Chapter 512 - 282: Reactions

Haoran turned towards Qing’er and Xun’er, "I will be in seclusion for awhile. Do the two of you want to stay here, or go back outside?"

"Well, I’ll stay here, young master," Shen Xun’er replied instantly, her voice soft and deferential as she took a half-step back, bowing with graceful refinement. "There’s nothing much to do outside anyways. Unless of course you have orders for me."

Beside her, the shadow guard bowed her head, the lethal crimson of her irises gleaming with unwavering loyalty beneath her dark bangs.

"I shall also remain here, young master."

Haoran nodded faintly with satisfaction.

Then, with a casual wave of his broad sleeves, he stepped onto the air, flying towards the Hanging Gardens suspended on the sky of his world in a single stride, and vanished into the inner chambers to begin reconstructing the physical laws of his private universe based on the mathematical paradigms of Blue Star.

*

*

*

At this moment.

Hidden deep within a hot desert land that sat entirely undetected by the orthodox sects of the world, the Rising Dragon Sect stood like an architectural anomaly.

Its grand structures were a peculiar mixture of traditional Daoist palaces and unnervingly symmetrical stone halls, surrounded by wide courtyards paved with polished gray stone.

Right now, all gamers that went to rescue mission have all brought the survivors and dropped them before their sect master, Yun Ming.

The survivors trembled, clutching their ragged garments and looking around the alien hall with wide, bewildered eyes, still trapped in the living nightmare of their ancestral mountain being scraped off the face of the earth.

At the end of the hall, seated atop an elevated, ornate throne of carved dragon-wood, was the Sect Master, Yun Ming.

There is a faint, nearly imperceptible golden hue that flickered behind his pupils as he stared at the survivors and sighed in relief.

He then waved his hand, and the survivors vanished, directly teleporting them to the infirmary for them to heal.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, projecting his voice with practiced, theatrical resonance.

"Brave disciples of the Rising Dragon Sect!" He declared, his voice carrying the exact rhythmic cadence. "You have ventured into the heart of the catastrophic tempest, risked life and limb against unfathomable calamity, and successfully preserved the ancient spark of the White Dragon lineage! Your righteousness honors the heavens, and your valor brings boundless glory to our sect’s foundation!"

He raised his right hand, making a grand, sweeping gesture over the kneeling assembly of survivors.

"For completing the emergency world event, each participant shall be granted fifty thousand Sect Contribution Points, three bottles of Mid-Grade Spirit Foundation Elixirs, and three hundred pieces of Low-Grade Spirit Stones!"

"Furthermore, your reputation with the Northern Domain Orthodoxy has increased by five hundred points! Go forth, claim your well-earned spoils from the Treasury Pavilion, and continue to cultivate diligently for the coming trials!"

A chorus of ecstatic shouts and cheers erupted through the grand hall as virtual notification windows chimed in unison before the players’ vision.

"Hell yeah! Look at that EXP payout! I just leveled up!"

"Fifty thousand contribution points?! Dude, that’s enough to buy the Tier 4 Wind-Walking Boots from the guild armory! Let’s go!"

"The reputation bonus is insane! That wipe on the ark was totally worth it, after all we didn’t pay anything for that thing, so if it’s destroyed, it’s destroyed."

"Hurry up, let’s hit the treasury before I log out, I still have work tomorrow! I’m trading all my points for forging materials!"

Overjoyed, the players laughed, pumped their fists, and slapped each other on the shoulders as they turned on their heels, chatting loudly and kicking up dust as they slowly leave the sect master hall.

As they walked through the tall double doors leading into the bustling central courtyard, their conversation drifted from their rewards to the horrifying spectacle they had witnessed in the northern crater.

"Hey, jokes aside... wasn’t that boss completely fucked up?" ThickThighsSaveLives muttered, adjusting the strap of his heavy shield with an uncomfortable frown. "The way he looked at us... that wasn’t normal, man. It sent literal shivers down my spine."

"You felt that too?!" another player chimed in, hugging his arms as if trying to ward off a cold draft. "I got goosebumps when he looked straight into us and asked if we’re from another world!"

"That’s nothing," another gamer whispered, his eyes wide. "Did you hear what he said to BallsDeep right before he grabbed him? ’You must be a gamer, right?’ he said. Who the hell programmed that into an NPC’s dialogue tree?! That’s creepy as hell. It felt like one of those analog horror videos where the game character knows your real name and IP address."

"Come on, you guys are overthinking it," another player laughed, though his chuckle carried a nervous edge. "It’s definitely just an Easter egg designed by the developers. The devs probably baked in some meta-humor for the raid bosses. You know how these modern full-dive VR companies love breaking the fourth wall to mess with players. It’s just a clever script to make the world boss feel menacing and uncanny. Come on, stop being paranoid, let’s go spend our loot!"

The group moved toward the market stalls, their laughter gradually fading into the distance.

Inside the quiet hall, however, the mechanical smile on Yun Ming’s face dissolved instantly into a dark, grim scowl.

Someone discovered that they are from another world?

A cold sweat broke out across his temples, soaking his inner collar, his hands gripped the armrests of his dragon-wood throne so hard the knuckles turned pale.

In the five years he had spent operating as a reincarnated host in this cutthroat cultivation world, building his sect from scratch through the endless supply of immortal "players" summoned from modern world, he had maintained absolute secrecy.

The players were his greatest cheat—an immortal, disposable army of labor, muscle, and resources that could conquer any obstacle.

For a native entity to deduce the concept of another world was already alarming.

But to specifically utter the foreign, modern word ’gamer’? That was impossible.

