Chapter 1073: Life Is an Adventure

Chapter 1073: Life Is an Adventure

Life is an adventure—Debt-Eyes had always held this as his creed.

So—

Even if he occasionally stumbled into a pitfall, it was no big deal.

In truth, he had sensed a faint foreboding when he first saw the list of agents, but after hearing their solemn vow to deliver the public beta in its purest form, he chose to believe them with a mix of doubt and hope.

As it turned out—

He was still too naive, believing whatever others said, forgetting that not everyone was as honest as Brother Guang.

When the mosaic turned into a mosaic, and he himself became a mosaic, the starry domain etched in his pupils finally crumbled into sheer terror.

What the hell?!

Why couldn’t he control his own body?!

Wait—

Holy crap!

“Don’t come any closer—ahhh!”

His soul had left his body.

It transformed into something else entirely.

Then, not just his spirit—he felt his very existence being violently injected with harmony.

When all was said and done, Debt-Eyes stared blankly at the vanishing balance in his account and the debuff—“Endurance -10%, duration 30 minutes”—as the light slowly faded from his eyes.

Just now…

What the hell happened?

Where did I come from, and where am I going?

Why do humans hurt each other?

And—

What really happened before the Big Bang?

He began to ponder the meaning of life, like a true sage.

From this day forward, another reformed sinner would walk the wasteland… probably.

It was no longer a question of realism.

This was way too damn educational!

…

“Achoo!”

At the same moment, Chu Guang, who had just returned to the safe zone from the Leech Cave, sneezed and rubbed his nose, muttering.

“Who’s praising my handsomeness behind my back again…”

Never mind.

Wondering who it was was pointless—he’d heard that kind of talk so often his ears were calloused.

Just as Chu Guang stretched and was about to log off, he suddenly ran into a familiar face.

Why familiar? Because that six-foot frame and that generous chest were practically cast from the same mold.

And it wasn’t just the model.

Even that silly, dazed look was identical—she didn’t seem very bright.

Chu Guang popped out the minimap, clicked on the ID, and saw it was the same style.

【Player ID: Yaya7778】

Hmm.

Looks like she added a bunch of numbers to register.

It was definitely her.

Seeing her looking around as if searching for something, Chu Guang thought for a moment but decided not to greet her.

Because action and reaction are mutual—and so is awkwardness.

But just as he was about to slip away, those wandering eyes locked onto him instantly.

“…Wait! Please wait a moment!”

Though he felt it would be troublesome, since he’d been spotted, Chu Guang stopped and casually sent her a party invite, speaking in the team channel.

“What’s up?”

Yaya stopped in her tracks, her face reddening as she stammered for a long while before finally blurting out.

“Are you… A-Guang?”

Hearing that, Chu Guang didn’t need to guess—it had to be that kid Ye Shi who had spilled the beans.

Otherwise, even if she knew his nickname and that the public beta used his real face, she couldn’t have pinpointed his server and found him.

But then again, he never asked his buddy to keep it a secret.

Back to the point.

Looking at Yaya, whose face had turned as red as an apple, Chu Guang wasn’t sure what expression to wear.

How to put it?

She really was a bit different from other players.

As the first player in the entire server to awaken the toxicity identification talent, he had certainly used her a lot—especially when he couldn’t decide whether a certain mutant creature was edible.

During the early days of the Alliance, when food was scarce, she and Old Na had made invaluable contributions, greatly enriching the diet of survivors in the River Valley Province.

Later, when the Alliance established a biological research institute, they no longer needed Yaya to test things one by one. But whenever Chu Guang wanted to order takeout without going through too much trouble, he still bothered her to run errands.

Though she was a casual player and it didn’t really interfere with her game, he had to admit it wasn’t great that he’d tricked her into delivering food over a thousand times by saying “raising affinity unlocks hidden quests.”

Besides that, he had also passively listened to quite a few of her little secrets and real-life troubles—even though he didn’t want to, and had hinted more than once that she should be careful about privacy and not dump everything on an NPC.

Anyway, it was indeed a bit awkward.

But aside from keeping a straight face, he had no better option.

“…It’s me. What’s up?”

“So you really are a real person…”

“Yes.”

