Chapter 280: This Weapon Was Hidden Way Too Deep!
Chapter 280: This Weapon Was Hidden Way Too Deep!
“When’s the new video coming out? I can’t wait any longer, ahhh—”
“Stop rushing him already! He’s working on it! Has Old Qiao ever lied to you?”
“‘Working on it, working on it’—you’ve been saying that for days! Working on my ass! I bet Old Qiao hasn’t even beaten the game yet.”
“Fake fan detected. Old Qiao was invited by the devs ages ago to test the game. He’s already beaten it. He just can’t talk about the content yet because of an NDA.”
“Ugh, don’t even mention this game, I’ve been stuck on the Yellow Springs Road for four days straight.”
“Stuck on the Yellow Springs Road? Amateur. I’m stuck on Granny Meng.”
“Granny Meng’s not that bad if you play it safe. It’s the Judge that teaches you real despair. That boss made me question my entire existence.”
The fans were all passionately discussing gameplay experiences and sharing tips.
Compared to other online communities, Qiao Liang’s fan group was surprisingly peaceful—probably because most of his fans were hardcore gamers. They had more patience and less salt than the average casual player.
“Sigh, I guess this game just isn’t made for casuals. Watching you guys play makes me so jealous.”
“It’s not that bad, it depends on how you play. You can still have fun with it even if you suck. I’m a total scrub, so I just ignore all the monsters and sprint to activate the Buddha statues to see how far I can get.”
“Wait, you’re already thinking about speedrunning before even beating it once?”
“It’s not a speedrun! I’m just having fun, okay? I can’t even kill the basic mobs, lol.”
Some players had taken to inventing bizarre, self-amusing ways to play.
Qiao Liang chimed into the chat:
“If you guys notice any interesting story details while playing, let me know! I might include them in my upcoming video.”
As a seasoned content creator, Qiao Liang firmly believed in the power of the crowd.
There was so much cool stuff hidden in the game that one person could never find it all—but a bunch of curious, chaotic players? They could uncover everything.
“Spotted Old Qiao!”
“Old Qiao’s crowdsourcing his video again?”
“You’re asking the wrong crowd, man. We’re still getting stomped by the graveyard mobs—who’s got time to analyze the story?”
“Wait, isn’t there, like, an official novel or something for this game? You could just read that.”
Old Qiao froze.
Official novel?
Why hadn’t he heard about this?
He quickly typed back:
“Official novel? You sure it’s not fanfic?”
One of the members replied almost instantly:
“Pretty sure it’s official. Go to this site—www.xxx.com.”
“You know TPDb, right? It’s supposedly an internal Tenda rating site. There’s a section called Terminal Chinese Web, and right on the front page they’ve got a novel called Turn Back Before It’s Too Late. It should be official.”
Qiao Liang couldn’t help but whistle in surprise.
Well, damn—trust the goofy netizens to dig up gold like this.
He clicked the link right away, and sure enough—there it was.
Right on the homepage, front and center, was Turn Back Before It’s Too Late.
He opened it, skimmed through a few pages, and was instantly stunned—the content matched the game almost perfectly. The old monk from the beginner village, the deranged scholar… all of them appeared in the text.
The structure was scattered and fragmented; calling it a novel was generous. It was more like a lore compendium or story setting collection than an actual narrative.
It wasn’t an easy read—the writing was clunky, and the story jumped around a lot—but Qiao Liang couldn’t care less.
Because this confirmed it: this was 100% the official novel of Turn Back Before It’s Too Late!
Which meant that all those mysterious lore hints he’d been puzzling over could now be verified for real.
“Thanks, bro—you really saved my life here!”
Qiao Liang sent a “fist salute” emoji in the group chat, then immediately closed the window and dove headfirst into reading Turn Back Before It’s Too Late’s official novel.
The first chapter had been published back in July, and the earliest reader comment was from late July as well.
That all but confirmed to Qiao Liang that this had to be an official tie-in.
After all, in July the game itself hadn’t even been in development for very long.
What were the odds that some random web novelist just happened to come up with the exact same concept and characters by coincidence? Impossible.
It had to be written by someone inside Tenda.
Five minutes later, Qiao Liang’s brows were furrowed tighter and tighter—not because the writing was bad, but because the comments section was downright disgusting.
The amount of vitriol was staggering, especially under the first chapter.
By the second and third chapters, things got a little better—probably because all the readers who couldn’t stand it had already left.
“What kind of garbage is this?”
“The author’s just self-indulging at this point. Poison.”
“How’s this trash still on the homepage? Nepotism?”
“Incoherent nonsense. Negative stars.”
“No wonder this site’s dead—if this is what they’re promoting, who’d wanna read here?”
Typical knee-jerk internet hate.
Obviously, these comments had been written before the game’s release, by readers who were judging it as a normal web novel.
Naturally, they couldn’t appreciate what it actually was.
But Qiao Liang, on the other hand, was utterly captivated.
To him, the content of this “novel” was priceless.
Some parts confirmed his earlier theories; others disproved them; still others gave him entirely new clues about where to look in the game for hidden details.
