Chapter 019: A Windfall
Li Lekang was well aware of his own rise to fame, for the number of fans indicated by the Scroll Spirit was steadily climbing. Unlike those virtual followers on social media, the Scroll Spirit only counted true “diehard fans”—those who genuinely admired him or displayed sincere reverence. With a bit of nurturing, these often became fervent devotees.
When this number easily surpassed a thousand, his heart was brimming with delight; even the flirtatious glances from the women around him no longer held his attention. He was utterly immersed in the euphoria of victory, basking in the spotlight. Even though he did not shower the women with flattery or concern, they only found him more intriguing, more attractive for his apparent indifference!
Women, he mused, are like cats—if you pursue them too eagerly, they grow aloof; show disinterest, and their curiosity is piqued. At this moment, women were the least of his concerns; all that mattered was his sense of achievement.
The celebration lasted deep into the night. After escorting two girls home, Li Lekang shut his door behind him and impatiently checked the Scroll Spirit’s statistics.
Current fan count: 10,441.
He had broken the ten-thousand mark!
Just days ago, he had been struggling to reach four hundred fans, dreaming of what rewards he might earn once he saved up enough transaction points. Yet, with a single television broadcast, he had leaped ahead in an instant!
He owed much to the technological age—television and the internet truly made the concept of household fame possible, and all in just a few minutes, far surpassing the fame of any ancient celebrity!
Of course, there were drawbacks. In this fragmented era, fame arrived swiftly but faded just as quickly.
Li Lekang had noticed that during the theater show’s recording, out of more than three thousand audience members, over three hundred became fans—a ten percent conversion rate.
Yet, after the television and online broadcast, only ten thousand out of ten million viewers had become fans—a mere one in a thousand.
He formed a hypothesis: perhaps the excitement and impact of digital broadcasts simply could not match the power of a live, immersive experience.
The Scroll Spirit responded: “Due to spatial distance and other limiting factors, the influence of digital transmission is diminished. Increasing the frequency of performances is recommended to reinforce the effect.”
That made sense.
It was like music—hear a great song on TV, and you may not remember the singer; but experience it live at a concert or festival, and it leaves a lasting impression!
Digital distribution offered broad reach and vast audiences, but with low conversion rates. Success was not achieved in a single stroke. Yet, with repeated performances, the effect could be compounded; after all, affection grows over time.
Having understood the reason, Li Lekang checked his transaction points.
Current transaction points: 16,620.
He had heard of transaction points before—an innovation of Hell, keeping pace with the times.
The Scroll Spirit offered an official explanation: transaction points were a currency issued with the backing of the Demon Kings and scientifically regulated, replacing the outdated barter system of trading souls and other items. This effectively cracked down on theft and fraud, improving the efficiency of Hell’s financial circulation.
Transaction points could be exchanged for any goods in Hell, such as Fallen Souls, which were once used as currency but had become obsolete due to their inconvenience in handling and verification. Refusing payment in transaction points was a crime, and informants were rewarded.
Li Lekang read through this flowery introduction, thinking it was likely the handiwork of some clever new soul in Hell.
Regardless, transaction points were valuable. The Level 1 Spellbook he had been coveting cost only ten thousand points.
He had once spent ages scraping together just over six thousand points, and now he’d earned ten thousand in a single day!
With such momentum, he could purchase one a day—a quick flick of his hand and he did not hesitate.
The Scroll Spirit automatically deducted ten thousand points, and the contents of the Level 1 Spellbook flooded into his mind. Compared to a Level 0 apprentice, he had finally crossed the threshold into the ranks of true magicians.
In truth, “magic” had no fixed name—whether called superpowers, sorcery, demonology, or any other worldly title, it made little difference. What mattered was that Li Lekang had gained this knowledge and could wield it.
As for its applications, magic could be broadly classified: Defensive, Enchantment, Divination, Illusion, Necromancy, and so on.
At Level 1, the potency of his spells increased dramatically—the duration of Levitation extended, the weight of objects he could move increased, and his telekinesis allowed him to manipulate objects weighing dozens of kilograms from a distance.
He learned new spells as well—such as the Doppelganger, which created a perfectly proportioned mirror image to dodge attacks; Invisibility, granting short-term full or partial concealment; and more.
He now possessed offensive means, too.
By channeling telekinesis into attack, he could hurl a pebble with the force of a handgun bullet, often catching foes unawares.
He could unleash force field waves to push enemies back or conjure protective barriers that absorbed or lessened incoming harm.
In many respects, he now possessed traits beyond that of ordinary humans. Yet, he was far from invincible—sniper bullets still posed a very real threat, and he dared not act recklessly.
To become even stronger, he would need to study Level 2 magic. The Level 2 Spellbook was priced at one million transaction points—at his current earning rate, he could accumulate that in less than a hundred days.
By the time he mastered Level 1 spells, Level 2 would be within reach!
With genuine mastery of magic, his spells grew in strength—and so did their consumption of magical energy.
Simply put, his “mana bar” burned faster!
Where once his body could slowly replenish magic, now it might not keep up.
Thus, another key item in the transaction store—Fallen Souls—would become a staple of his inventory.
Fallen Souls could be simply understood as “mana potions,” available in ordinary, good, and supreme qualities, priced at one thousand, ten thousand, and one hundred thousand points, respectively.
The store offered other items—Soul Summoning Rings, Infernal Alarm Clocks, Hell Recall Scrolls, and so on—but Li Lekang felt most of these underworld trinkets were unnecessary for him.
It was Fallen Souls that mattered most. Though he still thought of himself as human, in truth, he no longer was, nor could he ever be again.
He was a ranger of Hell, a magician of demons, and yet could move among mortals with all the traits of a man. He needed to eat, yes, but also to replenish with Fallen Souls.
The advantage was that, as a hybrid, his appetite was modest. At present, a single ordinary Fallen Soul per day was enough; he could even go without, though his magic would not be fully charged.
Given his current daily intake of ten thousand points, consuming one a day was a trifling expense—he could nibble half, toss the rest, and call it indulgence!
Moreover, his fan count was still rising; future performances and video updates would only bring more admirers.
The most satisfying part: he had no competition here!
Once, those who vied for faith had to fight and kill for it. Now, this place had been forgotten; billions lived as they pleased—either continuing in their old beliefs or turning to new, more immediate thrills.
In the twenty-first century, few still clung devoutly to Christ and the old faiths. By contrast, today’s youth chased after celebrities with a fervor greater than their love for their own parents!