Chapter 3 Entering the Crew

This phone had accompanied Mo Fei through countless moments, both big and small. Most crucial was the browser’s history—before changing phones, that had to be destroyed. Mo Fei was pained by the state of his old companion, but at least it still worked, even if half the screen was ruined. It was hardly a big deal, he thought with a sigh.

He tried operating it; thankfully, adding a friend posed no problem. The young officer’s surname was Xu, so Mo Fei saved him as “Officer Xiao Xu.”

Seeing Mo Fei’s shattered phone, Officer Xiao Xu was a bit surprised. “It still works when it’s like this?”

Mo Fei stroked his old friend affectionately. “You don’t understand. This bond began in humble times, weathering storms together. How could I abandon it just because it’s scarred?”

Officer Xiao Xu: …

He could have spun such a poetic excuse for not having money to change phones. If he hadn’t looked into Mo Fei’s situation when he came to the station a few days ago, he might have believed him.

After adding the friend, and with the young woman’s repeated thanks, Mo Fei hurried to the film set. This time, he boldly took a cab. He was poor, but some expenses couldn’t be skimped on. For instance, after being delayed on the road, if he didn’t take a cab, he’d be late.

The taxi driver was a middle-aged man who looked honest enough. He glanced at Mo Fei through the rearview mirror several times. It wasn’t yet noon, and Mo Fei still radiated the aura of a saint—like no matter what they did, forgiveness would be granted.

A sly thought flickered in the driver’s mind; the meter began to jump at 1.5 times the normal speed.

Mo Fei glanced at it, poked his phone forcefully, opened the newly added Officer Xiao Xu’s chat, and sent a voice message: “Officer Xu, when I come for my statement this afternoon, can I also report price gouging?”

The driver’s eyelid twitched.

Soon, Officer Xiao Xu replied with a voice message, obvious amusement in his tone: “Of course you can. This week, you’re about to fulfill our station’s quarterly quota. If you want to expand your business at the commerce bureau, I’ll be the first to lead the way.”

After listening, Mo Fei watched as the meter’s pace dropped to 0.8.

It seemed the driver had calmed down.

Mo Fei was satisfied.

As for Officer Xiao Xu’s talk of expanding business? Young officers loved to joke—after noon, these little scams wouldn’t be an issue.

With this thought, Mo Fei’s mood soared.

By noon, he arrived at Director Wang’s set.

Director Wang was a plump, middle-aged man who had carved a path through chaos with commercial films in his youth. His films might not be critical darlings, but they always filled seats. Getting even a cameo in his movies was like ascending to the heavens for Mo Fei.

This time, Director Wang was shooting a suspenseful battle royale movie: a group of young people explore an abandoned village, encounter a deranged killer, who slaughters everyone until only the heroine remains. She then discovers the killer is the hero, and the two perish together.

The plot wasn’t complex. By Wang’s methods, it was a standard fast-food film—thrilling, then over.

Mo Fei assessed that the film would earn at the box office, but the ratings would likely be low. That had become Director Wang’s style.

The most critical role was the male lead: gentle and reliable in the beginning, then descending into madness when his true identity as the killer is revealed.

Jiang Shaoyu had promised Mo Fei the fifth male role—a character in the main team, handsome and aloof, not much dialogue or screen time, but the best-looking member. It wasn’t important, but had lines and presence—a perfect role for settling favors.

Upon arrival, Mo Fei went around to pay his respects.

Director Wang took one look at his face and declared him in, no audition needed. The role was simply a pretty face; Mo Fei only had to stand there.

Aloof male idol—no expression or lines necessary, as long as the face was right.

“It’s just—” Director Wang hesitated, searching for words, “your aura… can you tone down the compassion?”

“Otherwise people will think the team has a monk in secular robes.”

Mo Fei checked the time; an hour and a half until his card changed.

He gave an OK sign. “Rest assured, Director. I’ll adjust for the shoot.”

With that assurance, Director Wang let it go.

His crew always worked fast—commercial films demanded speed.

Quick shoots, quick edits, quick release, quick returns, and quick oblivion.

The morning’s preparations were done. Mo Fei grabbed a boxed lunch, received his script, and waited in a corner for the afternoon shoot.

Eating oily pork and peppers, he searched the script for his lines to memorize.

“Mm.”

“Really?”

“No way?”

“Run!”

“It’s you?!”

That was it.

Mo Fei set down his lunchbox, eyes empty.

No wonder Director Wang skipped auditions. His character’s lines, throughout the film, didn’t even match one of the heroine’s speeches. A mute with dubbed voice would suffice.

He sighed, tossed the disposable lunchbox, and waited for noon.

As the hour struck, Mo Fei watched as the [Buddhist Disciple] card faded and disappeared.

He barely had time to smile before a jet-black light gathered—[Ripper].

[Identity: Ripper
Active: Knife Mastery (All knives, big or small, are your best companions. Fight alongside them!)
Anatomy Mastery (These days, you can’t expect to kill with one strike without some anatomical knowledge~)
Passive: Outlaw (Only those who have stabbed a few people can inspire such awe. Enjoy the frightened gazes.)
At Large (Does a fugitive really exist? Presence diminishes when standing in the shadows.)
Retained Skill: Moth to Flame.]

Mo Fei read this and nearly fainted.

[Ripper] was one thing; the skills seemed reasonable together. But why was [Moth to Flame] the retained skill from [Buddhist Disciple]?

He wasn’t even hoping for [Wrathful Vajra], or [All Beings Equal]. Even [Buddhist Mastery] would have done!

Why [Moth to Flame]?

One-sixth odds, and he was so unlucky!

A heavy resentment emanated from Mo Fei.

A staff member, already calling actors to gather with a loudspeaker, stuttered when he saw Mo Fei.

“Uh—call the police!!”