7. Welcome back to the Endless Corridor.

After stepping through the gate and leaving the abandoned house behind, Li Nuo found himself inside a train carriage.

“Reached level ten already?”

He glanced at his reflection in the window and indeed sensed something unusual about his body—his grip seemed stronger, for instance.

Yet… it still felt within human limits.

According to the system, the average strength value for an adult male is three. If minors aren’t counted as humans, the typical adult male strength should range between one and six.

Puzzled, Li Nuo took a seat, staring blankly out at the sunset.

“System, after clearing the novice village, shouldn’t you say something...?”

[You have obtained an item: Instruction Manual.]

On the blue cloth of the adjacent seat, a parchment-bound booklet slowly materialized from transparency.

“So thin?”

The manual had barely a handful of pages; the thickness of the cover was almost the same as that of the internal pages.

The moment he opened the cover, the manual suddenly disintegrated as if burned by fire, turning into tiny grains that slipped through his palm.

At the same time, a chill coursed through his body, and a flood of textual information surged into his mind.

These texts contained the rules of the Endless Corridor game, all embedded within his brain.

Without hesitation, Li Nuo began to organize the intruding information, extracting the most important parts:

Task mode.

Basic world information.

Character stats.

Of these, what interested him most was the point allocation and leveling system.

As previously explained, attribute values are automatically assigned based on the player’s physical traits in the real world.

For example, Li Nuo’s constitution was weak and untrained. Even considered a healthy normal person, his strength fell below the average physiological male standard—somewhere between a high school savior and a young pioneer.

But for a professional boxer, strength would start at least from four to six.

However, this initial attribute distribution posed another problem—some players would start with very low stats.

In other words, they were “losing at the starting line.”

To minimize this capitalist sugarcoating of inequality, equipment and skills came into play.

Take Li Nuo as an example.

By his attributes alone, he was a waste.

A few hits from any adult could easily knock him out.

But with the combined bonuses from the Red Tearstone Ring and Johnson’s Iron Staff, Li Nuo could now kill an average corporate drone with a single swing.

Each attribute is enhanced upon leveling up.

At minimum, one point is added; at most, three.

The amount isn’t random.

It depends on which attributes the player emphasizes during their leveling process—the more an attribute is used, the more points it gains.

For instance, if someone always stays hidden and plays as a jittery ambusher, their "Reaction" and "Insight" stats would increase by at least two points each during level-ups, while other attributes might only gain one point.

Yet some players have distinct personalities; perhaps they want to be a melee summoner or a barbarian scientist.

Such preferences are accommodated by granting “specialty points.”

These points boost a single attribute.

How these are obtained depends on task performance.

Efficiency depends on the method used to complete the task.

For example, to gain combat experience in reality, would you rather crush a hundred ants or throw your deskmate over your shoulder? The answer is obvious.

[Li Nuo: lv10]

[Strength: 9]

[Reaction: 13]

[Spirit: 4]

[Constitution: 6]

[Insight: 14]

[Medical: -]

“I see…”

Li Nuo studied his stats. His method of clearing the task involved observing everywhere and maneuvering around monsters, which explained the ten-point boost in “Reaction” and “Insight,” far surpassing the other attributes.

His “Spirit” barely increased, since the script, though containing horror elements, did not involve supernatural forces or magical fantasy.

“Medical,” huh.

“If I had cleared it differently—say, setting traps to incapacitate monsters, then mounting them and striking viciously in the groin—the attribute to increase most would probably be ‘Strength.’ Feels a bit like the EV system in Pokémon.”

He began searching around, intending to find something to test his current destructive power.

Just then, the system’s voice sounded:

[Player, please take your seat. A welcome message for newcomers will now be broadcast.]

Newcomers… a welcome?

Li Nuo’s face creased with unease, sensing the train’s destination might be rather unconventional.

At that moment, a small, inconspicuous square panel on the ceiling opened, and a suspended speaker dropped down.

The speaker trembled slightly.

“Hello.”

A somewhat lazy young man’s voice came through.

“First, a quick note: this is a recording, so there’s no need to ask questions—just listen.”

“I’m looking for my script… please wait.”

After a few seconds, the voice resumed.

“Back on track. By passing the newcomer screening, you’ve earned a second life. If you fail, no regrets—you just die again.”

“Next, I’ll cover some important points—please pay attention.”

“First: starting from the tenth of each month after you pass the newcomer screening, you must pay a protection fee of 3,000 gold coins. Failure to pay means elimination. So understand this—money is your father; if you want to live, you buy your life with money.”

“Second: a reminder—all tasks are based on real-world gameplay scripts but heavily modified. For example, managing a soccer team in the Mario universe. So knowing walkthroughs is useful, but don’t treat them as gospel.”

“Third: no matter how strong you become here, you remain an ordinary person in the real world. Don’t bother using your enhanced body to be a doormat.”

“Fourth: do not attempt to harm other players in reality by any means, especially malicious schemes. Otherwise, angels will be sent to eliminate you.”

“Fifth: from a certain perspective, the places you come from are games too—not ‘life is a game,’ but actual games. Don’t doubt your reality or act rashly because of it.”

“Sixth: from now on, if you die in reality, you’re dead—no second chance to respawn. Cherish your life. However, terminally ill or mentally challenged players, rest assured—from the day you pass the newcomer screening, you will become normal, even in real life.”

“Seventh: you must never mention anything related to the Endless Corridor here in the real world. What counts as related, you can figure out yourself. Avoid exploiting loopholes to form ‘organizations’ in reality—if you do, collective punishment will follow.”

“Eighth: real-world tasks exist, but you are not obligated to complete them—proceed as you can.”

“Finally, luck will be your strongest weapon.”

The voice paused for a few seconds.

“Please level up to 25 first. I will appear again then to explain the true purpose in detail. Well, that’s mostly it. How to proceed in this game—explore on your own.”

“…That should be all. Hmm… wait…”

“Who turned off the air conditioning?!”

“Uh…”

“As some Big Boss figure, I might seem unimpressive, which could reduce your sense of pressure. That’s fine—it actually increases your chance of dying. Also, how you view me or this place doesn’t matter. Only one thing matters…”

“Do what you’re supposed to do.”

“Finally, a routine announcement… cough cough…”

The voice paused again, then said:

“Welcome back to the Endless Corridor.”