[“Can I add you as a friend?”]

The Divine Tree’s server-wide announcement dropped the main quest update, and every player was clueless about what it meant.  

Inside the dungeon, the Chaos Statue crumbled to ash, and the entire Tiandi Temple collapsed into nothingness. All players inside got a [Dungeon Closing Soon] alert. When they snapped back, the scene had shifted—they were back in the dilapidated Tiandi Temple where they’d started.  

“Thanks, legends!” Bubble Dragon and the others were ecstatic. No one expected that teaming with a lone powerhouse would trigger an epic dungeon, let alone clear a server-wide challenge. Fresh out of the run, their inboxes were flooded with friend requests. Checking the global channels, they realized just how insane their clear was!  

“Add me as a friend!”  

“Being away from home, meeting each other makes us brothers.” Rich Bro took the lead, friending Bubble Dragon and the crew, circling to Mage Alt 123. “Big shots, how come you’re all like Brother Zhou, not even having your friend system open?”  

Bubble Dragon and the others were shy about asking, but Rich Bro’s warmth put them at ease. They stepped up, swapping friend slots.  

Mage Alt 123, seeing the vibe, glanced at Cycle of Eternity.  

The dungeon left too many questions—now was the perfect time to connect. He quickly opened his friend panel, approving requests from Mortal World’s Noble Grass and others. Just as he was about to approach Cycle of Eternity, someone moved first.  

The usually quiet healer stepped forward.  

The buzz around him didn’t faze Zhou Sui, who was sorting his inventory. Only when a shadow fell over him did he look up, finding Little Bunny 123 standing there. “The figurine was the dungeon’s entry ticket. It turning into a special item should be related to your performance of clearing the entire dungeon without dying.”  

Zhou Sui tilted his head, realizing Little Bunny 123 was talking about what he’d been eyeing. He’d noticed everyone’s drops were similar, but only his ticket had morphed into the [Chaos Statue] special item. Is it because he never died?  

Does that mean someone from the team got it too?

Little Bunny 123, as if reading his mind, opened his panel to show the same item in his bag.  

So the other player with an entry ticket was him?  

Little Bunny 123 extended a hand.  

Zhou Sui froze, staring at the offered handshake—a formal gesture he hadn’t encountered in years. Long stretches in sleep mode left him rusty with social cues, a touch of awkwardness creeping in.  

Noticing his pause, Little Bunny 123 held his gaze.  

Zhou Sui reached out, returning the grip lightly.  

The handshake lingered. Zhou Sui was about to pull back when Little Bunny 123 stepped back politely.  

Zhou Sui realized this guy had a knack for boundaries. Despite the unfamiliar gesture, Little Bunny 123 kept it comfortable, never crossing the line. In the dungeon, too—he spoke sparingly, only directing when absolutely needed, and always at moments Zhou Sui needed guidance.  

“Can I add you as a friend?” Little Bunny 123 asked.  

Zhou Sui remembered his friend system was off. “Hang on, I’ll add you.”  

“Cool.” 

Zhou Sui ignored the mountain of pending requests, typed Little Bunny 123 into the friend interface, and sent the invite as it popped up.  

He caught Little Bunny 123’s hand hesitating mid-motion and glanced over, puzzled.  

Then, a mail notification pinged—friend request accepted.

Zhou Sui was lost in thought when the loader’s built-in alert chimed. Snapping back, he checked the time—unreal, he’d been in-game way past his usual logout, and the loader’s medical module was flashing health warnings, urging him to rest.  

Mage Alt 123 went around adding everyone else nearby as friends before finally turning to Cycle of Eternity. Just as he opened his mouth for a friend request, Cycle of Eternity blurted, “Logging off,” and poofed into gray smoke right in front of him.  

“?”  

No friend add? Just gone like that?!  

Little Bunny 123 stared at the unsent message in his private chat. His finger tapped the virtual screen, and it went blank.  

Cycle of Eternity was offline, his avatar grayed out, clean as a slate… same old pristine vibe.  

“Tell your captain that the newbie village matter is settled. Count it as done in the Tiandi Temple. If he needs me later, have him ping me directly.”  

Little Bunny 123 closed the friend interface. “This account won’t be returned to him; consider it payment.”  

