The cool morning breeze, carrying the unique scent of the old residential district, slipped in through the open window.
Shi Hanfeng was awakened by the faint sounds of conversation from downstairs.
He opened his eyes.
The familiar fine cracks on the ceiling came into view.
The fatigue of yesterday had been washed away by a deep, dreamless sleep, and a calm strength once again filled his body.
The voices downstairs came intermittently, tinged with curiosity and speculation.
“…Never seen this car before…”
“Matte finish, looks expensive, but why is there no badge?”
“Is someone waiting for it…?”
A subtle intuition prompted Shi Hanfeng to get out of bed and walk to the window.
He looked down.
A sleek, matte black sedan, like a silent outlier, lay dormant in front of the weathered apartment building.
It bore no brand logo, its understated appearance unable to hide the presence exuded by its precision craftsmanship, forming a stark contrast with the surrounding hanging clothes and parked old bicycles.
A few elderly men taking their morning stroll were gathered around it, pointing and gesturing.
The moment Shi Hanfeng looked over, the driver’s door of the car opened.
A driver in a crisp uniform, with a composed expression, stepped out.
He looked up, locking eyes with Shi Hanfeng at the window with pinpoint accuracy.
He made no unnecessary movements, just a slight nod, as if confirming his target.
Shi Hanfeng yawned, gave a small nod in return, signaling he understood.
The car window rose, sealing off the inside from the outside.
This reserved car was certainly punctual.
Fifteen minutes later, the silent black sedan carried Shi Hanfeng away from the peaceful area and merged into the increasingly busy morning traffic.
The car finally came to a steady stop in the futuristic underground garage of the Qimingxing Center.
As the vehicle came to a halt, Shi Hanfeng pushed the door open and stepped out.
“Fengzi—! Over here! Here!”
The piercing shout, full of familiar bluster, shattered the quiet of the underground garage in an instant.
Following the sound, Shi Hanfeng saw Xu Chaoyun leaning against a smooth support pillar not far away.
He was holding a steaming jianbing guozi, with sauce and egg almost dripping from the wrapper, his cheeks bulging like a food-hoarding hamster.
While chewing vigorously, he waved his free hand energetically at Shi Hanfeng, calling out in muffled tones.
Today, he wore a deep blue hoodie, washed to a faded hue, paired with heavily worn jeans and brightly colored basketball shoes.
His hair still stuck out in rebellious tufts, but at least there were no more bits of dirt from another world—he looked much cleaner, though the way he wolfed down the food still carried a vengeful appetite for real-world cuisine.
Shi Hanfeng nodded slightly and walked over.
“Ugh…finally, you made it!”
Xu Chaoyun swallowed the hot bite, wincing as he sucked in cool air, but still managed to shove the rest of the jianbing guozi into his mouth in one go, complaining indistinctly.
“I almost missed out on the first batch from Old Liu’s! The car here is too punctual! See, am I loyal or what? Brought you a supreme deluxe version too—extra eggs, a sausage, and pork loin.”
He, like a secret agent completing a handoff, triumphantly pulled another tightly wrapped, grease-stained packet from his hoodie pocket and stuffed it into Shi Hanfeng’s hand without question.
The package was warm to the touch, emitting a rich aroma of sauce and oil.
“Thanks.”
Shi Hanfeng took it but didn’t open it immediately.
“How was it after you got home yesterday?”
His gaze swept over Xu Chaoyun’s clearly well-rested, refreshed face.
“Heh, not bad. Stayed up late researching the Personal Terminal, but as soon as I hit the bed, I was out like a light! First time sleeping so soundly since entering the Destiny Space—didn’t even dream.”
“It really is better to be home, even a broken mattress beats that hunter’s hardboard by a mile! My alarm had to go off a hundred times to get me up, almost overslept and missed the car.”
He babbled on, clearly satisfied with his first deep sleep after returning to routine.
As they chatted, they navigated a few bright corridors under Xu Chaoyun’s slightly clumsy guidance, eventually stopping in front of a frosted glass door.
The sensor on the side lit up faintly, scanning the Personal Terminals in their hands.
With a soft “beep,” the glass door slid silently open.
Even Shi Hanfeng’s eyes flickered with a trace of surprise at the scene beyond.
Qimingxing knew how to please.
It was a spacious suite with a modern design.
The overall tones were calming grays and natural wood, with a huge floor-to-ceiling window framing the city’s morning skyline.
Sunlight poured in, illuminating the interior.
Comfortable beanbag sofas, embedded bookshelves adorned with delicate greenery, even a mini bar stocked with drinks and snacks.
But the most eye-catching feature was the two top-tier gaming chairs and ultra-wide curved monitors in the center of the room, side by side.
