Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Feng Bu Jue reclined into the gaming pod, logging into the game using Non-Sleep Mode. Unlike Sleep Mode, which connected to a different server, this mode ensured the two systems remained isolated.
As the login interface materialized, he selected the game. No prompts appeared this time—only a screen displaying the game menu options: social features like friend lists and blacklists, and supplementary game introductions for players who skipped the website. Considering the time ratio, this interface actually saved half the effort.
Feng Bu Jue searched for Wang Tan Zhi’s nickname, added him as a friend, and sent a party invitation.
When Wang Tan Zhi accepted, Feng Bu Jue’s display screen lit up with the party list:
[Mad Bu Jue, Level 2]
[Wang Tan Zhi, Level 1]
[Please select a gameplay mode.]
Three options emerged: singleplayer training mode, multiplayer training mode, and singleplayer survival mode (common). Since they were in a party, the singleplayer modes appeared grayed out.
“Jue Ge, looks like we’ve got no choice but multiplayer training,” Wang Tan Zhi said through the comms. In his own login space, he could view the same data but lacked operational control—the team leader held that authority.
“Let’s go,” Feng Bu Jue replied, tapping the option.
[You have selected multiplayer training mode. Confirm.]
[Confirmed. Calibrating neural connection. Scenario generation in progress…]
[Loading initiated. Please wait.]
The elevator Feng Bu Jue occupied began descending again.
Simultaneously, subtitles flashed before his eyes, accompanied by a system voice:
[You are about to enter a shared scenario with other players. Before joining a multiplayer game for the first time, please review the following:]
[A. In non-combat modes, all attacks against other players will be restricted by the system. Your intent cannot translate into actionable in-game behavior. In modes or scenarios where conflict is possible, attacks against teammates will likewise be restricted.]
[B. Any speech identified as containing sensitive terms will be muted. This includes political figures’ names, profanity, and specific terms for animals, plants, or objects in certain contexts.]
[C. Deliberate use of slowed speech, gestures, text, or drawings to verbally assault other players will be restricted. Your intent cannot translate into actionable in-game behavior.]
[D. Regardless of gender, any behavior identified as sexual harassment—including attempts to execute such behavior via the methods listed in clauses B or C—will be restricted. Your intent cannot translate into actionable in-game behavior. Repeated attempts will result in immediate disconnection, and your Citizen ID will be permanently blacklisted as a high-priority monitoring target.]
[E. Any behavior identified as discriminatory will be handled under the same rules as clause D. Players violating clauses D or E repeatedly will have their accounts permanently deleted and be barred from using this company’s products. Severe cases may result in in-game actions being recorded and forwarded to authorities. Refer to the Cyber Public Security Law and its derivatives for details.]
Clarification: Feng Bu Jue existed in 2055’s parallel universe, where sexual harassment and discrimination (disability, race, congenital illnesses, etc.) were criminalized. The latter rarely resulted in jail time, but severe offenders found their Citizen Ids blacklisted across industries. The former, however, carried definite prison sentences.
Feng Bu Jue had encountered similar clauses before in various nerve-link games. As quantum computers advanced, such systems left fewer loopholes—effectively stifling malicious intent before it could manifest.
[Loading complete. You are now in multiplayer training mode.]
[This mode provides no scenario descriptions, missions, or worldbuilding.]
[Only experience points are available. No skill points or in-game currency.]
[No clearance rewards or fear rating bonuses.]
[Game started.]
The elevator doors slid open. Instantly, a chilling voice pierced his ears—a shrill male tone cackled, “Welcome to Terrifying Paradise,” followed by a spine-tingling laugh.
Beyond the doors stretched a wide corridor. The tiled floor and white-painted walls screamed hospital aesthetics. Three closed doors lined the right wall, while the left side bore nothing but sterile emptiness—no physician directories, floor plans, or health posters. The air reeked of disinfectant.
Feng Bu Jue stepped out as the elevator behind him warped into a solid wall. A parallel elevator door stood behind him.
Approaching it, he peeked inside—and heard a scream.
“Are you insane?” Feng Bu Jue asked.
Wang Tan Zhi gasped, “You startled me! I just decided to come out, and suddenly your head popped up!”
“Mind telling me how high your Terror Value spiked there?” Feng Bu Jue asked curiously.
Wang Tan Zhi checked his menu—a momentary shift in his gaze before he replied, “It’s stabilized at about 3% now. Not sure how high it peaked for that split second.”
“So it spikes instantly with fear, then drops off…” Feng Bu Jue mused. “By the way, what color does Terror Value show up as on the energy bar?”
“Bright red.”
“Got it.”
“Jue Ge… does your condition keep your Terror Value at 0% permanently?” Wang Tan Zhi knew Feng Bu Jue’s medical condition, though as a fresh intern, he could do nothing. Medical knowledge only reinforced his grim truth: Feng Bu Jue’s survival depended entirely on luck. Thirty years or three minutes—it all came down to chance.
“Correct.”
“Then I’m counting on you. Protect me, okay?”
Feng Bu Jue ignored the plea, instead stating, “You’ve got three minutes to exit the elevator before the system boots you. Move.”
Wang Tan Zhi scrambled out. The elevator hadn’t fully vanished when Feng Bu Jue pulled a stone from his satchel, handing it over.
“Take this. Lead the way.”
Wang Tan Zhi examined the stone’s stats, lips twitching. “Jue Ge… even if you used this during the newbie tutorial, why keep it? You’re just being petty.”
“You’re jealous,” Feng Bu Jue shot back unashamedly.
Without a word, Wang Tan Zhi tossed the stone aside, pulling out a five-inch fruit knife from his satchel. “I’ve got better loot.”
“What? How do you have gear?!” Feng Bu Jue exclaimed. According to the official guide, players with a “terrifying” fear rating in the tutorial received no rewards.
“I scavenged it in the scenario.”
“Let me see.”
Wang Tan Zhi shrugged, passing the weapon.
[Name: Fruit Knife]
[Type: Weapon]
[Quality: Tattered]
[Attack: Weak]
[Attribute: None]
[Effect: None]
[Can Be Carried Out of Scenario: Yes]
[Note: At least this thing has a blade.]
Feng Bu Jue handed it back, groaning, “You’re lucky. Everything I found was untradeable.”
“That stone was…?”
“Extra reward from the tutorial’s post-clearance draw,” Feng Bu Jue said smugly. “Scared yet?”
“…A little.”
“Then lead the way.”
Grumbling, Wang Tan Zhi took point, clutching the knife.
As the game began, his nerves prickled. He was just an ordinary person—no matter how bravely one boasted offline, fear was inevitable in horror games. In a neural-linked game like Terrifying Paradise, the immersive terror felt terrifyingly real.
Twenty meters ahead lay a corner. Three doors lined the right wall, their left side barren. They’d barely walked five meters when a sinister giggle erupted—a child’s laughter. Instantly, blood-soaked handprints exploded across the left wall, streaking toward the corridor’s distant end.
At the same time, both saw a shadow dart past the far corner, vanishing into the unknown.
(End of Chapter)
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