two thick streams of tears, and a bubble appeared over his head: “Don’t hit me! It was the artist and the boss who suggested turning the background into a trap!”

Back when Jiang Qiubai first pitched the game’s design, the studio’s employees had all enthusiastically contributed their “brilliant ideas,” since they wouldn’t have to play the game themselves.

Fine, the player thought through gritted teeth, you all look so innocent, but who knew you were all villains!

He poked the artist next. The artist pointed accusingly at the operations stick figure, with a speech bubble: “Don’t hit me! The idea for the full-screen bombs came from the operations guy!”

This referred to one of the later maps in “The Infuriating Adventure,” where the final boss would bombard the screen with explosives. If the player didn’t escape within the time limit, the bombs would cover the entire screen.

Even with a walkthrough, the time constraint meant a single slip could lead to failure, making this stage a constant target for complaints.

Well, at last, the mastermind was found. The player turned his attention to the operations stick figure.

The final stick figure didn’t disappoint, displaying: “I just mentioned it in passing—it was the boss who fleshed it out and added the time limit!”

It’s worth mentioning that all these lines had been written by Jiang Qiubai’s staff themselves. He’d thought it would make the game more lively and interesting for players. But before Xiao Yang could update the content in the game, the studio erupted into chaos.

Of course, as the boss, Jiang Qiubai was gracious and did not join the fight. He simply pondered what other responsibilities might be suitable for the operations guy—after all, those with ability should carry a greater load.

After reading all the dialogues, the player’s smile slowly faded.

This time, it was clear: they were all equally guilty.

Now he understood why the instructions emphasized that only one hint would be given, no matter how many times you hit. If every hundred hits meant another hint, he’d already have farmed it to 99+!

His gaze shifted between the stick figures, but in the end, he decided to punch the developer first.

None of you are innocent, but you’re the most deserving!

He kept going, punching up to ninety-something times before turning his attention to the others.

You won’t escape either!

After making the rounds and finally getting the hint, the player glanced at the time.

Nearly five minutes had passed.

He’d spent almost half of that just reading the dialogue bubbles and deciding whom to hit.

All things considered, this method took about two and a half minutes to get a hint—slower than watching an ad, but much more satisfying!

After giving the developer stick figure a few more swipes, the player reluctantly returned to the group chat, exclaiming with delight, “That felt amazing! If anyone dares say the studio has no conscience, I’ll shut them down!”

Others who had experienced the update agreed enthusiastically:

“That’s right! I admit, this is the only truly fair game in my heart!”

“I’d hit the 30-second ad with all my might, but this two-minute mode? I could do it all day.”

“Boss Jiang is someone you can deal with—he really listens to feedback.”

“This is awesome! If this had been around earlier, I’d have used hints the whole way through!”

“To sacrifice oneself for the entertainment of the masses—what a noble spirit!”

The game group was full of praise. Compared to advertisements, this method was clearly preferred. They could get hints and relieve stress—two birds with one stone.

“What was in this update?” Just after sending out red envelopes in another group to celebrate their guild’s consecutive championship in the faction tournament, Dreamlike Life asked curiously.

“Well, well, the big shot finally has time for us?” someone teased.

“Not at all—just been busy lately. I rushed over as soon as I finished,” Dreamlike Life replied.

He’d been so busy lately that he hadn’t even downloaded this new adventure mini-game, just skimmed a few videos and knew it was a free, infuriating title.

Since founding his guild, Dreamlike Life had created a separate group for guild members, pouring both time and money into maintaining their standing. Generous and willing to spend on gear, he’d led them to an easy first-place finish in their first tournament.

The joy and satisfaction of celebrating victory together was something he’d never forget. So, after their first win, instead of relaxing, Dreamlike Life invested even more time and energy, determined to always stay on top.

Everything was going smoothly, and they were widening the gap with the second-place guild—until, just before the next tournament, the rival guild merged with another from a different server. Dozens of elite players transferred in overnight, hoping to catch Dreamlike Life off guard.

Fortunately, he’d already planted an undercover agent—code-named 007—in the opposing guild. As soon as he got word, he rallied his members to strategize.

Their numbers were still smaller, and it was too late to recruit more. With no other option, they relied on gear and attributes, buying up all the enhancement materials on the server overnight. Several members even gritted their teeth and topped up to the next level for better equipment. After an exhausting night, they barely clung to first place in the tournament.

Their first act after winning was to collectively change names, blast the world chat with taunts, and vow to kill any rival guild member on sight. The rival guild, having lost both resources and face, slunk away in defeat.

With the threat gone, Dreamlike Life happily sent out a flurry of red envelopes in the guild group. Just then, he noticed the game group buzzing about the mini-game update and got curious.

A friend sent him a screenshot of the update and explained the gist.

“This developer really has a conscience—two games in a row now,” Dreamlike Life sighed, his opinion tinted by the generous events in “Dragon Slayer Blade.”

Just because players complained about ads being boring, the studio sacrificed themselves for the players’ enjoyment. What wonderful people! The same was true in “Dragon Slayer Blade”—they not only freed his hands but also gave out so many discounted bundles, never fearing a loss!

His impression of the studio rose even higher.

With some free time, Dreamlike Life decided to check out “The Infuriating Adventure.”

Just to take a look, he thought. The developer had already done a great job; “beating up” sounded a bit too much. He couldn’t bear to do it.

Five minutes later, even Dreamlike Life was lost for words.

This feature the developer came up with made perfect sense—he was really tempted to give the developer a beating.

No wonder they were developers; they truly understood the player’s perspective.

Dreamlike Life thought, pained and amused all at once.