[Ding!]
[Congratulations, the player has cleared the instance “Family Portrait”!]
[You’ve received: 300 points, Items: Notebook ×1, Medical Record ×1, Family Portrait ×1, Titles: “Fast Clear,” “NPC Favorability” ×2]
[Cleared within 3 days—Team survival rate: 9/9—points tripled!]
[Current Points: 2838.3]
This time, the instance hadn’t yielded many items that could be exchanged for points, and after deducting the cost of the team items and flashlight, the point gain wasn’t particularly significant.
Fu Changxun sat in his personal space within the game, eyes tightly shut.
The discomfort from the SAN drain still buzzed in his head. It took him over ten minutes to finally focus enough to see his personal panel clearly.
[Name: Fu Changxun]
[Nickname: Doctor]
[Role: Player (Stealth Walker)]
[Gender: Male (for now)]
[Age: 23 (Pending further growth)]
[Points: 2838.3]
[Stamina: 39 (Congrats! You’re about to hit the passing line)]
[Intellect: 82 (Currently increasing)]
[Charisma: 97 (Beauty lies in the bones, not the skin. Charisma cannot be suppressed.)]
[SAN Value: 60 (Visual hallucinations present)]
[HP: 50 (Below safety threshold—immediate relocation to a safe zone recommended)]
No wonder he felt like shit. It wasn’t just his SAN value dropping—his HP had taken a hit too.
Fu Changxun looked at the one stat that stood out from the rest—his Charisma. Unlike all the others, it hadn’t gone down. In fact, it had increased.
He rubbed his temples, suddenly developing a headache. It seemed someone had forgotten to turn off their livestream during the final night, and their battle had been broadcast to all the viewers.
His Cognitive Distortion ability looked a lot like hypnosis—it was flashy and cool. Naturally, it had drawn a lot of attention.
The black cat clambered out of his inventory on its own, yowling loudly in protest.
“Meow-aaoo!” Cat food!
It did not want any more of that dry, tasteless kibble!
Fu Changxun picked it up and smoothed down its glossy black fur. The moment he did, it forgot all about the cat food and started purring in bliss.
After settling Xiao Hei down, he casually glanced at the Points Leaderboard, noticing that many players’ scores had decimals—and over seventy players had broken past the 1,000-point mark.
Clearly, someone had discovered a bug—using in-instance items to trade for points—and had gone on a spree, harvesting anything valuable they could find for a massive payout.
But since the game hadn’t patched it out by now, it meant this “bug” was still within the system’s tolerated range.
Fu Changxun stared at the name still sitting at the top of the board—“Working Stiff”. The guy’s score kept fluctuating up and down, like he was harvesting supplies from one instance and flipping them for cash in the real world.
Honestly, that didn’t seem impossible. For high-level players, the game probably was just a game—it didn’t affect their lives at all. But he clearly wasn’t there yet. At most, he could keep a few people alive.
He closed the panel with a hint of envy and chose to return to reality.
The dizziness was almost imperceptible this time. As soon as he opened his eyes, Fu Changxun crashed right into Dong Zi’s chest. The other man caught him steadily and gently helped him back down to the ground.
The two of them looked around together.
This time, all nine players from the instance had returned to the real world—complete and intact—appearing right on a city street.
At that moment, the game’s voice echoed again:
[How can a perfect game be complete without interaction? The system has been updated!]
[Ding!]
[Low-Dimensional Selection has activated the “Visible Danmaku*” feature. Players can now view audience comments via their panels. Danmaku will appear semi-transparent and is only visible to the player. It will not interfere with gameplay!]
[Please engage actively with your viewers to earn more rewards and gifts—and strive to clear those instances!]
TL Note: *Danmaku – scrolling comment overlays that are visible on screen.
