Chapter 71: “The ultimate purpose of the system that allows you to come into the real world is me, isn’t it?”

This was a scene from Forbidden Love Zone —an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. Someone had once fallen to their death while trying to make a living here, so before it was renovated, this place remained off-limits. The rust-covered fences surrounding the factory, the steel bars jutting out of the ground, the tilting, windowless abandoned buildings, and the sunken pits filled with piles of old appliances and fragments of vehicles… Climbing up from the pit and crossing the broken bridge led to the Sea of Oblivion. Legend had it that no one who fell into the sea ever returned alive. The port had been abandoned, and the only activity in the area came from smugglers taking dangerous risks.

This was a scene imagined and constructed by Jiang Huan. Shadows of many people appeared amidst the ruins, all gazing around… like humans.

It resembled an arena.

Jiang Huan had found herself in this dream more than once. Bai Jingchuan stood at the edge of the deep pit far away in the city. The wind lifted the hem of his coat, and upon seeing him, the shadows scrambled to escape. Yet he hesitated, his reluctance palpable even from afar.

Li Junzhu was the executor—this was a setting Jiang Huan had written herself. And now, he was truly beginning to pass judgment.

Jiang Huan couldn’t move freely; more accurately, she was placed in a birdcage-like structure for observation. But she could hear the sounds around Bai Jingchuan. It seemed he was talking to someone.

“You opened the passage last time, allowing the electronic data from Wucheng to slip into the real world during the chaos caused by the geomagnetic storm. Now you have to clean up the mess.”

“The Realm of Myriad Gods wanted higher emotional fluctuations, giving electronic data with urgent desires the chance to experience the real world. Isn’t that the right choice?”

“To qualify, they must be summoned by someone with emotional ties in the real world, receive tasks, and contribute experience to the migration plan of The Realm of Myriad Gods. You gained your qualification because of your high score and Jiang Huan’s emotional call. To become human without paying any price is impossible. Look at the people in front of you now—some want to break free from the mechanisms of The Realm of Myriad Gods and blatantly violate the rules, others, driven by suppressed personalities, wreak havoc on the world and harm the ones they want to see. Not to mention the data from Lovers’ Continent that escaped directly into the real world before fully migrating to Wucheng… As a judge, you should know that eliminating threats to human life is the best sentence.”

What was The Realm of Myriad Gods? Where was Wucheng? What did the migration of Lovers’ Continent mean? Jiang Huan was utterly confused. The shadows had already retreated into the abandoned building, but Bai Jingchuan still hadn’t moved. That voice speaking to him returned.

“Li Bode, just think of this as fulfilling your duty. Wucheng has always been about survival of the fittest. You know that data that violates the rules must be eliminated. Don’t resist the task with false mercy. Completing the task will earn you props and experience points—it’s not that difficult.”

“But perhaps they are just data with emotions, wanting to become human.”

“You’re starting to empathize.”

“Eros, will I also become expelled data in the future?”

“I’m sorry, Li Bode. From your perspective, please protect yourself as much as possible. Stay rational.”

Jiang Huan watched Bai Jingchuan nervously. What did it mean that he would disappear too?

Bai Jingchuan exited the alleyway and first encountered a person huddled in the corner, clutching their head. Without hesitation, he eliminated him—being direct could reduce fear. In the distance, he saw shadowy figures fighting on the rooftop, seemingly struggling over a sharp piece of rebar. Bai Jingchuan removed the stone slab beneath their feet, causing both to fall and vanish.

Without weapons, he could only use objects on-site to kill the shadows. Once discovered, the shadows turned and fled. He chased after them, and two other shadows waiting on the ruins jumped down, attacking him from both sides. Teleporting five steps away, he grabbed a thick iron rod nearby and swung it toward the shadows. These were no ordinary foes—one clasped their hands together and took a step back to block, likely a warrior from some game. Another reached for their waist, instinctively searching for a gun, probably from a modern shooting game.

Jiang Huan began to understand. Bai Jingchuan’s disappearances in the real world were often spent completing missions in dreamlike locations. This suburban area similar to Forbidden Love Zone was a virtual world she could reach through her dreams. As for the scenes in Forbidden Love Zone … these abandoned game data streams formed a virtual world, the dimension Bai Jingchuan came from before entering the real world.

There could be no more heavy blows to Bai Jingchuan’s shoulder; facing multiple enemies alone was hard to sustain till the end. The shadows were still attacking him from three sides when a sudden gust of wind caught them off guard, blocking the red glow emitted by the iron rod. The rod flew into the air, and the heat from the wind and fire fused the weapon in his hand. Bai Jingchuan felt the scorching heat on his face. When the sword landed back in his hand, it was cold steel, its piercing light slicing through the shadows’ throats. It almost felt like blood splattered onto the weapon, slick and sticky. Killing three shadows in quick succession made no sound, nor was there blood—it wasn’t brutal, just turning the act of clicking to delete data into swinging a blade.