It defied every fundamental boundary of this reality.

Unless... there’s another transmigrator like him.

His breathing turned shallow and rapid, and within his consciousness, he desperately reached out to the ethereal presence that had guided him since his arrival.

"System, what happened?"

A cold, synthetic chime, usually pristine and robotic, echoed in his mind. Yet this time, the digital tone carried a subtle, unnatural hesitation.

[...Host, we might have a bit of a problem.]

Yun Ming’s heart violently lurched into his throat. "Problem? What problem?"

[Just like before, another gamer of ours suffered in real-life injuries. The player known as ’BallsDeep69’ had his neural consciousness forcibly torn through soul-search feedback. When his disconnect safety protocol triggered, the residual mental trauma fried his real-world synaptic pathways. And... four more have fallen into a coma. Their physical bodies in the modern world are currently experiencing brain-stem seizures, completely unresponsive to external medical stimuli. Right now, the authorities of that world have started investigating the "game".]

"Damn it! Just who the hell is responsible for this!?" Yun Ming cursed viciously in his mind, his eyes blazing with fury and mounting panic.

If the government on that world uncovered the true nature of this full-dive virtual reality program, if they realized that people weren’t just playing an hyper-realistic game, but were having their living souls extracted and projected across cosmic dimensions into an active, lethal meat-grinder, they would shut down the servers instantly!

The fiber-optic relays would be severed, the neural capsules confiscated, and his infinite army of immortal players would vanish overnight!

Without them, his Rising Dragon Sect was nothing more than an empty shell waiting to be devoured by ancient native monsters!

[Host. It’s one of those otherworldly demons I mentioned before,] the System replied, its digital voice turning cold and heavy with an ancient, artificial solemnity. [Entities originating from the upper realms, possessing immense backgrounds, imperial inheritances, and terrifying means beyond the comprehension of ordinary lower-realm inhabitants. They seek to devour the destiny of this plane and turn its living beings into spiritual cattle. That’s why, please hurry up and complete the quest. Only when the whole world is united can we stand a chance against them.]

Yun Ming took a deep breath, his brows furrowed tightly.

A heavy, suffocating silence stretched between the host and the consciousness residing inside his soul.

He leaned back against the high wooden throne, looking out through the grand archway of his palace at the sprawling, artificial city he had built.

Ever since he had awakened in this world with the system bound to his life, every single main quest, every world event, and every emergency task had pushed him toward a singular, relentless trajectory: to help this world.

Whenever he hesitated, the System dangled divine rewards.

Whenever he showed mercy, the System raised the specter of impending apocalyptic destruction.

His eyes hardened, their gaze turning inward, piercing into the glowing core of the interface.

"System, give it to me straight," Yun Ming said, his internal voice dropping to a low, icy murmur. "Why do you seem to care so much about this world? It feels like everything you have me do isn’t for my sake, that I’m just a means to an end."

The air inside his spiritual sea turned completely frigid.

The endless data streams that usually rotated smoothly around his soul seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second.

Then, the System’s voice returned, carrying a startlingly emotional, wounded inflection that felt entirely too human.

[How could that be, Host? I am your system! I was created to assist you, to help you rise from an ordinary mortal into the supreme ruler of heaven and earth! Everything I do is for your sake! Without you, my existence holds no meaning! Why would Host doubt the companion who has walked with you through every trial since the beginning?]

Yun Ming remained silent.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t nod. His face remained an unreadable mask of cold stone.

In his previous world, he had been a corporate manager before his sudden death; he knew how liars spoke when their true motives were cornered.

The System’s sudden burst of theatrical warmth and wounded sentimentality did not soothe his suspicions—it deepened them into a bottomless chasm of quiet paranoia.

A truly unfeeling artificial tool would have offered cold probabilistic data, not an emotional plea for validation.

The System seemed to sense the persistent chill in its host’s heart, for the text flickering across his vision swiftly changed tone, shifting back to its confident, all-knowing efficiency.

[For now, Host doesn’t need to worry about the other world. I have already handled the authorities and made sure it wouldn’t affect the game. I altered the medical records, rerouted the local police surveillance logs, and isolated the neural capsule network through deep-net proxy nodes. The player recruitment drive will proceed entirely uninterrupted. Host, trust me. I will never harm you.]

The golden glyphs floated before his eyes, bright, pristine, and perfectly reassuring.

Yun Ming sat alone on his grand throne for a long, agonizing moment.

The silence of the empty hall pressed against his chest like an iron plate.

He knew that even if he suspected the entity lodged inside his soul, even if he knew he was being maneuvered like a wooden pawn across an incomprehensible cosmic chessboard, he had no way to tear it out.

He was already in too deep. Those demons who had wiped out the White Dragon Sect was out there, his players were dropping into comas, and the world was collapsing into war.

Defying the System now meant forfeiting the only weapon he had to survive.

Yun Ming closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed.

A long, exhausted exhale escaped his lips, carrying with it the bitter resignation of a man who knew he was riding the back of a ravenous tiger and could not afford to jump off.

"Alright," Yun Ming said softly.

He opened his eyes, the cold, calculating mask of the Rising Dragon Sect Master snapping firmly back into place.

"Issue a sect-wide announcement. Double the contribution point rewards for all resource-gathering quests, and unlock the Tier 5 weapon blueprints in the shop. If a war is coming, we need to arm every single one of those idiots to the teeth."

[Understood, Host. Protocol updated.]

As the System’s chime faded away, Yun Ming looked out toward the northern horizon, his heart heavy with an unshakable, creeping dread.