Ding! Wordless Tombstone discovered. Bind it?

Yes / No?

So it really was the Wordless Tombstone!

Jiang Ye had heard about the “Wordless Tombstone” from Lin Ling, so of course he knew—

This tombstone seemed to be one of the exclusive rights tied to the 4444 Administrator’s authority.

At the very least, the previous 4444 Administrator almost certainly had access to it.

So it should be a permission-exclusive item tied to the identity of the【4444 Administrator】.

Still, Jiang Ye didn’t rush to press “Yes.”

Instead, he went to the other side and touched the second tombstone.

As expected, he received a nearly identical prompt—

Ding! Oathkeeper Tombstone discovered. Bind it?

Yes / No?

Just as he thought—both tombstones appeared to be permission-locked administrator items.

Even so, Jiang Ye still didn’t bind either one immediately.

Instead, using his 4444 Administrator identity, he opened the admin group chat to take a peek.

Maybe it was already late at night.

Or maybe it was because Jiang Ye had caused such a stir earlier with both the 4444 and 9999 Administrator accounts.

Right now, the entire administrator group chat seemed rather quiet.

The occasional chatter mostly consisted of complaints—how many cocky newbies in their apartments had applied to transfer to the 0000 Apartment.

But from the recent chat history, Jiang Ye saw that not long ago, there had been a heated discussion:

4869: “When are those Defenders gonna take out the light-element player? I can’t get a single moment of peace until he’s gone—keep thinking some random light skill’s gonna pop out and erase me…”

4869: “Seriously, I just took a quick nap and had a nightmare about the light guy mastering top-tier spatial powers—he was nuking anything and everything! Gods, demons, didn’t matter—he wrecked it all! Terrifying!”

Other administrators followed with their own complaints, all hoping the Defenders would hurry up and get rid of the light-element player.

But the casual complaints were suddenly interrupted by a sharper comment:

1111: “Haven’t you noticed? The light-element player has completely hidden his light aura.”

2323: “Of course I noticed! The moment the aura vanished, I was thrilled—thought he’d finally been wiped. But then I checked the bounty board—still active. Ugh.”

4869: “Guess I’m not that sensitive to light aura. Didn’t even notice from my apartment. But now that you mention it—yeah, it’s really gone!”

5778: “Isn’t that a good thing for us? No more interference from that light aura—we can actually get some sleep now!”

2380: “Good my a**! That’s terrible! Without being able to detect his aura, we won’t sense it immediately if that guy shows up in any of our apartments!”

4869: “So what? Just keep an eye on the player list, problem solved.”

The discussion still seemed pretty routine—until a certain special apartment administrator chimed in:

8888: “Are you all just stupid, or do you just know too little? Don’t you get what it means that the light aura’s hidden?”

4869: “Huh? What does it mean? Is it that serious?”

3333: “It’s very serious! Don’t you know the materials needed to hide a light aura can’t be found in the Newbie Apartments?!”

1111: “Exactly. Those rare materials only come from the Secret Realm Tower. If an old player didn’t bring them in, there’s no way a newbie would get their hands on it.”

8888: “And there’s another key detail—this light aura was hidden before midnight! Do you know what that means?”

Before midnight—what did that imply?

These administrators weren’t idiots.

Even the most clueless ones quickly pieced it together—

2025: “Before midnight… that means the current wave of old players hadn’t even arrived yet, but the light-element player already had the item to hide their aura.”

4869: “So it must’ve been brought over by a Reincarnation Wraith from the previous Newbie Apartment. The light-element player must’ve gotten the item from them!”

8888: “You still don’t get it!”

2222: “Hold on—even if a Reincarnation Wraith brought it over, that wouldn’t be cheap! Why would they go through all that just to smuggle in an item that hides a light aura? Did they predict there’d be a light-element player this wave?”

4869: “D*mn—that’s creepy to think about.”

2025: “So one of the Reincarnation Wraiths had some prophecy-type item, like the ‘Crow’s Mouth’? Predicted there’d be a light-element player this time around?”

2025: “But why would a Reincarnation Wraith help a light-element player? They’re dark-element too, aren’t they? How could they trust light?! Are they trying to save themselves? They really think the light guy won’t stab them in the back?”

This 2025 Administrator clearly had a one-track mind, chasing down the prophecy theory.

But soon, another special apartment admin offered a far more reasonable conclusion—

8888: “Impossible. Dark-element beings and light-element beings are mortal enemies.”

They are biologically incompatible—light and dark cannot coexist.

