The broadcast on the street recounted the life of this great scientist. But perhaps because he was too young, the report wasn’t long enough, so the journalist specifically interviewed scientists who had worked with Tang Xiao or were in similar fields, asking them to share their thoughts on him.
“He was a scientist of unparalleled genius—no, his talent in scientific research can only be described as breathtaking,” said Basil.
“To be honest, I still don’t understand how he managed to do all this. According to our original estimates, even if we could crack the irreversible mechanism of the zombie mushroom, it would take at least a year. By then, who knows how many people would have died in the process? But he did it—he saved humanity.”
“My only comment on him is that heaven is jealous of geniuses,” said Leon. “Because his talent was too extraordinary, even God couldn’t bear to let him live and took him away.”
The journalist asked, “I heard that there was some conflict between you two in the Third Eye.”
“Hm? Who did you hear that from? …Alright, fine. Even if we had some minor friction, that’s all in the past. When it comes to major issues, we all stood on the same side, didn’t we? I genuinely regret his passing.”
Feng Shuyun said, “He saved my life—more than once. That young man had an extraordinary sense of danger. But why… why didn’t that same sense work for himself? I often feel pain thinking about it. Maybe if we had paid more attention to him in our daily lives, and been more careful, this tragedy wouldn’t have happened.”
“There’s nothing much to say. He was my most outstanding student. If he were still alive, his future achievements would have surpassed mine.”
Fu Yichen listened to the broadcast as he worked, thinking the name sounded really familiar—exactly the same as a player friend he had met before.
Their base was far from any TV signals, so Fu Yichen hadn’t seen the face of this renowned scientist yet. He only thought, How could it be? Someone of this caliber would have been heavily protected, surviving until the very last moments of humanity’s destruction. How could he have ended up on such a dangerous battlefield?
Besides, if he was that capable, he would’ve made a name for himself in the real world already. Why waste time in this game world?
Thinking this, he lowered his head and continued working—until his sharp instincts suddenly registered someone standing behind him. He whipped around.
“…You’re Jun Tesi?” Fu Yichen took a few seconds to dig up the memory.
Mostly because Jun Tesi looked completely different now.
It had only been a few weeks, yet his skin had noticeably lightened, transitioning from a deep tone to a wheatish shade. But more than that, the surrounding air had grown significantly more dangerous. Fu Yichen nearly drew his weapon on instinct—only when his gaze met those eerie golden slit-pupiled eyes did the recognition truly hit him.
What the hell happened in such a short time? He looks just like a game boss now… I almost shot him on the spot.
“Where’s Tang Xiao?” Fu Yichen glanced around but didn’t see Tang Xiao anywhere. He asked in confusion.
Jun Tesi’s body tensed slightly. Then he raised his eyes to look at Fu Yichen. “…He left this world.”
Fu Yichen froze. He understood immediately. His expression turned complicated. “I see… My condolences.”
“Why?” Jun Tesi stared at him intently and said in a quiet voice, “He just left this world. He didn’t die.”
Fu Yichen’s expression finally changed—anxiety flashing across his face. He forced out an awkward laugh. “Hei-hei… What are you even talking about? Leaving this world is dying, isn’t it?”
Jun Tesi remained silent, simply watching him. Then he spoke, voice calm and measured. “Your breathing just accelerated. Your pupils dilated in 0.1 seconds.”
Then, suddenly, he let out a soft laugh. “You’re lying.”
At that moment, it was as if time itself slowed. The sights and sounds around them dulled. Fu Yichen belatedly realized—he couldn’t move.
A moment ago, he hadn’t thought much of Jun Tesi. Just an NPC—one that happened to be absurdly good-looking with slightly odd eyes. But now… His expression and tone hadn’t changed at all, showing no signs of anger. And yet—the sheer pressure radiating from him sent cold sweat trickling down Fu Yichen’s back.
The air twisted slightly before his eyes. His throat felt dry. Then, a notification popped up on his game panel.
Sanity Check: Failed
Willpower Check: Failed
What the hell?!
