Charles Griffin didn’t pay it any mind. When Henry Lincoln appeared, he said, “Your task for the two of you has arrived.”

Chapter Six: Old Game

“Spies and chefs have one thing in common.” Uncle Sam raised two fingers on his right hand; his index finger was clearly shorter than the middle finger, the difference striking. For him, this wasn’t a number, but an emphatic gesture, with a hint of intimidation. He probably felt that instead of hiding his disability, it was better to use it to scare his students a little.

“No matter what ingredients are laid out on the table, a chef always has to make a few cuts—chunks, slices, cubes, shreds… At the very least, a few slashes, even with the finest steak, you have to trim the edges and remove the membrane. It’s the same for spies. When you get your hands on information, the first thing you do is ‘cut’ it into several pieces, just in case.”

Charles Griffin was a faithful executor of this rule, his cuts even more ruthless, leaving things unrecognizable.

“You two will start playing a game today. Reach level ninety-nine within seven days. No other requirements for now. Have fun. I’ve brought a microcomputer, which you can both use at the same time.”

The microcomputer was a small rectangular box, piled on the sofa with a few peripheral devices. It looked very old.

Charles Griffin stood up and suddenly smiled. “I forgot to mention, the game is called ‘Mother Planet Territory.’ You’ve probably heard of it—maybe even played it as kids.”

“That’s a really old game.” Samuel Lincoln vaguely remembered it.

Charles Griffin walked out. “Stick with it—it’s actually pretty interesting.”

“And then?”

“Wait for my next order.” Charles Griffin had already put away his smile, but he deliberately nodded at Henry Lincoln. Though they were both team members, his attitude toward them was completely different.

Samuel Lincoln didn’t care about this, nor did he dare ask more about the game, but there was one thing he had to clarify. “Um… shouldn’t we have some kind of onboarding procedure or something?”

“No rush, we’ll talk about it later. As long as you trust me, you’ll be fine.”

Charles Griffin walked out. Samuel Lincoln kept signaling with his eyes, hoping Henry Lincoln would say something. Getting no response, he had to muster his own courage and shout, “We’re about to run out of money for food…”

Charles Griffin was already down the stairs.

“We really don’t have any money. Are we supposed to eat convenience meals every day from now on?” Samuel Lincoln couldn’t hide his dissatisfaction.

The two closed the door and looked at the stuff on the sofa. Samuel Lincoln was baffled. “He really wants us to play a game? What kind of task is this?”

Henry Lincoln sat down, put on his glasses, placed the control panel on his lap, and turned on the microcomputer. He asked, “What kind of game is this?”

Samuel Lincoln had no choice but to sit on the other side. “It’s a pretty ordinary game. The highest level is ninety-nine. Each time you level up, you can recruit one more subordinate. Subordinates are either farmers or warriors. Then you lead your warriors to fight monsters, and you can join guilds and stuff. It’s a pretty boring game. The only thing special about it is how long it’s lasted. They say it was developed decades ago—the company’s long gone, but the game is still around.”

It didn’t sound like anything special, but since the task was assigned by Charles Griffin, it had to be taken seriously. Samuel Lincoln might complain, but only with his mouth.

The game was already installed on the microcomputer and could run for multiple users at once. Henry Lincoln had never played it, so Samuel Lincoln taught him. It wasn’t hard, and a new account was quickly created.

Samuel Lincoln’s old account was still there. “Should we use our real identities?”

“If Old Qian didn’t say otherwise, then there’s no need to hide.” Henry Lincoln had already entered the game and was spacing out, not sure what to do.

“Wait, I’ll invite you. Set up your territory near mine, so we can help each other.”

The game had a simple tutorial, and with Samuel Lincoln’s guidance, Henry Lincoln got the general idea.

Each time a new account was created, a small piece of land was added in the game. You could choose a random location or accept an invitation to be adjacent to someone else. Each player could have up to eight neighbors—four assigned randomly by the system, and four you could invite yourself.

The only neighbor Samuel Lincoln had invited was Henry Lincoln. He said he’d invited others before, but since he hadn’t logged in for so long, the neighbors had been “swallowed” by the system. He only managed to keep this little territory by checking in occasionally.

Like many players, Samuel Lincoln had given himself an arrogant in-game name: “Farm Boy Unites the World.” He said he’d originally wanted just “Unites the World,” but it was already taken, so he had to add a four-character prefix.

“Maximum of eight characters. You can let the system pick for you.”

Henry Lincoln let the system choose and got a weird name: “Ben Yu Hua Shi Tong Er Shi.” The system kindly reminded him that he had one chance to change his name.

The game began, showing a vast grassland. Not far away was a forest, and farther off, clusters of wooden forts marked the neighbors’ territories. The system showed that Henry Lincoln could still invite three more neighbors.

The player’s avatar was a warrior, wearing shabby leather armor and holding a sword and shield. Opposite him stood a dazed-looking character, waiting for orders.

The first subordinate could only be a farmer, with options like logging, farming, mining, construction, and more. The player could choose, or let the system assign it.