Chapter 810: Time Boils the Rain

"How utterly terrifying!" In the Canglan City store, a demonic dragon tore off his virtual reality headset, pointing with a trembling finger at the screen. "Ah...! A divine-realm powerhouse... is actually this... utterly terrifying!"

The entire shop was enveloped in a dead silence, save for this single dragon, roaring frantically while his whole body shook like a leaf.

At that moment, Owner Fang stepped forward. "What is wrong with you, dragon?! Look at everyone else—aren't they watching perfectly fine, all quiet and still? How come you're the only one howling like a frightened child?"

"For a dragon, how can you be so craven?!"

Guls quickly shut his mouth, peering cautiously at his surroundings.

Sure enough, he saw everyone watching the show with utmost seriousness, completely motionless.

Not a single person was crying out in terror.

The quiet was absolute.

He then glanced across at Swain and Hermadon, who sat opposite him; they too remained wordless.

Could it be that the great Guls was truly the most cowardly of them all?!

"This dragon... this dragon is going to the restroom!" the demonic dragon Guls shouted aloud.

He then braced himself against his chair to stand up.

At that exact moment, Swain and Hermadon exchanged a silent look across the table: "..."

Beneath the table, two pairs of legs went thud-thud-thud-thud...

Shaking in a frantic, uncontrollable flutter.

"Lord Swain, can you stand up right now...?"

Swain's expression remained unchanged. "For the moment... I cannot!"

"..."

...

Inside the system's newly reopened "New Cultivation Room," Fang Qi had only a few precious days left of his three-day time limit.

Within the chamber, familiar figures he knew like the back of his hand flickered to life one after another, only to extinguish just as gradually.

The sharp shadows of sabers, swords, and various other weapons bloomed with the radiant brilliance they deserved.

Immediately following this, a majestic and noble figure robed in splendid black garments gradually solidified before him, turning over his palms. "Hand of God!"

"Vortex of God!"

"Thunder of God!"

"..." Owner Fang's face darkened, and he collapsed instantly to the ground.

Cultivation concluded:

Synchronization Rate: 0%

Technique Synchronization Rate: 0%

Experience Points Gained: 0%

"Whew..." Owner Fang let out a deep, long breath.

Over these past days, Fang Qi had maintained a grueling rhythm, live-streaming and cultivating in the mornings, then continuing his cultivation through the afternoons and evenings.

Unlike before, he rarely had any spare time to play whatever he wished or wander wherever his whims took him.

Beneath the night sky, a pale blue crescent moon adorned the pitch-black void; the hour was already quite late.

Wiping the beads of sweat from his brow, he grabbed a bottle of Cola and took great, thirsty gulps.

Yet, in the dead of this deep night, Fang Qi's communication jade unexpectedly began to ring.

At that moment, in another establishment—the Jiuhua City store.

Stepping into the Jiuhua City shop, one could see several young men and women slumped over their computer desks, fast asleep. Nearby, a few high-level cultivators like An Huwei caught sight of Fang Qi's arrival and hurriedly came forward to greet him.

"Why are they sleeping here?" Owner Fang inquired.

Most of them were students from the Lingyun Academy, such as Song Qingfeng and Xi Qi.

Even girls like Xu Zixin were no exception.

"Come over and take a look first." Nalan Mingxue beckoned to him. "Give us your evaluation—how is this promotional video?"

With that, she opened a newly made video on her own computer. In terms of production, one could purchase the corresponding software programs within "My Space," so it wasn't entirely impossible to pull off.

Still, letting these youths whose minds were entirely filled with martial techniques and cultivation levels arrange such things...

In truth, Owner Fang was somewhat surprised; he had originally thought they would probably give up after persisting for a little while.

As the video began, a pale blue butterfly fluttered across the screen. The stark white, snow-like imagery carried a clean, distinctly feminine aesthetic.

Then, colors bloomed. In-game scenes cut across the lens one after another; though perhaps a bit raw and plain in execution, the background music was set to a song titled "Time Cooks Rain."

The wind blows, and the rain turns into flowers.

It was as though a plain, gentle voice was narrating that year when they had first encountered Resident Evil.

And the massive chapter of their very own heroic tales left behind in Diablo.

The ecstatic look that flashed in their eyes when they first witnessed the Sword Controlling Technique, followed quickly by the tragic sorrow and loneliness of its ending.

The gathering of various guilds in Legend, and the figures fighting in the Imperial City PK, were still vivid in their minds.

The noisy clamor of crowds huddled around the arcade cabinets in Owner Fang's space during King of Fighters, frantically pounding on the tables, seemed as though it happened only yesterday.

There was the excitement when Dungeon & Fighter launched its servers, and the thrill of their first PK competitive tournament.

That was their first, second, and third time... getting to know player friends from all over the world.

As for afterward... it was within that grander, vaster world called World of Warcraft that they discovered, for the very first time, the existence of so many friends from the Western Continent.

It unfolded like a story on a long scroll, the pen recording past joy and shared emotion; newcomers arrived while old friends departed, and the story concluded with nothing but group photos preserved in memory.

If one looked closely enough, they might find one or two familiar faces among them, alongside those innocent smiles of yesteryear.

"Heavy snow, I beg you not to erase the traces of us being together."

"Even heavy snow cannot erase the marks we left upon each other."

Looking at these youths lying devoid of any dignity across the computer desks of the internet cafe...

No... time flies, and perhaps they could no longer be called boys and girls today.

Even though they were still young.

The youths of those years had now shed much of the innocence from their faces, replaced by a touch of the steadiness fitting for an adult.

They were likely exhausted. Owner Fang smiled softly. Without realizing it, in the blink of an eye, he had known these fellows for several years now. "The event can start at any time. Why rush it so much?"

"An event can indeed start at any time, but some days, if you miss them, you have to wait a whole year."

Owner Fang found it somewhat strange. "What day is it?"

Nalan Mingxue cast a peculiar glance at him. "You don't know?"

"I don't..." Owner Fang looked at those familiar faces. "It's just waiting another year, it's not like it's a few centuries."

He let out a yawn, clearly exhausted himself. "Hurry up and go rest. There are plenty of extra rooms in my shop."

He pointed at them and said, "Don't sleep here, or you'll catch a cold."

"By the way, what kind of activities have you designed?"

"You'll find out when the time comes." She gazed out at the darkening sky beyond the shop, her bright eyes seemingly dissolving into the deepest recesses of the starry night.

Then, she glanced back at the screen.

An nameless emotion couldn't help but well up within her heart.

For a moment, she secretly wished that the story on the screen, the one they had woven together, could last a little longer—it was a story of their youth, even if most of the people within it, much like herself, had peaked at the beginning and gradually drifted into mediocrity.

Yet, perhaps even mediocrity was something worth singing praises for.

...

At that moment, Boss Fang, along with Yu Zhiwei, Xiao Yulv, and a few shop assistants, were busy carrying these young men and women—who were all sleeping like logs—back to their rooms.

Just then, Song Qingfeng let out a sudden roar, leaping straight up from his seat: "Whoa... Penta kill!"

"Penta kill? Where's the penta kill?!"

"Where is it?!" A crowd of people jolted awake instantly, their eyes snapping open with absolute fervor.

"Aieee!"

There lay Xiao Yulv, who had been inexplicably knocked to the ground by a stray move; his head hung limp as he stared at the crowd in utter bewilderment: "...My neck!"

"Ah!" Sitting on the floor and watching their commemorative video, he suddenly burst into tears, weeping like a heartbroken, three-hundred-pound child.

.