Time rewinds to the moment when the [World Main Storyline] had just ended, back in the real world.
Tang Xiao took off his gaming helmet and raised his arm to shield his eyes.
Jun Tesi.
He let out a slow breath, cradling the helmet in his hands. A flood of emotions surged through him—reluctance, sorrow. The image of Jun Tesi, stained with blood and tears, lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.
But there was no way to reload the save anymore. The game itself had shut down.
It was over.
Let’s just consider everything over.
Tang Xiao lay on his bed and, for the first time in a long while, slept deeply—so deeply. In his dreams, there was no main storyline, no crisis of human extinction. He and Jun Tesi couldn’t reveal their relationship, but under the cover of various in-game items, they carried on a secret romance within Third Eye, doing research together. The days were simple yet blissful.
Bang, bang, bang.
It wasn’t until the third day that a series of knocks on the door of his rented apartment finally woke him. Tang Xiao opened his eyes, a sense of loss washing over him.
Ah, reality.
“Tang Xiao, Tang Xiao! Are you in there?”
Tang Xiao sluggishly got up and opened the door, only to find his father standing outside. His father frowned, scanning him from head to toe. “What happened this time? You didn’t even come home, wouldn’t answer calls. How long have you been holed up in here? Whatever you’re going through, we can help you get through it.”
Tang Xiao suddenly threw his arms around his father’s neck, cutting him off mid-sentence.
Feeling his son’s trembling breath and the dampness seeping into his shoulder, Father Tang hesitated before asking, “What’s wrong? If you’re in trouble, just tell me. Your dad can fix anything for you.”
“It’s fine. It’s all fine now,” Tang Xiao choked out.
Father Tang hesitated for a moment, then slowly raised his arm and patted his son’s back.
For days after returning home, Tang Xiao’s mood remained off, leaving his parents deeply worried.
But this time, it was different. Previously, he would shut himself in his room, refusing to eat or drink, which had them frantic with concern. Now, at least, he still came out for meals, could talk, could smile. And yet, Father and Mother Tang could feel it—deep down, he wasn’t okay.
Perhaps it was just a parent’s intuition.
No matter how they tried to persuade him, Tang Xiao refused to say what had happened, leaving them at a loss. After much deliberation, they decided to call Li Mu.
The Tang and Li families had always been close, and their children often played together. Tang Xiao and Li Mu had been classmates throughout high school, but in university, they pursued different majors. Their schedules diverged significantly—especially after Li Mu joined a research lab and Tang Xiao became even busier with his own scientific work. Gradually, they lost touch.
But the moment Li Mu heard that Tang Xiao was in trouble, he didn’t hesitate—he rushed straight to his room.
“Hey, I’m here to see you.”
Tang Xiao was sitting on his bed, staring blankly at his phone. When Li Mu suddenly appeared at the door, he was momentarily too stunned to react.
Li Mu raised his hand. “Did you miss your daddy?”
That single ‘daddy’ shattered the distance built up over time. Tang Xiao laughed, cursed, and flung a pillow at him. “Screw off! If anyone’s the dad here, it’s me. You, my dear son, have been neglecting your filial duties for way too long. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I was wrong, I was wrong!” Li Mu quickly admitted defeat, moving to sit on the edge of Tang Xiao’s bed.
He silently watched Tang Xiao’s forced smile for a few seconds before speaking in a low voice. “This is serious, isn’t it?”
Tang Xiao froze, still holding the pillow mid-air. He slowly put it down, the smile on his lips vanishing as his face returned to its usual impassive state. “How did you tell?”
“Come on, how long have we known each other? You think I can’t tell?”
Li Mu sighed, then fixed Tang Xiao with a serious gaze. “What happened?”
“Did someone at school bully you? Cyber harassment? A professor giving you trouble? Sexual harassment?” Li Mu rattled off multiple possibilities, frowning. “That doesn’t sound right, though. With your talent and personality, who would even dare?”
Although they had drifted apart due to their busy careers, Li Mu had heard plenty of legends about Tang Xiao. Every time he saw him, he never missed a chance to congratulate him and demand a treat.
