Volume 2: Winter’s End
Opening the room that topped the list, Shu Xun’s field of vision suddenly changed, as if he had returned to that silently snowing world once again. However, in this vast world, there was only one person sitting on a dark green stone. The person was dressed in a clean and neat black outfit, with casually styled short hair. Despite the casual attire, the perfectly crafted face reversed any sense of casualness.
Especially those sharp eagle eyes looked extremely cold, coupled with the sharp sword-like eyebrows, making people take a step back. With slightly pursed thin lips and no hint of a smile, this was an individual who constantly exuded a cold and austere demeanor.
Although Shu Xun’s father also wore a cold expression on his face daily, the man in front of her gave Shu Xun two completely different feelings. The father seemed like ice but could melt due to the presence of the mother and the child, turning the melted ice into something smooth, regardless of its previous sharpness.
However, the man in front of him was like a blade, a sharp blade. Even if hidden in the scabbard, it couldn’t stop the unstoppable sharpness, making it hard to imagine any possibility of him melting.
The man in black was very silent, completely lacking the witty and excited demeanor of the anchors in other rooms. However, the audience in the room seemed very active. Shu Xun’s eyes could hardly keep up with the speed of the barrage on the screen. In the chat below, various comments swept in.
“Ah ah ah! My night is as calm as ever!”
“Waiting for Night God to crush the opponent!”
“I, Night, kill everything with a side profile, surviving with my face is enough!”
“Ah ah ah! Hurry up and start the broadcast, the feeling of blood boiling has reached its boiling point!”
…
Shu Xun was momentarily puzzled but soon realized that the anchor of the room was named Ye Qian. Along with various comments, there were dazzling gifts, from a bottle of nutritional juice to a galaxy spaceship. Various icons flashed incessantly. Shu Xun curiously opened the gift column and horrifyingly discovered that these gifts actually required interstellar points. For this reason, Shu Xun fell into a small state of confusion, clearly not understanding the world of live streaming.
Being able to top the charts, evidently, the anchor named Ye Qian has its own charm. However, for a novice like Shu Xun, Ye Qian is clearly not a qualified anchor. Shu Xun waited for more than ten minutes without hearing a single word, so he exited the room and switched to the second-ranked room.
The heat of this room had not cooled at all, with the audience already reaching an astonishing four billion. Although there was a gap compared to Ye Qian, who was in the first place, it was enough to amaze Shu Xun.
Shu Xun had once researched the population situation of various major races. The Spirit race, evolved from plants, had the highest population, close to four hundred billion. Next were the Zerg and the Beast races, with populations of around three hundred billion. Then there were humans, numbering about two hundred billion. The least populous was the Phantom race, non-cellular life forms with extremely long lifespans, numbering less than eighty billion.
In this current era of the universe, where planets serve as units, the populations of major races were indeed not large. Each race controlled at least several large star systems, and within each system, there were numerous habitable planets. Occupying habitable planets, resource planets, and developing planets all required people. Therefore, in today’s world, the population is also a very important strategic resource.
In the known cosmic domain, the total population of advanced life forms was close to thirteen billion. And now, nearly a quarter of the total population was watching game broadcasts on various major streaming platforms, highlighting how astonishing the development of the gaming industry had become.
Shu Xun had not yet gained an intuitive understanding of the current situation, but she felt that there were a lot of people watching games. The anchor of this room was also a man, but the style was completely different from Ye Qian just now. This anchor’s name was Lie Yang, who was currently elaborating on his speculations.
“If the background is just a simple Frost Period, it’s not enough to pose a threat to players, excluding, of course, ordinary non-awakened humans. So, if it’s not that there are hidden problems in the game background of ‘Winter’s End,’ then there must be particularly strict entry conditions. For low temperatures, the Beast race and the Phantom race have natural advantages, while the Zerg, Human race, and Spirit race are likely to be forced into hibernation or directly die from low temperatures. Therefore, normally speaking, the final winner, I speculate, will emerge from the Beast race and the Phantom race. However…”
The male anchor had fiery red long hair, and his eye pupils, resembling burning flames, displayed a fiery red color. Draped over his shoulders was a dark red cloak, and he wore a casual red outfit. At this moment, he casually strolled amidst the swirling white snow. His long legs took wide strides, and though not slow, his pace appeared leisurely.
As soon as Shu Xun entered, the first thing he noticed was the two antennae on the man’s head, similar to what certain Zerg species have. Therefore, this man should belong to the Zerg. The comments on the screen quickly confirmed Shu Xun’s speculation.
