Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Main Quest – First Rank Completed
Not everyone logged in the moment the test opened.
There were fifty players in total. Aside from people like Zhou Xiao, who had nothing better to do, most weren’t exactly eager to rush into a “cheap” game that claimed it was about to start a no-wipe test.
Things started feeling wrong after Wu Da Hu called out the reviewer in the group chat.
No matter how the other players asked, pressed, or spammed him, Wu Da Hu didn’t reply.
At that point, there was only one explanation: he was already in the game, too absorbed to remember the outside world existed.
The reviewer was out eating.
Wu Da Hu hadn’t lied—today really was the day a friend treated him to a feast. The reviewer had just sat down when Wu Da Hu’s message popped up.
His heart lurched.
He tried to DM Wu Da Hu.
No response.
Again.
Still nothing.
A strange itch crawled under his skin. He couldn’t sit properly. He kept shifting, glancing at his phone, forcing himself to finish one bite after another, but the food suddenly tasted like cardboard.
In the end, he swallowed his pride and messaged the group’s Big Shot, Jing Bao Tian, asking how the game was.
No response.
He tried Little Titan Girl, another player he usually joked with.
No response.
Not a single one of them replied.
Were they really that addicted?
A game was a game. Even if it was fun, it was still… a game. The reviewer couldn’t wrap his head around why Wu Da Hu had sounded so desperate. The group chat was even joking that they’d been paid to promote it.
[Philanthropist: They must’ve taken a sponsorship. Otherwise, why would they be this eager?]
[Old Daoist Ascended: Fine, but why isn’t Jing Bao Tian replying? Big Shot doesn’t usually go silent.]
[The Sun Shines On Your Dark Heart: I checked the website. I seriously don’t see what’s special about it…]
[Old Daoist Ascended: @Jump High Pee Far, didn’t you pre-register too? You in yet?]
[Jump High Pee Far: Not yet. I’ll log in and take a look.]
Then another message exploded into the chat:
[Run Naked In The Wind: Brothers—holy shit, holy shit. This game is going to make world history!!!!
I love Little Lady to death!!
Bye, I’m going to play now!!!]
And right after sending that… Run Naked In The Wind went silent too.
[Old Daoist Ascended: @Jump High Pee Far, for the love of—after you go in, say something! Why does everyone vanish the second they log in?]
[Jump High Pee Far: Okay.]
Ten minutes later, he vanished too.
One after another, the pre-registered players logged in and disappeared.
Even if the game was good, that was still unnerving.
Curiosity hooked everyone by the throat.
And with only twenty minutes left before the test portal closed, the reviewer stared at his unanswered DMs and finally snapped.
He shoved back his chair. “No. I’m going home.”
His friend’s eyes bulged. “Are you kidding me? I finally treated you for once—miracle of miracles—and you’re leaving without eating?”
The reviewer said fast, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I feel sick with worry. I pre-registered a game. The login portal closes soon. They were yelling half an hour ago that I had to get in, and now none of them reply. I can’t sit here.”
His friend spat. “You’re possessed. What trash game is worth this? It’s a test game. You’ve lost your mind.”
“I’m going.” The reviewer grabbed his coat. “We’ll eat next time. This time’s on me. Don’t pay—I’ll split what you already ordered.”
“Y-you—” His friend was furious, but the reviewer was already gone.
Twenty minutes left.
A taxi might not make it in time.
He ran.
Luckily, they didn’t live far.
The reviewer wasn’t the only one panicking. Some people had pre-registered and still hadn’t taken it seriously—going out for a normal walk, living normally, like nothing was happening.
Song Jiu Lai was anxious too.
“If we don’t hit fifty, does the quest fail?” she asked.
The System replied coolly, “Yep.”
Song Jiu Lai slapped her thigh. “How can someone not treasure my slot? If they don’t show, blacklist their ID—ban them forever!”
This was about whether the sect’s first main quest could be completed. It affected her, and it affected the people playing.
“If I’d known,” Song Jiu Lai muttered, “I would’ve released a few more slots.”
The System said, “And what if everyone showed up? Then you’d be over quota. The first batch is limited to fifty.”
“…So nothing works.”
Meanwhile, the players who logged in after Zhou Xiao almost all went crazy.
They’d never seen a game with simulation this high.
It rewrote their entire understanding of reality.
Some were practically bouncing around the courtyard, giddy and loud. And because players were players, someone promptly tried to test the limits—walking up and kicking a piece of sect property like it was a prop in a theme park.
The System’s warning hit instantly:
[System: Warning—damaging sect property. One strike. Three strikes or more will result in an account ban.]
Someone else eyed A Wu and got even bolder. The kid looked young—soft-faced, easy to mess with—so the player reached out, trying to pinch A Wu’s cheek to “confirm the realism.”
This time, there was no System warning.
A Wu simply lifted a hand.
A strange force snapped into place like an invisible hook. The offending player was yanked off the ground and slammed into a dirt pit beside the courtyard with a loud smack.
Soil poured over his face. The suffocating sensation was horrifyingly real.
Then another notice sounded:
[System: You have received one warning from Senior Brother A Wu!]
After that, everyone behaved.
They stared at A Wu like he’d just performed a magic trick that shattered the laws of physics. Their eyes burned with feverish light.
Was this… really cultivation?
Who hadn’t dreamed of superpowers? Of flight, of immortality, of that wild, impossible path called cultivation?
Now it was real. And in a single breath, life suddenly felt like it had a purpose again.
Someone still muttered, half under his breath, “Isn’t this supposed to be a game? If you can’t play however you want, what kind of game is it?”
Another person immediately egged him on. “Good point. Then go stand up and fight for justice.”
The mutterer shut up.
Everyone knew games had rules.
And with realism like this, getting kicked out wasn’t just losing a test—it was the kind of regret that would gnaw you for the rest of your life.
A Wu kept his face tight and unhappy. No wonder the Sect Master had warned him: the Junior Brothers and Junior Sisters he brought in might be unruly, and if they needed discipline, he should discipline them.
Before, A Wu had felt awkward about it.
Now he felt justified.
He already thought his temper was good. These were his own sect members. If they wandered outside Longevity Sect and provoked other cultivators, one stray fireball would turn them to ash.
In the end, whether by Song Jiu Lai’s frantic prayers or by Han Tian’s last-minute push, it worked out. Han Tian even logged out in the final ten minutes to personally remind the remaining people who still hadn’t entered.
At the very last moment, the final player—the reviewer—gasped his way into the game.
All fifty pre-registered players were present.
To Song Jiu Lai, the System’s mechanical voice sounded like a choir of angels.
[Ding: Congratulations, host. You have met the requirement of recruiting fifty people. The sect’s newbie gift pack will be delivered shortly.]
[Ding: Longevity Sect has reached an initial scale. The next task will be issued after all fifty disciples stabilize at the early Qi Refining Stage. Keep it up, host!]