[Is it really worth getting this competitive over?!]

“You sneaked out last night without me! And then you came back and slept for 12 hours all by yourself!”  

“I’m going to tell Dr. Wu!”  

The mechanical cat’s scolding, mixed with its meowing, looped endlessly in Zhou Sui’s ears. With a cold expression, he tossed all the nutrient fluids he hadn’t bothered to clean up last night into the storage box, keeping two tubes for himself as breakfast. Outside, the artificial sun had shifted to another direction, proving that he had indeed come back last night and crashed on the sofa for a solid 12 hours. Now, waking up with a sore neck, he still had to endure the cat’s nagging.  

Zhou Sui: “Didn’t I buy you a cat teaser wand?”  

The mechanical cat recalled how this guy was too lazy to even play with it. The house was littered with cat teaser wands—either torn apart by the cat itself or accidentally broken by Zhou Sui. Furious, it paced back and forth beside him, occasionally whipping his leg with its tail to express its displeasure.  

But it couldn’t really say much to Zhou Sui. Once he woke up, he’d eat, then exercise—there was no way he’d let himself starve. He was, at least, a human who took decent care of himself… and lately, he’d even been showing a bit more energy. Spending his days online gaming was a huge improvement compared to the past month, when he’d done nothing but sleep or loaf around in the training room. The mechanical cat felt a twinge of relief. Not ruining his own body made him a good owner in its book. “I even bought you some supplements yesterday!”  

“Oh, just leave them there. I’ll take them later,” Zhou Sui mumbled drowsily.  

Falling asleep while watching videos wasn’t a first for Zhou Sui.  

Now that he was awake, he still felt a lingering grogginess, not fully alert. After downing two tubes of nutrient fluid, he plopped back onto the sofa, rewatched the video from last night, and took advantage of the mechanical cat tiring itself out eating its cat food to log back into his game.  

He hadn’t been online for 12 hours, still stuck at the leveling zone where he’d logged off yesterday. But the moment he came online, “Slack Bro,” who’d been online the whole time, immediately shot him a message. It was as if he’d been waiting for Zhou Sui to log in.  

“Big shot, why are you only getting on now? I’ve been waiting for you all morning!”  

Zhou Sui: “Overslept.”  

Slack Bro sighed dramatically: “Youth is wasted on the young. Sleeping until the afternoon…”  

“Aren’t you going to camp the wild boss today?” Zhou Sui asked.  

At that, Slack Bro remembered why he was here. “I was planning to camp the boss, but there’s some drama on the leaderboard! I had to come tell you about it right away!”  

Zhou Sui opened the world channel but didn’t see anything new. “I don’t see it.”  

In the game, people who constantly checked the leaderboard were usually the ones obsessed with the game’s trends. Zhou Sui, on the other hand, was the type who logged in just to grind levels and never bothered with world announcements, so he was completely clueless about what was going on. Slack Bro explained, “It’s not just about the world announcements. Haven’t you checked the game forums?”  

Veteran players of holographic games naturally knew there were dedicated hubs for discussion. The StarNet game forum had a special section for Divine Tree, serving as the fastest way for players to get game-related news outside of official channels. It even included insider leaks and previews from various industry sources. Over time, the forums became a dumping ground for all sorts of game info—guides, grudges, gossip, you name it. The screenshot Slack Bro sent Zhou Sui came straight from there.  

“Last night, after you broke the record for Qingshan Academy, someone posted about it on the forum,” Slack Bro said. “Then, in the middle of the night, the Qingshan Academy leaderboard got completely wiped out.”  

The screenshot showed the weekly speedrun leaderboard for Qingshan Academy. At the top was a new player with an ID that was just a string of garbled characters—clearly a throwaway name.  

Their clear time? 12 minutes, 10 seconds, and 32 milliseconds. Class: Yin Yue Alliance.  

The Yin Yue Alliance class, also known as the Assassin, wasn’t the Beastmaster class from Tian He Mountain that had previously dominated the leaderboard.  

“Assassin? That’s rare,” Zhou Sui remarked, mildly intrigued.  

Slack Bro’s face was practically covered in question marks. “That’s not the point! Look further down!”  

The screenshot only showed the top ten rankings. Aside from the first-place Assassin, the next nine players all had impressive times, ranging between 12 and 13 minutes.  