“This is another masterpiece that got completely buried…”
He muttered to himself.
“Yeah, it’s not a good story by itself—as a web novel, it fails miserably—but when you read it alongside the game, it becomes something else entirely.”
Then he frowned slightly.
“Wait, is this website also something President Pei made?”
“Strange… why does President Pei always play this same trick? Always ‘under-promise, over-deliver.’ Is it some kind of personal kink?”
“Or maybe he likes that rollercoaster feeling—watching his games and platforms look like they’re tanking, then swooping in to turn things around miraculously?”
“I don’t get it.”
“Guess that’s just what makes a business genius.”
The novel was surprisingly long, and the story fragments were scattered all over the place. Many of the scenarios described didn’t even make it into the actual game.
Qiao Liang guessed it must’ve been a collaborative effort—maybe a whole writing team—with the game only using a small portion of the lore while leaving the rest as optional easter eggs or minor flavor text. Some parts might not have been implemented at all.
Then something caught his eye.
“Weird… this old monk character actually has a lot of screen time.”
In the source material, the old monk seemed like a significant figure.
From what Qiao Liang understood, the game’s world had no living Buddhas, only broken Buddha statues, symbolizing the end of the Dharma era.
President Pei probably just wanted to weave some Buddhist imagery and traditional culture into the game’s themes—and aside from those broken statues serving as save points, the only real Buddhist figure was the old monk in the ruined temple outside the village.
In the game, that monk was pathetically weak—you kill him, grab his loot, and move on. That was it.
But in the official novel, the monk had a tragic backstory and was portrayed as a powerful, deranged figure—practically a mini-boss.
Qiao Liang scratched his head, puzzled.
“Did the design team screw up? Why doesn’t this match the novel?”
“Actually, yeah… if they’d made him an elite enemy, it would’ve fit way better.”
“The old monk had his own model made—though emaciated, he’s bulkier than the regular mobs, his attack animations were custom-made, and the model was detailed…”
“Yet they made him into such a weak little mob—that doesn’t make sense.”
Qiao Liang logged back into the game. This was a new account he’d created after the release; he’d already reached the second playthrough and was now near the town.
He found the old monk, saved the game, and began poking at him like crazy.
He killed him with different skills.
Tried to lure him out of the ruined temple.
Tanked his attack till his character died on purpose.
But no matter what he tried, no special event triggered.
“Could it be that you can’t kill this old monk? Or you need to obtain some special precondition item somewhere first?”
Qiao Liang fell into deep puzzlement.
After a long string of attempts with no clue, he decided to call in the crowd and have players from the group test it.
“Guys, can you check whether the old monk in the ruined temple triggers any hidden event? Try everything—something feels off.”
He didn’t have high hopes; it was a casual question.
“Old monk? Killed him already.”
“I killed him too—so fragile, one hit and gone.”
“I haven’t gotten that far…”
“I can try, but I might not beat him… I just ran past, no items, no proper weapon…”
The last poster sounded familiar to Qiao Liang.
It was the player who earlier said they were going to not kill a certain mob and instead sprint to see how far they could get. Qiao Liang didn’t think much of it—maybe the official novel had an inconsistency, or maybe the devs adjusted balance and turned an intended elite into a disposable mob.
A few minutes later.
“Old Qiao! Old Qiao, you gotta see this! What is this weapon!?”
“[image]”
“[image]”
“[image]”
Probably excited, the player sent three pictures at once.
Qiao Liang froze and opened the first picture.
A golden staff—a chan zhang (Zen staff)!
He felt bewildered. He’d seen and used the staff before; it wasn’t very good—low attack, awkward to use.
But the staff that the old monk dropped in the game was non-glowing. This one shone with a golden light, slung across the back with swagger, clearly different from ordinary weapons.
The next two images showed the weapon’s name and description.
Pudu (Salvation).
“Buddha says: ‘Seeing the five aggregates as empty, deliver all suffering and hardship.’”
Qiao Liang was stunned, then ecstatic.
There really was a hidden event?!
He quickly typed: “How do you trigger this?”
The player in the group: “I’m not totally sure! I just happened to run over and activate the nearby Buddha statue, then came back to check. I had no decent gear and couldn’t beat the old monk—he kept chasing and killing me every time.”
“After dying a few times, I found the old monk became an NPC! I talked to him, he babbled on for a while, then gave me this weapon.”
“Holy crap this weapon is insane!”
You could tell the player was over the moon.
Qiao Liang was even more baffled. “Why? It doesn’t work for me. I died a bunch of times too—nothing triggered. Could it be because I’m on my second playthrough, so the hidden event won’t trigger?”
Someone in the group: “Possible.”
Qiao Liang instantly lost his composure.
Big news! There was actually a magical hidden weapon in the game?
He immediately created a new save and planned to die on purpose in a first-playthrough run.
Recalling the full process of how the weapon was obtained, Qiao Liang couldn’t help but sigh—this was hidden way too well, as if the designers intentionally buried it and didn’t want players to find it.
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