This was the Execution Platform of the Feather Clan.

High atop a towering cliff, only those with wings—the Feather Clan—could ascend to it. The iron chains surrounding the platform clanged in the fierce wind, carrying the scents of rust and blood.

A black rock jutted from the edge of the cliff, carved into the shape of a Feather Clan law enforcer, spear in hand, leaning downward. It was so lifelike that it held an aura of authority without anger, its spear pointing directly at the center of the platform.

A dark crowd gathered around in a circle, while in the middle of the platform, a lone figure knelt.

Dark clouds rolled across the sky, and a sharp crack split the air—a black whip slicing through it. The iron smell of blood from the whip stung the nose, and an intense, heavy tension filled the entire place.

The owner of the whip was a woman with her hair tied back, clad in flexible armor, looking sharp and valiant. Behind her spread a pair of enormous wings, shimmering with hints of gold. Each feather looked like a fine blade of steel; even a slight movement sent a gust of wind.

With just a flick of her hand, the whip came alive, like a snake spitting out its tongue, instantly wrapping around the kneeling figure’s neck. Her clear voice rang out, piercing the entire place.

“Xie Shuangxue, we Feather Clan have our rules. You should have known that when you came here.”

“Those who collude with the Demon Clan—death.”

“Those who betray their kin—death.”

“Those who harm their own—death.”

With each word she spoke, the whip tightened a bit more. The figure kneeling below, already heavily shackled, couldn’t resist. He was pressed down to the ground, revealing his thin spine.

He was covered in scars, evidently having endured plenty of punishment already, with blood seeping through his thin clothing.

Pinned down by overwhelming force, Xie Shuangxue’s face was pressed against the ground, his lips twitching slightly where no one could see, as if he could barely bear the pain.

But if someone looked closely, they’d see he seemed to be mouthing words, silently mirroring exactly what the woman above was saying, as though he’d been through it many times and already knew each word.

“You have committed three deadly sins, repeatedly sowing discord, defying authority, and refusing to reform. Taking your life is no injustice.”

As the woman’s powerful sentence echoed and the whip tightened, Xie Shuangxue was unsurprisingly strangled by the whip, instantly losing all signs of life.

But even in the face of this tragic death, the surrounding Feather Clan showed no hint of pity; some even spat on him.

Such a wicked man, responsible for so many deaths, deserved his fate.

The dead Xie Shuangxue lay sprawled on the ground, his hand reaching out in the direction of the woman who took his life, as if wanting to grasp the hem of her clothing.

But he would never reach it.

Just then, a man stepped out from behind the woman. Dressed in white, with finely drawn features, he radiated a gentle warmth, as though he were a piece of polished jade.

He reached out and took her hand, drawing her gaze naturally to him, his voice as warm as spring.

“The clan traitor is dead, Your Highness. Let’s go. I’ve prepared a soup in your room. You won’t have to worry about these troublesome matters anymore.”

The woman, addressed as “Your Highness,” looked down at their hands, glanced up at him, then, after a moment of silence, responded in a barely audible voice, “Let’s hope so.”

At this point, Xie Shuangxue was thoroughly dead. His body slumped to the side, his face blurred, as though covered in a veil, obscuring his features.

“Alright, cut!”

With this abrupt command, the somber scene of judgment instantly froze. Everyone stood still, expressions frozen on their faces, even the wind halted.

Suddenly, a man in black work overalls appeared in the crowd. His chest bore the label “Tester 07,” along with a blue wave-like logo. Wearing a helmet, with a walkie-talkie at his mouth, he ticked a checkbox on his clipboard beside “Scene Test 19–6,” then spoke again.

“The wind’s too strong. It’s affecting the experience and hurting my eyes. Adjust it.”

“And remember, during the story sequences, make sure players’ view angles are positioned further inward, especially since some players are afraid of heights. And for bloody scenes, use the crowd to shield the view a bit. We need immersion, but not too much gore, or we’ll get complaints after launch.”

“Also…!”

Tester 07 looked down at Xie Shuangxue’s blurred face and grumbled, “What’s going on with the art team? Weren’t they supposed to finish the character model yesterday? Xie Shuangxue’s still faceless!”

“Hold on,” a voice replied through the walkie-talkie. “The art team’s swamped. They still have to adjust the main character, so side characters like this one will have to wait. It’ll be ready before the official launch.”

“Fine,” Tester 07 scribbled down a few notes on his board, then called out, “Alright, load the next scene.”

Then he hurried off.

As he left, the Execution Platform and everyone on it began to disappear. Only Xie Shuangxue, who was already “dead,” slowly stood up, opened his eyes, and captured the moment.

The scene before him didn’t disappear all at once but gradually blurred, melting into a void, colors washing away like paint.