Mage Alt 123 was still processing. “Wait, what—”  

Little Bunny 123: “Logging off.”  

One after another, two people turned into flying smoke and logged off. The people around them were stunned. Logging off now?!  

Dungeon cleared, loot to open! Main quest overhaul outside! Isn’t this prime hype time?  

—-

Zhou Sui logged off in a daze. The screen flipped to his room, and his stomach growled loud. Something heavy pressed on his chest. The mechanical cat sprawled across him, its round, glowing eyes flickering in the dark, like it’d been staring for ages.  

“…”  

“I sent you fifteen messages!!!” the cat yowled.  

“Hungry,” Zhou Sui mumbled.  

The cat: “Cat’s hungry too!”  

Nearly ten hours online—Zhou Sui’s longest recent stint. Light was seeping in outside.  

Clearly, it was morning. He’d gamed all night.  

Zhou Sui peeled off the loader and got up. This cat, oblivious to its own weight, always flopped on him. Yawning, he refilled its food, grabbed a few nutrient tubes from the storage box, and chugged them. Exhaustion hit peak levels—he barely heard the cat’s chatter, collapsed onto the bed, and passed out the second his eyes shut.  

In a hazy blur, Zhou Sui felt his mind buzz with noise, a voice flickering through the clamor.

—-

Eyes shut, fast asleep, Zhou Sui was oblivious to the explosion of Divine Tree-related buzz on the StarNet.  

Divine Tree had been live for nearly three months, with plenty of events and dungeons pushing world progress. None had ever been as massive or electrifying as this—not just for its scale, spanning high-level and newbie zones, but for its impact on the entire Divine Tree map.  

The Divine Tree’s collapse in the main quest, the game announcing a quest overhaul, and then the official site, silent for months, dropping news of a major version update—these back-to-back moves were the second biggest shakeup since launch, including changes to in-game maps and scenes!  

Players dug up the Tiandi Temple clear videos for heated debates, dissecting mechanics and hidden lore. The newbie zone’s clear stole the spotlight. As the final piece of the event’s completion, their run was plastered across the StarNet—especially the last boss phase, with the team of five in sync: swordsman kiting, array master and beastmaster controlling aggro and DPSing… the apothecary’s clutch saves and the weapon master’s jaw-dropping plays shone brightest.  

[This team’s unreal—first clear on Tiandi Temple?!]  

[Someone’s actually running a Qi Ling Village weapon master build?]  

[Real talk, that displacement-rejump was insane. I had it analyzed—drop height was like 4 meters.]  

The dual Qi Ling Village duo—the apothecary and weapon master’s final stretch was a spectacle. Their midair instant heal and displacement-rejump combo was a nightmare to time, yet these two pulled it off flawlessly, multiple times, without a single mistake. It was practically a fairy tale.  

And in that last phase, the whole team’s hopes rested on them—one slip, and the event wouldn’t have cleared cleanly.  

[Their difficulty was only S-, though. Weren’t other zones harder?]  

[Get real—high-level zones have way more skill tree options. Newbies start with fewer skills, even with tweaks, and their margin for error’s tiny. Didn’t you see the Griffin alt team’s progress lagging behind?]  

[Divine Tree’s such a wild game—dark horses everywhere. Isn’t that Cycle of Eternity the guy who smashed the Qingshan Academy record a few days back?]  

[Some Wonder Zoo player’s alt, right? Don’t they run dungeons as a squad?]  

The post’s heat kept climbing, packed with arguments and breakdowns, but the first-clear team’s video spread like wildfire.  

Rumors swirled that Fierce Tiger 123 from the Wonder Zoo crew was in the mix, leading many to peg Cycle of Eternity as some bigshot’s alt.

Top-ranked players stayed on the sidelines. The game had been live long enough for plenty of major dungeons to pop up, and they’d seen their share of dark horse players. But this time, only the newbie zone team reached the final Idol phase. Back then, they had no shot—bracing for a total wipe in the newbie area. No one could’ve guessed a handful of players would pull off a clean clear.  

Data-crunching players ran the numbers and found the newbie zone’s difficulty rivaled high-level areas. With players rocking half-baked gear and skills, it might’ve even been tougher than the veteran zones.  