Zhou Sui opened the weekly leaderboard himself. It was a new week, and after the morning update, his previous score had been archived to last week’s records, so he was no longer on the current list. Based on his performance yesterday, he’d only rank second on the new leaderboard.  

Qingshan Academy was a solo dungeon, and due to the unpredictable factor of the resentful scholars, its speedrun leaderboard had stabilized over time. In the first month after the game launched, the hardcore pioneers had pushed the records sky-high, but since then, scores had hovered steadily between 14 and 15 minutes. Last week’s top time had settled just above 14 minutes.  

But now, the entire weekly speedrun leaderboard for Qingshan Academy had been drastically elevated. The screenshot was just a snippet—beyond the top ten, even the scores outside the top ranks had improved. This sparked a frenzy on the game forums. Players were popping up left and right. It made sense for the high-level zones to have leaderboard wars among the big shots, but when did a newbie dungeon like this start getting so competitive? And how had the top 100 times all been dragged under 16 minutes?  

“And then?” Zhou Sui asked, puzzled.

“Huh? You’re not interested? This is already getting close to the records set when the server first launched!” Slack Bro loved a good spectacle. Qingshan Academy had never been this competitive before. Just last night, a big shot had claimed the top spot, and now the scores behind it were skyrocketing. He didn’t buy that there wasn’t some shady business going on. “Some people are saying you’ve stepped on the toes of a studio’s interests and blocked their path.”

Wasn’t it just a speedrun leaderboard for gathering materials? Records changing hands was pretty normal. Besides, there were plenty of skilled players in this game. Zhou Sui looked at the Assassin’s score, and his mind drifted to terrain analysis videos. He opened the Qingshan Academy dungeon interface—its latest run count had already refreshed.

Slack Bro’s gossip-loving soul found no traction with this big shot. Seeing Zhou Sui open the dungeon interface, he asked, “You’re still grinding Qingshan Academy?”

Zhou Sui: “No other dungeons available.”

Each cooldown allowed two runs, and this was the only reliable place to farm upgrade materials for the Serpent Venom skill.

Slack Bro was speechless. The big shot hadn’t even broken past level 28 yet, nowhere near the threshold for group dungeons. Qingshan Academy was indeed his only option. Sighing, he said, “I was gonna ask you to come camp the Wild Lion King with me. Didn’t you say last time you needed skill materials? The Wild Lion King’s a guaranteed drop… and the public loot pool has skill materials too.”

Zhou Sui wasn’t particularly interested in other wild monsters. Player experience could be gained in tons of ways, but skill material sources were limited.

“When’s the run?” Zhou Sui asked.

Slack Bro glanced at the time. “Spawns on the hour.”

“I’ll come find you after I finish this run,” Zhou Sui said, checking the in-game clock.

Slack Bro let out an “Ah?” and watched as Zhou Sui vanished before his eyes, teleporting straight to the Qingshan Academy zone.

He checked the time left until the hour—20 minutes. That isn’t nearly enough! Even if the Wild Lion King’s spawn point was close to a teleport hub, it still took time to get there!

“Bro! Just running the map takes at least 8 minutes!”

Zhou Sui’s voice came through the team chat: “It’s enough.”

Slack Bro: “???”

—-

The game forums were buzzing today. Every time the weekly rankings were set, the game turned into a bloodbath of rival factions.

The forum homepage was especially lively, with row after row of posts discussing the weekly leaderboard rankings. The top spot in the advanced zone’s overall rankings still belonged to the game’s number-one talent squad, [Skyward Ascent], but yesterday’s second-place team, [Griffin], had been knocked off their perch. Taking their place was [Wonder Zoo], a team that had previously been neck-and-neck with them.

The top three squads were in a tight race. Griffin had been in the spotlight just a few days ago for breaking the level 50 barrier, riding a wave of momentum. But this week’s refresh saw them drop, disappointing a lot of their supporters.

[It’s only been two months since launch—ups and downs are normal!]  

[Didn’t Griffin have a streamer hyping them up recently, saying they’d overtake Skyward Ascent?]  

Thanks to this drama, even the speedrun leaderboard discussions tied to Griffin were heating up.

