Chapter 120

Chapter 120: Artificial Soul 47

The第二批内测 players would finish their registration within twenty-four hours.

However, quite a few people were still waiting for the list to be published. Within half an hour after the list was announced, many new players had registered and joined the forum.

With a base of one hundred thousand people being quite large, there were still numerous active participants in the second section. After half an hour, several thousand more players had joined.

Kui Xin watched the blood-streaked active numbers on top of the forum fluctuate, jumping from nearly nine thousand to 11,280… Each refresh increased the active number by several digits.

Kui Xin observed the rising number without much expression, pondering, “How many people will have died after this week?”

There was less than twenty-four hours until the next time they would traverse the Second World. Would these new players be able to gather sufficient information or learn enough from the forum?

They needed to learn so much—from basic shopping at markets to riding the hover trams, to navigating public places, they even had to learn how to use elevators and household appliances; a single mistake could result in their arrest.

Some first-world players had already gone to the second world to give newcomers reminders, with many others moving the科普 posts from the first to the second section.

Newcomers were unaware of this context, thinking it was just old-time players joking with them.

Old players tried explaining that this game was no ordinary game but one that could actually transport them between worlds.

“Everyone, read the posts moved to the second section thoroughly; memorize them if necessary, even if you need to stay up all night—do not just read but understand. Have you seen the active numbers at the top of the forum? Before第二批内测 players joined us, over a thousand out of our first batch of ten thousand had already been arrested.”

1L: “? Bro, your serious tone is making me scared.”

2L: “Haha, the forum atmosphere is lively, everyone seems engrossed in the game.”

3L: “Here you go, scaring the newbies, huh?”

The original poster initially replied, only to find themselves digging themselves deeper into a hole; even newbie players began to play along, creating a lively mood in the forum… Eventually, after dozens of posts, the exhausted original poster stopped persuading. They simply left a message, “I’ve done what I could; don’t blame me later.”

First-world players consoled the frustrated original poster: “Calm down, we’ve done our duty; it’s not our fault.”

The nickname colors of players differed across sections in the forum; old players’ were red while new ones were green, making their identities apparent.

But not ail newcomers were as stubborn, some sensed something amiss because, like first-test players from earlier, they had been receiving identity cards inexplicably.

“Help, my dad came home late last night talking about a silver metal card found on the doormat with my name on it. I have no idea how such a thing got home.”

“Somebody found this card near my doghouse. My dog chewed on it but didn’t scratch it at all; what kind of material is this?”

Then an older player posted: “By now, you must accept reality. The words from us veteran players come straight from the heart. Every evening, city shadows appear in the sky; these are actually the shadows of structures in the Second World. Even scientists can’t explain why those shadows exist; we can only accept it.”

Another compared to someone named He Kangshi: “Famous gamer streamer, He Kangshi, publicly stated the truth, but we don’t have his courage. It’s regrettable he did that, yet players continue entering the game regardless; discouragement doesn’t work…”

There remained gaps in players’ information.

Despite He Kangshi’s known reputation among gamers, not all who enjoyed playing paid attention to his videos, nor did everyone frequent social media to catch the news; some were likely entirely oblivious despite signing up to participate.

A new registrant questioned, “Why hasn’t the upper department banned this game if there are problems?”

An older player replied, “This is a game where one gets an opportunity to travel the world; do you really think such a game can just be banned?”

Another added, “So why hasn’t each country’s agency issued a warning or prohibited the game?”

“Are you worried about causing panic?” There were thousands entering the game, compared to billions globally. Plus, such a declaration would just amount to free advertisement, attracting more people into the game. It’s better to read the科普 posts than argue here.”

One newcomer chimed in, “Back when I was younger and obsessed with transmigration novels, I stayed up all night reading them, daily preparing to transmigrate. Upon joining the forum, it feels akin to revisiting those days. It’s a bit too coincidental, isn’t it?”

Kui Xin couldn’t help sighing as she observed these posts.

There were not a few foreign players in the forum. She counted the number of posts and found only about twenty percent were in Chinese; some countries were in daylight, thus their registration numbers were higher, and non-Chinese forums saw similar engagement.

She browsed the English posts in particular. The discussion content mirrored the Chinese posts closely.

Refreshing the page, she noticed someone showcasing a card.

“Hey, experts, anyone knows what this ‘Remover’ card means?”

Kui Xin: “…?”

No way?

She clicked in, seeing a player displaying their card; though the name was censored, the serial number was revealed: “12345”.

Almost all replies below were from experienced players.

1L: “Damn, selected by heaven.”

2L: “Good luck to the post author.”

3L: “Hard to say whether it’s good luck or bad… honestly, drawing this card makes you a potential murderer.”

4L: “Considering you’re an ignorant novice, consider this advice: never tell anyone you’re a Remover; conceal yourself completely—it’s best to remain silent!”

5L: “These card numbers seem to follow some pattern… 233, 777, and now 12345…”

6L: “Wow, congratulations on becoming the forum’s first open Remover.”

18L (Poster): “You’re making me nervous, am I holding the SSR? Why can’t I tell anyone about it? Will showing off attract a hidden assassin?”

20L replies to 18L (poster): “You’re now like an anonymous figure in ‘Who’s A Spy’ or Werewolf, now an enemy of every side. Wish you the best fortune and hope you hold onto your moral limits.”

Unaware of gaming rules, new players received official rule explanations from veteran players.

The forum buzzed with chaos, filled with arguments, discussions, science dissemination, and posts of various kinds. Yet, not all players had registered; confused new players continued to join, bombarded by the variety of threads.

Returning to the first section, someone had set up a bet: “How many of this batch will die? I bet around ten percent.”

1L: “Sounds low.”

2L: “My perspective is optimistic; learning from the科普 posts reduces exposure risks. This group has a much better start than we did, we were pathfinders.”

Kui Xin refreshed the forum again, observing active numbers climbing to 15,088.

She saw new second-world players revealing their Remover status, thoughts fleeting through her mind that she quickly suppressed.

“It’s not yet time; at least wait until this Remover survives a week.” Kui Xin thought.

There was a private messaging feature in the forum.

If the Remover numbered 12345 survived a week in the Second World, Kui Xin would attempt contacting said individual, not with intent to recruit but to verify his real-world identity to closely observe him.

To be frank, Removers easily deviated into wrong paths.

Kui Xin held faith in her chosen route—the right path—but refrained from proclaiming justice. Removers deserved particular attention.

Only two individuals besides Kui Xin revealed as Removers: 777 and 12345, with 777 overseas, beyond Kui Xin’s reach. But 12345 posed a readily available observation subject.

12345 behaved naively, openly showing their card, which Kui Xin deemed highly doubtful of surviving a week’s time.

Kui Xin collected her thoughts, looking long at the mobile screen, finally opening a new post in the first section.

“【Black Snake】 Player Recruitment Section.”

The title comprised a few simple lines, the leading thread detailing exact conditions for entering the forum.

Leading post:

1. No restrictions on Proxy Removers.

2. Truth about first-world identity and activities in the second-world must be disclosed.

3. Undecided.

These straightforward requirements revealed Kui Xin’s ambitions.

She openly lured in players like a fisherman baiting fish. Her popular nickname “233” and personalized section “Black Snake” captured all player attention, signaling the personal section under Kui Xin.

Who would contact her at this risk? Who dared to face it without fear?

Within a minute, replies started surging.

1L: “In short, whoever wants to join may do so, others may leave.”