Chapter 005: The Times Have Changed

During this period, the Scroll Spirit finally perfected its understanding of the world.

At its core, this world and the game shared the same universe. In the game, it was the ancient era, when gods and demons ruled all life. The conflict between the two realms was fierce, leading to endless wars.

The human world was seen by both sides as a battleground for faith, and the aftermath of their battles still lingered today—though now, it resembled the desolation after a gold rush. As the main theaters of war shifted to other planes, these lands were ultimately abandoned.

For thousands of years, humanity had thus been able to thrive, build civilizations, and step into the age of technology. The legends of old had evolved into myriad myths, with some even lost forever to time.

As the battlefields expanded into other planes, it became nearly impossible for beings from the two realms to return to Earth. Yet some relics of their presence still operated, which was why the Scroll Spirit had sounded its warning at first.

Now it seemed it had all been a false alarm. The battles had been fought, the faiths spread. Their missions were completed long ago. It was now the technological age, under the dominion of humanity.

It wasn’t so different from Li Lekang’s previous life: internet plus intelligence drove the age of information, with both strivers and those content to amuse themselves to death.

Therefore, Li Lekang was likely the last magician on Earth.

The ancient lines of inheritance had been broken. Humanity now climbed the ladder of technology, the opposite path altogether. Even those born with extraordinary talents, lacking guidance, could only develop in a wild, untamed fashion—like humans watching apes use tools.

When the descendants of berserkers could only perform feats of strength with cars, rather than hacking ogres with axes, the ancient legacies had long since become unrecognizable.

Li Lekang, however, considered this a blessing. He might never find a fellow magician, but he didn’t have to worry about being too ostentatious and attracting the attention of other supernaturals. After all, he already stood at the top of the pyramid.

Still, humanity in the technological era was not to be underestimated. If Li Lekang acted too magically, he could just as easily draw scrutiny. Maybe not dissection and study, but constant surveillance was a certainty.

So, until his wings were fully grown, he’d have to keep a low profile.

The Scroll Spirit brought him more good news: “For some unknown reason, my transmission channel for trading with Hell still exists and functions normally.”

As a demon mage in the game, he could trade soul stones with Hell for all sorts of things—resources, equipment, pets, and even the much-loved card draw.

But the Scroll Spirit warned him: “Hell has changed. The demon kings have enacted unified systems and more comprehensive laws—even our Scroll Spirit clan must keep up with the times.”

“Oh? What’s changed?”

“You can check the update log yourself.”

A parchment scroll unfurled in Li Lekang’s mind.

The Scroll Spirit, as its name suggested, was a sentient parchment scroll.

It was the protagonist’s special magical pet in the game, or you could call it an in-game plugin.

It used to display stats like strength and agility, but all that was gone now.

Gold coins and soul stones had vanished as well.

In their place were new terms: “Followers” and “Transaction Points.”

The appearance of such a modern term as “Followers” filled Li Lekang with suspicion: “Has Hell adopted the internet influencer economy?”

The Scroll Spirit replied: “Humanity is evolving, and so is Hell. With more programmers joining us, they’ve worked overtime to redesign the UI for our Scroll Spirit clan, making it more streamlined and beautiful. The units of trade in Hell have also been modernized: ‘Followers’ and ‘Transaction Points’ now replace the cumbersome ‘quality and color of fallen souls’ and other such terms…”

After this lengthy introduction, Li Lekang’s expression grew odd.

He actually felt a bit sorry for the programmers—even in Hell, they were stuck working overtime?

But the Scroll Spirit disagreed: “Technical professionals are scarce and highly valued in Hell. They receive generous pay and benefits. Compared to demons who only know how to fight and kill, these talents are in high demand for plane expansion. Don’t judge them by the standards of those bloodsuckers in the mortal world.”

Ha! Hell mocking the human world—Li Lekang could only exclaim, what a world! The times had truly changed.

Focusing on the present, Li Lekang realized that trading with Hell was no longer a matter of simple barter. Now it required the legal currency—Transaction Points.

Currently, Li Lekang was a level 0 magician, an apprentice able to perform a few tricks and simple attacks. To advance, he needed to buy books and learn.

According to the game’s design, spells ranged from level 1 to 9. With just ten thousand Transaction Points, he could buy a level 1 spellbook and enhance his abilities.

Acquiring Transaction Points was simple.

They were supplied by loyal followers, each able to provide one to three points. The Scroll Spirit, ever trendy, called these supporters “diehard fans.”

For example, a thousand diehard fans could generate one to three thousand Transaction Points per day, depending on the depth of their devotion and how fanatical they were!

But not all idols succeeded. Some lost their following halfway—exposed, ruined, or discovered by the Church, then burned at the stake… In those cases, all was lost.

The times had changed; Hell’s operations could no longer be the crude affairs of the past. If you tried the old trick of drawing a circle in the crowd and shouting, “Devil, pay up!” you’d be taken for a lunatic and sent to the asylum.

Methods, too, had to keep pace with the era.

Li Lekang had no trouble understanding all this.

At present, he had five diehard fans.

Transaction Points hadn’t been settled yet, so his balance was zero.

He guessed these five fans were drawn in by his magic performances at the bar.

He couldn’t help but regret not being a pop or film star. In today’s entertainment climate, a single post could bring in millions of rabid fans—instant success!

He considered what he could do: persuasive stand-up comedy? He lacked the gift of gab and had no interest in talking to strangers.

A mesmerizing appearance? He wasn’t bad-looking, but in America, an East Asian face wasn’t the mainstream beauty ideal. Stardom was unlikely.

So he turned, once again, to what had recently worked for him—being a magician.

If he became a world-famous magician, the crowds at his shows would rival those at a pop star’s concert.

Stage magic relied on sleight of hand, trickery, and clever devices—to win the audience’s awe with cunning. But magicians’ tricks could always be unraveled, and once the secret was out, the interest faded. With real magic, however, no ordinary eye could ever penetrate the illusion!

Such supernatural abilities, cloaked under the guise of magic performance, offered far greater protection than brazenly casting spells in public—an act that would soon land him in a lab for research.

Suddenly, Li Lekang realized that the path of the magician was his destined avenue to glory—a starlit road illuminated just for him. Want to make money in the mortal world? Rely on it. Want to earn points in the underworld? Rely on it, too.

As long as he became a household name and strode down the magician’s star-studded path, the future would take care of itself!

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