VAP - Chapter 142
Chapter 142: The Intersection of Illusion and Reality (7)
Beyond her daily life, Yue Du hadn’t forgotten she was a System with a mission.
There were still nearly two years until the mission deadline, which was ample time, but Yue Du still felt a sense of urgency because she didn’t have a single clue.
The host had no consciousness from outside this world, and she couldn’t enter the host’s mental space as usual. The former was fine, but the latter was a problem.
In truth, a mental space was supposed to have barriers to protect the relatively fragile mind and block external threats.
But before Yue Du, the host’s mental space had always been completely unguarded. Getting in and out was easier than walking through her own front door—after all, you don’t need to open a door to enter a mental space, right?
Yue Du searched through all the System data but couldn’t find any similar cases. She could only set it aside for now and see if she could tackle it from another angle.
Ji You herself was very cooperative.
Or rather than cooperative, it would be more accurate to say she was even more enthusiastic than Yue Du, the one who actually had to complete the mission.
The moment she heard Yue Du could reside in her mind, her eyes would sparkle and her smile would be sickeningly sweet.
The moment she saw the method wouldn’t work, she would lower her eyes, her thin shoulders would slump, and she’d look more dejected than anyone.
Amidst these occasional attempts, several months passed quickly.
On this day, Yue Du came home as usual, carrying a bag full of food.
However, unlike a few months ago, she was carrying more raw ingredients than ready-to-eat cooked food.
This couldn’t be helped. Before Yue Du became a System, Yue Hao had handled all the meals at home. As for Yue Du herself, she only knew how to make a few dishes, and the results weren’t great. The reviews constantly jumped between “unremarkable” and “absolutely stunning,” a complete polarization.
By the way, only one person ever gave the latter review: the host.
Especially in this small world, the ingredients looked like something out of a dark cuisine nightmare—bizarre and grotesque. Yue Du had tried cooking a few times, but all her attempts ended in failure.
The host, on the other hand, knew how to cook, and her skills were quite good. Unfortunately, the current Ji You was still young and didn’t really know how.
Even if she did know how, Yue Du wouldn’t have the heart to let a little girl who barely reached her chest do the cooking.
So, for a long time, the two of them survived on cooked food from the stronghold and items from the System Store.
Until one day, Yue Du caught a glimpse of Wen Yilan.
This Wen Yilan was, of course, not the popular young actress from Yue Du’s original world. She was a native of this world, but her name, appearance, and even personality were identical to the Wen Yilan Yue Du knew.
Most importantly, Wen Yilan knew how to cook!
The Wen Yilan from Yue Du’s original world was a popular actress in the entertainment industry. She was dedicated to her acting, and she had two hobbies: watching “shipping” videos of female couples and studying gourmet food.
But the Wen Yilan of this world was a huntress struggling to survive after her parents’ death. Life was hard, there was no internet, and her hobbies were gone, but she still had maxed-out talent points in cooking.
When Yue Du met her, Wen Yilan was at the hunter’s trading market, waiting to join a team because her previous squad had disbanded.
In this chaotic and dangerous environment, it wasn’t uncommon for a whole team to be wiped out, and a squad disbanding was even more ordinary.
After splitting up, some would hole up in the stronghold, never daring to go out again, while others would look for a new team to join. Wen Yilan was the latter type.
Yue Du didn’t call out to her then. She observed her, intentionally or not, for two days. After confirming that this Wen Yilan’s character was just like the one she knew, and that her cooking skills were good, she finally asked if she was willing to cooperate.
The key point was the cooking.
“Cooperate? Shouldn’t it be about me joining your team?” Wen Yilan was bewildered.
Yue Du said, “Our squad only has two people, me and my sister, and we don’t plan on recruiting new members. So, ‘cooperate’ is a better word.”
Wen Yilan hesitated a little, so Yue Du directly stated the compensation, which was even more generous than what a typical hunter squad offered.
Wen Yilan: “Alright, then what do I need to do?”
Yue Du: “Cook.”
“…” Wen Yilan thought she had misheard. She asked again and got the same reply.
“No other requirements? Just cooking?”
Yue Du: “You can think of yourself as being hired by a cafeteria. The workload won’t be much different.”
Wen Yilan didn’t ask any more questions. She thought to herself that this huntress, who was called a “collaborator” but was really a “boss,” was probably supporting a lot of people. As for who exactly she was supporting, that wasn’t her business.