“Still stuck on research?” He took a guess at the universal struggle of countless researchers.
Tang Xiao denied it expressionlessly. “No.”
“Then what is it? Don't tell me… a breakup?”
“......”
Li Mu didn’t miss the barely perceptible change in Tang Xiao’s expression. He immediately took three steps back and let out a series of exaggerated yelps. “No way! You actually got dumped? When did you even start dating?!”
“I thought we agreed to be lifelong virgin wizards together!”
Tang Xiao rubbed his temples. “Why are you screaming? Keep your voice down! What if someone hears?”
If his parents overheard anything about dating, there’d be no end to the questions.
“Oh, oh… so you really had a relationship,” Li Mu lowered his voice, playing along.
It wasn’t just a relationship.
Tang Xiao tugged at the corners of his mouth in a strained attempt at a smile. He didn’t deny it—an admission in itself.
“Hmm…” Li Mu frowned, trying to recall if any woman had frequently appeared around Tang Xiao. Yet, no one came to mind.
Wait… could it be a guy?
Tang Xiao had never shown interest in either women or men before. Li Mu had assumed he was asexual, which made it even harder to pinpoint a possible partner.
After a few minutes of drawing a blank, he turned to Tang Xiao. “Give me a hint, at least.”
Tang Xiao sighed. “You've never met him in real life.”
“An online relationship?” Li Mu was surprised.
Tang Xiao’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t deny it. “You met in a game?” Li Mu continued, noticing the slight shift in Tang Xiao’s gaze. He muttered, “That… actually sounds like something you'd do.”
An online romance? Technically, yes. They did meet in a game.
Though perhaps it wasn’t quite what Li Mu was imagining.
“So what happened? He dumped you?” Li Mu looked nosy as ever.
Tang Xiao's mouth twitched. “I broke up with him.”
“Then why do you look so miserable?” Li Mu asked, puzzled.
Tang Xiao fell silent.
Why?
Because he had no choice.
Because they had no future.
Because humanity was on the brink of disaster.
Because there was only one possible solution.
There were countless reasons—his rational mind could list a hundred logical explanations. But in the end, only one truly mattered.
Because of the look in Jun Tesi’s eyes when his trust was shattered.
Because he had personally crushed a heart that had trusted him completely.
Li Mu saw the sheen of unshed tears at the corner of Tang Xiao’s eyes. His expression turned uncharacteristically anxious—he had never seen Tang Xiao look like this. Glancing around, he quickly shoved a tissue into his friend's hand.
“Sorry… If this is upsetting, I’ll stop talking about it.”
“It’s fine.” Tang Xiao held back the tears, simply closing his eyes. “I just… had to do it.”
“We can’t be together.”
Ah. What was it? A married man? A married woman? Some other kind of forbidden love? Li Mu was dying of curiosity, but seeing his best friend looking this heartbroken, he didn’t press further. Instead, he clapped Tang Xiao hard on the shoulder. “If you can’t be together, then you can’t. There’s always the next one—someone even better. Don’t dwell on it. Come on, let’s go out for a bit.”
“Go where?”
“Don't ask, just follow me.” Li Mu was determined to drag his friend out of his post-breakup gloom.
He took Tang Xiao all over the city, purely to play, just like they used to in high school, middle school, and their freshman year of college. They drove sports cars, indulged in the usual rich-kid pastimes—chilling in quiet bars, racing on tracks, visiting shooting ranges, hitting up clubs. Anything to help Tang Xiao clear his mind.
But no matter what kind of entertainment they tried, nothing truly made Tang Xiao happy. Li Mu had already pulled out all the stops and was completely exhausted.
At the boxing gym, Li Mu stood in stunned silence as he watched Tang Xiao punch straight through a heavy bag, tearing it apart. His tank top was drenched in sweat, yet his expression remained indifferent. Finally, Li Mu gave up. “No way… Did you secretly evolve into a gorilla over the past three years?”
Tang Xiao ignored him and wiped his sweat with a towel. Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen—it was Xiao Bai.
