Chapter 70

Chapter Seventy: You’re Spreading Lies, Aren’t You? (Second Update)

Dizhong Mountain Range.

Duan Xing gazed toward the distant Player Clan members hunting Malevolent Spirits, his confusion deepening despite days of observation.

He had secretly tracked this self-proclaimed ancient faction for weeks, seeking answers, only to arrive at an absurd conclusion: the Player Clan’s homeland likely lay beyond this world.

His observations revealed their members emerging at the fringes of Dizhong Mountain Range—a boundary he could not penetrate, likely shielded by the barrier separating Monster World from the outer realms. This suggested the Player Clan, dormant since ancient times, had returned from those realms, possibly even from another plane entirely.

He had never visited these outer domains but knew of them. From Reversal Tide’s battlefield instructors, he’d learned that the “Immortal Clan,” a rising power in the past two centuries, hailed from beyond—a race displaced when their homeland was ravaged by the Black Tide. They fled to Monster World, joining forces with other refugees to forge a mighty legion against the Black Tide.

The Player Clan’s story was inverted. During the Black Tide’s fiercest onslaught, they had retreated outward, only awakening recently to reignite the Imperial Omen Flame.

Yet Duan Xing harbored no doubts about their loyalty. Their relentless hatred for Malevolent Spirits mirrored his own. They would battle them fiercely, even at a disadvantage, refusing retreat. Their withdrawal in ancient times must have had cause.

More strikingly, the Player Clan’s logic and values diverged sharply from his own—a hallmark of their ancient origins, shaped by a bygone era.

But one mystery lingered: unlike other races from beyond, the Player Clan did not arrive en masse. Instead, they trickled through the world barrier individually, roaming Dizhong Mountain Range to hunt Malevolent Spirits.

Their approach seemed reckless—no strategy, just wave after wave of suicidal assaults. Compared to Monster World’s factions, they were pitifully weak, barely outmatching mindless Malevolent Spirits, let alone defeating them.

Yet they were not without promise.

Observing them, Duan Xing noted astonishing growth. A week ago, they’d struggled to kill a Bloodfiend together; now, they did so alone. One member, gifted the Celestial Rune Combat Technique, had mastered it within days, channeling celestial energy to refine his body—a learning curve so steep, it defied belief.

He deduced their slumber had dulled their strength, but combat reignited it. Their shapeshifting abilities further intrigued him: monstrous forms with unique powers, some bordering on manipulating cosmic laws.

This solidified his resolve. If the Abyssal Tide Legion in the Great Northern Expanse could integrate an outer-world faction into their ranks, so could he. The Player Clan might become a vital asset.

But a problem remained: contacting Elder You, the Trial Supervisor.

Stranded without his Dimensional Shuttle, he could not return. Only Elder You’s initiative could bridge the gap. And without escape, how could he bring the Player Clan into the legion?

Sighing, he watched the clan members sprint toward him.

Duan Xing ascended swiftly. Their arrival meant trouble—they’d demand gifts, artifacts, or Memory Shards containing combat techniques as “payment” for his rescue. He’d already given them countless treasures; what remained was his Runic Battle Armor, a relic bound to his heart, his father’s last gift. He’d sooner die than part with it.

Bound by gratitude, he could not strike them down. Avoidance was his only recourse.

…

Primordial Altar.

Qi Sheng browsed a heated forum thread at the Altar’s discussion hall.

The post revolved around the newly captured Primordial Monster—Clay Devourer—taken three hours prior.

Resembling a hulking mass of clay, the creature had been stumbled upon by a novice team near Spirit Forge Valley. Its ability, "Dissolve", spat acidic mucus to corrode foes.

Its emergence should have been cause for celebration. Yet players derided its grotesque appearance, dubbing it the “ugliest Primordial Monster” and dismissing its market appeal.

But within hours, a player devised a “trap flow” tactic exploiting Dissolve’s power, uploading a video demonstration.

The footage showed five players digging a two-meter-deep trench over ten meters long in Ancient Battlefield. They littered it with store-bought spikes and torches, turning it into a gauntlet of pain. At the trench’s end, a player shifted into Clay Devourer, spewing caustic fluid into the pit.

The strategy was simple: bait a group of Bloodfiends into the trap with a meat shield teammate.

At this point, the player standing at the end of the hallway becomes Bloodfiend's target.

This sets the stage for a Plants vs. Zombies-style defense strategy.

As Bloodfiend advances, it takes continuous damage. During this phase, the four players positioned at the rear of the hallway hurl fireballs under Bonefire Form, further escalating Bloodfiend's injuries.

Eventually, Bloodfiend collapses into a pit dug in front of the players' standing area, submerging itself in a Dissolution Pool until it dies.

