Chapter 466 - 235: Consequences

On a world far away from the untamed and cruel laws of the cultivation realm, there were no flying swords cutting through the azure sky, no ancient sects perched on floating mountains, and no divine beasts slumbering in primordial depths.

Instead, towering skyscrapers of reinforced concrete and polarized glass pierced the smoggy clouds of a sprawling metropolis.

Millions of ordinary people lived their lives bounded by automated subways, digital currency, artificial intelligence algorithms, and the mundane grind of nine-to-five jobs.

Here, the pinnacle of mortal ambition was not transcending the heavenly tribulation to achieve immortality, but climbing the corporate ladder and escaping into virtual escapism when the working day finally ended.

At this moment, in a cluttered, dimly lit bedroom of a modest high-rise apartment on the outskirts of this metropolis.

Wires snaked across the floor like synthetic roots, tangled with empty soda cans, discarded instant noodle bowls, and crumpled snack wrappers.

At the center of this cramped room rested a sleek, obsidian-black machine resembling a polished metallic coffin, lined with glowing teal LED strips along its pressurized seams.

It was a virtual capsule.

PSSSHHHHH—!

With a sudden, violent hiss of hydraulic depressurization, the Virtual Capsule opened forcefully.

Inside the cushioned ergonomic interior, a young man appeared lying inside, his face pale under the cool glow of the monitors.

The moment his physical lungs drew in the dry, stale air of his apartment, he let out a furious, indignant roar that bounced off the plaster walls.

"FUCKING CHEATER! DOG-SHIT TRASH HACKER!"

He slammed his fist against the padded armrest of the capsule, cursing about that darn cheater who killed him.

His chest heaved as he unleashed a torrential stream of gamer vitriol, venting the raw, bitter frustration that came from being spawn-camped and utterly humiliated by an unknown assailant in what was advertised as the most revolutionary, physics-accurate virtual reality game in human history.

Rising Dragon Online.

For the past month, the global gaming community had been whipped into a frenzy over this closed-beta miracle.

The developer was entirely anonymous, the servers had zero ping regardless of global location, and the sensory feedback was marketed as a staggering 99.9% biological match to real life.

Pain settings were supposed to be capped at an immersive yet painless 10% sensation filter, preventing real-world trauma while allowing players to feel the visceral rush of martial combat.

He had been having the time of his life, grinding basic punching proficiency, chopping trees, and messing around with the physics engine alongside his friends.

"Just you wait...once I respawn...huh?"

His frantic breathing gradually slowed, and he sat up slightly within the contoured gel padding of the pod.

He blinked at the ceiling of his room, looking at the familiar water stains on the plaster, the glowing digital clock on his bedside table reading 3:42 AM, and the unwashed laundry piled in the corner.

He was confused.

Why was he back in his house?

"What happened?" he muttered, his brow furrowing in genuine bewilderment. "Why am I looking at my own bedroom ceiling? Did the game crash? Or did the server kick me out?"

He scratched the back of his neck, trying to reconstruct the last split second before his vision cut out.

He remembered respawning after the first ambush, so he had grabbed a machete from the armory, ran back into that secluded stone alley, screaming for the camper to show herself so he could retrieve his lost copper coins.

Then... Once again, a hand clamped over his visage like an iron vise.

And then... a strange, searing sensation in the center of his forehead.

Not the harmless, prickling buzz of the 10% pain limiter, but a bizarre, agonizing wrench that felt as though someone had taken an ice pick, jammed it into his brain stem, and twisted it like a key.

"My finger must have slipped and hit the emergency disconnect button on the control panel when she grabbed me," he rationalized aloud, trying to brush aside the lingering, eerie phantom ache behind his eyes. "Yeah, that has to be it. Fat-fingered the abort switch during the struggle."

Shaking his head, he decided to enter the game again.

He couldn’t leave it like that. His pride as a competitive gamer wouldn’t allow him to log off after getting humiliated by an obvious exploiter.

He had to log back in, submit a high-priority bug report to the administrators, and rally his guild mates to hunt that woman down and camp her until she uninstalled the client.

He leaned back into the gel cushion, adjusted the biometric neural sensors against his temples, reached for the interior handle, and closed the virtual capsule once more.

CH-CLACK.

The canopy sealed shut with an airtight hiss, plunging the pod into absolute darkness before the sweeping holographic display booted up across his field of vision.

[INITIALIZING NEURAL LINK...]

[CONNECTING TO SERVER: RISING DRAGON VALE...]

[SYNCHRONIZING CONSCIOUSNESS WAVEFORMS...]

The familiar loading swirl spun in front of his eyes.

BZZZZT!

Suddenly, the soothing blue interface turned a violent, alarming shade of crimson.

A harsh, discordant error klaxon blared directly into his earpieces, followed by a massive, flashing system warning that appeared across the display.

[CRITICAL SYSTEM WARNING: BIO-FEEDBACK ANOMALY DETECTED]

[ERROR CODE: 0x800F0922 - NEURAL WAVEFORM DISRUPTION / SOUL VESSEL REJECTED]

[Notice: Severe cognitive resonance instability detected in user’s neurological profile. Safety protocols have forcefully severed the connection.]

