Chapter 57
Chapter 57: Someone From the State
Zhen Wei Da was miserable.
Anyone would be miserable. Dying in a full-dive, era-defining game and getting your account permanently banned wasn’t the kind of regret you shook off with a deep breath.
The feeling crawled under his skin.
He’d been in a great mood before—so excited he’d barely slept. Now he was so angry he couldn’t even finish his deluxe cup noodles.
He’d planned it all out. If the Sect Master approved, he could help turn the sect into the first industrialized sect on Yun Zhou Continent.
But he’d died before he could even start.
All those late-night mineral references. All those documents about early industrial development. All of it—wasted.
Then a knock sounded.
“Ding-dong—”
Zhen Wei Da froze.
He lived alone. No real friends. Nobody came to his door.
A delivery? No. Deliveries were left downstairs.
Still, he didn’t think too hard. He stepped to the door and called, “Who is it?”
A low voice answered, smooth and heavy. “Hello. We detected abnormal electricity usage in your home. We’re here to check your wiring.”
Zhen Wei Da’s scalp tightened.
That excuse was too much.
His instincts screamed.
And it was strange—standing there with his hand on the latch, his senses felt sharper than they used to. Through the door, he could feel something outside: a quiet, pressurized hostility, like a blade held just out of sight.
His heart started pounding.
He suddenly didn’t want to open the door.
“Who… are you?” he asked again.
Silence.
Cold sweat spilled down his forehead.
He hadn’t done anything illegal. Had he?
Why did this feel wrong?
If he’d known, he would’ve installed a video doorbell. At least then he’d see what he was dealing with.
Then a familiar voice barked from outside—sharp, impatient.
“Zhen Qiang! Open up already! What, are you raising birds in there?”
The property auntie.
Zhen Wei Da exhaled on instinct, relief flashing through him.
Then his mind caught up.
Property management… and that other voice?
He already had a guess who the people outside really were.
It still didn’t make sense.
He’d obeyed the law his entire life. He didn’t even cross solid lines when he biked.
Why would anyone target him?
With a tight throat, Zhen Qiang slowly opened the door.
No one rushed him. No one forced their way in.
But three men stood there in a line, buzz cuts, identical height, posture like steel rods. In front of them was a woman with glasses in a black uniform, smiling gently.
“Hello, Zhen Qiang,” she said. “May we come in and talk?”
The property auntie gave Zhen Qiang an awkward, guilty smile and fled down the hall like her job was done.
Zhen Qiang stepped aside and let them in.
The woman showed him a credential he couldn’t make heads or tails of. She didn’t dwell on titles. She only swept her gaze around his small home, taking in the couch, the table, the corner where his VR set sat.
Then she looked at him again, her tone still mild.
“You don’t need to be nervous. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”
Zhen Qiang swallowed. “Did I… accidentally pass by some crime scene or something?”
She smiled. “Of course not. That’s not our department.”
Then she said the words that made his stomach drop anyway.
“‘Start With a Broken Sect.’ The game. I assume you’re familiar with it.”
Zhen Qiang went still.
So it really was about the game.
It was surprising.
And somehow, it wasn’t.
If a technology like that existed, why would it be used for a game?
But this game was so outrageous it made sense that someone, somewhere, would notice.
“You found out I’m one of the players that fast?” he asked.
Her expression sobered. “I apologize. But this matter is extraordinary. In extraordinary times, we can only use extraordinary means to gather information about the players.”
She paused, watching him closely.
“We came because we just learned your character died in the game. Your account has been permanently banned. Compared to other players, you likely have more time to speak with us in detail.”
The words hit like a finger pressed into a bruise.
Tears slid down Zhen Qiang’s face before he could stop them. “I didn’t want to die.”
She nodded once, calm. “I understand. Once anyone realizes how miraculous this game is, they absolutely don’t want their character to die.”
“Sit down,” she said. “My surname is Liu. You can call me Little Liu.”
Zhen Qiang didn’t dare.
She looked older than him, steadier, and even if it was only politeness, he couldn’t bring himself to use a nickname.
He lowered his head. “Ms. Liu.”
She smiled. “No need to be so formal, Mr. Zhen. Sit. We only want to understand the situation. We won’t do anything to you. Today’s matter won’t be known to anyone. You can relax. The state guarantees it.”
That last sentence loosened something in his chest.
He sat down quickly and nodded. “Ask anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Behind Liu Wen Yu, the three men opened a laptop and began scanning the room with detectors, sweeping the corners, confirming there were no hidden transmitters or listening devices.
Only when they finished did Liu Wen Yu begin.
Her first question surprised him.
“Mr. Zhen,” she said, “when you entered the game, can you confirm you truly felt another world—everything almost the same as reality, including your senses?”
Zhen Qiang nodded hard. “Yes. I don’t know how to explain it. It felt like real transmigration. We don’t use the bathroom, and pain isn’t enabled, but if you pinch your own flesh you can clearly feel it. Smell and taste are there too. It’s incredible.”
Liu Wen Yu made a note. “Second question. What device do you use to connect?”
“Over there.” His home was small; he played in the living room.
“That VR setup. V Clan. I bought it last year. The game downloads locally—I import it into my library and I can enter. I just put on the headset.”
He let out a short, bitter breath. “But once I’m inside, I can’t feel the headset at all. And now I can’t get in anyway. The moment I connect, it just says my account is permanently banned.”
His disappointment was too raw to hide.
Liu Wen Yu’s tone softened slightly. “And in the game, what do you know about the Sect Master, Song Jiu Lai?”
“Sect Master…” Zhen Qiang thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not much. I only saw her once, during newbie reception. Sect Master handed out beginner tasks and opened our spirit roots with pills. She was… beautiful. Like a real goddess.”
Liu Wen Yu’s eyes stayed steady. “So aside from that meeting, you know nothing about her?”
“Yeah. The game just started. The main story hasn’t reached her yet.”
Zhen Qiang rubbed his face, trying to pull himself together. “Our mission is to make the sect stronger and stronger—and absolutely not let Sect Master die.”
He looked up, voice low.
“If Sect Master dies, the game ends.”