This tactic gained widespread acclaim from Forum players. It transformed the once-maligned Dissolution Life Soul into a practical asset and marked the first post-launch combat strategy relying entirely on traps rather than direct confrontation. Many players became fascinated with trap-based gameplay because of this innovation.

This was precisely what Qi Sheng hoped to see.

Players' creativity had begun to flourish within Monster World. Each Life Soul option could be ingeniously combined with others to create practical applications through inventive thinking.

...

Skywind City, the slums.

Li Zheng logs out, his vision shifting from the virtual interface back to reality.

A wave of intense weakness leaves him momentarily disoriented, sparking an urge to log back into Darklands.

The contrast between the game and reality grows starker with each level gained.

In the game, his human avatar inherits 24 levels of Black-Scaled Serpent and 11 levels of Malevolent Fury Axe, making its attributes fifteen times stronger than his base form. By real-world standards, he'd qualify as a superhero.

The enhancements extend far beyond raw stats.

His senses have undergone a complete transformation. The world feels sharper, more vivid through his perception.

Take vision: Each level makes it more acute. Once-blurry distant details now appear crystal clear—dust particles in sunlight, subtle gradations of color.

Hearing has become three-dimensional. The rustle of wind through leaves, distant monster growls, even the faintest sound of a falling leaf reaches his ears with startling clarity.

Touch allows him to discern intricate textures through mere contact in the game.

Smell and taste work similarly, detecting precise layers of fragrance or decay in the air, savoring food's complex flavors.

Most importantly, this sensory sharpening awakens mental acuity. His perception and comprehension evolve in tandem.

It feels like his body has merged with nature itself, achieving the mythical "harmony between man and heaven" only seen in fiction—a sublime experience impossible in reality.

This is why returning to reality feels like a crushing letdown.

His former body feels like a burden shackled to him, a weight he'd grown used to until the game freed him. Now, every sensation dulls upon logging out—vision dims, perception slows, feedback becomes painfully inadequate.

The Gaming Pod lid opens. Li Zheng rises, stepping into the bathroom to wash off the nutrient gel before settling at his desk to review recent transaction records.

After confirming all sold Sacrificial Power payments have cleared, his growling stomach prompts him to order a lavish meal for himself.

Before Darklands launched, rumors predicted it would usher in a new era of wealth creation, generating fortunes for a new generation—much like the internet boom, AI revolution, digital transformation, or the emergence of virtual worlds.

These predictions have materialized. Darklands has already triggered wealth redistribution. High-rollers willingly pay Gold Farmers top dollar for in-game labor, enabling these workers to convert virtual "sweat equity" into real-world income with no taxation or fees.

More importantly, the game has transformed Li Zheng's quality of life. He's decided to make Darklands his permanent livelihood. Leveraging his early-adopter advantage, he might carve out a successful career here.

While waiting for his meal, Li Zheng browses Human Federation's largest Starnet Forum: Human Clan Ascension.

The Darklands section is mostly job postings. Few discuss gameplay—unsurprising since Lunar Eclipse Clan's games include comprehensive in-game Forums.

A thread catches his eye:

"Darklands: History's Biggest Scam. Worth 128,888 credits? Maybe. But Nowhere Near the Advertised 'Revolutionary Game Concept.'"

Poster: Birth Certificate (IP: Yelan City)

Curious, Li Zheng clicks.

The content makes his eyes widen.

The poster first questions the game's "100% realism" claim, arguing it barely reaches 90% fidelity. Close inspection reveals environmental feedback and modeling flaws.

Next, they cite Starnet lag issues—occasional loading delays when teleporting to new zones, leaving players staring at pixelated landscapes for seconds.

They also mention physics bugs—players exploiting glitches to fly upward, characters getting stuck in scenery after repeated logouts.

Other complaints cover interaction feedback frequency and data processing speeds.

The conclusion? While the game surpasses Virtual Game's five-year-old "Land of Sin", it falls short of "revolutionary" hype. The poster urges Lunar Eclipse Clan to optimize the game, warning that poor optimization could squander its potential.

Li Zheng's mind fixates on one thought: The poster must have suffered some trauma to spout such nonsense. The criticism is absurd—blatant defamation of Darklands.

He's played the game for nearly a month. He knows its merits.

The poster's claims? Never experienced them. Darklands is a flawless second reality, indistinguishable from the real world in every detail. The in-game Forum's consensus confirms this: players agree the game transcends modern technology, creating an entirely new world.

Checking the poster's profile reveals a purchase confirmation receipt—proof they bought the game.

This only fuels Li Zheng's anger. They're a malicious troll.

Blackening the game, huh?

He screenshuts the thread and forwards it to the Emperor of Grind Clan.

The clan members, busy planning tomorrow's dinner meetup, erupt in fury upon seeing the post. They vow to storm the Human Clan Ascension Forum, determined to tear this defamer apart.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end