Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next day, Wen Jueqian went to work as usual.

After finishing the optimization plan for the novice guidance in the Ephemeral Realm, he lay back into the game pod.

The moment the neural interface connected, his consciousness began to sink. A few seconds later, the faintly glowing words "Ephemeral Realm" emerged from the darkness, followed by a brief data load.

He opened his eyes and was already standing in the game world.

The setting of Ephemeral Realm is "the Spirit Tide's Return"—a global eruption of mystical energy in which a small number of humans set out on very different paths to immortality through three means: awakening spiritual roots, reviving ancient bloodlines, or being possessed by demon seeds.

Yesterday, Wen Jueqian had completed the novice guidance quest. Today, instead of continuing the main storyline, he pulled up the teleport interface and entered a set of coordinates.

With a flash of white light, he stood before a complex of buildings suspended above a sea of clouds.

The Myriad Academy.

In the distance lay tier upon tier of palace halls, green-tiled eaves half-hidden in the mist. Further ahead stood a tall stone stele carved with four bold characters: "Myriad Academy."

This was an unopened dungeon—normally inaccessible, with no NPCs deployed by the AI yet. Wen Jueqian had requested temporary access today to check the scene's construction.

The dungeon's background setting, gameplay rules, and even its architectural style were all personally designed by him, based on Beichen High School.

Beichen High School.

His time there hadn't been pleasant.

The school's admission threshold was extremely high, and the admissions office quietly favored Alphas and Omegas from prominent families.

As a Beta from a modest family business, he had fought tooth and nail to get in—and once admitted, he faced relentless competition, with the constant threat of being kicked out if he didn't measure up.

But that was also where he met Wen Yanxu.

Their story started at Beichen High School, and that was the only part worth remembering fondly.

Wen Jueqian had even turned their love story into the dungeon's backstory under fake names, as a keepsake.

If the future System 99 had shown him was real, this dungeon might really become a past he'd mourn by himself.

Wen Jueqian walked slowly along the stone steps, in complete silence.

He stopped in front of a standalone building.

The Alchemy Pavilion.

This was modeled on Beichen High School's chemistry lab. The outside was an old wooden structure, but inside were rows of workstations, each with an alchemical furnace on top.

Wen Jueqian's first conversation with Wen Yanxu had happened here.

During chemistry lab, his lab partner was out sick. Just as he was getting ready to handle the complicated experiment alone, Wen Yanxu at the bench in front turned around.

"Doing this alone is risky," Wen Yanxu said, not bothering with pleasantries. "If you want, you can join our group."

That day's experiment used an organic synthesis method Wen Jueqian had never tried before, but Wen Yanxu did it with effortless fluidity, like he'd done it a hundred times before.

That made Wen Jueqian nervous.

Wen Yanxu was a big deal at Beichen High School—an S-grade Alpha, the Wen family heir, good-looking, brilliant, and from a perfect family. Wherever he went, he was the center of attention. Compared to him, Wen Jueqian's clumsy work made him feel like he was dragging the group down.

When it came time to heat, he set the temperature too high. As the solvent boiled, the liquid in the flask shot up violently, about to spray out and burn him. A hand grabbed his wrist from behind and yanked him back.

Wen Jueqian got pulled into an embrace, his back slamming into Wen Yanxu's chest. In that moment, he heard his own heartbeat—pounding harder than when he'd almost been burned.

"This reaction needs low heat," Wen Yanxu's voice came from right above him.

Wen Jueqian quickly pulled back, and Wen Yanxu let go just as naturally, adjusting the heating mantle's temperature before going back to his own spot, as if nothing had happened.

After class, the two left the room separately, without saying another word.

Back then, Wen Jueqian thought that would be the only time they'd ever interact.

Now, looking back, that man had been quietly moving closer to him from the very start.

"What are you doing?"

A voice came from behind him.

Wen Jueqian turned and saw a ball of light hovering silently in the air, giving off a soft, warm white glow.

The guest he'd been waiting for had arrived.

"System 99: Redemption."

This was an unopened dungeon, and Wen Jueqian had temporary access. Normally, if the game detected anything off, it would force a logout to keep players safe.

Yet here he was, with no warnings on his optical device and no alerts in the backend.

System 99 didn't seem bothered by his caution, sounding genuinely happy: "Hey there, host! I finally made it to this world, but for now I can only talk to you like this."

Wen Jueqian didn't say anything.

"You saw what I showed you yesterday, didn't you?" System 99 drifted closer. "I know you still don't believe it. But what was written there really will happen. I absorbed your despair, reset the timeline, and came back to now."

Wen Jueqian stepped back, studying it coolly.

Restarting the timeline, changing the future—it sounded like something from a fantasy novel.

"What do you want?" he asked.

System 99's glow flickered, as if it was thinking: "There are lots of systems like us. We all run on the strong emotions humans produce in small worlds, helping people in different worlds to earn rewards. I'm a redemption system—I absorb someone's despair and pain, then save them. Changing their fate creates ripples that let me earn some World Essence."

Wen Jueqian picked up on a few key terms.

Small worlds, World Essence—maybe this system came from a higher dimension, from a civilization he couldn't understand.

He was an atheist and had never believed in the supernatural. Everything System 99 had shown him had to be based on some kind of advanced tech.