After giving Li Mu a quick nod, he stepped aside to take the call.
“Tang Xiao? Have you thought about my email?” Xiao Bai got straight to the point. “I'll probably be heading back to Harvard in half a year. Do you want to pursue a PhD under me? Of course, if you're interested in a different field, I can write you a recommendation letter… though you probably don’t need it.”
It had been several days, and Tang Xiao's emotions had somewhat stabilized, but his tone remained lethargic. “Not now, Professor. I'll think about it some more.”
Xiao Bai immediately picked up on something off. “Did something happen again?”
“No, really, nothing. I'm just a little tired. I want to take a break and think about what I really want to do next,” Tang Xiao replied.
“Alright.” Xiao Bai understood. The concept of a gap year was common abroad, and as long as Tang Xiao wasn’t in the same state of collapse as last time, it was fine.
“Take your time to rest. It’s good to slow down and reflect. Call me anytime when you’ve made up your mind.”
“Mm, thank you, teacher.”
“No need to be so formal.”
Tang Xiao hung up and turned around, only to find Li Mu standing behind him, looking slightly awkward. “Uh… Sorry. I just came over to ask what you want to drink.”
“It’s fine. Just plain water is good.”
“Oh.”
Li Mu hesitated for a long time before he finally couldn't hold back. “I overheard a little… Are you really not going for a PhD anymore? That’d be such a waste.”
Li Mu knew how capable Tang Xiao was in research. He genuinely felt it was a pity. Even if Tang Xiao hadn’t made any groundbreaking discoveries in the past three years, research was unpredictable—who’s to say that if he just kept digging half a meter deeper, he wouldn’t find a breakthrough?
Besides, Tang Xiao had all the resources in the world—something every researcher dreamed of.
“I'm just considering it,” Tang Xiao said.
“Do you not like research?” Li Mu asked.
If he had to put it bluntly, there wasn’t really a matter of liking or disliking.
Tang Xiao hadn’t been interested in it at first, but after witnessing Xiao Bai save Ms. Xiao, his perspective had shifted slightly. At the very least, he believed research had its value. Only by enduring the long, grueling winters could one eventually reap the rewards.
Seeing that Tang Xiao wasn’t outright rejecting the idea, Li Mu pressed on. “Then why not continue?”
Tang Xiao remained silent for a long while before finally answering, “Maybe because it brings back painful memories.”
“Painful memories?” Li Mu was taken aback.
“Mm.” Tang Xiao responded softly, his gaze drifting toward the boxing ring. Yet, his focus wasn’t on anything in particular—it was as if he had sunk into his own world.
“Come to think of it… I only started doing research because of him,” Tang Xiao murmured.
Because experimental subject 428 was at risk of being disposed of, he had dived into research to find a way to keep 428 alive. That was how he ended up writing his first academic paper.
And from there, it had all fallen into place. In that academic environment, gaining influence required producing results, proving one's value, or—at the very least—ensuring that his own main mission didn’t end in failure.
By the time he snapped out of his thoughts, he had already walked a long way down this path. Looking back, nearly his entire research career had revolved around Jun Tesi.
At this realization, a faint smile appeared on Tang Xiao’s lips, but he didn’t notice how his words had completely stunned Li Mu.
Wait… What does he mean by ‘I started doing this because of him?
Li Mu vaguely recalled that when Tang Xiao was in his sophomore year, he initially had little to no interest in research. That was why Li Mu had been so shocked when he heard Tang Xiao had started working in a lab.
But from what he just said… it sounded like he had begun because of someone.
It was similar to Xiao Bai’s case—he had also started his research because of someone’s illness.
Li Mu’s brain worked rapidly, connecting the dots from Ms. Xiao’s illness to Tang Xiao’s prolonged downturn. A bad feeling crept over him. “That person… how is he now?”
“He’s in another world.”
…As expected.
Li Mu finally understood. He also realized why Tang Xiao had become so despondent. Any man would be devastated in his situation.
No matter how much of a genius Tang Xiao was, he hadn’t been able to save the one he wanted to save.
