【九州世界】was born against this backdrop—a super map evolved from parameters, a series of stunning images that don’t exist in reality, and most importantly, the authentic sensation of soaring through the skies and burrowing through the earth. All of this made this fully open holographic game explode in popularity.

At first, due to cultural reasons, the game was only popular in Asia. But with massive publicity, countless guilds joining in, the establishment of professional leagues, and the lure of equipment trading, cash prizes, and medals, the game gradually squeezed into the gaming markets of the other continents.

The main reason why 【九州世界】managed to break through the competition, crush the other “bitches,” and win the hearts of so many players comes down to just one word—realism.

Because it was so realistic, many players became convinced that this world truly existed, and was not just a string of virtual parameters.

Brian Clark was not a professional player. He came from an ordinary family, and the steep price of a gaming pod was enough to make him give up on making holographic gaming a personal hobby.

But he had found a good job. His boss was an amateur player with a serious gaming addiction, who was constantly getting thrashed by other players. Yet the boss stubbornly insisted that it wasn’t because he was clumsy, but because he was too busy with work to focus, which made his hand speed slow.

After a brief stint of substitute playing, the boss realized that Brian Clark’s gaming talent had been held back only by poverty. Delighted, he handed over his own account to Brian Clark, letting him complete story missions on his behalf.

As a result, Brian Clark spent half of every workday inside the gaming pod.

In truth, he wasn’t all that interested in the game. No matter how real it felt, the internet was still not reality. The gap between being powerful online and feeling helpless in real life was too great. Over time, even if it didn’t cause mental illness, it was enough to make someone lose their sense of self.

That was not good.

But his boss offered too much. Faced with the temptation of a raise and a doubled year-end bonus, Brian Clark chose to swallow his pride.

On this day, as usual, he entered his boss’s office under the envious, jealous, and resentful gazes of his colleagues, skillfully opened the gaming pod, selected story mode to enter 【九州世界】, and then...

There was no “then.” He closed his eyes, opened them again, and the world before him was even more real.

His boss’s account was nowhere to be found. He had logged into a strange account, still just a generic NPC template.

Unable to log out, he tried to call for help, only to find the forum section completely greyed out—not even the official pinned posts remained. It was even more “under maintenance” than maintenance mode.

After talking with another NPC passerby, Brian Clark confirmed that he had transmigrated.

Wu Zhou Dynasty, year 824. Ningzhou, Dongyang Commandery, Langyu County.

The year 824 was the launch date for 【九州世界】, and when Brian Clark started substitute playing for his boss, he had always been doing missions in the capital of the Wu Zhou Dynasty. The game version had already been updated to 3.0.

In other words, he hadn’t just crossed into another world—he’d crossed into another time.

Although time in 九州 and in reality didn’t sync up, that wasn’t the point. The point was, Brian Clark realized he was being tailed by an old Daoist priest.

Those squinty, lecherous eyes scanned him up and down, making his skin crawl and instantly snapping him out of his confusion over transmigrating.

“Young man, I see you have extraordinary bones—a perfect candidate for cultivating immortality. And as it happens, I’m in need of a disciple. How about we make do with each other?”

“In your dreams.”

A lecherous old Daoist, rubbing his hands together as he spoke—out of concern for both his physical and mental safety, Brian Clark left no room for negotiation and firmly refused.

This was the first meeting between Brian Clark and Henry Grant, and it didn’t go well for him. Henry Grant forcibly dragged him up the mountain and made him become his disciple.

……

“My head hurts. I’m so hungry. Can I still go back?”

Frowning as he closed his eyes to check his panel information, Brian Clark muttered to himself, “If I can’t, what am I supposed to do from now on? Is this panel for real? Could a player really enter the game... This is terrible. I didn’t even agree to this, and I’m starving.”

Still plagued by hunger, Brian Clark began to worry about his future. Amid a string of sighs, he once again focused his attention on the panel information.

After entering the game, players could choose story mode, battle mode, dungeon mode, and so on. NPCs had nothing, so there was nothing to consider.

Also, the information panels for players and NPCs were slightly different—much simpler, and at first glance, quite clean.

The first-level interface of the information panel was divided into four areas. Brian Clark clicked through them one by one. Aside from the character interface, the remaining sections—skills, wealth, and faction—were all blank.

“That can’t be right. I can understand why the skills section is blank, but why are wealth and faction empty?”

Brian Clark found it impossible to understand. Henry Grant had passed the position of sect master of the Feathering Sect to him. Logically, the wealth section should at least have a land deed, and the faction section should show a default change.

“Could it be that because I resisted internally, I inherited his legacy but not completely?”

Baffled, Brian Clark turned to study the character interface. Just a few lines—ignoring the last line of evaluation, he more or less got the gist.

First of all, the attributes weren’t much different from those of a player. To put it plainly, it was almost exactly the same as the entire set of game attributes.