The atmosphere inside the Origins Dungeon Hall had shifted from the tense, quiet irritation of the morning into a hive of focused, eerie activity. Yuan Bi leaned back against the headrest of his chair, watching the room with a look of lazy satisfaction.
Thanks to the expansion he had overseen last week, the shop no longer felt like a cramped closet. Ten immersion thrones now stood in perfect, gleaming rows across the main floor, their dark, light-absorbing surfaces catching the dim light of the hall like obsidian. These weren't just chairs; they were the terminals for a full-sensory simulator, a reality more vivid than any illusionist could weave.
However, it was the eleventh throne that drew the most curious stares. Positioned directly behind the elevated service counter, it served as Yuan Bi's personal seat of power. It was a clear statement of his status: while the others were guests in this world, he was its master. No amount of gold or influence could buy a seat in that particular chair; it was an exclusive throne for the shopkeeper alone.
"You really outdid yourself with the renovations last week, Boss," Liang Shi noted, his eyes trailing over the expanded floor space. "I still don't know how you dragged these heavy things in here without the neighbors hearing a sound. And that one behind the counter... looks like a king's seat."
Yuan Bi simply shrugged, his fingers tapping the cold armrest of his exclusive throne. "Growth is a necessity. And every hall needs a center."
The front door creaked open, admitting a group that immediately drew the attention of the waiting hunters. Qing Yue walked in, her expression as calm and unreadable as a frozen lake. Beside her was a girl in a vibrant green dress, Momo, who peered around the dusty shop with a mixture of skepticism and wide-eyed curiosity.
"Is this really the place, Yue'r?" Momo whispered, clutching her friend's sleeve. "It looks... well, like a warehouse for old junk. Are you sure this is better than the Martial Arts Tower?"
"Trust me, Momo," Qing Yue replied, her voice soft but absolute. "The Tower teaches you how to swing a sword. This place... it puts you in a total simulation. Once you put on the helm, you feel the wind, the cold, and the weight of the blade. It teaches you how to survive."
She walked up to the counter, nodding respectfully to Yuan Bi. "Two sessions, Boss. Normal Mode for my friend, Hard Mode for me."
"Coming right up," Yuan Bi said, the runes on his counter sparking to life.
Qing Yue and Momo took their seats in the sleek black chairs. With practiced ease, Qing Yue reached for the heavy, metallic helm resting on the dock beside her. She slid it over her head, and as the visor clicked into place, her body went perfectly still. Her consciousness was instantly pulled into the digital abyss.
Before Momo could even follow suit, the door slammed open again. A young man in a dark-purple silk robe stepped in, looking frantic until his eyes landed on the two girls. This was Xie Meng, a talent from the Pyradine Academy who had been trailing them since they left the campus gates.
"Qing Yue! Wait!" he called out, his voice smooth but tinged with a desperate edge. He ignored the stares of the grizzled hunters and marched toward her, pulling a small, ornate jade box from his sleeve.
Qing Yue didn't even turn around; she couldn't. She was already miles away, deep within the mansion's corridors.
"I was worried!" Xie Meng insisted, stepping toward her motionless form. He offered the box to her unseeing eyes. "You skipped the morning lecture. I brought you a Spirit-Condensing Pill. It's the highest grade; it will help stabilize your Qi after whatever... 'training' you think you're doing here."
"She can't hear you, Xie Meng," Momo said, finally pulling her own helm toward her lap. "She's already in the simulator. And she doesn't need your pills. Go practice your forms and leave us to our 'junk' shop."
Xie Meng's face reddened with resentment. He turned his anger toward Yuan Bi, who was watching the scene from his elevated throne behind the counter. "You. Shopkeeper. What kind of trickery are you peddling to distract the Academy's top talents? This place is a ruin!"
"You're mistaken," Yuan Bi said, leaning back in his private seat. "In my hometown, we don't call this a ruin. We call it 'Low-Key Luxury.'"
Xie Meng paused, the unfamiliar phrase catching him off guard. "Low-Key... Luxury? What nonsense is that?"
"It means the outside is humble to ward off the unworthy, while the inside holds treasures beyond your comprehension," Yuan Bi said, meeting the young man's gaze with a bored stare. "But if you're too narrow-minded to see it, perhaps you truly are a perfect match for the Academy's... predictable routines."
Xie Meng's pride flared. "Narrow-minded? I have studied the Seven Arts! Tell me, what is so 'luxurious' about sitting in a chair and putting on a helmet like an idiot?"
"It's not just a helmet. It's a virtual reality simulator—a hunt so real you'll forget you're sitting in this chair," Yuan Bi said, pointing at the projection arrays above the thrones. "Qing Yue isn't just sitting there. She's refining her intent. If you want to understand her, you have to understand her hobbies. Right now, you're just a man shouting at a statue while she's climbing a mountain."
Xie Meng looked at Qing Yue's still body, then at the empty chair beside her.
"If you want her to admire you," Yuan Bi added, "you don't give her pills she doesn't need. You show her you can walk the same path. Of course... that requires courage. And five Spirit Crystals."
Xie Meng straightened his robe, his ego bruised but his competitive spirit piqued. "Fine! If a shopkeeper can handle it, a genius like me will conquer it in minutes! Give me a throne!"
He slammed the crystals onto the counter. Yuan Bi gestured to the only empty seat on the floor. Xie Meng sat down, gripped the simulator helm with trembling hands, and pulled it over his brow.
As Xie Meng's vision went dark and the world of the mansion materialized around him, the street outside was no longer empty.
A group of six young students from the Pyradine Academy stood at the edge of the West District, whispering in the shadows.
"This is the place," the leader, a boy named Lin Hu, whispered. "I followed them. Wu Feng, Qing Yue, and now even Xie Meng... they're all disappearing into this 'Origins Dungeon Hall.'"
"It looks pathetic," a girl beside him murmured, eyeing the sagging roof.
"Wu Feng doesn't do 'pathetic,'" Lin Hu replied. "He was talking about 'Crimson Heads' and 'Hunters' all morning. I've never seen him so obsessed."
They shared a look of nervous curiosity before stepping toward the threshold. As they opened the door, they were hit with a sight that made them freeze: Ten warriors sat in eerie silence, their bodies physically present but their minds lost in the digital abyss of the helm-based simulation. Above them, the magic mirrors displayed the horrific live feed of their struggles—scenes of blood, shadow, and terrifying red-skinned monsters.
"What is this place?" one of the girls whispered, her voice trembling.
Yuan Bi looked up from his exclusive seat, a faint, lazy smile on his face.
"Business," he whispered to himself. "Business is definitely picking up."