Oasis Pursuit: Disguise and Flight
At the far end of the old district, a player wandered through the night until finally emerging from the silent quarters. Strolling along a bustling thoroughfare, he noted the markedly greater prosperity here—the architecture taller, the buildings densely clustered. Despite the late hour, numerous NPCs remained active. Spotting a snack stall, he sauntered over, intent on filling his stomach before the inevitable peril descended.
Having pilfered a wallet, he ordered a lavish array of grilled delicacies.
While waiting, hands plunged into his pockets, his gaze flickered cautiously from side to side. The eerie tranquility of this quest left him puzzled—what kind of instance was this, so oddly serene and secure?
At the tip of the snack street stood a building crowned with an electronic billboard, seemingly broadcasting some announcement. Stretching his neck, he glimpsed an image displayed upon it.
Suddenly, among those emerging from the snack street's end, someone shouted out, pointing accusingly toward him. More bystanders followed suit, casting him ugly, wary glances thick with disdain. Unease and suspicion gripped him as he swiftly turned and fled.
"Illegal immigrant!"
Sirens blared in the distance, yet Eric, sequestered in the old district, remained oblivious—she had already drifted into slumber.
At dawn's first light, Eric awoke. Descending below, she leaned against the heavy door, straining to catch the sounds outside.
Nearby residents began their daily routines, their chatter drifting in continuously.
"…I must buy an old hen…"
"…Vegetable prices have surged again today…"
"The wanted list has been updated—have you seen it? I heard there's one here too!"
"Oh, speaking of which, my sister called me this morning—she said my niece caught an illegal immigrant last night, provided clues to the search bureau, and earned a twenty-thousand bonus!"
"Wow, twenty thousand! Your niece is truly lucky!"
"Ha! My sister says she's going to treat me to a meal. I must buy some fruit to bring over."
"Fruits are so precious now…"
As the conversation faded away, Eric fixated on the talk of the wanted list, intuiting it was the linchpin of this quest.
From time to time, passersby in front of the old house discussed the wanted notices with avid interest, their eyes greedily gleaming at the mention of rewards. According to their gossip, the NPCs issued clues via these wanted lists, offering substantial bounties for information on the smugglers. This had become the favored means for earning extra income.
"Last night, twenty more people suddenly appeared…" Eric murmured, suspecting they referred to players.
It seemed, in this quest's design, that players were the criminals on the wanted list.
The secret to survival? Evading not only the pursuit bureau's manhunters—but also the bounty-hungry populace.
This was her conjecture—only by testing would she know the truth.
Eric resolved to craft a disguise.
She chose to masquerade as a man.
The transformation proved uncomplicated. She tore fabric strips to bind her chest, donned a black male tracksuit and matching trousers, decisively shaved her head bare, and darkened her eyebrows with a black pen, thickening and sharpening their shape. She adjusted the tone of her skin with ink to blend seamlessly.
Peering into the small mirror, she scarcely recognized the reflection.
Seizing a moment when no one was watching, Eric slipped quietly out of the old house, then strode boldly into the streets.
No one paid her the slightest heed. At last, she had emerged from the old district. Outside, the bustling thoroughfare was ablaze with neon lights; towering skyscrapers displayed rotating screens announcing the latest additions to the wanted lists—each featuring not only names but vivid photographs.
Eric leaned against a lamppost, sipping a bottle of milk tea, appearing languid as she observed the display. When her own image flickered onto the screen—a high-definition portrait captured upon entry—she betrayed no outward reaction.
Indeed, the crux of this crisis lay within the wanted list. Though calm, a shiver ran through her.
Fortunate she had not dashed hastily from the alley the previous night, ensuring no NPC had witnessed her before she donned her disguise.
Examining her darkened complexion, Eric exhaled with relief.
Noticing passersby continually glance upward at the updated list, some even retrieving images via their phones from official sources, Eric discarded her empty bottle into a bin and melted into the crowd naturally.
Where to next?
First, Eric must unravel the nature of the wanted list and the pursuit bureau itself.
As she slipped through the crowd with nimble grace, Eric deftly lifted an NPC's wallet. She extracted all the cash, discarded the wallet inside a supermarket to erase all traces, then sought refuge in an internet café, renting a private booth to go online.
"Wanted List…" she typed, and the page quickly transformed, unveiling a wealth of illustrated and detailed information.
The quest's lore unfolded: this world had once been ravaged by a virus, prompting survivors to gather in a sanctuary known as the Oasis. Beyond its borders lay a wasteland corrupted by lingering infection; all creatures within were tainted and shunned by the Oasis. Yet these wasteland survivors often attempted covert incursions, posing grave threats to the Oasis. Thus, the Pursuit Bureau issued wanted lists, constantly updated with names of stowaways and offered generous rewards to the populace for their capture.
This was the official narrative.
The quest's premise was intriguingly coherent. Eric scanned the retrieved data with rapid comprehension, then scoured further sources for more intelligence.