Of course, she had no way of knowing that her future job would be as a chef for Gluttony—even more tiring than working for a cafeteria.
But it was much better than constantly facing the danger of being torn apart by Scarlet Beasts.
Returning to the present, Yue Du knocked on the door next to hers.
This was Wen Yilan’s residence and office.
After three knocks, Wen Yilan opened the door. Her gaze immediately fell on the food bag, which looked incredibly heavy and huge, and the light in her eyes died.
Yue Du smiled. “Sorry to trouble you again today.”
Wen Yilan said woodenly, “My pleasure.”
Yue Du made some small talk, and Wen Yilan quickly regained her spirits, enthusiastically asking if Yue Du wanted to try a new item she’d just come up with, a new dessert recipe.
Just then, the door behind Yue Du creaked open. Ji You poked her head out from behind it and said softly, “Sister…”
Yue Du turned around, her smile becoming much more genuine. She replied, “Yes, I’ll be right there.”
Then she said to Wen Yilan, “My sister’s calling me, so I’ll head back first. I’ll come over to get the food later.”
Wen Yilan waved her off. “Go on, go on. Xiao Yue Jiu must be getting impatient.”
After Yue Du’s door closed, Wen Yilan closed her own and raised a hand to touch her neck.
“What was that just now? I feel a chill on my neck,” she muttered, confused.
On the other side, Yue Du closed the door and had just turned around when her little host threw herself into her arms.
Compared to a few months ago, Ji You had grown a bit taller. She no longer looked like a thin, pitiful little thing. She was now unbelievably radiant and beautiful. Her wine-red hair looked as if it had been soaked in crystalline wine, lovely and captivating.
Yue Du: “What’s wrong? Hungry?”
Ji You gave Yue Du a glare that lacked any real force and shook her head firmly. Then, as if she suddenly thought of something, she hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding.
Yue Du chuckled. “We’ll have to wait a bit for the meal. Have some fruit to tide you over.”
Ji You tacitly agreed, first peeling a piece of fruit and handing it to Yue Du as was her custom.
Before long, Wen Yilan had finished cooking… the first wave of food.
Ji You’s attitude toward Wen Yilan had always been lukewarm, though she never showed it obviously. Only Yue Du, who understood her, could tell. Wen Yilan herself just thought the child was clingy with her sister and not close to others.
Being lukewarm toward Wen Yilan didn’t affect her enjoyment of the food the woman made.
Ji You’s appetite was very regular. On days when she couldn’t hunt or didn’t encounter many Scarlet Beasts, she ate a lot. But when a hunt was bountiful, she was often satisfied with just one tableful of food.
…That word “just” was very telling.
The common factor in both situations was that she had to look at Yue Du while eating, as if the food wouldn’t taste good otherwise.
Today was a rest day, so they weren’t going out to hunt. Naturally, Ji You’s appetite was astonishing.
In the beginning, Yue Du would watch her eat with a bit of amazement, acting as a human condiment. But now, she was used to it. After Ji You finished eating, she would even shoo her off for an afternoon nap.
“Children need enough sleep, or they won’t grow tall.” Yue Du had always insisted on this point, using her own sister as an example, claiming that Yue Hao’s growth to 1.8 meters was largely thanks to her afternoon naps.
The first time Ji You heard this, she was silent for a moment before saying, “You have a sister.”
Yue Du nodded, but halfway through the nod, she suddenly felt the lemon concentration in the air exceed the standard limit.
“She’s not as cute as you,” Yue Du stated a fact in a coaxing tone.
The lemon concentration subsequently dropped a little.
Far away in her original world, Yue Hao, who was in her room playing with her orange cat, sneezed. “Achoo!”
After eating, Ji You obediently went to take her afternoon nap.
Yue Du leaned against the headboard. Ji You held onto her arm tightly with both hands, her cheek resting gently against it. She soon fell asleep, her breathing even and deep.
Yue Du didn’t feel sleepy, so she didn’t plan to sleep.
After some thought, she entered the System chat group.
Group chats, whether on a device or in a virtual space, could never escape the fate of going from bustling to desolate, especially small ones.
The Villain Awakening Project Group only had four Systems, perfectly fitting this description. Thus, their group hadn’t escaped the process of becoming increasingly quiet—in any case, Yue Du logged into this virtual space less and less, and she guessed the other Systems did too.
However, in a group like this, once someone started a topic, it could easily reach 99+ messages.