Time travel had been discussed in theoretical physics for ages; it wasn't impossible. As for "turning emotions into energy" and "World Essence," those were just tech he couldn't understand because he didn't know enough.

He went on: "If you absorb World Essence, what happens to our world?"

He paused, his voice tightening without him realizing: "Like more disasters? Or some rules breaking?"

System 99 quickly denied it: "No, no. Small worlds can be healthy or unhealthy. This one's healthy and can heal itself. The tiny bit of World Essence I take won't mess with how this world runs at all."

If that so-called future really happened, then even if the world ended, he wouldn't care. Wen Jueqian didn't bother checking if System 99's "won't affect this world at all" was true or not.

He just needed to avoid the future where he lost everything.

Wen Jueqian heard his own voice, steady and calm: "I can trust you."

His words slowed by a barely noticeable beat, his gaze fixed on the orb of light as if seeing through its surface to appraise its worth: "But since we're going to cooperate to change the future, what help can you offer me?"

System 99's glow flickered excitedly: "I can help you predict key plot points, tell you when things will happen, and warn you to avoid traps."

Future plot points—hadn't those already been fed to him?

Wen Jueqian tilted his head, waiting for the system to continue.

The man and the system fell silent together.

Wen Jueqian was the first to break the silence: "And then?"

System 99's voice hesitated: "Then... that's it for now."

Wen Jueqian raised an eyebrow.

System 99's glow dimmed slightly, a hint of shame creeping into its tone: "Restarting the timeline took too much energy. Right now I can only stay in the digital space, and what I can do is indeed limited..."

"What can you do now?"

"...Give you advice." System 99's voice was as tiny as a mosquito's buzz.

Wen Jueqian said nothing.

"But!" System 99 quickly added, "Once we rewrite the fate nodes and I absorb new intense emotions and World Essence, my abilities will recover, and then I can offer you much more help!"

"Like what?"

"Like... helping you investigate information from the previous timeline that you can't find now, monitoring people who harbor ill intentions toward you, and even possessing electronic devices to protect your safety."

Wen Jueqian nodded, didn't press further, and instead switched to a different question.

"How much energy did you use to restart the timeline?"

System 99's glow dimmed again: "A whole lot."

"If you have enough energy, can you enter the real world?"

"Yes, and then I can provide you with more assistance."

Wen Jueqian's heart tightened, and his body unconsciously leaned forward: "In what form? Still an orb of light?"

"Yes, but I can possess electronic devices." System 99's tone carried a hint of trying to please. "If you're willing, I could even stay directly in your optical brain so we can talk anytime."

Wen Jueqian didn't respond, quietly thinking that if System 99 could show up in the real world, what it said would become a lot more believable.

System 99 seemed to think it had said all it needed to, and its glow began to fade: "So now, shouldn't we discuss how to cooperate to change the future?"

"Hold on." Wen Jueqian waved it over.

System 99's heart leaped with joy—it knew that when humans let you get physically closer, it meant trust—and it happily floated over.

"That space you pulled me into yesterday," Wen Jueqian asked, "what technology is that?"

This was the question he had always wanted to ask.

The holographic era was built on two major technological breakthroughs.

Non-invasive bidirectional brain-computer interfaces used sensors to read a user's brainwaves and neural signals, turning them into commands while feeding virtual sensory signals back to the nervous system—that was the physiological foundation of holographic tech.

Holographic simulation tech used multi-sensory simulation and real-time physics engines to create interactive, immersive virtual environments around the user—that was the basis for building "physical reality" inside the virtual world.

But current holographic tech still had its limits. First, long deep connections could strain or damage neural pathways. Second, sensory feedback in holographic simulation still lagged. Third, physics engines' computing power limited how complex scenes could get—the finer the detail and the more realistic the experience, the higher the hardware cost.

The power System 99 had shown made Wen Jueqian see the possibility of a tech breakthrough.

Yesterday he'd spent nearly eight hours in the game, then the system pulled him into that private space. Total connection time went past the theoretical limit by over forty minutes, and his body stayed in deep connection the whole time. But the checkup afterward showed no abnormalities at all.

System 99's glow flickered: "It's a more advanced consciousness-access tech. Your world doesn't have the theoretical foundation for it—explaining it would be too complicated."

"And today?" Wen Jueqian pressed. "You've been in this game without data monitoring catching you. Our conversation shouldn't leave any trace either, or I'd have been kicked offline for a mental check a long time ago."

System 99 was silent for a few seconds, then spoke with a hint of helplessness: "It's called deep-penetration stealth access tech. It can completely dodge almost all detection and recording."

That sounded useful too. Wen Jueqian waited for it to go on.

"I can use this tech," System 99's voice lowered, "but to pass it directly to your world—building it from scratch takes energy too. And I don't have it right now."

Wen Jueqian didn't push it.

He did feel a bit of regret. If he could break down the system's tech, maybe the bottlenecks in the holographic field could be cracked.

But he also knew some things just couldn't be rushed.

Wen Jueqian had gotten everything he wanted to know for now, and sent the system off: "Alright, you can leave now."

System 99 got anxious: "We haven't even talked about how to change fate yet!"

"I'll come find you when I need your advice."

Wen Jueqian cut the connection.

==========Author's Note:==========

Feels like it's turning into sci-fi—the worldbuilding is so hard to come up with.