He’d seen this many times before, yet each time, it struck him as miraculous.

More extraordinary still, while everyone around him faded like statues, Xie Shuangxue’s figure alone remained distinct and sharp.

Something about this NPC wasn’t quite right.

If Tester 07 had been there, he would have heard Xie Shuangxue muttering to himself.

“The side character’s placement is wrong. According to the storyline, Elder Mei should soon be promoted to Chief Enforcer Elder. She should be second in line here on the platform. Hmph, we Feather Clan sure have a lot of rules.”

“But that’s okay… after a few more deaths, you should figure it out.”

That’s right.

Xie Shuangxue knew he was an NPC in a game.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the main character.

It was painfully clear—after all, how could a main character die halfway through the storyline?

The man and woman with lines in the test scene were the real protagonists of this storyline. The narrative perspective focused on them entirely.

Around two months ago, when he first entered the preliminary test, Xie Shuangxue, a petty, malicious villain NPC, somehow developed a hazy self-awareness. He began piecing together his situation step-by-step.

The game he was in was called Gods and Demons, developed by Endless Sea, currently the most popular full-dive VR game across the alliance.

Now, with less than a month until the game’s third anniversary, the new version would release, with an expanded map and a new main storyline—Book of Floating Dreams.

Legend has it that a thousand years ago, the Feather Clan, representing the gods, was one of the strongest clans in the Gods and Demons world. However, their conflict with the Demon Realm was endless, especially after Princess Chun Yao was chosen as heir. The rivalry escalated even further. Her seemingly gentle, obedient lover Luo Yin gradually revealed himself as the Demon Prince…

And as for Xie Shuangxue, he was just an orphan taken in by the Feather Clan, twisted and hypocritical. After failing to win over the princess, he conspired with the Demon Clan to seize power, harming many in secret, only to be a mere pawn in Demon Prince Luo Yin’s schemes.

After his treachery was exposed, Princess Chun Yao strangled him, which sparked her suspicions of Luo Yin and marked a small but intense climax in the storyline.

Xie Shuangxue had gone through this test many times and could recite the scenes by heart.

As time passed, he gradually freed himself from the storyline’s control, like waking from an icy slumber. Flexing his fingers, he scanned his surroundings as if waiting for something.

Then, in the fading scene, he soon spotted several streaks of white light darting around the Execution Platform.

Xie Shuangxue’s face might have been blurred, but his vision was sharp enough to see clearly.

The streaks of light were like meteors, flashing by. A spark of excitement lit his eyes, and he swiftly dashed forward, leaping like a nimble young leopard, launching himself toward the cluster of lights just as the platform beneath him faded.

The moment he reached the “meteor cluster,” the beams seemed magnetically drawn to him, instantly gathering around him. Then Xie Shuangxue fell, landing softly on what felt like a cloud.

With a blink, the entire scene changed.

The Execution Platform and everyone else had vanished. All around him, vibrant scenery faded into an endless expanse of gray light, like a mirage, with occasional light streaks high above, far out of reach.

Looking down, he saw the lights he’d attracted gather in his palm, wrapping around his wrist to form a slender silver bracelet.

Got it.

He breathed a sigh of relief, stretching his neck.

The marks of punishment had vanished, but a residual pain at his neck reminded him he’d just died in the storyline once again.

Generally, there was no pain after disconnecting from the scene, but death was an exception.

The feeling of suffocation would linger for some time, an uncomfortable aftereffect.

Unfortunately, there was no NPC Rights Protection Association here, and he had no place to file a complaint. With no one to confide in, he couldn’t explain why this happened… just as he couldn’t explain why he’d developed self-awareness during the testing phase.

After piecing together his situation, he tried to escape. But once he entered the storyline, his body was beyond his control, and he could only make slight movements when no one was watching.

Even after disconnecting from the storyline, there was no way out of this place.

This was a game world, and he was just an NPC, bound to be a resentful, scheming minor villain. His fate seemed sealed.

No matter how aware he became, he couldn’t change that.

Whenever Xie Shuangxue thought of this, he’d let out a long, heavy sigh.

I’m such a tragic, useless NPC.

At least he was done dying for now, and the next round of testing wouldn’t be for a while, so he had a period of peace ahead.

Xie Shuangxue sat cross-legged, examining the light bracelet on his wrist.

Over the past two months, his explorations hadn’t been entirely fruitless. He’d discovered that during the fading gap after a storyline ended, he could attract the light streams and use them to obtain some “surprises.”

This was one such moment.

He turned his wrist, and the light on the bracelet began to flow, releasing small particles into the air.

As the particles moved, a small rectangular screen about the size of two palms appeared before him, resembling the intelligent notepads used by testers.

Opening it, the screen displayed a constantly updating feed of information, while the light bracelet on his wrist gradually grew shorter with time.