Fu Yichen was utterly shocked.
But what shocked him even more was what happened next. Jun Tesi walked past him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and Fu Yichen’s body moved on its own, following step by step like a puppet. He watched in disbelief as Jun Tesi opened the door to his house, walked inside, and sat down on the sofa.
Fu Yichen followed behind him like a guest, sitting across from him.
“What exactly are you people? How did you enter this world?” Jun Tesi asked calmly.
Willpower check: Failed.
Fu Yichen spoke uncontrollably, “We are humans. We entered this game through gaming devices—we’re players.”
“If you die in this world, do you players revive in reality?”
“Of course,” Fu Yichen replied. “But after dying in the game, we can never log in again.”
Jun Tesi had already learned about the concept of games and players from studying human culture. He hadn't been certain before, but now, with Fu Yichen's confirmation, his fingers trembled slightly.
The real world, players...
So Tang Xiao might still be alive—just in another world.
As Jun Tesi’s emotions fluctuated, pure white mycelium—visible only to him—began drifting through the air, seemingly collecting something. At times, they vanished into the void, causing the space within the room to distort slightly.
The only human present had no idea what was happening. All he knew was that his game panel was going crazy, bombarding him with Willpower Checks and Sanity Checks nonstop. His Sanity Value was dropping at an alarming rate—AHHHH!!
What the hell was going on?! What kind of NPC had Tang Xiao messed with?!
Wait a minute—Player Tang Xiao... and Scientist Tang Xiao.
Their deaths... weren’t they a little too close in timing?
Fu Yichen's face stiffened for a moment. Right, what was the age of that scientist mentioned on the broadcast? He seemed quite young too.
No way...
We're all players, but why is he so OP?!
“What are your players' objectives?”
Fu Yichen heard Jun Tesi ask.
Willpower check: Failed.
Fu Yichen had already given up resisting. “Each player has a different personal main quest. Mine is to explore the wilderness. I heard some people are tasked with stopping the beast tide, others are climbing the ranks in the League government. But the world’s main storyline—saving humanity—is the same for everyone.”
“Is that so?” Jun Tesi uttered the words without emotion, then continued asking about various details regarding reality.
Fu Yichen was completely numb at this point.
Someone, please save me! At this rate, I'm going to spill everything!
“One last question,” Jun Tesi said. “How many players like you are there? And who are they?”
What are you trying to do?!
Fu Yichen's heart was in his throat. He knew this wasn’t just a game world, so he was especially wary of such questions.
Is he trying to wipe out all the players?! What did Tang Xiao do to you?!
Just as another Willpower Check popped up, Fu Yichen shut his eyes in despair. But at that moment, the front door suddenly opened from the outside. A middle-aged woman walked in. “Huh? The door wasn’t closed properly? Oh, do we have a guest?”
Mom!
Fu Yichen's emotions surged instantly. He stared at the woman, trying to tell her with his eyes to run!
The middle-aged woman smiled warmly and walked over to the sofa. Recognizing Jun Tesi, she affectionately placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, isn't this little Jun Tesi? I'm so glad you're still alive!”
At that moment, something in Fu Yichen’s mind seemed to snap. When he came back to his senses, he had already positioned himself in front of the woman, panting heavily as he stared at Jun Tesi in alarm.
What just happened?!
“Xiao Chen.”
Jun Tesi showed no reaction. He looked at the mother and son, his gaze briefly sweeping over their expressions. The fingers resting on his knee twitched slightly.
Humans were such interesting creatures. Just moments ago, they had been completely unable to resist him, yet in an instant, they erupted with sudden strength, breaking free from his influence.
Then, he stood up and walked toward the door.
He… left? Fu Yichen was stunned.
“Aren't you going to ask more?” he blurted out instinctively.
Jun Tesi stopped at the doorway. Hearing this, he turned his head and glanced at him. “I've already finished asking.”
During his questioning, the mycelium had successfully analyzed the strange phenomenon within the human's body.
According to these players, it should be called the game panel.
Either way, he could now use the mycelium to distinguish which humans possessed this so-called game panel.
