Chapter 1 – Revenge
Mu Lan had lost everything in life. He sank into a deep depression—no job, no family, no friends. Death felt like a gift… but if he died, he'd never get his revenge on the men who'd made him suffer.
His downfall had begun with a game. Buried under debt from it, he'd lost his family and friends. That was why he craved vengeance. There wasn't just one person to blame—it was many. Truthfully, the game itself wasn't at fault. The real culprits were the people who'd lent him money, exploiting him with every dirty trick imaginable while walking away untouched.
Twenty years earlier, scientists had perfected virtual reality to the point where sensations in the game felt indistinguishable from real life. Seeing the potential, game developers came together to create a revolutionary title: "Defying the God."
Yet in the past twenty years, not a single player had dared to issue the Challenge. To even qualify, one needed to collect all 100 scattered Challenge Scrolls hidden throughout the game. Beyond that, legendary weapons, armor, and titles—the rarest items in existence—were nearly impossible to obtain. And if someone actually defeated the God in the Challenge? Full ownership of the game would be transferred to them. They'd gain absolute control: to modify, expand, or even shut it down forever.
Mu Lan had played "Defying the God" since its release. His character was level 80—a remarkable feat, given how brutally difficult the game was. To survive, he'd mastered every craft available, spending five years perfecting each one. Even the highest-level player in the world had only reached level 95. Mu Lan regretted choosing the Assassin class. If he could start over, he'd pick Archer without hesitation—but of course, that was impossible.
Now, he was on a path of vengeance. He'd lost everything. With nothing left to lose, he'd turned to the underworld. With the last of his in-game earnings, he'd bought an illegal hand grenade. He'd sworn to make the men who destroyed his life pay. After all, what did he have to lose?
"I've already lost everything. No one would care if I died. But if I take those bastards with me… maybe, just maybe, I'll be remembered."
It was time to act. Twenty years of experience in "Defying the God" had made him incredibly knowledgeable. His level 80 Assassin knew exactly how to kill a man silently—but silence wasn't his goal now. He wanted noise. Chaos. He wanted to be remembered.
Because, in truth, people only truly died when they were forgotten. Being remembered—even as a monster—meant he still existed. And besides, he wasn't the only one who hated these men. They'd ruined countless lives. Maybe, just maybe, people would remember him as a hero.
Xen Zu topped his list of those who deserved to die. The owner of Xen Zu Corporation, he lent money at predatory rates, ran an illegal drug empire, and bribed the police to cover his tracks. Worse, just as borrowers were about to repay their debts, he'd send thugs to steal their money—leaving them broke and still in debt. He absolutely deserved to die.
But the one who deserved death most of all was Madin Yogra. Reaching him, however, was impossible—for now. Madin Yogra was the man who'd murdered Mu Lan's family and friends right before his eyes. If given a second chance, Mu Lan would make him suffer.
Soon, Mu Lan stood before Xen Zu's towering 100-story headquarters. From the outside, he observed the first floor—about fifty guards stationed there. Security only grew tighter with every floor. The building was heavily fortified. But Mu Lan didn't act. Years of playing an Assassin had sharpened his instincts, and they screamed at him: Not yet.
If he struck now, he might take a few guards down with him—but he wouldn't kill Xen Zu. And that was unacceptable. No matter what, he would kill Xen Zu.
Directly across from the building lay a quiet park. Peach tree leaves drifted gently to the ground, painting a serene scene. Mu Lan sat on a bench beneath the trees and watched who entered and exited the building. As evening fell, his heart pounded when he finally saw Xen Zu emerge.
This was it.
Mu Lan approached calmly. His plan was flawless. In his pocket, his fingers closed around the hand grenade.
When he reached Xen Zu, the man recognized him immediately.
Xen Zu sneered. "Well, well. If it isn't my little debtor. If you don't have my money, disappear. I don't have time for trash like you. Guards!"
Mu Lan pulled the pin from the grenade. Seven or eight seconds—that's all he needed to stall. Then they'd both be dead. He counted the seconds in his head while trying to keep Xen Zu talking, ensuring the guards stayed back.
Calmly, he replied, "Relax. I've got your money. People are watching. Don't ruin your reputation over this. Just… calm down."
Two.
He kept his voice steady, buying time, counting.
Four.
Xen Zu waved off his approaching guards with a dismissive hand.
Six.
Mu Lan smirked. "Oh, and before I forget—hold this for just two seconds. But don't drop it."
Eight.
Xen Zu was stunned. How dare this lowlife speak to him like that? He didn't want to dirty his hands—not with an audience watching. Reluctantly, he extended his hand. "Fine."
In one swift motion, Mu Lan shoved the live grenade straight into Xen Zu's open mouth and pressed the pin into his palm.
Xen Zu froze in shock. He looked down at the pin in his hand, then tried to spit out the grenade—but Mu Lan locked his hands behind Xen Zu's head, clamping his jaw shut with iron grip.
Xen Zu struggled, but it was useless.
Nine.
"DIE IN HELL, XEN ZU!" Mu Lan roared.
The grenade exploded.
Xen Zu's head disintegrated, scattering across the street. Shrapnel tore into Mu Lan's body, and he collapsed to the ground, bleeding slowly. But he was smiling. He'd done it. Lying there, he gazed up at the clear sky—so beautiful, clearer than he'd ever seen it.
The blast sent shockwaves through the crowd. Screams erupted.
"Terrorist attack! We're under attack! Terrorists! Police!"
Civilians scattered in panic. Guards poured out of the building—but all they found was Mu Lan lying motionless on the pavement, and beside him, Xen Zu's headless corpse. This was no accident. It was an act of terrorism.
Within minutes, the area was swarming with police and security.
Half an hour later, the news exploded.
"Prominent businessman and founder of Xen Zu Corporation, Xen Zu, killed in terrorist attack. Suspect identified as Mu Lan."
Every enemy Xen Zu had ever made rejoiced. Soon, crowds filled the streets, chanting:
"Long live Mu Lan! Long live Mu Lan! We won't forget you!"
Mu Lan had become a headline. With a single hand grenade, he'd blown off Xen Zu's head—and in the eyes of Xen Zu's countless victims, he'd become a hero.