Armed with clarity, Eric discerned two paths before her: one led to a research facility—stowaways were rumored to infiltrate chiefly to pilfer Oasis research, as the virus persisted through generations in wastelanders, and the laboratory represented their sole hope for cure.
The other path led from the Oasis outward to a wasteland base.
She resolved to explore both options—first the research center, resorting to the second if necessary, supposing the portal connecting them lay between these destinations.
Having made her choice, Eric departed the internet café with purposeful swiftness.
Her disguise was impeccable, arousing no suspicion during her journey.
She spotted a Pursuit Bureau vehicle and detoured subtly to avoid it. Suddenly, strange glances fixed upon her from both sides. Sensing the hostile gazes of passerby NPCs, Eric reacted instantly, veering into a secluded alleyway.
"The wanted list just updated—that looks like her!"
"I'll chase her—call the cops! The Pursuit Bureau car just passed by. We split the bounty!"
Safely tucked away, Eric sprang atop a trash bin, scaled a wall, and vaulted over to the far side, then dashed onward, slipping through a window of a nearby home where she swiftly knocked out the woman cleaning inside.
She locked the front door from within, then sank to the floor to catch her breath.
Sirens echoed nearby—the Pursuit Bureau vehicles had returned from patrol!
"What is happening…" Eric's mind reeled, utterly baffled. She glanced toward the living room television and turned it on.
"…the wanted list has been updated. Eighteen stowaways remain at large within the Oasis. Updated photos and information as follows… Chen, Eric… Songyuan…"
She fixed her eyes on the screen where a photo accompanied the description: "Eric, Age 19, Female, Height 167cm, Weight 46kg"—unmistakably her disguised self! Horror flooded her features.
She had already been discovered!
No—wait.
Calming herself, Eric pondered why the Pursuit Bureau had not apprehended her outright but only broadcast her latest data. It must be a dungeon mechanism. Checking the time, approximately twelve hours had passed since her entry; apparently, the quest updated player profiles every twelve hours.
She had underestimated the difficulty of this dungeon; it had dealt her a harsh blow. One must never grow complacent—vigilance was paramount!
Fortunately, the wanted list only carried her updated photo, seemingly lacking precise location tracking; otherwise, she would be doomed.
Touching her shaven scalp, Eric felt no regret. She had not known that player information would be refreshed. Her disguise had aimed for absolute perfection, yet now there was no opportunity to alter it again.
What had happened could not be undone—regret was the feeblest cowardice.
She rifled through the home's wardrobe, discovering men's and women's clothing, plus several princess dresses suitable for a young girl. Taking what she could use, she also ransacked the refrigerator. In the bathroom, she quickly bathed, rinsing away the dark stain on her skin. She donned a princess dress—its sleeves too short, so she trimmed them to create a sleeveless gown. Pink princess shoes were too small, so she chose a pair of pale sneakers instead.
Applying makeup found in the house, Eric attempted smoky eyes. Her skill was mediocre, resulting in a rather unattractive look, but at least it masked any resemblance to her image on the wanted list.
For her hair, she wrapped a silk scarf around her head, leaving her appearance strange and unrecognizable as she departed the residence.
Descending the stairs, an NPC heading up cast her a second glance. She glared back fiercely. "What are you looking at? Never seen a beautiful young lady before?"
The NPC averted his eyes, embarrassed.
Eric swaggered boldly from the building. The distant wail of sirens grew louder, yet her steps remained steady. As she hailed a cab, she casually chatted on the phone, "Yeah, I want you to come pick me up… alright, I'll wait for you by the mall…"
Five police cars—thirty armed officers—blocked the street corner. Eric's eyes blinked rapidly, betraying her apprehension.
The driver leaned out. "Miss, you need a ride? Come over here."
The officers glanced toward her.
"What a hassle," Eric grumbled, approaching the cab, still on the call, "No, I'm not upset, just this traffic jam is a nightmare…"
The officers dispersed swiftly to conduct their inquiries, questioning nearby residents.
"Have you seen this person?" they showed paper after paper of wanted listings featuring Eric's male disguise with a shaved head.
"Have you encountered this individual?" one extended a flyer directly before her.
Casting a sidelong glance, Eric waved them off impatiently. "No, no." Then, back into the phone, she intoned a deliberately clipped voice, "You'd better show up to get me or it's over between us!"
She strained a contrived tone, rendering her speech unrecognizable as her own.
After the questioning concluded, Eric brushed past the officers, boarding the taxi. "To the commercial district, please."
The driver acknowledged.
The cab departed from the street.
Once inside, Eric pretended to end her call, though her palms were slick with sweat.
The commercial street arrived swiftly. Eric, clutching the money pilfered earlier, commenced shopping—visiting every store, purchasing trinkets here and there, and acquiring a wig.
Though her outfit had been worn fewer than twelve hours, she changed into it in the restroom.
She had spared the household's mistress—not out of mercy, but pragmatism. Two others lived there; should they return and discover the absence or death of the mistress along with stolen goods and missing clothes, the police would be alerted anyway. Killing the woman would only delay the alarm, not prevent it.
Dressed anew, Eric took the subway toward the research institute.