That last question? It didn't matter whether he asked or not. He would find the players one by one regardless.
Jun Tesi had already obtained all the intelligence he needed. He had confirmed that Tang Xiao was a player, and that meant the man was definitely still alive in the real world.
That was enough.
As for the rest of his questions, he would find Tang Xiao himself and get the answers.
“Oh, right.” Jun Tesi suddenly remembered something. He turned back to look at Fu Yichen.
At that moment, Fu Yichen’s game panel popped up a new notification.
Insight check: Success.
White. His entire vision was filled with overwhelming white.
White mycelium, like an all-consuming plague, spread out from Jun Tesi. It extended freely, unbound by any material constraints. Fu Yichen saw his mother scream and rush in front of him to shield him, but the white mycelium never even touched her. Instead, it sank into his own skull, working with the precision of a skilled surgeon—Erasing all memories of Jun Tesi from the player’s mind.
As the two of them collapsed unconscious onto the floor, Jun Tesi thought for a moment, then casually placed them on the sofa before turning away and leaving.
Hmm. He needed to be careful about players communicating with each other.
Jun Tesi pondered. The prey he sought was intelligent and cunning.
He would have to set his traps carefully and patiently if he wanted to lure that wary little deer straight into his net.
Under the sunlight, Jun Tesi’s skin grew even paler, his non-human golden slit pupils becoming more pronounced. His clearly abnormal appearance, however, failed to draw even a single glance from the surrounding humans. He walked through the city like a ghost beneath the sun.
On his way out, a large crowd of people passed by him. They held printed black-and-white photos of Tang Xiao, their expressions filled with grief. It seemed they were heading somewhere to mourn him, their faces etched with sorrow—Yet, they all acted as though they couldn't see Jun Tesi at all. Their paths did not waver in the slightest.
But just as they were about to bump into him, the crowd unconsciously parted to either side, like krill instinctively avoiding a leviathan in the deep sea.
Jun Tesi never once looked at the memorial photos they carried.
Not even for a single moment.
Reality.
A scientist mourned by an entire world was currently playing a game out of boredom, casually chatting and joking with his livestream audience. Unfortunately, he was terrible at keeping a conversation going. It had been the same during his previous streams—his technical skills were top-tier among streamers, but his ability to hold a conversation was awful. On top of that, playing at a high level required intense focus, which meant his streams had never really taken off.
Things were different now, yet also the same. The difference was that, with Tang Xiao’s current intelligence, he no longer needed to concentrate to pull off impressive gameplay.
The same thing was that, once he had finished exchanging a few words with his audience, he turned quiet again, burying himself in the game.
As Tang Xiao demonstrated his exceptional skills, the livestream chat couldn't hold back any longer. Tips poured in, and the number of viewers steadily increased.
[This account looks so familiar… This voice too…]
[Wait, I think I followed this streamer before, but I don’t remember at all.]
[Streamer, you’re back! Where have you been?]
[Hehe, the streamer was off working on a classified research project.]
[Yeah, yeah, one of those top-secret ones.]
Before Tang Xiao could even answer, his old fans jumped in to respond for him. They already knew his style—he wasn’t the talkative type—so they had learned to fill in the gaps.
[Ah, research?]
[No way, a genius at research is also a gaming pro?]
[Here’s a harsh truth: smart people pick up everything quickly.]
Most of the chat took it as a joke or part of the stream’s persona, but as the viewer count grew, some took it more seriously.
[Wait, was the streamer really doing research before?]
[Which university did you work at?]
[Can you stop using ‘research’ as a gimmick? No one seriously believes a gaming streamer actually did scientific research. Watered-down master's degree at best.]
Li Mu saw these comments and immediately got pissed. [Watered-down master’s? If you saw Tang Xiao’s actual work, it’d scare the hell out of you.]
No, wait—if Tang Xiao’s identity got exposed again, he’d definitely get cyberbullied all over again.
That whole mess had only happened recently.
Forcing himself to hold back, Li Mu instead muted a few people as the stream mod.