“W-why did you pretend to be an NPC…”

“That’s a long story. Various reasons and difficulties. I don’t expect you to understand—if you have to, you can hate me.”

“Hate… that’s not necessary.”

Crow's face had turned as red as a lantern, like a teakettle whose water had boiled over.

Her lips twitched for a long while before she finally spoke the words that had been bottled up in her heart.

"Then... what I said before..."

Chu Guang glanced aside with an ambiguous expression.

"I didn't tell anyone."

So he had heard it after all!!!

In that instant, Crow, as if wearing a mask of agony, crouched down on the ground with her hands over her head.

Her eyes had lost their dreams.

Like big eyes that had lost their dreams.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Unable to hear the outside world, she crouched on the ground, muttering in a hollow voice.

"It's over... my life... is over..."

Chu Guang let out a sigh.

"You don't have to be like this. I'm from the α universe; you can treat everything over there as a dream. Even if the people in that dream knew your secret, it wouldn't affect your real life at all."

He wasn't very good at comforting others.

After all, in the past two hundred years, he hadn't been comforted by anyone, nor had he even had time to catch his breath. Every time he closed his eyes and opened them, it was a new beginning.

The only one who had always been by his side was Xiao Qi, who had gone through 777 cycles with him.

Sometimes he himself couldn't figure out how much humanity he still had left.

Or perhaps, as a morphic lifeform, he had never been a complete human from the start.

But a god created by some human.

Just as Chu Guang was pondering what to do, Crow, who had been crouching on the ground for a long time, suddenly stood up, her face red, as if she had finished venting.

To Chu Guang's surprise, there was no resentment or other negative emotions in her eyes, but instead an unexpected sincerity.

"Um... thank you."

"Hmm?"

Meeting Chu Guang's questioning gaze, Crow smiled shyly, hesitated for a moment, and finally revealed the hard-to-say thoughts.

"Actually, at first I thought it was just a relatively realistic game. I never expected someone to suddenly tell me it wasn't a game, but another world..."

"Honestly, I was really startled, but after calming down and thinking about it, it was kind of... a surprise? I never imagined that the people I helped were real, or that someone as ordinary as me in real life could help so many people. Maybe it's inappropriate for me to say this, but that's how I truly feel..."

"There's nothing inappropriate about it. I'm glad you think that way," Chu Guang said with a faint smile, his tone appreciative. "And that kindness is not ordinary. Many people live their entire lives in hostility toward themselves, others, and the world. I hope you can continue to share that kindness with those around you... whether in your world or ours."

"Thank you..." Crow smiled sheepishly and continued, "Actually, you're the same. You could have said nothing, right? And then secretly, like before..."

Not knowing how to describe that feeling, she made a scissor-cutting gesture with her hand.

If she hadn't cleverly added "...harvesting leeks" at the end, Chu Guang might have thought of the emoticons Teng Teng often posted on the forum.

Looking at the overly naive Crow, he smiled faintly.

"Maybe. Perhaps I revealed it just to make harvesting leeks easier. After all, I've never claimed to be a good person."

To his surprise, Crow became serious upon hearing this.

"I know you are! You're actually... a very gentle and kind person, not as dark as everyone says."

"Sometimes you could have been more ruthless, or even more inhumane, but in the end, you always try to find a way that benefits both sides... the win-win you always talk about? Hehe, I don't really understand it, but I'm a perceptive type with sharp intuition—I can feel it!"

"Anyway, thank you for making the game!"

Crow bowed deeply.

When she raised her head, she seemed a bit embarrassed, scratching her cheek with her index finger before hurriedly calling up the system interface and logging off.

The public beta server was convenient in this regard—logging off in a safe zone made you disappear into thin air, unlike the "closed beta" where a clone was left behind.

Thank you, huh...

Unexpectedly, it wasn't a "call to account."

Watching the direction Crow had disappeared and the bustling crowd, a smile curled at the corner of Chu Guang's mouth as he said softly,

"You're welcome."

It felt worth it.

...

Days passed, and as the calendar turned from the beginning of December to the end of December, the two parallel universes each embraced the new year.

β universe, 2027.

The public beta of "Wasteland OL" had been running smoothly for a month, with global player numbers easily exceeding 100 million, peak concurrent users reaching 40 million, successfully breaking world records and continuously refreshing old ones.