Li Mu let out a long sigh and patted Tang Xiao on the shoulder. “Brother… my condolences.”
Tang Xiao glanced at him indifferently. He knew Li Mu had misunderstood something, but he was too tired to correct him. It didn’t matter. Either way, they would never meet again in this lifetime.
Let him misunderstand.
He was truly exhausted. It wasn’t just that research reminded him of his time at Third Eye—it was also the darkness of those three years.
For three years, Tang Xiao had only slept three to four hours a night. Every morning, he’d open his eyes and head straight to the gaming lab, enduring the pressure from those around him, facing failure after failure.
If it weren’t for Jun Tesi, he would have collapsed long ago.
Even if he hadn’t, he would’ve developed PTSD. Tang Xiao really had no desire to step into a lab again—at least, not for now.
He needed a break. He needed to completely let go of that game before he could figure out his next steps.
Near the Third Eye territory, a cloaked figure slowly made their way toward the Third Eye base.
“Elder,” a hesitant voice spoke from behind. “Are we really going to pledge allegiance to the new King of Mushroom?”
What he truly wanted to ask was—Are we really switching allegiances?
“Han Wei, I understand your doubts,” the elder at the front said calmly. “But you must not confuse gods with mortals. How could you use human logic to explain the existence of a god? Do you think they are independent beings, just like us humans?”
Han Wei hesitated. “Aren’t they…?”
“You’re too narrow-minded,” the elder said solemnly. “A god merely changes its vessel. Its spirit and will are what truly matter. And now, we are simply renewing our faith in the one who stands before us.”
Han Wei’s eye twitched, but he didn’t dare show his disdain. He lowered his voice and said, “I see… I was too short-sighted.”
He secretly rolled his eyes. Old geezer, your so-called god was clearly defeated, yet you still won’t admit it.
He glanced at his game status panel, where he was still marked as infected, and let out a quiet sigh.
That’s right—Han Wei was actually a player. And not just any player—he was one who had been recruited by a special department.
Normally, it was impossible to plant an undercover agent within the Huigui Cult. Every single member was a heavily infected zombie mushroom host—their brains had been completely rewired by the mushroom. They also seemed to have an internal system to identify and communicate with one another.
But after the previous King of Mushroom’s death, something changed. Most of the recently recovered infected lost their newfound clarity and became mindless once again. The cultists panicked, terrified that they too would regress into that state, so they hurriedly followed the guidance of the mushrooms within them, seeking out a new King of Mushroom to pledge their loyalty.
Han Wei had slipped in midway, posing as a newly infected follower. Using a special method unique to the Huigui Sect, he had temporarily retained his sanity. However, his time was limited—once the infection fully took over and his sanity value hit zero, he would likely be forcibly logged out of the game.
Until then, he planned to follow the Huigui Sect and see for himself what kind of being the new King of Mushroom truly was.
“We're here.” The elder stopped in front of the Third Eye base, his gaze filled with deep reverence.
“This is the place.”
Han Wei instinctively looked up at what was once the Third Eye base—now transformed into a monster’s lair.
At first glance, almost all the buildings had turned snow-white, their surfaces wrapped in silk-like threads.
Deathly silence.
That was Han Wei’s first impression.
This place was too quiet.
There were no sounds, no people, no animals. Though it was supposed to be spring, this place seemed frozen in winter.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when someone yanked his sleeve. He snapped back to reality, realizing that while he had been lost in thought, all the surrounding cultists had already fallen to their knees, praying devoutly toward the structure.
“Oh great deity, please accept our faith. We humans are willing to merge with the mushrooms, may our will become eternal.”
The cultists chanted in unison. Han Wei mumbled along absentmindedly, though his eyes remained sharp, carefully observing his surroundings.
Ten minutes passed. Then thirty. They had been praying for half an hour, yet the mycelium on their bodies showed no reaction.
What did that mean?
The elder felt a growing unease. He had never seen the previous King of Mushroom in person, only occasionally sensing their will through the mycelium, which guided them on what they needed to do.