The StarNet buzzed with heated debates outside the game. Inside Divine Tree’s high-level zones, two players were closely monitoring the various developments across the StarNet.  

“Cycle of Eternity, teamed with Tiger. You Wonder Zoo folks know his deal?”  

The speaker cut straight to it, but Ragdoll Cat knew there was more to the question.  

The vice-captain of Skyward Ascent, a Tian He Mountain pro, was the top-ranked Daoist in the game, ID “Frost Chill”, running a half-defensive Daoist build.  

Players online were discussing, and they were also discussing. What others considered were only the low level and the game difficulty adjustment. In reality, for players like them who were used to all sorts of dungeons, the difficulty mechanism was secondary. The most important thing was the player’s skill.  

A player’s snap reactions, adaptability, and execution in a dungeon were the real measures of strength.  

People from Skyward Ascent would directly ask, so Ragdoll Cat knew this person must have already investigated Cycle of Eternity’s game records, just like him. Anyone who gamed regularly left traces on the StarNet—IDs tied to various games, letting you trace someone’s history, past rankings, or achievements.  

Cycle of Eternity’s friend list was locked, but his StarNet account had a game history. Problem was, it was ancient. Apart from the Divine Tree, the most recent game history was four or five years ago, and the games played were either long-outdated or ordinary StarNet games that didn’t make much of a splash… Such past traces undoubtedly made people suspect it was a blank account.  

In short, nothing useful turned up.  

“You know the Tiandi Temple’s matchmaking. Tiger was on an alt and got randomly tossed into Cycle of Eternity’s squad,” Ragdoll Cat said. He wished Cycle of Eternity was on their side, but that excuse wouldn’t fool Skyward Ascent. “You want to recruit him?”  

“His skills are legit,” Frost Chill said, not holding back praise. “From the moment I tuned into the stream to the clear, he didn’t make a single positioning mistake. And his build’s weird.”  

Breaking down the clear, Cycle of Eternity stood out. From early aggro swaps to spotting key openings later, his awareness was razor-sharp—a seriously smart player.  

In this newbie clear team, most players left traceable StarNet footprints. Two didn’t: Cycle of Eternity and Little Bunny 123. Group dungeons were never solo carries—Cycle of Eternity’s ability to freestyle and shine relied on teammates who didn’t drag.  

In reality, apart from the final five people ^[1] Cycle of Eternity, Little Bunny 123, Mage Alt 123, Slack Bro, Mortal World’s Noble Grass in the team, the other three, including the tank Bubble Dragon, had average skills. Their early success leaned hard on the healer’s babysitting. If there were too many casualties early on, they wouldn’t have been able to use the shield mechanic to swap aggro and clear the dungeon in a “pulling weeds” fashion.

Frost Chill couldn’t recall any support-type apothecary in the Wonder Zoo who played like this. “Apothecary, who’s controlling it?”

“This person knows the terrain of the Tiandi Temple inside out. Several times, his positioning was spot-on, like he predicted it in advance. He’s the one most familiar with the terrain in the whole team.”

Ragdoll Cat: “…”

“How did you guys find him?” Frost Chill asked.

A support-class player, familiar with terrain, and somehow connected to the Wonder Zoo.

Frost Chill could only think of one person. When the Tiandi Temple was first launched on the Divine Tree server, its difficulty was extremely high. It was no less challenging than the current Tiandi Temple. Back then, his guild, Skyward Ascent, nearly wiped on their first clear attempt—until they met a certain player.

That player was a healer, unranked and virtually unknown. He wasn’t even on the leaderboards, yet it was this obscure player who first uncovered the storyline and hidden mechanics of the Tiandi Temple, giving Skyward Ascent a huge boost.

But that was it. Skyward Ascent had extended an olive branch, only for the player to casually say he had no interest in leaderboards and then vanish completely.

Frost Chill hadn’t seen this person again until now, at the Tiandi Temple event.

And alongside him was Cycle of Eternity.

Seeing Ragdoll Cat stay silent, Frost Chill wasn’t surprised and continued, “But there’s something else more important. The game’s about to change.”

Ragdoll Cat gave him a surprised glance.