But the moment he started muting viewers, the chat turned rebellious.
[Wow, this mod is so controlling. We’re not even allowed to ask?]
[If it’s just a persona, why can’t we question it?]
[Streamer, if you’re really in research, then you must know the principles of CR primer design, right?]
[Streamer, if you’re in research, then you must know about the trending FSCGS gene-editing technology, right?]
[No way, no way, you don’t know this stuff? And you claim you’re not just some second-rate grad student?]
Most of the chat had just been mildly curious, but after the mod started muting people, and with a few sarcastic troublemakers stirring things up, the mood in the stream started to shift.
Li Mu couldn’t mute them fast enough. Tang Xiao, finally fed up, glanced at the chat and answered calmly, “The first principle of CR primer design: it must be based on a conserved region of a nucleic acid sequence and maintain specificity. The resulting product must not form a primary structure.”
“As for FSCGS technology…” A flicker of nostalgia flashed through Tang Xiao’s eyes. He spoke softly, “The FSCGS system consists of three parts: S, crRNA, and tracrRNA. The crRNA and tracrRNA pair through complementary bases to form the gRNA (guide RNA). The gRNA then binds to the Cas9 protein, guiding it to recognize and cut the target DNA sequence.”
Tang Xiao was far too familiar with FSCGS technology. In a way, it was his biological child. Every part of it had been born from his sleepless nights of meticulous thought, every set of experimental data refined through relentless effort.
Without realizing it, as he explained the concept to his audience, he went into great depth, completely absorbed in the topic.
The viewers who had been waiting to see him embarrass himself? Completely stunned.
[He looked that up. He had to have looked that up.]
[Bro, the streamer is actively playing right now. Where would he even find time to look it up?]
[Even if he memorized it beforehand, that’s still insane.]
[Memorizing and reciting complex research while simultaneously taking down a boss? Now that’s impressive. Streamer, you really are a research student.]
[I think the streamer might have mentioned before that he was in a biology program.]
[Damn… Suddenly, what he said doesn’t seem completely impossible.]
[So we’re talking about a bio grad student switching careers to become a streamer? Honestly, that’s not too far-fetched. Nervous laughter]
[No way, he’s just putting on a show. Do you guys actually believe this? The streamer’s new persona is solid and really gives off that bkg vibe. But if he has this kind of skill, why is he wasting it on streaming?]
[Am I the only one who thinks the streamer explains this stuff really well? Our bio professor also talked about this technology, but it didn’t sound nearly as clear.]
[But why the hell am I hearing this in a gaming livestream?!]
[Seriously, this is so cursed. Streamer—no, professor, can I just call you professor? Please, I beg you, stop. Grabs head]
[Master, master, I’m begging you, stop reciting this stuff!]
Tang Xiao awkwardly cut himself off, realizing he had gone too deep into the explanation. “Ahem, my bad. Let’s continue.”
Ding!
A notification popped up on his phone. It was a message from Li Mu.
Li Mu: Didn’t you say you wouldn’t touch research anymore? *dog head*
Tang Xiao’s mouth twitched. He quickly typed back: I won’t. I said I wouldn’t, and I won’t. This stream was just to clear up doubts. Didn’t you see the viewers aren’t even that into it?
In the lab, Li Mu chuckled to himself and muttered, “That’s not necessarily true.”
Sure, the knowledge was way too advanced for most people to understand, but everyone had a natural curiosity for things they didn’t fully grasp.
And even if they didn’t understand, people love a good flex. The bkg (background) aesthetic? The effortless multitasking? Just now, Tang Xiao had been casually reciting high-level research while slicing through bosses like it was nothing. That kind of contrast was prime entertainment.
Right now, livestreaming was all about standing out. With this kind of unique, unreplicable content, how could the stream not gain traction?
Plus, maybe—just maybe—it could reignite Tang Xiao’s passion for research. Li Mu truly didn’t want Tang Xiao to give up on science just because of heartbreak. Losing someone like him would be a huge personal and national loss.