But this new King of Mushroom—this one—was an enigma.
Ever since the throne changed hands, the elder had only sensed a profound sorrow from the mycelium. After that, the mushrooms parasitizing them had fallen into an eerie silence, showing no further response.
Then everything spiraled into chaos. The war had ended abruptly—without warning, without reason. Seeing the infected revert to their mindless, zombie-like state, the elder had felt fear for the first time in years. Fear that they, too, would lose themselves, or worse, be captured and executed by the Alliance.
So they came. Guided by the mycelium within them, they had traveled for days to reach this place.
No matter what, they had to meet the new King of Mushroom today and receive further instruction.
The elder gritted his teeth, stood up, and boldly stepped into the base.
The other cultists exchanged glances before following him inside.
The faint tremor of their footsteps traveled through the mycelium, reaching the slumbering throne.
Jun Tesi opened his eyes. In an instant, he understood who had come. A cold, twisted smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
He hadn’t even gone looking for trouble with the Huigui Sect, yet they had come knocking first.
How amusing.
With a single thought, the mycelium shifted, parting to reveal a clear path for them. The elder’s eyes lit up at the sight, and he whispered something to the others. The cultists’ expressions grew even more devout as they bowed deeply, praying with every step as they respectfully followed the white mycelium path laid out before them.
After walking for about five minutes, they finally reached the end of the corridor—and saw the new King of Mushroom.
Under the cover of the kneeling cultists, Han Wei subtly lifted his gaze. The first thing he saw was a pair of inhuman golden eyes and a face more beautiful than any model’s—so exquisitely perfect that it no longer seemed human at all. The white mycelium throne on which the figure sat blended seamlessly with the surrounding architecture.
A… a human?
Han Wei was momentarily stunned, but he quickly realized—this wasn’t a human. It was merely a King of Mushroom that retained a human form.
But even so, he was completely thrown off. Why was the new King of Mushroom in human form?
And why did this area look so strange—almost like an experimental area?
“Great Deity.” The elder, upon seeing Jun Tesi in this form, showed no surprise. Instead, he seemed ecstatic. The mycelium within him trembled—it could not be mistaken. The one before them was indeed the new King of Mushroom. Without hesitation, he pulled the other cultists down into a kneeling position.
Han Wei lowered his head as well, pretending to pray devoutly.
“Huigui Sect.” Jun Tesi gazed down at the gathered humans, a trace of mockery curling his lips. “You wish to return to me?”
“Yes, yes! Of course!” The elder was overwhelmed with emotion, though his face—long parasitized by mushroom—had lost the ability to shed tears. This only made his expression appear even more grotesquely distorted. “Humans were always meant to be vessels for the mushrooms. To offer our flesh and blood as nourishment for its growth—what greater blessing could there be?”
Jun Tesi didn’t respond. His fingers, resting on the throne’s armrest, trembled slightly as he turned his gaze to the other cultists. “And what about the rest of you?”
The cultists who had followed the elder nodded fervently, their eyes filled with desperate hope, longing for their god’s favor once more.
“Heh.”
A nearly soundless chuckle escaped Jun Tesi’s lips.
Do the humans you sought to protect include these people as well?
…No, they don’t, do they?
Then it doesn’t matter what I do to them, does it?
No. And even if it did matter—so what?
Juntes thought to himself: If their deaths could wake him up—could make him reprimand me, scold me—then that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
With that thought, Jun Tesi leaned back into his throne, as if sinking into silence.
Seconds passed. The new King of Mushroom neither spoke nor gave his approval—nor did he refuse.
But none of the cultists dared to raise their heads, fearing they might provoke his displeasure. They held their breaths, waiting.
Then, suddenly, it happened.
A cultist standing directly in front of Han Wei collapsed.
It was not a metaphor—Han Wei literally witnessed the man crumple to the ground, as if his bones had been stripped away. No, not just his bones. His flesh—everything beneath his skin—had vanished without a trace. All that remained was a thin, empty layer of skin, fluttering lifelessly to the ground.
----------
No comments:
Post a Comment