Yue Du had originally just planned to sit in the virtual space for a bit and set a dynamic background she liked, but after a short while, Turasu also arrived.
“Long time no see! How have you been?” Turasu said enthusiastically.
The last time they chatted was when Yue Du had just arrived in the new small world. They had complained together about the world’s peculiar dark art style and, while they were at it, about the Main System, which often issued missions even more bizarre than the world settings.
Yue Du: “Pretty good. It’s just that the system mission it issued hasn’t been completed yet.”
Turasu: “You still haven’t found your host?”
Yue Du: “I’ve found her, but the mission conditions haven’t been met yet. But don’t worry, there’s still enough time for me to work on it.”
Turasu patted her on the shoulder. “If you need my help with anything, just say the word.”
“Of course.”
Just as they were talking, Xiao Yi came online.
Her first sentence was: “You’ve found the host, but you haven’t bound with her yet, is that right?”
It was still in that sleepwalking-like tone, but her speech was a bit faster, clearly showing some urgency and impatience.
Yue Du: “…”
Sister, I’m already trying very hard to pretend I haven’t noticed there’s something wrong with your identity. Could you please put a little more effort into your act? Don’t just come out and ask something so direct. Aren’t you afraid I’ll ask how you know my mission conditions?
Xiao Yi had no awareness of her failed performance and continued to stare intently at Yue Du.
Yue Du sighed and said, “That’s right.”
Upon receiving an affirmative answer, Xiao Yi instantly stiffened.
Yue Du actually managed to see a bizarre progression of emotions on her perpetually deadpan face—from astonishment and disbelief to utter despair.
But a moment later, she lowered her head, and those emotions vanished like a night-blooming cereus.
Yue Du waited for her next words.
Seeing Xiao Yi like this, it was obvious she knew something.
Since she’s someone from the Main System’s side, or in the extremely small chance she’s the Main System itself, she should hope I complete the mission, right?
After a long while, Xiao Yi let out a faint sigh.
“The binding should have happened the moment you met.”
Yue Du: “Right. That’s what it said in the previous small worlds, too.”
Xiao Yi: “But have you really met Her?”
Yue Du: “…”
She shivered subconsciously. Why did that clichéd, dramatic tone sound so much like someone telling a horror story?
Xiao Yi left with that sentence and hastily disappeared, perhaps rushing back to report to the Main System.
Yue Du and Turasu looked at each other in dismay.
“You know she’s always been pretty neurotic, right?” Turasu shrugged.
Yue Du: “…”
Jian Mingtian never showed up for this chat, and Xiao Yi had left, so there wasn’t much point in just the two of them talking.
The two of them went offline.
Back in reality, Yue Du opened her eyes. She turned her head slightly and saw Ji You sleeping soundly while hugging her arm.
Have I really met her?
If it were anyone else, they might have let their imagination run wild over that sentence, doubting whether they had met the real host.
But Yue Du didn’t think so. She knew her host too well. Even living in different worlds with no shared memories, the feeling her host gave her was always different from everyone else.
She was confident she could distinguish her host from anyone else.
Even without that iconic face.
That being said…
It was an objective fact that the binding should have happened automatically upon meeting the host. It was also an objective fact that she had met the host. So which part of the process had gone wrong?
As Yue Du was thinking, Ji You, leaning against her, suddenly twitched her fingertips. The movement was so slight it could easily be overlooked.
Immediately after, she opened her eyes, only to close them again in an instant.
From beginning to end, her breathing never faltered, perfectly maintaining the state of sleep.
What startled Yue Du out of her deep thought was the sound of the grandfather clock in the room.
Every day at two in the afternoon sharp, this clock would make a strange sound imitating an owl. Yue Du simply used it as an alarm to wake up from her nap.
Ji You was also woken by the noise. She first nuzzled against Yue Du’s arm before sitting up groggily. Her whole being exuded the aura of someone just waking up—languid, soft, and purely harmless.
Yue Du: “Did you sleep well?”
Ji You answered without thinking, “It was okay. I just had a dream, but I can’t remember it.”
“Dreams are like that; you forget them easily,” Yue Du said, her mind still turning over her previous thoughts.
Ji You: “Mmm…”
Yue Du looked at her, feeling that the thoughts in her mind were gradually connecting, but there was still some link—or perhaps, an explanation—missing, preventing her from seeing the whole picture.
Just a little more.
What is it?