So, he had an idea. He clipped a section of Tang Xiao’s stream, edited it, and uploaded it across major platforms.
Blood-red mycelium spread across every corner of the world.
In a dimly lit laboratory, Tang Xiao snapped back to awareness. He was standing by the door in full protective gear, cold sweat creeping down his back. An overwhelming sense of dread surged through him. His instincts screamed at him to turn and run.
“Xiaoxiao…”
A chilling, rasping voice—inhuman, guttural. Yet the moment Tang Xiao heard it, he turned around instinctively. “Jun Tesi?”
What met his eyes was a monster. A grotesque figure, like a demon clawing its way out of the deepest pits of hell. Its ‘skin’ looked like exposed human muscle tissue, leaving sticky, bloody smears wherever it touched.
But Tang Xiao knew—this wasn’t real muscle. Even in its original form, Jun Tesi’s body wasn’t flesh and blood. What looked like sinew was actually mycelium, sleek and cold to the touch, without a single drop of blood.
Then… where was all this blood coming from?
Tang Xiao’s vision swayed. He lifted his gaze— And was shocked speechless by the mountain of corpses behind Jun Tesi.
The Third Eye Organization. The Alliance. And countless other people he didn’t recognize.
While he was still reeling, the mycelium on the ground suddenly accelerated, latching onto his ankle.
Before he could react, a tremendous force yanked him to the ground. It was just like before—just like when they had been enemies. The filaments dragged him toward Jun Tesi.
“Why did you lie to me?”
“Why did you leave me?”
Tang Xiao wanted to explain, but no words came out. Because… it was true. He had deceived Jun Tesi. And he had left in such a cruel, devastating way.
The strange humanoid figure didn’t seem interested in hearing his explanation. A fissure split open in its chest, revealing a hollow cavity inside—nothing but a few mycelium forming tube-like structures.
Tang Xiao instinctively kicked and struggled, his fingers clawing at the ground, leaving behind deep, bloody marks.
“Xiaoxiao…”
There was a tremor in that voice—like it was choking back tears.
Tang Xiao’s struggle slowed. He looked down at the mycelium coiled tightly around his ankle, a bitter smile flickering across his face.
Well… I really messed up this time.
His resistance weakened, and the mycelium dragged him in bit by bit. His vision was swallowed by crimson. The mycelium dissolved his clothing, burrowing into his skin.
The creature let out a satisfied sigh.
“Now… we can be together forever.”
“Ah!”
Tang Xiao jolted upright in bed, his entire back drenched in cold sweat.
A nightmare.
He hunched over, his chest rising and falling rapidly, struggling to catch his breath after the vivid, horrifying dream.
Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a faint glow across the room. Sitting there, Tang Xiao slowly calmed his racing heart—only to realize that it was already the middle of the night.
He just wanted a nap… and somehow it was already this late.
Pressing a hand to his forehead, he let out a helpless sigh.
That nightmare had dragged him back into memories of that world. When he left, he had laid down plans, sure—but plans never keep up with change. Who knew what had happened to that world by now?
Xiao Bai, Feng Shuyun, Lodge… Were they really okay? Or had things unfolded just like in the nightmare?
Stop thinking about it. It’s over. Besides, he couldn’t even log into the game anymore. What was the point of dwelling on it?
Tang Xiao forcibly shoved those memories aside. One perk of having 99 intelligence was that he had full control over his memory palace. He could take the memories from the game world, twist them up like a messy ball of wires, shove them into some random mental drawer, and slam it shut—at least, for now.
But… in dreams, his subconscious took over. And no matter how well he hid them, those memories always found a way to slip out.
There was no way he was going back to sleep now.
Tang Xiao got up, grabbed a quick snack, and returned to his room. He picked up his phone and opened his account—
…Wait. Why do I have DMs?
And… why do I suddenly have so many more followers?
Confused, he checked his messages. Turns out, someone had clipped his stream and posted it across multiple platforms. And now, two of those platforms had his video trending.
In short… the video went viral.
The surge in followers? Most of them had probably found their way over from the comment sections.
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