After Frost Chill left, other Wonder Zoo players rushed in, bombarding Ragdoll Cat with questions about why Frost Chill had come. The Wonder Zoo and Skyward Ascent had only teamed up for one dungeon, and while they were familiar with each other from the leaderboards, they rarely interacted. For the vice-captain of Skyward Ascent to personally seek out their vice-captain, it was obvious he had something to say.

The Divine Tree’s skills were endlessly varied, with every kind of playstyle imaginable. But since the server opened, Cycle of Eternity was the only one who’d started with the Qi Ling Village Weapon Branch.

It wasn’t said outright, but Skyward Ascent was clearly interested in Cycle of Eternity. Their team wasn’t even full yet, so they were likely here to poach.

Ragdoll Cat couldn’t shake the feeling that the player’s gameplay seemed familiar. If he could notice it, so could Frost Chill—otherwise, he wouldn’t have come to snoop around. The character “Zhou” in his ID, written in Chinese, kept reminding him of another standalone ID. But it had been three years. Many players from that training camp might not have stayed in gaming, let alone someone who’d vanished for three years.

Three years…?  

Ragdoll Cat suddenly froze, recalling a game record that hadn’t been updated in four or five years.

Nearby, the Wonder Zoo players were looking around, noticing their vice-captain seemed to be spacing out again.

“What’s Skyward Ascent got to do with us?”

“Forget that—hasn’t our ranking been dropping?”

“We just stabilized it, and now it’s slipping again?”

Right then, a message popped up, cutting through the Wonder Zoo players’ chatter.

Ragdoll Cat snapped back to reality and saw it was from the Divine Tree’s official game account—two months after the server opened, the game had just rolled out its first major version update!

—-

The day Zhou Sui logged off, he chugged three tubes of nutrient fluid and slept for a full day. Even when his cat parked its butt on his face for ages, he didn’t stir. It took a barrage of calls from Dr. Wu to finally rouse him.

Even then, he woke up feeling drained. When he crawled out of bed, he tripped and fell.

That sent the cat into a frenzy, spamming Dr. Wu with messages and nearly calling for an emergency medical team. In the end, Zhou Sui threw on some clothes, grabbed the cat, and headed to the medical station.

Since leaving the hospital two months ago, Zhou Sui hadn’t been back. His meds were delivered on schedule by robots, and unless he needed to scrounge for food, he had little reason to go out. Hospitals were one of his least favorite places—partly because they were a bit far, but mostly because he couldn’t get used to the overly enthusiastic medical robots.

When he first woke from cryosleep, he couldn’t even get out of bed. Every day, he was stuck facing the robots at the medical station. There were hardly any other patients, so he got the “privilege” of being checked on by four or five different types of robots daily.

The air outside was a bit chilly, and Zhou Sui was only wearing a jacket. His body barely registered changes in the weather. The cat nestled at his neck burrowed into his collar, its stiff frame quickly warmed by his body heat. The mechanical cat’s temperature sensors were far more sensitive than his own.

The Third Medical Station in the capital wasn’t crowded. Medical robots roamed about, and Zhou Sui made his way to Dr. Wu’s office with ease, knocking lightly on the door.

The door opened, but as Zhou Sui stepped inside, he saw no one at Dr. Wu’s desk. He instinctively turned to leave, but a voice from within stopped him, quicker than his movement.

“Come in.”

The voice was unfamiliar.

Zhou Sui’s ears twitched. As he pushed the door open, he spotted someone standing in the corner.

The person wore a long white coat, his figure tall and lean, lingering by the office window. 

Next to him was the old-fashioned bookshelf Dr. Wu kept in the office, lined with medical journals and books Zhou Sui couldn’t decipher. He’d been here plenty of times and always assumed the books were just for decoration—until now, seeing this person holding one.

He’d been reading moments ago.

A young man, unfamiliar face, with an unusual aura… Zhou Sui had been hospitalized for a long time and had never seen this person before.

Zhou Sui glanced around the room and chose a seat in the farthest corner.

“Dr. Wu’s in a consultation. He’ll be back soon,” the man explained.

Zhou Sui leaned back in his chair. “Oh, okay.”

The office was quiet, save for the occasional sound of the man flipping pages. Zhou Sui had been sleeping before coming here, and now, sitting down, he couldn’t fight the drowsiness creeping in. He tugged at his jacket collar, shifting into a more comfortable position, as sleepiness washed over him.

