Hijacking the Timeline

This was precisely why virtual games were constantly striving for greater realism. Only by replicating reality as closely as possible could they effectively cultivate talent.

The same principle applied to testing various scientific research projects.

Authenticity allowed simulated experimental data within the game to closely mirror real-world results, minimizing waste and risks in actual experiments.

Take the Rune Modification Experiment, for example.

In the real world, failure meant the loss of a living life.

But in the game, death represented a new beginning. Each player had countless opportunities to learn from their mistakes, continuing until their real-world lifespan ran out.

You’ve essentially paved a promising new path for the Scarlet Research Institute’s future.

Hearing the Narrator’s praise, Feng Qi grinned widely.

He stepped into the forest teeming with monstrous silver trees.

As he observed the terrain of the Silver Moon Domain Field, he opened his status panel.

This time, Dawn had abandoned its initial feature of capturing real-world attributes, opting instead for the classic character progression system where players grow stronger through leveling up.

Liang Yu had already explained the reasoning behind this approach.

He believed that if the game required players to progress through traditional cultivation methods, just like in the real world, it would drastically slow down their progress. Players would have to spend excessive amounts of time on cultivation.

This would be detrimental to the development of virtual games.

Instead, they opted for a leveling system that allowed players to quickly adapt to their enhanced abilities.

As for the matchmaking system, it would implement rigorous balance adjustments to ensure fairness and impartiality. At its core, Dawn was not designed to be a pay-to-win game.

Of course, the Scarlet Research Institute would later introduce some monetization features, such as an in-game store.

However, the store would only sell cosmetic skins and non-game-breaking items, ensuring that the gaming experience for ordinary players remained unaffected.

This approach was primarily to cover the resource consumption of virtual games.

The super-factories that manufactured virtual game pods, the ongoing maintenance of the game, and other operational costs required massive expenditures.

Virtual games were merely a crucial component of Scarlet’s broader future plans, not its sole focus.

The introduction of monetization features was not driven by profit motives but rather to ensure the continued operation of Scarlet’s other departments.

Lost in thought, he walked for several hours until he approached the Silver Moon Forest.

Before he could even step into the forest, he spotted a humanoid figure standing atop a distant silver tree.

The figure had silver eyes, a slender build, and held a silver longbow in its hand, resembling the elves from fantasy movies.

This was Feng Qi’s first time seeing the appearance of a Silver Moon Clan Warrior, and it matched the images he had seen in the historical archives perfectly.

The Silver Moon Clan Warrior had already drawn back the bowstring, silver light gathering between its fingers and radiating a silvery glow.

Sensing danger, Feng Qi instinctively dove to the side.

But in the virtual game, he was only at level 1, his physical abilities far inferior to those in the Real World.

As he lunged sideways, the Silver Moon Clan Warrior released the bowstring.

Twang!

The crisp sound of the bowstring echoed through the air. The silver light expanded rapidly in Feng Qi’s vision, ultimately engulfing his entire field of view.

A sharp pain surged through him, accompanied by a gentle female voice in his mind:

You have been killed by a Silver Moon Clan Warrior. Dungeon clear failed. Would you like to respawn at the main scenario’s respawn point?

His vision faded to gray.

He clicked the ”Respawn” option.

The gray scene gradually dissolved into darkness. When his vision cleared again, he found himself standing in the center of the main scenario’s plaza.

After his initial experience with the virtual instance, Feng Qi was thoroughly impressed.

He summoned the function panel and selected ”Exit Game.”

Following a ten-second countdown, the scene before him gradually dimmed, eventually fading into darkness once more.

Hearing the sound of water being pumped nearby, Feng Qi opened his eyes.

The nutrient fluid enveloping his body was being drained through pores in the pod’s walls, and the virtual game pod’s lid slowly opened.

Rising from the pod and descending the steps, he turned to Liang Yu, who stood nearby.

”Director Liang, this is incredible!” he exclaimed sincerely.

”We owe this all to you,” Liang Yu replied. ”Our contribution was minimal. The virtual game pod technology came from the Future Research Institute, while the virtual architecture and techniques were brought back by you from the future 1500 years from now. We’re more like assemblers, simply combining these technologies.”

”But this was created through over a thousand years of effort by your counterparts on another timeline. By rights, it’s their achievement, and I’m just the delivery boy.”

The two exchanged a knowing glance before bursting into laughter.

Commercial mutual admiration society, commence!

Ignoring the Narrator’s snarky comment, Feng Qi was about to speak when Liang Yu cut in with a question:

”Feng Qi, now that you’ve experienced the latest version of our virtual technology, do you have any suggestions for improvement? We’re already drafting the development plan for virtual technology over the next 1,500 years.”

”Nothing comes to mind right now. I do think players will complain about the game’s pain simulation system.”

Liang Yu nodded in agreement. ”We’ve already considered that, but Dawn is fundamentally a talent cultivation tool. Replicating realistic pain is crucial for nurturing combat prodigies. Introducing a pain adjustment system based on player complaints would be putting the cart before the horse... Let them complain all they want; we won’t change it.”

After chatting casually with Liang Yu about the virtual game, Feng Qi left the virtual laboratory.

This experience filled him with anticipation for the future of virtual gaming. He believed that once officially launched, the game would have a profound impact on the future, guiding humanity step by step from the brink of extinction toward the path of resistance.

Perhaps after the virtual game is officially launched, you’ll see not just Future People from a single shelter, but fellow travelers from entire cities.

”Maybe,” he replied, a radiant smile spreading across his face.

Over the next few days, Feng Qi remained at Scarlet Base, awaiting Wei Wei’s test results.

One afternoon, shortly after finishing lunch, he carried a takeout box to Wei Wei’s private laboratory.

”Sister Wei, lunch is here,” he called out, placing the box on the workbench. He turned to look at Wei Wei, who had been working through the night.

Hearing his voice, Wei Wei didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the screen as she compared experimental data.

Just as Feng Qi was about to leave, Wei Wei suddenly stood up, hurried over to him, and said with a grave expression, ”I’ve made a major discovery.”

”What is it?” he asked, intrigued.

”Drinking your blood can enhance the strength of our mental connection.”

”Huh? My blood has that kind of effect?” Feng Qi was genuinely surprised by Wei Wei’s revelation.

He had heard of religious rituals involving believers bathing in or drinking holy water blessed by deities, but consuming a ”deity’s” blood was entirely new to him.

Thinking aloud, he remarked, ”That’s great news! It seems we can proceed with the next phase of the mental freedom activity experiment soon.”

Wei Wei shook her head.

”It’s not as simple as you think. Your blood contains a large amount of unknown destructive substances, making it completely undrinkable in its raw form. I need to find a way to filter your blood, removing all the energy-rich compounds. Only then can I consume it without any adverse effects. Otherwise, I’m afraid my body wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

”Last night, I only drank a diluted milliliter, and my body still hasn’t fully digested it.”

At this point, Wei Wei said earnestly:

”Are you heading back to Star City Academy soon?”

”Yeah, I’m planning to return. Just call me if you make any new discoveries.”

”Alright, but before you leave, I need to ask you for one more favor: could you leave me some extra blood for my follow-up experiments?”

”No problem. I’ll draw some extra later.” Feng Qi nodded without hesitation, readily agreeing to Wei Wei’s request.

For him, losing a bit of blood would have no impact whatsoever.

Wei Wei’s request was easily fulfilled.

Just then, the Narrator’s voice boomed in his mind:

Looking down on my muscle-sealing technique, huh? A little blood isn’t enough! Drain him dry! Spill the excess on the ground—don’t worry about wasting it!

Feng Qi: ...

(End of the Chapter)

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