Chapter Two: Tempests of the Dynasty

The residential complex where Zhang He lived wasn’t exactly poor, but it could only be described as relatively decent. At the very least, there were security guards stationed at the main entrance year-round—though their presence was mostly symbolic. If a skilled thief really wanted to get in, the guards wouldn’t be able to stop them. Should some legendary master thief come by, the residents would have nothing left but to wail in despair the next morning.

As for the monthly rent of five hundred yuan, it wasn’t particularly expensive. In Dreamstar City, where even properties within the third ring road were priced at over twenty thousand per square meter, Zhang He’s apartment was near the first ring—right in the heart of downtown.

Just now, the notorious “Blackie Bao” had come upstairs again. Zhang He’s eight hundred yuan salary, which he’d received today, was promptly relieved of five hundred by her. As she left, she threatened that if he didn’t pay the remaining five hundred within three days, he’d better prepare to sleep on the streets.

As usual, Zhang He engaged in a battle of wits and emotion with Blackie Bao—a debate that, by now, had become routine. The result, as always, was a minor success: Blackie Bao agreed to extend the deadline to five days.

Closing the door, Zhang He felt weary. He slumped at his desk and let his thoughts drift. Lately, daydreaming had become his most frequent pastime.

Outside the window, the glittering night of Dreamstar City spilled through the glass, illuminating a beautifully wrapped gift box on his desk. The promotional art on the box shimmered with gold and jade brilliance, accompanied by a bold slogan:

“Heroes have always risen from our ranks; once you enter the world, the years rush by. Empires rise and fall with a laugh, life is but a drunken dream!”

Faced with such a stirring rallying cry, Zhang He found himself staring at the box in a daze for a long time.

It was the packaging for a gaming helmet, for a game called “Dynasty’s Tempest.”

In truth, acquiring this helmet was a stroke of dumb luck. Half a year ago, to celebrate reaching sixty million online players, the game’s publisher, Dynasty Group, launched a fresh round of advertising blitzes and prepared ten thousand gaming helmets for free distribution across major cities.

Zhang He had found a redemption slip while job-hunting. By some quirk of fate, the helmet ended up in his hands. Of course, it was only an entry-level model—the well-heeled players all used the top-grade game pods.

Though a cheap helmet was theoretically worth three thousand yuan, to Zhang He, it didn’t feel much better than finding a hundred yuan bill.

Still, having something was better than nothing. Over the past few months, Zhang He had played when he could spare the time.

Three years ago, when Dynasty Group launched the fully immersive virtual game “Dynasty’s Tempest,” it swept across the world like wildfire, quickly pushing other games into obsolescence. The game’s momentum was unstoppable, with average online players surpassing one hundred thousand, then a million, five million, ten million… until today, when the number reached a staggering sixty million. This didn’t even include users who had registered but were offline. If you counted them, one in every three Chinese was a player—a record unmatched in gaming history.

For gaming enthusiasts, especially those in China, this was a blessing among blessings—a game set in an Eastern world.

Every Chinese person harbored a martial arts dream: forging their way through the world with a blade, wandering far and wide with a sword, living out tales of chivalry and romance, legendary couples herding cattle beyond the frontier… In the past, these were just fantasies in books or on TV. Now, if you wished, you could dive in and live them yourself.

Zhang He, however, was an exception. He didn’t seek pleasure from the game. His reason for logging in now was solely to hustle up some money for rent—a rather practical problem, if not a particularly realistic solution.

Because the game company’s power hadn’t reached the point where real-world currency could be exchanged directly for virtual currency. But where there’s a will, there’s a way. Many things depended on ingenuity.

Zhang He had been forced into this. With only 316 yuan left for next month’s expenses, there was no surviving a month in the high-cost Dreamstar City on that. Even if he subsisted on instant noodles every day, he’d still come up short. He might as well leap off a building and end it, sparing himself the suffering.

So, this time, his priority upon entering “Dynasty” was to scrape together some cash within five days, then worry about next month’s cost of living.

His plan made sense, but, as the old saying goes, it still wasn’t realistic.

He was still a novice. As long as a player’s character was below level 20, they were a pure beginner. Once a new player hit level 20, they could advance to their first job change and, if qualified, join a sect—such as the Giant Whale Guild, Water Serpent Hall, or Wild Dog Lodge.

But judging by those names, you could imagine the prospects inside—perhaps it was more promising to become a mountain bandit.

After logging in, there was a 15-second period for image synthesis during which the player was invincible. Zhang He’s blurry vision gradually cleared, and before his eyes unfolded a majestic, undulating mountain range: Azure Luán Peak.

From afar, a waterfall dozens of meters high plunged down the peak. Sunlight scattered rainbows in the misty gorge, birds sang in the fragrant, flower-filled mountainside, and overhead stretched a flawless blue sky.

Accustomed to the cold oppression of a city of steel and concrete, such a scene was a breath of fresh air.

The waterfall pooled into a clear river, winding between the mountains until it reached a lush meadow between two peaks. There, a bustling marketplace thrived, with endless streams of people. The houses were all simple structures of blue tiles and red bricks, neatly arranged to create an inexplicably comfortable atmosphere.

In truth, this was just a village—more precisely, the starting village for this region. But with groups of adventurers flocking to Azure Luán Peak every day, the traffic was heavy, and the Rainflower Newbie Village, being the only supply route, had grown larger than most, enjoying a brief prosperity.

East Street was lively as ever. In addition to the system-run official shops, players could set up their own stalls. There was an art to this: simply put, the official shops were “expensive and lousy,” while player-run stalls offered “good value and fair price.”

Thus, experienced adventurers passing through often stopped to browse and buy supplies.

“Baked flatbread! Green-hat flatbread!” At the end of East Street, a male player clad in cloth armor stood behind a wooden stall, stretching his neck toward the road at the village entrance and shouting, his neck so long it resembled a duck’s.

Zhang He recognized him, of course. They often set up stalls side by side—old neighbors, so to speak. He didn’t know the man’s real name, but everyone called him “Duck Neck.”

In “Dynasty,” it was rare for newbies like Zhang He and Duck Neck to know each other’s real names. Players didn’t share names lightly—it was a matter of self-preservation. “Dynasty” had been online for two years, and most players were savvy. Basic tips like this had been hammered home over and over in the technical posts on the forums.

Of course, those who boldly displayed their names above their heads were exceptions—either arrogant, or already famous. In the end, they either got beaten up all over the place, or had everyone else running for their lives.

“Hey, man, haven’t seen you for days! Where’d you go and make your fortune?” Duck Neck greeted him enthusiastically.

“I’m back to make a fortune,” Zhang He replied coolly.