The mechanical cat on his shoulder, unlike Zhou Sui, was brimming with curiosity. It wasn’t like him, cooped up at home all the time—every trip outside was an adventure. Right now, it was fixated on the stranger in Dr. Wu’s office, its cat-like eyes scanning up and down, tail swishing back and forth.

Noticing the cat’s stare, the man reading the book looked up, his gaze landing on the person sitting in the corner of the office.

The guy wore a thin jacket, its slightly raised collar covering his jaw. Perched on his shoulder was a conspicuous mechanical cat. There were all sorts of intelligent robotic pets, but this one lacked vibrant fur, just a bare mechanical frame curled up on his shoulder, its round, gleaming cat eyes strikingly bright.

The medical station saw all kinds of patients, but it was rare to see someone visiting with such a unique pet. The man glanced over, noticing the pet’s owner with his head slightly lowered, eyelids drooping, looking like he might fall asleep any second. He quietly closed his book and took a few steps to the side.

The room grew calm, and the guy’s head bobbed faintly. As footsteps approached, the half-asleep, drowsy guy suddenly raised his hand, his wrist darting forward with precision to grab at something. Just as contact seemed imminent, the approaching figure stepped back, and Zhou Sui’s hand grasped nothing. The cat let out a meow.

That meow snapped Zhou Sui awake, and he looked up to see the person standing in front of him. The man who’d been reading by the window had somehow moved closer, holding a cup in his hand.

Zhou Sui came to, realizing he’d nearly dozed off again. He pulled his hand back, his voice a bit muffled. “Sorry, habit.” He wasn’t used to people getting close—a reflex from years ago.

The man didn’t seem to mind. He simply placed the cup on the table and said, “Refreshing tea.” Then he walked away.

Zhou Sui glanced at the tea out of the corner of his eye. Just now, due to his subconscious action, the cup of tea hadn’t been knocked over. This time, he looked at the other person with a bit more attention.

Hurried footsteps echoed from outside the office. Dr. Wu bustled in and spotted Zhou Sui sitting there. “You’re here?”

“Why didn’t you wear more layers coming out?”

After addressing Zhou Sui, Dr. Wu turned to the man in the distance. “Thanks for holding down the fort, junior. Kept you waiting long?”

“You’ve got a patient, so I’ll step out.” The man grabbed Dr. Wu’s files and headed into the adjacent break room.

Dr. Wu couldn’t help launching into a lecture the moment he saw Zhou Sui, who sat there obediently, the doctor’s voice mingling with the cat’s occasional responses. After the spiel, Dr. Wu had Zhou Sui do a check-up, then issued a test order and summoned a robot. “Let’s do a full scan to figure out what’s going on. Not sleepy anymore, right?”

“I’m fine,” Zhou Sui said, fully awake from the talking-to.

With the test order in hand, Zhou Sui and his cat headed out. Dr. Wu reviewed the report, letting out a long sigh. He rubbed his head in frustration and looked up as the man emerged from the break room. “You barely come out once in ages, and even when you leave that place, you’re still full of occupational habits. Wouldn’t it be better to retire early and join our medical station? We’re seriously short on doctors like you…”

“You don’t exactly look relaxed yourself,” Ji Qiyuan said, closing the files and slipping them into a nearby bag. He glanced at Dr. Wu’s hair. “Dinner’s on me tonight. There’s a good health-focused hotpot place nearby.”

“That works. I’m free tonight.”

Dr. Wu buried himself in Zhou Sui’s medical report, grumbling, “Do all the geniuses in your camp have some minor issues?”

At that, Ji Qiyuan’s brow twitched slightly. His gaze fell on the files laid out on the desk. The guy’s face, previously half-hidden by his collar, was clearly visible in the large photo on the medical record. Next to it was a detailed profile: S-level physique, initial diagnosis date… and, in stark black-on-white, the admission date.

Ji Qiyuan’s gaze deepened, and he reached out to push aside the report sheet that was covering the top of the medical record.

It was a very familiar date to him, a certain day three years ago.

Patient name: Zhou Sui;  

Occupation: Elite Training Camp Participant (Retired)。