Some had hidden in another tilted factory shed. Bai Jingchuan jumped through the window into the building. Every step on the decrepit stairs caused debris to fall. The two people upstairs assumed battle stances, feeling the impact of being shot—each bullet hitting their chests painfully, despite damage reduction. Continuous hits still hurt.

Cornered by the window, neither wanted to jump. One charged forward, likely buying time for the other. Her strength wasn’t great—she nearly clung to Bai Jingchuan’s body to hold him back. The man jumped out of the window, and just as Bai Jingchuan started to chase, the girl tightly hugged his waist. Dust and footprints dragged half a meter across the floor—she used every ounce of her strength.

“Is the one who escaped your lover?”

Two streaks of tears stained his shirt at the waist.

“If a man leaves you behind at such a moment, it proves he doesn’t deserve your love. Even so, are you willing to risk your life to protect him?”

“You said you’d give us a chance, yet now you’re making us die. We haven’t done anything wrong—we just want to become human, don’t want to go to the new planet. Our scores are too low…”

The shadow still held onto Bai Jingchuan. Bai Jingchuan calmly stated, “You tried to replace humans in life, plotting how to kill a girl with a similar build to yours. You’ve already violated the rules.”

He gently touched the shadow’s head, and it quickly disappeared.

Jumping out of the window, he landed steadily on the ground. In the distance, he saw the man climbing the slope, running toward the gap in the broken bridge. On the other side was the sea. Bai Jingchuan simply followed, watching him flee toward the ocean.

Walking through the gap between two buildings, the shimmering waves were beautiful, stretching endlessly to the horizon, broadening the view. The part of the Sea of Oblivion connecting to New Capital was a bombed harbor, with jagged ruins standing near the coast, the water yet to smooth the edges of the stone steps. The shadow frantically ran to the edge, looked back at Bai Jingchuan, and leapt onto the first stone pier, then quickly onto the second… Bai Jingchuan slowly teleported, not approaching, aiming to break his psychological defenses. Reaching the farthest ruin from the mainland, the man realized escape was impossible and knelt down. Bai Jingchuan handed him the freshly forged sword, signaling him to attack. If he won, he would spare his life.

The man indeed raised the sword to strike—his technique was good, likely an ancient-style swordsman. The thrust carried murderous intent and malice. Bai Jingchuan sneered. Villains weren’t supposed to be like this. They could lack justice or have unavoidable obsessions, but they shouldn’t show unintentional compassion or a desire to protect what was important… Did they escape to the real world to become scum?

This was a skill Li Bode rarely used. He teleported behind the shadow, pressing his finger to the back of its head. An electric current destroyed its central nervous system, paralyzing its spine. The shadow collapsed straight into the water, splashing droplets onto Bai Jingchuan’s face. He calmly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping it off—the executor’s indifference evident.

Jiang Huan understood. This was the deadly talent she had written. She observed the other side of the executor’s judgment for the first time, feeling the oppressive presence he exuded. The remaining shadows still hid, lurking behind ruins and dead plants, unwilling to show themselves. Bai Jingchuan didn’t move, apparently not planning to execute those left behind. Jiang Huan guessed these individuals might not have committed heinous crimes, giving Bai Jingchuan no reason to destroy them.

He had become kinder.

A new shadow appeared, similar in height to Bai Jingchuan, calm and revealing a human appearance. “We meet again.”

“Time Observer.”

“You’ve already opened the dimensional passage according to my guidance and allowed them to find the people they wanted to see before the geomagnetic storm.”

“According to Wucheng’s scoring mechanism, they won’t get the chance to go to the new planet and may become sacrifices. I merely let them experience the feeling of being alive.”

“These abandoned lives have seen a different world through you. Low-scoring abandoned electronic lives never had the chance for luxury. Some were already written into their roles, like your ‘born for love.’”

“So you make them thank me, while also hating me.”

“The ultimate goal of The Realm of Myriad Gods is to infinitely approach human emotions so that on the new planet, survival won’t solely rely on pure survival of the fittest, with killing and replacement as methods of reproduction.”

Jiang Huan thought of the colorful clouds and oil-painting-like skies, the beautiful and romantic scenery from a while ago. Perhaps it stemmed from the conversations of these low-scoring electronic lives. Would all these people disappear? What about Bai Jingchuan?

“As an experiencer with a physical body, you were once a 4.90-rated executor. Completing The Realm of Myriad Gods’ tasks is sufficient. Judging electronic lives is your compensation. Once you reach the maximum level, you can naturally stay in the real world as a human, achieving your past goals related to your persona. Didn’t you once despise love and romance the most? Just now, you executed a pair of lovers.”

Jiang Huan understood. These abandoned projects possessed an independent world with their own migration plans, which might succeed in the future. The recent surge of posts praising the world by fresh-faced humans, popular tutorials on basic living skills, and the seven-colored mist seen in the clouds due to the manually lit central city lights… All were caused by these electronic lives coming into this world—vibrant, lively, full of curiosity and love.