Surrounding RGB lights cast a dazzling glow, creating an atmosphere of youthful technological entertainment.
“Awesome frog!”
Xu Chaoyun’s mouth fell open, nearly dropping his jianbing bag.
“This is an office? Looks more like a livestreamer’s gaming room! Qimingxing is really living large? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone back to my own dump!”
He roamed around, poking here and there, then plopped into a gaming chair with a satisfied sigh as the seat spun melodiously.
“A gold nest, a silver nest, but nothing beats your own—wait, maybe this doghouse is even comfier?”
He rocked in the chair, then shook his head, suddenly more serious.
“But honestly, no matter how good the outside is, sleeping in your own bed still feels safest. Isn’t that weird?”
He spun the chair and looked at Shi Hanfeng, who had walked to the window and was quietly gazing at the city.
“And you? Did you go home and hide in your little room yesterday, researching the Personal Terminal? Any earth-shattering discoveries? So many goodies you went cross-eyed?”
Shi Hanfeng turned, the light from the window behind him rendering his features a bit hazy, with only the glow of the Personal Terminal reflecting in his calm eyes.
“Didn’t look.”
He replied succinctly.
Yesterday, after exchanging items, a wave of satisfaction had left him mentally relaxed and drained.
If anything, it was like the “sage time” after intense exercise—he’d lost all motivation to tinker with complex things or plan grand schemes, wanting only to empty his mind.
“Didn’t look?”
Xu Chaoyun suddenly stopped spinning, leaning forward with disbelief written all over his face.
“Seriously, Fengzi! Even you slack off? That’s not like you! I thought you’d go all night until you understood every inch of the Personal Terminal! Ha! Who’d have thought I’d end up as the hardworking one!”
He immediately put on an air of pride, jumping from the chair with hands on hips.
“Looks like when it counts, you have to rely on me! Now it’s my turn to be Yifu! Quick, call me Yifu, and I’ll share all the results of my hard work from yesterday. Guarantee you’ll avoid all the pitfalls!”
Shi Hanfeng glanced at him, expression calm and unruffled, filled with the look one gives the weak.
With a flicker of thought, the air shimmered.
A cold gleam flashed.
In the next moment, a longsword appeared in his hand.
It was over three feet long, with an ancient shape, straight spine, and the blade gleamed with steady light in the window’s sunlight.
Simple anti-slip patterns were carved into the guard, exuding the simplicity and sharpness of a weapon forged through real combat.
Just by looking, one could tell it was a good sword.
It was also the best weapon he’d acquired from the loot boxes, a fine village sword of unknown origin.
Its quality was Green, but its attributes of toughness and sharpness were extremely practical.
Shi Hanfeng held the sword, swaying it casually in the air, producing a low hum.
“Don’t want it anymore?”
He said, voice steady.
Xu Chaoyun’s eyes froze.
All his teasing and pride evaporated without a trace.
His expression shifted from arrogant to stunned to utterly obsequious at lightning speed.
“Want! Of course I want! Yifu! You’re my real Yifu!”
He darted over, face full of flattery, his tone so soft it could drip water.
“I was just joking! Trying to lighten the mood! Please, don’t take it to heart! Sword! My good sword! It’s clearly been waiting for me!”
The sword felt heavy and cold in his grip, its perfect balance making it irresistible.
He ran his fingers over the anti-slip patterns on the hilt, nodding repeatedly.
“Good sword! Truly a good sword! So much better than the old Hunter’s ancestral broken iron sword! Thank you, Yifu! Yifu, you’re so generous!”
His face-changing speed and smooth emotional transition were breathtaking.
A trace of amusement flickered in Shi Hanfeng’s eyes as he handed over the sword.
“Chuanju never invited you to carry on national culture—what a loss for them.”
Xu Chaoyun hurriedly accepted the sword, lovingly stroking the cold blade, his fingers carefully sliding along the edge as he felt the power within.
“I’m not going. I’m destined to become a sword immortal! If I went, the sword would bend.”
After the little episode, Xu Chaoyun hugged his new treasure and grinned for a long while before remembering the real business.
“Hurry, Fengzi, take out your Personal Terminal and check the community. Everyone’s talking in there.”
He urged.
Shi Hanfeng activated his Personal Terminal.
A translucent screen unfolded in the air.
Under Xu Chaoyun’s noisy instructions, he quickly found the not-so-noticeable community icon—three overlapping silhouettes—and tapped it.
The interface switched.
A chatroom-like window appeared.
But the contents inside gave Shi Hanfeng pause.
Instead of the high-level, mysterious, jargon-filled discussions he’d expected, the scrolling messages were unexpectedly down-to-earth, even filled with a strong sense of salted-fish energy.