“Your Highness, don’t worry. If I hibernate until the end of the game, Zerg will win!”
“Lie Yang’s analysis is reasonable.”
“Go, Lie Yang! My Emperor Butterfly is unbeatable!”
…
Various dazzling comments continued to flood the screen, and the man in red hooked the corner of his lips, revealing his white teeth. An inevitably winning smile instantly reignited the room’s popularity.
Commentary and speculation continued, and the man in red adeptly stirred the emotions of the room’s audience, repeatedly pushing the already fervent atmosphere toward its boiling point, waiting for him to personally set it ablaze.
Shu Xun listened to Lie Yang’s various speculations, occasionally nodding his small head. His small appearance looked particularly serious. Shu Xun did not change any settings when entering the platform, so everything was default. He entered the room from the perspective of the anchor, not as an audience, so no one saw this little figure’s earnest learning gestures.
Although Lie Yang could see the entering audience, among the billions of viewers, the chances of noticing a small figure were extremely slim. The only witnesses to all this were the monitoring networks of the live broadcasting platform. No one would know what surprises and legends this little figure, still nodding his head, would create.
The official public beta of “Winter’s End” was still 00 days 00 hours 05 minutes and 33 seconds away. As a survival game without any closed beta players, the game world was completely unfamiliar and unknown to the players, heightening everyone’s curiosity. With the countdown shortening, the number of people entering the live broadcast room continued to climb.
Shu Xun exited the live broadcast room, clicked on the icon for the game “Winter’s End,” and stood once again in the vast expanse of white snow.
At this moment, the official live broadcast of “Winter’s End” had officially started. As soon as the room opened, it immediately attracted a large number of viewers. The two game commentators were already seated in their commentary positions, ready to provide real-time commentary for the players entering the game.
“Dear gamers, I am the commentator Xiyue. This is the official live broadcast room for the first day of the public beta of ‘Winter’s End.’ Here, we will be tracking and broadcasting the game participants in real-time. We are five minutes away from the start of the game, and according to the data, the number of players who have entered the game login interface has already reached three billion.”
“Dear gamers, I am the commentator Purple. According to Xiyue’s statement, the number of players logging into the game has reached three billion, almost a third of players with advanced nutrient pods. This data also refreshes the record set by last year’s ‘Wind City.'”
“Yes, now let’s shift our focus to some popular anchors and see what these high-level god-tier players are up to.”
The commentator’s speech was neither hurried nor slow, with a well-controlled pace. At the same time, the screen in the official live broadcast room switched to the room where Ye Qian was broadcasting. The man, who had been sitting without much movement, stood up from the leaning blue stone. His tall figure was instantly heightened by his slender legs, and a sharp and disdainful aura followed. The man was close to two meters tall, and his explosive physique was undoubtedly revealed through his well-fitted outfit. His eagle eyes scanned ahead, and the live broadcast room immediately erupted in excited cheers. However, the man had evidently blocked the audience seats and discussion area, showing no response to the audience’s enthusiasm.
In the commentator’s seat, the male commentator Xiyue cleared his throat. “Ye Qian still appears as calm as ever, showing no signs of discomfort or nervousness. However, the audience seats are already boiling.”
The female anchor, Purple, naturally continued, “Although it’s not the first time I’ve commented on Ye Qian, I’m still nervous. Those eyes seem like the sharp forelimbs of a mantis. As a small butterfly, I feel a bit terrified!” Purple also had two antennae on her head. She was not of the Human race but belonged to the Zerg, specifically, the lineage of butterflies, evolving from a purple-tipped butterfly.
The male anchor clearly stumbled for a moment at Purple’s description. “Ahem, I think the fans of Ye Qian from the Zerg should like Purple’s description. But rest assured, there probably won’t be too many Zergs in Ye Qian’s recipe, at least not butterflies…”
Purple’s antennae on her head shook slightly, looking somewhat disheartened. “Wasn’t comforted at all, what should I do?”
The commentary continued, and after a while, the perspective switched to another room. Purple, the female anchor, suddenly looked admiring because on the screen was the royal family of the butterfly lineage, Emperor Butterfly Lie Yang.
The atmosphere at the scene remained lively, with the commentary still calmly explaining. As time shortened, the perspective in the official live broadcast room consecutively shifted to several high-profile anchors. It wasn’t until the last thirty seconds that the screen froze on the login interface of “Winter’s End.”
