Chapter 304 302: Hidden Mission
The flight from Philadelphia on North America's East Coast to San Francisco on the West Coast was a long and arduous journey, a full six hours in the air. On top of that, they had to dial back the clock three hours for the time difference, making it feel like they were traveling from one world to another.
Night had already fallen when they left Philadelphia. A sea of city lights held up the navy-blue firmament, and a hazy glow on the horizon faintly outlined the city's warmth. But they were flying west, chasing the sun. An endless orange sunset spilled lazily across the sky, soft and magnificent. It was as if a few strokes of a paintbrush had sketched out the vastness and grandeur of the cosmos, a sight one could not help but get lost in.
After a roller-coaster of a day, most of the San Francisco 49ers players were exhausted. They donned earplugs and eye masks and drifted off to sleep. Only the coaching staff's reading lights remained on as they busied themselves with summarizing the game.
All the noise, passion, regret, and thoughts that had been churning turbulently in his mind all day finally began to settle, a quiet calm slowly returning.
Earlier, while getting a massage and an ice bath in the locker room, Lu Ke hadn't immediately opened the system to check his mission status. He already knew he had failed the day's game mission.
This was his first true mission failure since obtaining the Rugby Superstar System. The previous interruption to his daily training mission had just been a minor hiccup, not a true failure, but there were no excuses for today's loss. He had always known this day would come eventually, but now that it was here, Lu Ke still needed some time to process it.
Now, with everything around him finally quiet, Lu Ke opened the system to take stock of his performance.
DING, DING DING. The familiar notification chimed in his mind. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but the sound seemed to lack the cheerful energy it had over the past three weeks.
Before reading the unread messages, Lu Ke had a question he needed to ask Qi. "Qi, there wasn't a special mission for this week's game. Does that mean the system determined I had already performed to the full extent of my current abilities? That there was nothing specific to pay attention to or improve, and the outcome was decided purely by absolute strength—making the result a true reflection of my current level?"
They lost by a field goal. A little bit of luck had been missing at the critical moment.
"According to the progression of today's game, the performance of the players on both sides fell within normal parameters. No special missions, no special directives." Qi didn't answer Lu Ke's question directly, but after thinking it over, Lu Ke could interpret it to mean that his assessment was essentially correct.
'The appearance of special missions seemed to follow a pattern, but it wasn't set in stone. Richard Sherman's provocation, for example, had generated a special mission. And yet, despite the dramatic twists and turns of today's game, no special mission had appeared.'
'But looking at it from another angle, since today's game mission was adjusted and upgraded, did that mean future special missions would also scale up accordingly? Maybe they'd be harder to complete, or their objectives more specific. Maybe the trigger conditions would become more stringent. All of it was possible.'
Clearly, there were still many unknown aspects of the system for Lu Ke to explore. But at the end of the day, he still needed to constantly improve his own abilities. That was the ultimate key to victory.
This time, without any hesitation, Lu Ke opened his inbox and began reading the unread messages.
For the first time, the completion status of the game mission was different.
Touchdowns completed: three. Base points +3. Pass completion rate at least 60%: complete. Base points +1. Turnovers controlled (interceptions and fumbles ≤ 2): complete. Base points +1. Game tempo controlled: complete. Base points +1. Win the game: incomplete.
All in all, he had earned six base points. Even though they lost the game, he had surprisingly completed all the other objectives. Lu Ke had worried that failing to win would nullify everything else, but fortunately, that wasn't the case.
Since there were no special missions, his inbox should have been empty after reviewing the results. But Lu Ke noticed a red dot still hovering over the icon, indicating an unread message. He scrolled down and, sure enough, saw a few more unread notifications.
"Congratulations on completing Hidden Mission: Tidy Up the Locker Room series."
'A hidden mission? On top of daily missions, game missions, and special missions, now there are hidden missions too?'
Lu Ke's mind was racing with questions. However, having had the system for over a year, he didn't make a big deal out of it. After a brief moment of surprise, he calmed himself and began to read the mission description.
"Hidden Mission: Tidy Up the Locker Room, Level 1.
Mission Description: As an undrafted player who joined the team, you remained an outsider, unable to fit in. Functioning merely as a transitional player, one of the team's tools, you could neither control the game nor truly integrate into it.