[MiningGuyDoesn’tWantToMine: Recommend a hidden gem restaurant! After half a month of Black Bread, this damn food desert, everything from the Newbie World looks like a delicacy now! Waiting online, urgent!]
[I’mNotATamer: Is the Official Recovery Office still accepting Black Iron Wood? It’s pretty sturdy. I’m so broke I can’t cook, my girlfriend’s birthday is coming up, haven’t got a gift yet—if I wait any longer she’ll probably want me to pay in meat (shivers).jpg]
[‘Air Force One’: Southwest Lake, looking for a fishing buddy! Requirements: bring your own bait, quiet, helmetless preferred.]
[‘FloatingWoodIsGone’: Push hard! Looking for someone to block the bridge in Aerospace, 2=1, includes Xuanxian Pill, AW, don’t bother if KD is below 3.0!]
Messages scrolled by, mixed with all kinds of banter and emoticons, discussing food, poverty, leisure, and even what looked like game team-ups.
There was no desperate pursuit of power, nor fear of terrifying missions.
Instead, the atmosphere was full of daily trivia and a laid-back mood.
This was different from what he’d imagined.
Shi Hanfeng watched in silence.
The string inside him, always taut from his otherworldly experiences, seemed to relax slightly.
So these so-called “Destiny Chosen Ones” and “Destiny Apostles,” stripped of their mystique, were just ordinary people who worried about food, tried to slack off, played games, and complained about their girlfriends.
His gaze shifted to the top right corner of the screen.
A number was displayed there.
Total members [297]
Less than four hundred people.
Shi Hanfeng frowned.
This number, compared to the technical prowess shown by “Qiming Star” and the cross-dimensional scale of “Destiny Space,” was far too small.
Especially since he clearly remembered Ling Shan’er saying the selection had been going on for fifty years.
“See it?”
Xu Chaoyun leaned in, a knowing pride in his voice.
“Disillusioning, huh? I was confused too when I first joined. Thought I was in the wrong group. These seniors are all expert slackers. I asked around—most people here only go to the Newbie World each month, just living off basic welfare.”
He noticed Shi Hanfeng’s gaze lingering on the member count and immediately lowered his voice, a hint of excitement at sharing a secret.
“By the way, I got curious yesterday and dug around a bit. Guess what? Across the whole country, only about a dozen, at most twenty people, officially awaken as Destiny Apostles like us each year.”
“This batch is even fewer—just 12.”
He counted on his fingers.
“Think about it—there must be over a million people turning eighteen each year, right? One in a hundred thousand! True Destiny Chosen Ones! Who’d have thought the two of us would both get lucky!”
His tone was filled with both luck and a sense of pride.
But Shi Hanfeng’s expression showed no excitement—only deepening calm.
He turned to Xu Chaoyun, eyes sharp.
“Wrong.”
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
Xu Chaoyun was startled.
“The number is wrong.”
Shi Hanfeng pointed out calmly.
“Ling Shan’er said the selection started fifty years ago. Even if the mission worlds are dangerous, with high mortality, accumulating only a dozen people per year, the total should still be much higher after fifty years. There must be something we don’t know.”
Xu Chaoyun’s excitement faded, his expression turning strange, as if recalling something hard to describe.
He scratched his head, pointing to Shi Hanfeng’s terminal screen.
“Check the group files, the pinned section—there’s a category called ‘Announcements & Q&A.’ Inside, there’s a file titled . Open it, you’ll understand.”
He paused, his tone growing complicated, tinged with helplessness and irony.
“Actually, it’s not that Destiny Space can’t recruit people or that the mission worlds kill too many. It’s just…a human problem.”
He looked at Shi Hanfeng meaningfully.
“You asked before—why is this world’s protection of minors’ information and the cover-up of abnormal incidents so extreme, even neurotic? It’s connected to this low number issue. The answer’s in there.”
He clicked his tongue softly.
“In a way, the privileges we enjoy are thanks to that event.”
A shadow of suspicion crossed Shi Hanfeng’s mind.
He didn’t ask further.
His finger tapped the screen, finding the file Xu Chaoyun mentioned.
The file opened.
His eyes quickly scanned the calm, matter-of-fact text.
His reading speed increased, his expression shifting from grave to odd.
The truth revealed in the file was far more bizarre, outrageous, and ironic than he’d imagined.
So that’s it.
It wasn’t some cruel space mechanism or harsh selection process.
He thought it would be a world-shaking event.
Who knew the answer to his long-held doubts was actually a man-made disaster, complete and utter, scripted by humanity itself.
A catastrophe that occurred twenty years ago, utterly altering the fate of “Destiny Apostles” and even the very rules of society.