This was the Player Forum, the world’s largest full-dive VR gaming forum.

Through a series of mishaps, Xie Shuangxue had stumbled upon a way to access the forum. As long as he had enough light, he could consume it to log in and snoop around.

Apparently, he was the only one who could see this.

The first time he accessed it was by accident, and he wasn’t sure how it happened. As he gathered more information, he formed a guess.

These were data streams from the outside world.

Endless Sea enforced strict control to ensure the SEA chip’s network security and information confidentiality. Gods and Demons had a segregated network for internal and external systems, but the Player Forum, deemed an important source of player feedback, was accessible within the company’s internal network.

The occasional light streams that drifted by were likely traces of company employees sneaking a glance at the forum, giving Xie Shuangxue an opportunity.

However, Xie Shuangxue didn’t have an ID, couldn’t post, and his connection to the forum was a limited, basic version. The tiny two-hand-sized screen felt cramped, and his online time was limited by the amount of light, but it was better than nothing.

Whenever he had the chance, he’d browse through it, trying to learn more about the game.

With time, he’d become more proficient. This time, he’d gathered enough light for half a day’s worth.

At first, he couldn’t understand the comments, but he learned fast. He figured out what a game was, what NPCs and players were. This was his place of enlightenment.

The forum, however, was notorious for its fierce, combative atmosphere. After all, games always had plenty of fiery players.

Today, for example, as soon as he opened the screen, a long sword came swinging toward his face—a typical display of the forum’s unfiltered style.

A pair of jade-white hands caught the sword; wielding it was Xie Shuangxue’s old acquaintance, Princess Chun Yao.

In armor, she looked bold and valiant. Her face was partially obscured in the swift combat, but her resolute, determined moves hinted at her beauty. A brief glimpse revealed her as a peerless beauty, the camera catching only half her face, lending her a mysterious allure.

Her opponent was Luo Yin, who, unlike in the previous scene, still wore a gentle, serene look like a harmless scholar, yet his aura was powerful and oppressive.

As their powers clashed, their gazes met, filled not with simple animosity but a mix of complex emotions, charging the story and visual impact to the fullest.

It was today’s forum opening ad.

Once again, it was Gods and Demons.

This 30-second promotional video was the first material released for the game’s third anniversary, stirring massive anticipation before the official preview was even released. The forum’s opening ad slot was, of course, among the targeted placements.

Inside, players were buzzing with discussion.

Demon Prince Luo Yin had appeared briefly in previous storylines as a character with legendary power, capturing many fans with just a few moments on screen. Now, he was finally set to take center stage, looking far younger.

Many fans were squealing over him in the comments, praising the production quality of the video.

Of course, not everyone was so kind.

“Endless Sea is still delaying the third-anniversary preview and just releases this? What’s the point?”

“The event announcement they promised today got delayed—those devs need a wake-up call!”

“Watching this after the last storyline, I can already guess what’s next: another overly complicated love story. I could write eight of these in a day. Boring, predictable—no wonder they’re scared to release a proper preview.”

Ah, yes, it was the Gods and Demons daily roast hour. The more players a game had, the more critics it attracted.

But Xie Shuangxue silently thought, they’re not as simple as you think.

After all, they’re the main characters, with character designs far deeper than this promotional clip showed, something he knew well from his own experiences with the storyline.

In past storylines, Demon Prince Luo Yin had been a formidable legend, his looks stealing fans’ hearts even in a few minutes of screen time.

The Book of Floating Dreams storyline was set hundreds of years ago when the young Demon Prince had infiltrated the Feather Clan, putting on a front of purity and loyalty in front of Chun Yao, all while scheming with hidden ambition.

As for Chun Yao, the twist was even bigger.

Because, as a princess, “she” was the classic cross-dressing prince.

His “awakening” might even have been triggered by the shock of discovering that his cherished “goddess” was actually a man.

In the storyline, he learned this right before he died, and the revelation struck him like a tidal wave. After all, even for an NPC, the shock of his twisted obsession turning out to be male was too much to handle.

That emotion, though, felt distant now. Since fully awakening, Xie Shuangxue had been repeatedly used by Luo Yin and killed by the princess in countless testing scenes. Now, looking at them again, he didn’t resent them, and whatever affection the storyline had forced upon him was long gone.

If anything, he felt a bit envious.

It looked pretty cool.

They were also just puppets of the storyline, but at least they were main characters, with well-crafted personalities, complex and layered, and most importantly—they didn’t have to die.

And yet they still got roasted by players.

He thought, I’d better get used to it early. Once I go live, my lame character’s sure to get torn to shreds by the forum.

But there was more than just that in the forum today—Gods and Demons’ third anniversary was already looking anything but calm.