No major events occurred on Earth.

Topics like "how to avoid entering the Wasteland Era" seamlessly replaced earlier debates about "how to get along with extraterrestrial civilizations."

Someone proposed adding a seat for the α universe's Alliance in the United Nations, but it received no response from relevant parties, so the matter was dropped.

Strictly speaking, the morphic field was the work of Vault 404, and the Alliance was not an organization that managed everything; it indeed had no such business.

Only the closed beta players who stood on Alliance soil were considered true residents of the α universe.

Other matters could wait.

Meanwhile, with the operation of the "Wasteland OL" public beta, an interesting episode occurred.

The number of internet users on a South Sea island with a population of less than 100,000 exceeded 10 million, simply because the island was rumored to offer the most authentic, uncensored version of "Wasteland OL."

Due to vast differences in regional laws and regulations, censorship varied, leading more and more people to wonder what the complete version of "Wasteland OL" was really like.

Though the helmets couldn't be hacked, the world never lacked clever people, and soon someone turned their attention to routers.

Routers alone weren't enough; server nodes were also needed.

Thanks to this, the scenic resort island suddenly became a hot spot. With its small territory of less than 100,000 people, it attracted hundreds of billions in data center investments.

Due to surging demand, the area also drew a large number of IT professionals and even digital nomads.

Although the prospect of a human federation that once appeared in the α universe remained distant, countless grassroots cross-regional cooperation organizations dedicated to eliminating information boundaries emerged among the player community.

Some sought self-fulfillment; others just wanted to get cozy with 2D characters.

Not only did they work to eliminate information boundaries, but they also strove to prevent groundbreaking technology from being used for evil, establishing order commensurate with technology within their capabilities, to prevent the β universe from heading toward a dystopian outcome.

After all, the advanced technology bestowed upon β universe human civilization was not from a true extraterrestrial civilization, but from another "them" in the future. Expecting those people to "descend" out of pity was unrealistic.

They had to build their own order; those who always waited would wait forever.

All "they" could do was give them a push.

The road beneath their feet ultimately had to be walked by themselves, for only they knew where they wanted to go...

On the other side, the α universe also welcomed the second year of the new era.

Although Chu Guang's "retirement" sparked spontaneous nostalgia and pleas for him to stay among countless Alliance citizens, fortunately, it did not disrupt the Alliance's order. What they did not know was that their revered administrator had never actually gone anywhere—he had simply spent a month in the shelter playing games, leveling up from zero to thirty. In truth, from the very day the Alliance was founded, Chu Guang had been preparing for this moment. Long before the expedition to the Fallen Xia Province, he had discussed this matter with Xiao Qi...

By the banks of Linghu Lake. The once-rampant Crack-Claw Crabs had been hunted to extinction by players, and the reed-dotted lakeshore had become a haven for nearby residents to stroll and a playground for children. Unlike the public test server, everything here presented a completely different scene. Walking along a secluded path, Chu Guang gazed at the thriving vista with a smile, speaking to Xiao Qi, who sat on his shoulder. "Remember what I said a long time ago? The Alliance's greatest threat isn't the dangers of the wasteland, but that if I were to die or disappear someday, what would remain is a River Valley Province torn apart by warlords, with various legions fighting in my name..." "But now, I can say with one hundred percent confidence: this final weakness no longer exists." Even the most single-minded Lü Bei, under his constant guidance, had finally grasped the true mission of the Praetorian Legion—what they were truly meant to defend was not the administrator's dignity, but the sanctity of the law. The Alliance's army came from its citizens, and from now on, it would only serve its citizens. "Mm! I remember! Xiao Qi thought back then that you were going far, far away again... though Xiao Qi never knew where you were headed." Perched on Chu Guang's shoulder, savoring the evening breeze by the lake, Xiao Qi squinted contentedly, like a truly living little sprite. It was undoubtedly alive—even in a machine's body. He knew better than anyone the silent burdens this little one had borne behind the scenes. "You've worked hard." Chu Guang smiled, raised his index finger to gently tap its forehead, and said in a very soft voice. "No matter how far we go in the future, I'll take you with me."