The Calmness talent is currently only of green quality—does this mean there are higher qualities above it, such as blue, purple, orange, and so on?

Talents drawn by the simulator not only take effect in the simulation game, but can also directly affect oneself in real life!

"You may choose to consume a certain amount of Yuan Jade to bring real-world items into the simulation game. The options are as follows..."

Only one pointer remained on the huge dial, spinning rapidly without pause.

All the numbers around the dial had turned into various items.

Option 0: Your body (Consumes 10 Yuan Jade at present. You can personally experience the simulated life. Any positive or negative effects your body receives in the simulation are irreversible. If your body dies in the game, you will also die in reality.)

Option 1: Half a pack of tissues.

Option 2: A watermelon knife.

Option 3: A craft Han sword produced by a certain sword factory.

Option 4: Three folding stools.

Option 5: A set of cups.

...

A dense array of options was arranged around the dial, and all the items were things from the room Adam Carter was in, in the real world.

His gaze lingered on option 0 for a long time.

This game was gradually exceeding his expectations, making him instinctively feel that the life he was about to simulate might also be extraordinary.

Except for option 0, bringing any of the remaining items into the game only required one Yuan Jade.

Even so, Adam Carter ultimately didn't choose any of them.

He didn't have much Yuan Jade and needed to use it wisely. Wouldn't there be things like watermelon knives and tissues in the game?

As for bringing his own body into the game, that was even more impossible.

It was his first time entering the game—how could he block off all his escape routes? Besides, he didn't even have ten Yuan Jade.

Adam Carter watched as the pointer on the huge dial spun around once, pointing to the number '1' each time.

The dial dissolved into points of flowing light and disappeared, and a prompt sounded: "Your future life has been successfully loaded!"

It was still so dark before his eyes that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. The scene Adam Carter was in seemed unchanged from before.

But when he listened carefully, he couldn't hear the sound of rain outside the window.

He tried to stand up, groping around in the darkness, and bumped into the table in front of him. Then, moving along the edge of the table, he felt a switch on a wall.

He pressed the switch, and the dark space was instantly illuminated.

Adam Carter saw two spliced-together, begonia-colored desks pressed against one wall, with a few books piled in the corner of the desk on the right.

A closed laptop sat on the desk.

On top of it was a notebook.

He tilted his head slightly and saw a begonia-colored bookcase as tall as a person behind him, filled with many books Adam Carter was very familiar with, except all these books were now covered in layers of mold.

All four walls had yellow patterns as if soaked by rainwater, with clusters of blue-green mold spreading outward along those patterns.

"This is my room."

"After all, I never had the thought to tidy up my room, so it's normal that it would stay the same into the future."

"But why has so much mold grown in the room? Has it been raining a lot during this period in the future?"

Adam Carter's gaze swept over the window, but it was completely covered by thick, opaque wooden boards.

"Why seal the window so tightly?" he wondered.

He walked over to the desk and looked at the desk calendar on top.

The dates that had already passed were crossed out in red pen, and the uncrossed date showed "Solar Calendar, April 17, 2030."

This date was exactly one week after the real current date.

But Adam Carter couldn't be sure the calendar's date was correct—sometimes he would go several days before remembering to cross out the past dates.

He picked up the notebook on the desk and flipped through the familiar lines page by page.

After his parents passed away, Adam Carter developed the habit of keeping a journal.

He didn't write every day, but would write two or three times a week.

This habit, which originally seemed useless, had become the perfect tool for him to understand what had happened in the recent past.

'April 10, 2030.

At the Monday morning meeting, the supervisor asked us to keep our phones on over the weekend and check the work group messages frequently.

Heh, wishful thinking. No way I'm doing that.'

'April 13, 2030.

Tomorrow is Friday. Decided to go fishing in the countryside all night after work on Friday.

Brian Cooper invited the supervisor to a club for some fun over the weekend. I happened to overhear their secret conversation. Should I report them?'

'April 14, 2030.

I reported them.

The weather seems to have gotten really damp lately. Lots of mold has grown on the walls, and many books on the shelf have gotten damp. Strictly speaking, this isn't the south—how can the air be so humid?

Remember to take the books out to dry tomorrow.'

'April 16, 2030.

Heard there have been several murder cases nearby, and the killer hasn't been found yet.

I didn't ask for details, so I'm not sure exactly where.

Forgot to dry the books—I'll do it next week.

The mold on the walls is getting worse and worse.'

'April 18, 2030.

The couple living upstairs died.

I didn't dare go and watch. I heard it was really gruesome—if I saw it, I'd probably have nightmares, right?'