The solo dungeon Qingshan Academy in the newbie zone got dragged into the spotlight too, climbing to the forum’s front page.

Regular forum-goers had already heard the rumors: the top spot on Qingshan Academy’s leaderboard had long been dominated by a studio hired by Griffin’s company. Yesterday, some random player had snatched first place, sparking discussions about a new strategy that shaved a full two minutes off the record. But after just one night of chatter, players woke up today to find a new record at the top, pushing the random player back down.

Neither Griffin nor the studio behind them said a word, but reclaiming the top spot with raw skill was their way of showing everyone that even if someone took it, they had the power to take it back.

The current Qingshan Academy leaderboard leader was an Assassin, and their 12-minute clear time was inching infinitely close to the record set when the server first launched.

Xiaoyao Xian couldn’t help but chime in: “The Assassin isn’t using the Beastmaster’s strategy. It’s probably tied to stealth and invisibility. But some of the mobs in Qingshan Academy can detect through stealth—this Assassin’s got some real skill…”

[This is insane, okay?! The launch record was half luck anyway.]  

[With mobs that can break stealth, it’s brutal for Assassins. To set a record like this, that Assassin’s gotta be a beast.]  

The leaderboard only gave limited info about the top player, but some details about this Assassin could be gleaned from the friend-adding interface.

A level 37 Assassin, with a skill tree and stat allocation nearly maxed out for the newbie server. While Qingshan Academy adjusted its difficulty based on a player’s level and rating, higher levels still had an edge. This meant the Assassin had access to nearly ten more skills in the dungeon than lower-level players.

Most casual players just watched the drama unfold, rarely digging into the finer details, thinking a few extra skills didn’t make much difference.

But for hardcore gamers, more skills meant more options—more trump cards. It increased the margin for error in execution. At lower levels, you might only have one defensive skill per minute, but at higher levels, you could have two in that same timeframe. For solo dungeon runs, the skill calculation was a completely different beast.

The Qingshan Academy record was 11 minutes and 50 seconds, set at launch when skills were incomplete and strategies unrefined. The player who set it back then had relied heavily on luck to pull it off.

The Yin Yue Allliance Assassin’s current record of 12 minutes and 10 seconds, bolstered by level advantages, was already pushing the absolute limit.  

Even Xiaoyao Xian, who had his gripes with Griffin, couldn’t help but respect a player with such skill.  

Unless those launch-era big shots returned to the newbie zone to grind records again, this 12-minute-10-second score would be nearly impossible to topple.  

“Qingshan Academy’s leaderboard should be locked in for this week. 12 minutes and 10 seconds is just too extreme,” Xiaoyao Xian mused. He couldn’t help but glance at the screenshot from earlier, where Cycle of Eternity’s name had once been. Though it was no longer on the current list, his past record was still visible in the historical rankings—12 minutes from Qi Ling Village, a standout performance.  

Last night, after learning this guy had pulled ahead by a full 2 minutes, Xiaoyao Xian had spent a long time thinking about it. He’d even rounded up some Qi Ling Village leaderboard players to study it together. After hours of analysis, they still couldn’t figure out how an Attack Apothecary ^[1] Qi Ling Village has Physicians and Apothecaries had achieved that score.  

Every class in Divine Tree had its own niche, and some were naturally better suited for certain dungeons. Assassins had stealth, Beastmasters had summons to scout ahead… but Qi Ling Village was a support-oriented class. Pure healers like Physicians or Apothecaries could heal while moving, but they lacked the damage to take down bosses quickly.  

This record had to have been set by an Attack Apothecary. Trading off most of their healing power, they couldn’t tank mobs head-on or brute-force their way through. Their damage wasn’t top-tier either. Their only edge was Qi Ling Village’s Apothecary subclass, infamous for its array of debuffs.  

Even so, the group couldn’t figure out any shortcuts to boost the score. Yesterday, a leaderboard Attack Apothecary had given it a shot, and the fastest they managed was 13 minutes—and that was with zero mistakes.  

Could it really just be luck? Luck paired with solid execution, enough to claim Qi Ling Village’s top spot…?  

Xiaoyao Xian snapped out of his thoughts. “Alright, let’s stream some leveling today. There’s a challenge dungeon coming up soon…”  

[!!!]  

[Everyone, check the game right now!]  