[Due to some issues, you will be unable to log in for the next 24 hours.]

[Please exit the capsule, rest immediately, and contact medical personnel if mental fatigue persists.]

The red screen pulsed three times before the entire system abruptly powered down, leaving only the dim, sterile emergency lighting active inside the pod.

The young man stared at the floating error prompt in utter, flabbergasted outrage.

"A TWENTY-FOUR-HOUR LOGIN LOCKOUT?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS?!"

He cursed once again, his voice raw with fury as he slammed his palms against the interior release latch.

"Twenty-four hours?! That’s a whole full-day event wasted! Am I supposed to keep up with the leveling curve if your garbage, buggy-ass game locks me out for a whole day because of a simple disconnect error?! Fuck this game! Fuck the developers! I’m going straight to the forums to write a ten-page essay on how broken this beta is!"

Fuming with rage, he decided to open the capsule and walked out.

PSSSHT.

He shoved the heavy canopy open with an aggressive shove and swung his bare legs over the edge of the pod.

His stomach let out a loud, hollow rumble; between the hours of grinding and the adrenaline of combat, he hadn’t eaten anything solid since yesterday afternoon.

Thinking of drinking and eating, he planned to raid the refrigerator for some leftover cold pizza, chug an energy drink, and spend the next two hours tearing the developer apart on social media.

He planted his feet on the wooden floorboards and braced his hands on the rim of the capsule to stand up.

But, the moment he stood up—

SWOOSH.

The entire room violently tilted forty-five degrees to the right.

He suddenly felt lightheaded and weak.

The strength completely evaporated from his quadriceps and calves; his knees turned to water, refusing to support his modest body weight.

A piercing, high-pitched ringing, like the shriek of microphone feedback, screamed inside his eardrums, drowning out the hum of his computer fans.

His vision blurred into a chaotic, smeared whirlpool of grayish-black static.

The edges of his sight frayed and darkened, the familiar clutter of his bedroom dissolving into double, then triple overlapping silhouettes that spun around him like a dizzying carousel.

"Ah... what...?"

His knees buckled completely as he stumbled down on all fours with a heavy, uncoordinated thud, his palms slapping against the cold hardwood floor to keep his face from smashing into the ground.

He gasped, his chest contracting in shallow, panicked spasms, his heart was hammering against his ribs in an irregular, stuttering rhythm, each beat sending a throbbing wave of nausea straight to his temples.

He tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled like brittle dry twigs, completely devoid of motor control.

Then, as he hung his head, staring down at the gap between his quivering thumbs...

He noticed drops of blood on the floor.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Dark, thick, and viscous crimson droplets were landing upon the pale wood, pooling into a small, ominous puddle directly beneath his chin.

His thoughts moved with agonizing, sluggish confusion as he raised a trembling, uncoordinated hand to his upper lip and touched his nose.

It was warm, slick, and completely coated in fresh fluid.

It was bleeding. Profusely. A steady, uninterrupted stream of dark blood was leaking from both nostrils, dripping down his philtrum and falling past his parted lips.

"What the hell...?" he croaked out, his voice sounding distant, muffled, and alien to his own ears. "Why am I... bleeding...? It’s just a game... a game shouldn’t..."

He was about to say more, to reach for his smartphone on the desk and call an emergency ambulance, but his vocal cords seized as his eyes rolled back into his head, showing only whites.

His trembling arms gave out, and his forehead struck the wooden floor with a dull, sickening thud as he completely passed out, his limp body lying motionless beside the glowing virtual capsule.

*

*

*

Meanwhile, back in the Rising Dragon Sect...

Warm, radiant golden sunlight bathed a lush green pine canopy below.

Gentle mountain breezes carried the pleasant, earthy fragrance of blooming wild orchids and clean morning dew, entirely untainted by the mundane smog of industrial cities.

Yun Ming was stretched out comfortably on a luxurious reclining wicker chair, his long legs crossed at the ankles, thoroughly enjoying bathing under the sun.

He had kicked off his cloth shoes, wearing his loose sky-blue robes half-unbuttoned at the collar to soak in the ambient warmth.

He took a slow, luxurious sip through a hollow bamboo straw, letting out a satisfied, contented sigh as the sweet, icy liquid cooled his throat.

"Ahhh... this is the life," Yun Ming muttered to himself with an easygoing, lazy smirk. "Let the disciples run around like headless chickens, let them grind the wood and mine the iron, while the glorious Game Master reaps the passive profits. If my old corporate manager back on Earth could see me now, he’d probably vomit blood from sheer envy."

Life was genuinely fantastic.

With Ling Luochen now safely employed as an unwitting resident NPC in his eastern courtyard, his sect’s engagement metrics were about to break through the stratosphere.

He had already drafted three new quest chains in his system interface, and the sheer amount of user activity was generating a steady, continuous stream of administrative energy into his core databanks.

Slurp.