Bai Jingchuan had opened this passage, and now he had to execute these joyful souls.

“Aren’t you going to deal with the remaining shadows?”

“They haven’t committed any crimes—they just want to survive or have made friends. I can’t let completely harmless electronic lives die.”

The man pointed to the sky. Bai Jingchuan looked in his direction, his expression turning grim. She was suspended in a hanging iron cage, looking frail, like a hostage threatening him.

Jiang Huan wanted to wave and shake her head to signal she was unharmed, that she was merely spectating from the cage and couldn’t be hurt. But Bai Jingchuan clearly lost his rhythm, desperately trying to save her.

It wasn’t necessary—she was only dreaming. Falling into the water wouldn’t really kill her. She wanted to wave and gesture that she was safe, but Bai Jingchuan couldn’t see. Perhaps from his angle, she looked frightened and in need of rescue—Bai Jingchuan, don’t assume; she was safe.

The observer raised his hand, and the remaining shadows seemed to be cleared. Bai Jingchuan closed his eyes, as if there were things beyond his control.

Would the proud executor continue to be defeated for himself? Jiang Huan had memories of this before, but witnessing it firsthand made her feel guilty quickly. If this was the case, she would rather sink to the bottom of the sea—once the dream ended, that would be enough.

Just as this thought emerged, the chains suspending her vanished, and the iron cage plunged into the sea. Through the haze, the last thing she saw was the pale blue sea, a string of bubbles, and… Bai Jingchuan swimming toward her with great effort. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into his arms—or rather, collided into his arms forcefully, his grip strong enough to defy the water’s pull. She quickly reached the shore, her vision a blur of red—so tired, unable to open her eyes.

Her body felt heavy and powerless, her mouth bitter and salty, her stomach nauseous, her limbs icy. A ringing filled her ears, and she could hear someone repeatedly calling her name: “Please, wake up. Don’t die now—you’re not someone who gives up easily, are you? Aren’t you resilient, refusing to leave me no matter what? Don’t you cling to me stubbornly?”

His anxious breathing and panicked tone echoed the lines Li Junzhu once used to seal their bond…

The soft touch pressed against her lips, and the large gulp of air forced her to cough violently. Her stomach churned, her head spun, and she finally expelled the water choking her, feeling slightly better. Was Bai Jingchuan saving her?

“Wake up. If you can just wake up, I’ll do anything, even disappear…”

Jiang Huan desperately wanted to wake up—please, if she were to die, let it not be in a dream. At least live happily for a few decades after meeting him—of course not now.

「Task 4-1 complete. Lv77 upgraded to Lv79. Attack rewards: 180,000 gold coins, props ‘Corroded Golden Chalice’ and ‘Falling Vanishing Symbol.’」

After struggling many times, Jiang Huan finally opened her eyes. Her throat was dry and bitter—it was a dream. She drank a glass of water by her bedside in one gulp. Even in dreams, she couldn’t escape the pain of near-death. Bai Jingchuan had saved her more than once. Before the geomagnetic storm mentioned in her dream ended, would she fall into danger again?

She carefully recalled every scene. Being trapped in the cage as a hostage, Bai Jingchuan constantly flashing and fighting, the sea covered with ruins—he didn’t know what kind of enemy he faced and used many skills she had never seen before. The stakes were likely… her.

The soft sensation on her lips lingered, and the anxious voice still echoed in her ears. If only she had been stronger-willed in the dream, maybe she could have escaped the cage earlier, joined the fight, and prevented Bai Jingchuan from wavering.

The orange-red of dawn replaced the deep purple. After pondering for a moment, Jiang Huan directly hailed a taxi to the company, walking briskly to Bai Jingchuan’s office. Sure enough, Bai Jingchuan, who had already returned to normal, was leaning against the wall, quietly pressing his forehead. She walked over, and Bai Jingchuan reached out to pull her into his embrace, tightening his arms around her as if trying to meld her into his body. Jiang Huan smelled the scent of cold wind—every fragment of the dreamlike episodes was Bai Jingchuan’s personal experience.

“Why are you here so early?”

“I dreamt of you again. I guessed that since you moved out of the apartment next to mine, you’ve often slept at the office.”

Bai Jingchuan didn’t deny it. The sky was still dim, and today’s weather didn’t seem particularly unusual. The strange stories circulating online hadn’t decreased. No matter how many electronic lives from Wucheng came to experience the real world, it didn’t stop people in the real world from going mad. Jiang Huan wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and this time she chose to ask directly.

“I seem to always encounter danger. I’ve experienced this before. At first, I thought it was just my unlucky nature or the hardships life throws at everyone. Every year, I narrowly avoided danger—not just once. But now it seems I might be a chosen special person, destined to endure numerous trials before inspiration births a fantasy world. The system that allows you to enter the real world might require me to keep getting hurt or sacrifice something more important in exchange, right?”