The ambient light screen had disappeared, and the mode switched to holographic status. Snowflakes fluttered in the air in the silent world without wind. The ground was an endless expanse of white, with only a black-blue stone standing prominently at the feet. This nearly one-meter-high blue stone was the symbol of the login interface. Shu Xun climbed onto the stone, standing at its pinnacle with a somewhat spirited feeling.
Audience members sat in their viewing seats, occasionally reaching out to catch falling snowflakes, feeling the moist and slightly cool sensation as the white snow melted on their fingertips. In the boundless world, only the conspicuous countdown in mid-air continued to jump.
The heartbeat sounds of billions of viewers seemed to synchronize with the numbers on the countdown, their gazes converging, breaths becoming solemn. Finally, under the gaze of countless people, all the numbers on the countdown turned to 0, and countless individuals vanished from the login interface, entering an entirely unfamiliar game world.
The game entered the loading screen, and this loading process would last for three minutes. After three minutes, the game login function would be temporarily suspended until the first batch of players all died or someone completed the final strategy. Only then would the second login function be unlocked. This was the operating mode of most survival games.
In Shu Xun’s nutrient pod, his field of vision plunged into darkness, and a voice sounded in the darkness.
“The game world is being transferred. Basic scanning of player data is now underway. Scanning complete. Race: Human, C1 fully awakened. Age: Four months. Gender: Male. Height: 5.3cm. Weight: 30g. System comprehensive comment: You might not survive three minutes, little one who mistakenly entered the nutrient pod. Good luck, hope you won’t get a spanking from your mom~”
Shu Xun: “…” Did he just get mocked by a machine?! It seemed that being overly intelligent might not necessarily be a good thing.
The game system evidently determined that Shu Xun was a child who sneaked into the game world by playing in his parents’ nutrient pod. However, in the present world, there is no rule prohibiting toddlers from entering virtual worlds. Virtual death in the game world would cause some damage to the player’s mental strength, but this damage was not permanent. It only required a bottle of mental recovery potion or a few days of rest for automatic repair. In the virtual world, there were even many virtual games specially designed for toddlers.
After several generations of injection fusion with the gene potion, its descendants had begun to produce natural awakeners. These were humans who could awaken their talents without the need for gene fusion injections. However, awakeners with a size like Shu Xun’s were almost nonexistent. In the age of strength supremacy, even females would not willingly become such a small and insecure size.
The system determined Shu Xun’s race as human, indicating that the method of determining race was not based on appearance but rather on genetics. Awakeners were classified into C, B, A, S, etc., levels based on the strength of their awakened talents. Some awakeners could awaken talents from multiple races, hence numerical annotations were added to the talent levels.
Shu Xun was classified as a C1 fully awakened individual, meaning he was judged as having the weakest C-level talent and had awakened only one talent from the Beast race. A fully awakened individual could transform completely into a beast form, while non-fully awakened meant that only a portion of the body could transform.
The playful teasing from the game system did not dampen Shu Xun’s enthusiasm. The petite figure refused to show weakness and proudly puffed up his little chest.
The three minutes passed quickly, and the system’s voice sounded again. “Loading complete. Game participants will be randomly placed into the game scene. Virtual bodies are created, game perception is 100%, and game settings cannot be changed. Virtual bodies are being deployed. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”
As the countdown ended, a bone-chilling cold immediately rushed in from all directions. Shu Xun felt his feet suddenly lose support. It turned out that the virtual body deployment was defaulted to a position half a meter above the ground. This position might not be considered high in today’s world where 1.8 meters was considered short, but for Shu Xun, it was somewhat unexpected.
Before Shu Xun could react, he fell with a thump into the thick layer of white snow below. The accumulated snow effectively cushioned the fall, and Shu Xun wasn’t injured at all.
Brushing off the snow from his body, Shu Xun stood up. Through the hole he made in the snow, he looked up at the sky directly above. The weather conditions were far from good; the grayish clouds filtered the sunlight, appearing somewhat feeble. The bone-chilling cold eagerly absorbed any warmth it could find.
The system’s voice hadn’t been heard since the teleportation to the game world. Shu Xun could only hear the whistling wind. Climbing out of the snow pit through the snow, Shu Xun quickly stood up and surveyed his surroundings. All he could see was a vast expanse of white as if it intended to pierce one’s eyes. The snow-covered mountains were nearly indistinguishable due to the absence of distinct contours, and he could only roughly infer their direction from the trees growing on them.