He took another sip of the melon juice, closing his eyes to enjoy the warm rays kissing his face.

Suddenly—

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT—!!!!!

A harsh, violently flashing crimson holographic window materialized directly in front of his closed eyelids, accompanied by a deafening, piercing alarm that vibrated straight through his sea of consciousness

[ALERT! EMERGENCY THREAT LEVEL DETECTED!]

[CRITICAL SYSTEM INTEGRITY WARNING!]

Yun Ming nearly choked on his juice!

He violently coughed, sitting bolt upright in the wicker chair, frantically waving his sleeve to wipe sticky melon pulp from his chin as his heart leapt into his throat.

"Cough! Hack! What the hell?!" Yun Ming cursed in his mind, his lazy demeanor vanishing into thin air. "System! What’s going on?! Is a high-tier demonic beast raiding the valley?! Did the rival sect figure out our coordinates?!"

The Game Master System’s cold, synthetic voice chimed directly into his auditory nerves, carrying an unprecedented, severe mechanical cadence.

[Negative. Planetary perimeter remains unbreached. However, an anomalous, high-lethal cognitive attack has occurred within the inner sect grounds.]

[Host Warning: At 15:24 local time, Player ’Iron_Machete_God’ (UID: #0492) suffered fatal physical destruction, followed immediately by an intentional, high-tier spiritual soul-scouring attack!]

[The attacker bypassed standard physical avatars and directly targeted the player’s underlying conscious data-stream. Although the System’s automated firewall successfully extracted and quarantined the player’s consciousness core before total erasure could occur, the spiritual resonance feedback was violently transferred across the planar conduit!]

[The soul of the gamer was directly damaged, causing severe neurological hemorrhage and trauma to his physical biological body in the other world! The user is currently in a state of deep comatose shock on Earth!]

CLANG!

The glass tumbler slipped from Yun Ming’s fingers, smashing into crystalline shards upon the wooden deck, spilling sweet melon juice across his bare toes.

Yun Ming didn’t even notice the mess.

His face had gone completely, utterly pale, the color draining from his cheeks until he looked like a walking corpse.

"Directly damaged the soul... affecting the gamer in the other world?!" Yun Ming echoed in a horrified, furious whisper, a cold sweat instantly soaking through his inner robes.

This was the ultimate taboo.

The nightmare scenario he had feared ever since the System had first bound itself to his soul and granted him the power to summon real people from his homeland.

To the players, this was a game. They believed they were lying in an expensive VR pod, playing a groundbreaking, hyper-immersive simulation with safe neural limits.

The entire foundation of his operation—his ability to summon an immortal, fearless fourth-calamity army of gamers to conquer this brutal cultivation world—relied entirely on the premise that they were physically and mentally safe!

If players started suffering real-world brain damage, if people began dropping into comas or dying in their bedrooms from "playing a video game," the regulatory authorities on Earth would shut down the network overnight.

The government would seize the servers, outlaw the capsules, and cut off his lifeline to modern humanity forever.

He would be stranded alone in this cutthroat, cannibalistic cultivation universe without his respawning player base, left as an ordinary mortal waiting to be slaughtered by the first wandering rogue who passed through the valley!

Yun Ming’s jaw clenched so tightly his molars creaked. A rare, terrifying fury surged from the depths of his chest, burning away his usual casual, easygoing facade.

Yun Ming frowned deeply, his eyes narrowing into cold, razor-sharp slits as he demanded in his mind.

"System! Who did this?! Who inside this valley possesses the cultivation, the knowledge, and the malice to execute a soul-targeting strike against an ordinary disciple?!"

The system’s blue interface flashed once, cross-referencing spatial telemetry, energetic signatures, and the spatial coordinates of the incident in less than a single millisecond.

The cold mechanical voice delivered its verdict without a shred of ambiguity.

[Scanning spatial residue in Alleyway Gamma-4...]

[Residual spiritual frequency detected: Nascent Soul level qi.]

[Cross-referencing entity registry within the sect boundaries...]

[Match confirmed. The prime suspect is Ling Luochen.]

Ling Luochen.

The name landed in Yun Ming’s mind like an iron weight dropped into an icy lake.

Yun Ming stood motionless on the sunlit deck, his loose robes fluttering violently in a sudden, cold mountain draft that seemed to roll down from the peaks.

The warm, inviting sunlight beating down on his skin felt completely devoid of heat.

He slowly turned his head, his gaze sweeping past the bustling, chaotic lower courtyards where players were still happily laughing and smashing rocks, locking with piercing, lethal intensity onto the secluded, quiet guest pavilion situated on the far eastern ridge.

Yun Ming’s eyes darkened.

The pleasant, harmless mortal scholar was gone, and in his place was a man whose very survival, whose entire empire, and whose unspoken oath to protect his unwitting countrymen had just been directly threatened.

His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides, his breath coming in a low, dangerous hiss through his gritted teeth.

"Miss Ling..." Yun Ming murmured, his voice dropping into a chilling, venomous whisper that carried an unbending, sovereign malice.

"It better not be you... or I will not be able to forgive you."