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
Yue Du got up at once, quickly straightened her clothes, and went to open the door. When Wen Yilan saw her, she first let out a sigh of relief, then said urgently, “My friend just sent a message. There’s an emergency. We need to pack up quickly and evacuate soon.”
Yue Du had nothing to pack. All her important items were in her system space. She just needed to bring her little host.
“Did they say what’s happening?”
“No, but I’m guessing it’s that… that Scarlet Rider.” Wen Yilan said. As she spoke the words “Scarlet Rider,” fear unconsciously flickered in her eyes.
Most people would have this reaction upon hearing “Scarlet Rider.”
A Scarlet Rider was also a type of Scarlet Beast. They too had varying forms, with only their crimson eyes being the same. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a “type” so much as a classification humans had created based on their massive size compared to their kin.
A Scarlet Rider was typically five to six times the size of its kin. Other than being larger, there was no other difference; their ability to create illusions wasn’t necessarily stronger.
Therefore, a Scarlet Rider alone wouldn’t be enough to cause a medium-sized stronghold to evacuate.
However, the appearance of a Scarlet Rider often meant there was a high-level Scarlet Beast perched atop its massive body, leisurely patrolling for food.
The range of such a high-level Scarlet Beast’s ability was usually vast. It was said they could use illusions to make the entire population of a stronghold walk out on their own, faces beaming with smiles as if on a group tour, and walk right into the Scarlet Beast’s lair.
Many strongholds had been annihilated this way.
As mentioned before, low-level Scarlet Beasts were humanity’s prey, while humans were the prey of high-level Scarlet Beasts. Faced with such a terrifying existence, no matter how hard a Reality user tried, it would be like a praying mantis trying to stop a chariot.
What’s more, the higher the level of the Scarlet Beast, the harder its illusions were to see through. It seemed even more likely that a Reality user would also become prey.
The best method was to hide.
Time was tight. Yue Du wanted to test the effectiveness of the Silent Watcher against a high-level Scarlet Beast, but now was clearly not the right time.
By the time she pulled Ji You along and ran out of the stronghold’s main gate with Wen Yilan, some people who reacted too slowly or couldn’t run fast enough hadn’t even managed to leave their homes.
And in the distance, the figure of the Scarlet Rider was already visible—though from here, it was just a small dot.
Those who couldn’t reach the designated shelter in time were basically considered abandoned. By staying in the stronghold, they were, in a way, providing “protection” for the people in the shelter.
After all, as long as there was enough food, even the more intelligent Scarlet Beasts couldn’t be bothered to figure out where else people might be hiding nearby.
The shelter was a cave.
The cave’s interior was already large to begin with, and after being artificially expanded, it had grown even larger. It could now accommodate several thousand people, though it was a bit crowded.
When the Scarlet Beast’s figure became roughly visible, the Reality users and barrier users would work together to activate a defense, creating a barrier that could resist illusions.
If the cave was also within the high-level Scarlet Beast’s illusion range, this barrier would do its utmost to prevent the ability from taking effect, stopping the people inside from walking out on their own.
Having arrived here, people’s tense nerves relaxed a little. Before the management could issue any commands, the environment was quite noisy and chaotic.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Wen Yilan didn’t notice Yue Du quietly leading Ji You away and disappearing into the crowd.
Since just now, on the way to the shelter cave, Ji You had been looking back from time to time, gazing in the direction the Scarlet Beast was coming from.
Yue Du was very familiar with that look. It was a little less intense than the way she looked at her, but deeper than the way she looked at a table full of food. When Ji You had this look, it meant she wanted to eat something—something that could only be eaten during a hunt.
“Do you want to take on the high-level one?” Yue Du asked.
As she spoke, they seemed to have already entered the high-level Scarlet Beast’s ability range.
The people around them, who had been desperately fleeing toward the shelter, seemed to have had a pause button pressed on them. The looks of terror and despair on their faces softened, and then they slowly turned around and began walking back the way they came.
The scene was just like a silent film.
Yue Du and Ji You blended into the middle of the crowd, completely inconspicuous—at least from the distant Scarlet Beast’s perspective.
The hunger in Ji You’s eyes was almost impossible to hide anymore, so she simply acted like she wanted to eat and said openly, “Yeah. A high-level Scarlet Beast should be exchangeable for more supplies and buy more food, so let’s go.”
Yue Du: “…”
No, you really don’t need to use that excuse.
Just say it. You’re here to eat the high-level Scarlet Beast (its energy). No need to hide it.
It’s not like I won’t let you eat it!
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