Mission Requirement: Integrate into the locker room and earn the genuine recognition of your teammates.
Mission Reward: Beginner AFK Film Study function, with timed summaries.
Failure Penalty: None. This is a passively triggered mission."
Everything was explained clearly, with no room for doubt—except for one thing. "Qi, it says here that hidden missions are 'passively triggered.' Does that mean if a mission isn't triggered, it won't even appear? But if it doesn't appear, how am I supposed to complete it?"
"In that case, your mission completion rating will be affected. Hidden missions are passively triggered based on the host's game performance and mission completion status. No information regarding a hidden mission can be known prior to its completion," Qi dutifully explained.
Lu Ke's mouth fell slightly open. "So, you're saying I just have to guess blindly?"
"Hidden missions do not follow a fixed pattern." With that brief, cryptic sentence, Qi's explanation ended.
Lu Ke closed his mouth and let out a wry laugh, nodding slightly. "I get it. If you can't figure it out, you're just an idiot. That's what you mean, right?"
'Thinking about it, it wasn't that strange. In video games, you couldn't just stumble upon hidden missions casually; it required skill. The only difference was that in a game, once a hidden mission was triggered, you could follow instructions to complete it. But here, the system directly gave a completion status based on Lu Ke's actual situation.'
'It was like that special mission from before—when he exceeded the requirements, it even dropped an extra reward. But that had only happened once, and he hadn't encountered anything like it since.'
So, just as he'd said, it took some cleverness to discover and complete them. Lu Ke was actually a little curious about whether he had missed any hidden missions over the past year—perhaps even a lot of them. But he decided not to ask. If he found out he'd been a complete idiot, he wasn't sure how he'd handle the news.
'Looking over the hidden mission again, it wasn't really that complicated. It was just about the locker room atmosphere. They had actually grown closer after a loss. Was this a blessing in disguise?'
"Qi, is completing a hidden mission in just four games considered fast?" Lu Ke's journalistic instincts kicked in again. His curiosity was insatiable, and his talent for lateral thinking was remarkable.
Qi didn't answer immediately, pausing for a moment as if it were either pulling up historical records or considering how to phrase its response. "The mission reward is a top-tier reward." This indirectly confirmed Lu Ke's suspicion: to have made initial inroads into the locker room after just four games was an incredible, top-tier achievement.
Satisfied, Lu Ke turned his attention to the mission reward and read its description. Even after witnessing a mind-boggling Special Skill like Bullet Time, Lu Ke still found his jaw dropping slightly.
The so-called "AFK Film Study" function was exactly what it sounded like. Just like in a video game where a character can continue grinding levels while the player is offline, this function allowed Lu Ke to study game film while he was "offline."
For any team and any player, watching game film was an incredibly important yet mind-numbingly tedious process. It wasn't just for preparing for the next opponent, but also for reviewing past performances and, most importantly, for studying the game itself. The worst part was that there were no shortcuts. The results from one hour of watching film were completely different from the results of a hundred hours.
To prepare for a single game, a coach often needed to watch fifty hours of film, sometimes even more. Fifty hours meant a literal fifty hours. There were no discounts.
The same was true for Lu Ke. To be more precise, for a rookie player like him, one who lacked significant in-game experience, watching film was the best way to learn plays, adapt to the pace of the game, and accumulate experience. Over the past four weeks, Lu Ke had spent an average of at least twenty hours a week watching film—
Twenty hours. On top of that, Lu Ke still had to keep up with his daily training, study the playbook, and attend team meetings. Nearly all of his free time was spent watching film. And he only had six days to prepare for each game.
In truth, watching film was so mind-numbingly boring that he would often start to feel drowsy, his eyes aching from the strain. A single moment of lost focus could mean missing a key detail, forcing him to rewind and watch it all over again. But this was Lu Ke's most valuable learning time. It wasn't just him; it was the same for all the rookies, like Colin Kaepernick and Scott Torsin.
If he could, he would even give up sleep to keep watching film.
And now, he really could—he could watch film while he slept. No wonder Qi had called it a top-tier reward. Lu Ke believed it without a shadow of a doubt.