So even if the Reincarnation Wraith had a prophecy, they still wouldn’t help the light.

Even through just text, the certainty and authority behind those words was palpable.

And soon, other administrators began to understand the implications.

Finally, another active admin chimed in:

“So if it wasn’t a Reincarnation Wraith… then could it be there’s a Reincarnator in our Newbie Apartment? And one that isn’t dark-element?”

And when it came to non-dark-element Reincarnators—

Someone immediately followed up: “Holy sh*t?! A non-dark Reincarnator… what if—what if it’s a light-element Reincarnator?!”

“No way?! A light-element Reincarnator?! That would mean there’s been a light-element player with a hidden aura living in our Newbie Apartment all this time?!”

“That’s impossible! No way a light-element player could hide right under our noses without getting caught!”

“Agreed! No way! We’ve been watching every Reincarnation Wraith loop with our own eyes. No one could’ve slipped by unnoticed!”

In short, the theory of a “light-element Reincarnator” caused an uproar.

Most of the regular administrators were extremely resistant to the idea.

They simply couldn’t accept it.

But it was clear—

The ones who found it “unacceptable” were all standard apartment admins.

The special apartment administrators, even if they said nothing… their silence itself seemed to speak volumes.

Especially after all the chatter, another authoritative message suddenly appeared—

6666: “Discussion of the light-element Reincarnator ends here. Getting flustered over uncertain things will only throw us off.”

“I’ve already received early intel—”

“Starting with this wave of apartments, whether it’s Reincarnation Wraiths or possible Reincarnators, it won’t be as easy for them to keep looping in the apartments anymore.”

“Instead of worrying over things you’re not even sure exist, you’d be better off focusing on securing your own turf.”

“Also, I received another piece of news—”

“Apparently, this wave has 9,999 more old players than usual.”

“And among those extra slots, several former Newcomer Kings from past waves are mixed in.”

“All of you have been around long enough—surely you understand what those so-called Newcomer Kings are here for, right?”

As soon as that message dropped, the topic in the group chat immediately shifted—

From disbelief over a “light-element Reincarnator” to discussion of the “Newcomer Kings of past waves.”

These “veterans” were, as always, eager to mock “their past selves.”

Kind of like how people love to poke fun at elementary school kids.

So, in the admin chat, it turned into a roast session. Everyone started listing off the arrogance, pride, and ego of the so-called Newcomer Kings.

One particular comment stood out to Jiang Ye—it had a strangely resonant tone when describing the Newcomer Kings:

“Man, like someone once said—who wasn’t dazzling and full of promise when they were young?”

“Makes me think back—who didn’t dream of getting into Tsinghua or Peking University as a kid?”

“Take me, for example. I was called a prodigy in kindergarten, aced every test in elementary, did great in middle school, held my own in high school… then ended up a totally average adult.”

“From prodigy, to excellent, to ordinary… how many people here have walked the same path as me?”

“Now look at us—full of experience, looking back at those so-called ‘Newcomer Kings.’ Don’t they just feel like kids who aced a grade school test and thought they were born under the stars of destiny?”

“Too young, that’s all. Youthful ignorance—it’s a gift and a curse.”

Jiang Ye couldn’t help but relate to that last part—

Not because he was ever particularly dazzling in his youth (QAQ).

But he did once write in a primary school essay that his dream was to attend Tsinghua or Peking University…

Looking back now—it did feel a little ironic.

And through Wu Ying’s memories, he had a vague sense—

Not all Newcomer Kings ended up doing well.

After all, there were many things in the Doomsday Apartment that could change a person’s fate:

The organization you joined, your Glyph Pattern Ability awakening, the opportunities in the Secret Realm Tower…

But more importantly, the social hierarchy in the Doomsday Apartment had long since solidified.

With the Newbie Apartments looping over and over, the later Newcomer Kings were like degrees in an oversaturated job market—their opportunities only dwindled.

Some things can only be understood after taking enough hits.

But for those who once basked in glory, it was much harder to come to terms with it.

Jiang Ye scrolled quickly past all the Newcomer King talk.

Down to the now quiet bottom of the chat window.

Suddenly, he sent a message—

4444: “Hey there, seniors—reporting in for my second day as the new 4444 Administrator!”

No one replied.

They probably thought he was trying to be cheeky again, or maybe just showing off.

Clearly, Jiang Ye wasn’t all that popular.

Then he followed up with another line:

4444: “By the way, did y’all hear about me planning to trade the Reincarnation Key to the Apartment Trader?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep