Chapter 5
Chapter 5: Why Is Everyone So Uncultured
“Damn, damn, damn—” A Wu ordered them to head to the nearby mountain and chop down some trees.
It was mostly to prepare materials for their own houses.
Honestly, even if he told them to go haul buckets of manure right now, Wu Da Hu could still grit his teeth and do it.
Mainly because the full-dive game was too shocking.
The sensation of stepping into a brand-new world was so real it made his scalp prickle. Wu Da Hu sucked in a deep breath and blurted, “This is a miracle! Our country must’ve cracked some insane black tech!” Otherwise, how could any game be this unreal?
Han Tian didn’t answer. He just frowned and said, “It’s been a while. Why haven’t they come in yet?”
The moment the words left his mouth, a sharp scream came from the courtyard above: “Holy shit!!”
All right, all right—this one sounded like a female player. Wu Da Hu squinted upward and said, “It’s probably Little Lady.”
They were all in the same group chat. They knew each other well enough.
She kept yelling “holy shit,” but she didn’t come down.
That was understandable. She’d probably gone completely brain-dead from shock.
Wu Da Hu had been the same earlier.
They’d gotten A Wu’s newbie quest, but there was no pop-up, no window, no blinking marker. It felt like, just to sell “100% realism,” the game had stripped away every UI element.
Han Tian stayed crouched, grabbed a fistful of dirt, and brought it to his nose like a man possessed. After a long inhale, he said hoarsely, “The freedom in this game is going to be terrifyingly high.”
Meaning, the highlighted line on the website was real: follow the Sect Master’s instructions, complete your tasks—and everything else was for them to explore.
It was the kind of temptation that made people forget to breathe.
Even the dirt felt real. The grain, the moisture, the faint smell of earth warmed by sun. He couldn’t imagine how they’d achieved it.
The only question was how far they were allowed to roam. Most games fenced you into a beginner map.
And the fact that death meant an account ban kept Han Tian on a tight leash. Otherwise, with his veteran instincts, he would’ve sprinted off to go sightseeing the instant he spawned.
A Wu had warned them earlier, “Up on the peak is Flying Sparrow Sect’s territory. They’re an artifact-refining sect. Their Senior Brothers and Senior Sisters are usually gentle, but every one of them is a mid Qi Refining Stage cultivator. Don’t provoke them.”
It was only because Flying Sparrow Sect had a good temper that the previous Sect Master had managed to establish a tiny sect halfway up the mountain.
Longevity Sect was just a plain, ordinary sect. On Yun Zhou Continent, sects like that were as common as weeds.
Flying Sparrow Sect, at least, refined artifacts. It had influence in the nearby towns. This mountain belonged to them, and Longevity Sect was basically clinging to someone else’s shadow.
But artifact refiners were mostly solitary, like sword cultivators. They didn’t like going out.
As long as no one deliberately stirred trouble, Flying Sparrow Sect barely noticed a dirt-poor little sect like theirs.
Song Jiu Lai happened to have a good relationship with Su Huan Li from Flying Sparrow Sect. On Song Jiu Lai’s first day here, Su Huan Li came to check on A Wu. After the Longevity Sect Master died, nobody looked after him anymore. Seeing A Wu as a lonely child with no one to rely on, Su Huan Li had even asked if he wanted to join Flying Sparrow Sect.
Later, when Song Jiu Lai appeared, Su Huan Li was stunned that this broken sect could produce the Fated Maiden. These days, anything tied to prophecy carried a kind of invisible weight—especially among low-ranking cultivators.
That was how Su Huan Li came to know Song Jiu Lai.
Fortunately, neither she nor A Wu had bad intentions. Otherwise, if news spread that Longevity Sect had the Fated Maiden, it would’ve caused a mess.
The System had chosen this place as a base after observing it. That much was obvious.
Han Tian understood what this game meant. He also understood, with chilling clarity, that these fifty people were probably one-in-a-hundred-million lucky picks.
And honestly? He had to thank Little Lady. If she hadn’t kept pushing, he might never have clicked on a new game whose opening pitch sounded like a textbook scam.
Han Tian reached out and gripped Wu Da Hu’s sleeve. “Do you trust me?”
Wu Da Hu blinked, then nodded hard. “Big Shot, what are you even saying? Of course I trust you!”
“If you trust me, then stick with me for now. We’ll feel out the game together.” Han Tian’s eyes were bright, but his tone stayed careful. “The freedom here is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Senior Brother only gave us the daily chores—nothing else. Everything else, we have to discover. And the Sect Master hasn’t shown herself either. We need to be cautious. This is a no-wipe test, but who knows how long it lasts? If we seize this window, we might stumble into something huge.”
In a cultivation world, “opportunity” was everything. For gamers like them, this game itself was the opportunity.
“I’m with you, Big Shot.” Wu Da Hu sounded painfully sincere. “I’m just some guy who plays games. I can give impressions, sure, but you’re the one who finds guides and paths. And this game… it’s insane. I still haven’t found a single bug.”
A no-wipe game with no bugs at all? That was terrifying.
No screen tearing. No disconnects. No collision glitches. No getting stuck in a corner until you rage-quit.
That was exactly why Han Tian felt uneasy.
He thought it through, then said, “We wait. See when the girl comes down. More heads, more ideas. Right now, the objective is probably expanding the sect. If we don’t, we won’t even have a place to sleep tonight.”
After a while, a female player finally came down.
Zhou Xiao hadn’t been delayed for no reason. She’d spent time sculpting a face that was genuinely beautiful.
The realism was so high it resembled her in real life, yet it was also distinctly not her. In real life, her skin wasn’t this flawless.
The moment she entered the game, she looked around and froze. Then she touched her own face and froze even harder.
[Mom… did I just find something unbelievable?]
She didn’t log off. Instead, her limbs felt awkward and stiff, and she moved like someone learning how to walk, stepping out with her arms and legs almost in sync.
A Wu saw her and, noticing she was a girl—and such a pretty one—brightened immediately. “Junior Sister, Junior Sister! Come down!”
Wu Da Hu watched the change in attitude and felt his soul twist. “How can a kid this young already judge by looks? If I’d known, I would’ve made my face prettier too.”
Unfortunately, he was hopeless at character creation. And in a brand-new test like this, there wasn’t even any data to copy.
Zhou Xiao stared at the dreamlike surroundings, then at A Wu—so vivid, so alive—and finally forced out, “Y-you are…?”
A Wu puffed up like he’d been waiting to say it. “I’m Senior Disciple A Wu of Longevity Sect. From now on, I’m your Senior Brother.”
He looked downright delighted. “Two Junior Brothers already came down. You’re the third. That means from now on you’re Fourth Junior Sister—our sect’s Eldest Senior Sister!”
“E-eldest Senior Sister…?” Zhou Xiao’s voice shook. She looked at the world around her and felt her soul trembling.
Everything was so real.
So real it made her dizzy.
And in front of A Wu, she couldn’t help it. “Holy shit… this is way too real!”
A Wu’s brows knitted tight. “Junior Sister, why does every new disciple say ‘holy shit’? What is ‘holy shit’?”
Zhou Xiao went silent. She glanced at the underage A Wu, then cleared her throat. “I was just blurting nonsense, Senior Brother. Pretend you didn’t hear it.”
She turned and spotted two people down on the steps beneath the platform, waving like maniacs. Definitely her own group.
Zhou Xiao opened her mouth—
But A Wu had already seen it. He flicked his hand in dismissal. “Go chop trees with your two Senior Brothers.”
“…Okay.” Still in a haze, Zhou Xiao wandered over.
Then another shout rang out from the courtyard above: “Holy shit! Holy freaking hell!”
“….”
The stereotype deepened: uneducated gamers, confirmed.