Heber was taken aback. “I’m sorry, but ‘World of Warcraft’ is our core revenue generator. Ten million dollars is far from enough to buy the game or a stake in Blizzard.” He inwardly mocked the lawyer’s ignorance, thinking he could launch a bid against Blizzard with just ten million dollars?
The lawyer smiled. “You might have misunderstood me. We’re not here for a merger or acquisition. Instead, we’re representing a client who wants your company to develop a new ‘instance’ for ‘World of Warcraft’ within seven days. The story must follow the script provided by our client, be developed within seven days, and be updated to servers worldwide. Besides this, we don’t require any rights to the instance.”
Heber was shocked. The ten million dollar check seemed to burn his hand through the envelope. The price was too generous—ten million was enough to develop a major online game, yet the client was only asking for one instance. He couldn’t tell if this was some sort of trap.
The lawyer noticed his hesitation and sighed with a smile. “Yes, it sounds absurd. But as a law firm, we can’t refuse the demands of major clients. I received a call from an Asian client late at night. She said she wanted to be part of a ‘first kill’ honor in ‘World of Warcraft.’” He shrugged, “I don’t play games, but I looked it up in the car and learned that ‘first kills’ are considered an honor.”
“Yes, some high-difficulty instances are released, and guilds on servers compete to see who can kill the boss first. Once they achieve a first kill, they usually take a screenshot of the victory and post it online to declare their achievement, and the server immediately broadcasts this message to all players. Players worldwide will pay attention to it.”
“Sounds like the kind of competition the guys at Yale had over who would get with the prettiest girl from the law school first… an honor,” the lawyer said. “Ten million dollars for an honor, I think it’s quite a fair trade for you.”
Heber hesitated a little, “But sir, developing a new instance isn’t something that can be completed in just seven days…”
“Then I’ll add another ten million dollar check,” the lawyer, clearly unwilling to waste time, interrupted him and extended his right hand. The assistant handed over another envelope with an expressionless face.
“Twenty million dollars for an honor.” The lawyer’s voice was cold, almost tyrannical.
Silence filled the room for half a minute.
“Fine, you win. But before we sign the contract, I want to know what your script is,” Heber nodded. Twenty million dollars could buy a luxury yacht to cross the Atlantic, and it could definitely buy Blizzard’s employees seven days of overtime.
“I’ve brought the faxed document. The client wrote the script by hand,” the lawyer cleared his throat, “Fenrisulfr is a giant dragon that resides in the Eastern wilderness. It usually sleeps, but when it wakes, it flies to a castle to abduct a princess… There’s a note here: ‘Any castle will do, but please don’t make it abduct a troll princess or anything like that—it would be too ridiculous.’”
“Is your client really a loyal player of ‘World of Warcraft’?” Heber was stunned. “This doesn’t fit the ‘World of Warcraft’ universe at all! What kind of alternate world is this?”
“Please let me finish… After Fenrisulfr abducts the princess, it realizes that this beautiful girl is of a different species and can’t be its wife, so it eats her instead…”
Heber rubbed his face, taking a deep breath, trying to convince himself to endure it for the sake of twenty million dollars.
“The king is deeply saddened and posts notices looking for a brave warrior to avenge his daughter. Many young men set out on this quest… Here, Fenrisulfr has a very short temper. Whenever someone tries to disturb its sleep, it flies into a rage and destroys everything around it. So killing it is very difficult. You need a sacred artifact called ‘The Seven Deadly Sins.’ It’s a set of seven weapons, each inscribed with a different phrase that together form an ancient spell,” the lawyer took off his glasses and slowly recited, “‘The bloodline of every king shall end by the sword!’”
Heber thought for a moment. “Okay, the script may be stylistically different, but it’s doable. However, I must stress something: we can develop this instance for you, but we can’t guarantee that your client will get the ‘first kill.’ Once the instance is made public, the gates of the Dragon’s Lair will be open to every player on the server.”
“You only need to develop it as per the contract. Dragon-slaying is our business,” the lawyer said indifferently.
“Alright, I’ll go prepare the contract,” Heber stood up, hesitated a little, “But I have to be honest, your client might have a gaming addiction. It’s a problem… it needs treatment.”
The lawyer sighed lightly, “I’ve never met this client personally. The contact is merely one of their subordinates. From what I hear, they’re an irritable gamer—someone who once got furious over ‘Final Fantasy XIV’… You have no idea how hard it is to serve these rich folks. Sometimes they’re just neurotic.”
Thirty minutes later, the satisfied lawyer drove away in his Porsche, with his beautiful assistant by his side. In the backseat of the car lay a full-size replica of the “Frostmourne” greatsword, a token gift from Heber.
China, Beijing.
Old Luo discreetly wiped the sweat from his hands onto his pants, staring blankly at the table. In front of him was an open case, neatly stacked with cash, with the bank’s seals still intact. Just stepping out with that much cash late at night was inconceivable, and even more so was the location of the meeting—a small “Chengdu Snack” restaurant. But the most unbelievable thing was the girl sitting across from him. She didn’t belong in this kind of snack shop at all. Wearing a form-fitting black leather outfit that boldly displayed her curves, with her low-cut top showing a small bandeau and her slender, straight collarbones, her glossy black hair was tied high in a traditional, elegant style, and she exuded an expensive fragrance.
Her eyes had a hint of crimson at the corners, her clear black pupils stared deeply at Old Luo, and her rose-red lips opened and closed as if whispering the most intimate secrets between lovers… except she was munching on a skewer of grilled lamb kidney.
Everyone in the small shop was watching the girl eating. She had put the case of cash on the table when ordering, then pulled out a note and handed it to the waiter, “Make it extra spicy, double portion.”
“I have seven days, and I need a max-level character. His gear and skills must be top-notch, and he needs the best team. What I mean is, he needs to be the leader of a major guild. Double up on everything—top-tier priests, tanks, druids who can double as healers. His ID is ‘Lu Mingfei Ricardo.’” Mai put down the skewer and began slowly filing her nails, “Can you do it? Everyone says you’re the best in this field.” She narrowed one eye slyly at Old Luo, “Hero, stop staring at the money. It’ll all be yours anyway. Look at me.”
Old Luo, whose in-game ID was “White North,” was a blood elf paladin in the game, conquering lands and spending lavishly. Anyone who joined his guild would get a mount bought by him. Under his rule, the guild became an empire. He was the kind of guy who, while ruling in a virtual world, could lead a top-tier guild in the Chinese server “Eurydice.” The gloomy description of that place read, “It’s a mine of souls, dim and remote. They move silently through the darkness like hidden silver veins. Blood wells up from the rock, spreading into the human world, heavy as stone in the eternal night. Other than that, there’s nothing red.” Girls admired his flair, imagining him as a cold youth driving a chariot with eight horses down a long street, cracking a whip that tore off the clothes of girls who both avoided and peeked at him, leaving bright red marks on their fair skin, as he laughed wildly.