In-game, a dazzling golden announcement flashed across the livestream chat.  

[Server-Wide Announcement] Player Cycle of Eternity has vanquished the Scholar’s Resentment and defeated the Malevolent Spirit Academy Head, clearing [Qingshan Academy] in 11 minutes, 42 seconds, and 47 milliseconds! Reward obtained: [Academy Treasure]!  

Xiaoyao Xian: “???”  

Did he read that right?  

Before he could even ask anyone, the Qi Ling Village leaderboard player he’d consulted last night messaged him first—  

[Holy sh*t, Qi Ling Village in 11 minutes. This guy’s a monster.]  

A regular top score only triggered a single-server announcement. A server-wide announcement meant one thing: breaking the dungeon’s all-time record!  

The Qingshan Academy record, set by leaderboard players since the game’s launch, had just been shattered again. The player who’d already hit 13 minutes with Qi Ling Village—how had they improved even further?  

“What the hell, how did he do it?”  

“Is Qi Ling Village’s solo power this insane? Who is this guy?”  

“He just set last week’s record last night, and now he’s broken the all-time record this week!”  

Meanwhile, Frog Studio, another group keeping tabs on the “battle records,” caught wind of the new score.  

“No way! Is this guy picking a fight with us or what??” Mysterious Frog’s vision went dark as he practically spat blood. “Why’s he grinding this leaderboard for no reason!?”  

Frog Studio’s power-levelers had pulled an all-nighter to set their new record. To figure out fresh strategies, their boss, Frog, had even brought out his main class, Yin Yue Allliance. Half the leaderboard was filled with scores from their trial-and-error runs. They’d finally mastered a new approach, broken Cycle of Eternity’s record, and were ready to leverage it to negotiate better rates with their clients—only to wake up and find their score bumped back to second place.  

And the one who’d overtaken them? Cycle of Eternity again.  

Not only that, but he’d even cleared it in under 12 minutes. A newbie leaderboard—did it really need to get this cutthroat!?  

One of the lackeys asked, “Boss, are we grinding again?”  

Frog opened the game’s friend-adding interface. The guy was online, but the friend request failed. “Grind my ass!”  

11 minutes—are they supposed to fight this guy to the death every week!?  

“Is he doing this on purpose? Ignoring every other leaderboard just to mess with us on Qingshan Academy!?”  

“Uh… I don’t think it’s intentional…” a junior member of the studio piped up quietly. “He’s level 28. Even if he wanted to grind other dungeons, he can’t.”  

The others glanced at the leaderboard. Cycle of Eternity’s level 28 stood out clear as day.

The junior member said, “He was level 28 yesterday, and he’s still 28 today. If it were me, I’d only be able to grind Qingshan Academy too.”  

Frog: “…”  

Wait, how is this guy leveling up so slowly!?  

He is lightning-fast at breaking records—couldn’t he put that speed into leveling up too!?  

With the world announcement out, more and more people started paying attention to Qingshan Academy’s weekly leaderboard. The world channel exploded with a wave of players chiming in. A level 28 Qi Ling Village breaking Qingshan Academy’s record—at a level akin to the game’s pioneer phase, relying purely on personal skill to set a new benchmark—was a feat with undeniable weight. In no time, players from across the game flooded Server 3145 with friend requests for Cycle of Eternity, only for every single one to sink without a trace, unanswered.  

“Whose alt is this!? They just wiped out our vice-captain’s record!” In the lively tavern of the main city, a player with the ID ‘Mage Alt 123’ from the Wonder Zoo guild exclaimed in shock. He had updated the leaderboard, and the historical best had changed.

“Qi Ling Village hitting 11 minutes? That’s gotta be leaderboard-level skill! Did someone really smurf on a fringe server like ours?”  

The previous all-time record on the leaderboard had been set by a Tian Wu Bastion player with the ID “Ragdoll Cat” from Wonder Zoo—also at level 28 during the pioneer phase. That player was now Wonder Zoo’s vice-captain.  

In a quiet corner of the tavern, a man sat by the window, his fingertip hovering over the leaderboard.  

Cycle of Eternity. This was the second time he’d seen that ID.  

12 minutes could be chalked up to luck, but 11 minutes? That wasn’t luck anymore.