There is a type of game called a “meta-game.”
These games incorporate many meta-elements, giving players a wonderful illusion of breaking the fourth wall, as if the characters on the screen truly know they are being played.
For instance, some games remember a player's choices from a previous save; after reloading, a character might say, “Didn't you already choose that once?” Other games might suddenly call the player by their real name, or solemnly tell them, “Put down your controller and go take a rest.” Some even go as far as reading information from the player's computer and having a character recite it, sending chills down the player's spine.
Gu Chengming had seen these tricks many times while playing games in the past, and he always found them novel and interesting when he encountered them.
But the problem was, he was absolutely certain that he had never exposed his ID card number to this game before he transmigrated.
Yet, this Penglai Sect Leader had calculated it through divination so openly.
The shocking nature of this divination result forced Gu Chengming to face a question he had been subconsciously avoiding.
—What exactly was the nature of his transmigration?
When transmigrating into a game, the usual explanation was often something like “dimensional reduction.” For example, the game world was originally a lower-level existence, and he, with a higher-level soul, had fallen into it, leading to this adventure.
But that string of ID card numbers clearly proved that this was by no means a “dimensionally reduced” world.
If this Penglai Sect Leader could accurately calculate private information that only existed in his original world, it meant that this so-called “game world” was on the same level as his original world, with a real, tangible karmic connection between the two.
Then perhaps it was the legendary “projection theory”?
The game he had played back then wasn't a fictional product created out of thin air by some studio, but a “projection” of this real world into his original one?
But if that were truly the case, then how could he explain the MODs he had personally created, or that system that turned all cultivation techniques into targets for conquest?
Those were clearly things that came from his own hands, so how could they…
Gu Chengming felt countless thoughts colliding in his head. The questions he had deliberately set aside since his transmigration were now surging up because of that string of numbers, throwing his thoughts into total chaos.
And the Penglai Sect Leader on the main seat seemed to keenly perceive his loss of composure.
“It seems that what I calculated is indeed very important information for you, little friend.”
Her lips curved into a smile, and her lazy eyes seemed to shimmer with a faint light. “Although I still cannot see your origins clearly, that single divination just now is enough to confirm what I said before.”
She watched Gu Chengming's shaken state, and the understanding in her eyes deepened.
The fact that she could calculate such private information—which even she didn't understand—already showed that in this little friend's heart, there was some kind of unspeakable regret. And that happened to be exactly what she was best at manipulating.
“So, little friend.” She leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle. “Are you willing to join my Penglai?”
“No matter what that regret in your heart may be, my Penglai can make up for that lack.”
Gu Chengming finally snapped back to reality. There seemed to be a power in her words that guided the mind, making him subconsciously begin to wonder what his regrets might be.
Speaking of Gu Chengming's past life, it was truly a bland and unremarkable existence.
He was an orphan.
From the moment he could remember, he had no concept of “home.” Many children came and went from that welfare home, but there were very few whose names he could actually remember.
He didn't cry or make a fuss, and he didn't like to join in the excitement. While other children fought over snacks and toys, he mostly curled up in a corner alone, quietly reading books.
The teachers at the home all said he was a sensible and easy child. But when it came down to it, “sensible” was just a word for a child with no one to love them, who had learned early on not to cause trouble for others.
He studied very hard. It wasn't because of any grand ambition; he simply felt that studying was one of the few things an abandoned person like him could grasp in his own hands.
Later, relying on his own resilience and some government subsidies, he stumbled his way into a decent university.
During his four years of university, he remained a solitary soul.
It wasn't that he didn't want to make friends, but the alienation carved into his bones since childhood made it impossible for him to truly integrate into the liveliness of others.
His classmates gathered in groups of three or five for meals, outings, and one passionate romance after another, while he was mostly alone.
Then, he got into Galgames.
It was one night when he was bored and downloaded a game that had been recommended to death. Originally, he just thought of it as a way to pass the time.
But when the girl in the game smiled warmly at him through the screen and spoke to him in a soft voice, saying, “You've worked hard today,” and “I'm here for you,” this young man, who had rarely been treated with such warmth in his life, felt an unprecedented emotion surge in his heart.
He knew it was fake.
It was just a string of cold code, a scenario used by a studio to play with a player's emotions. Every bit of that girl's gentleness was a written script.
But even knowing it was fake, the feeling of being needed and treated gently was so real—real enough to comfort a heart that had been soaked in loneliness for years.
And so, he sank into it.
In those paper worlds constructed of code, he experienced the bonds and warmth he had never truly possessed in reality.
He cried with those girls, laughed with them, and worried about their joys and sorrows. It was as if, in doing so, his lonely heart finally had a place to rest.
Honestly, if there had truly been someone in reality worth loving, someone who was willing to love him back, why would he have been so addicted to Galgames?
Gu Chengming's thoughts returned to the present.
Regrets?
He mulled it over for a moment and then couldn't help but let out a self-deprecating laugh.
In his past life, there really wasn't much to regret.
Those days were certainly lonely and bitter, but that was the life he had truly lived. There were regrets, but not much resentment.
An orphan who finished school by his own merits, never strayed from the path, never wallowed in self-pity, and walked steadily until the moment of his transmigration.
Looking back, that life was as plain as water, but it was also clean and lived with a clear conscience.
So—
Having transmigrated here, what he needed to do was never to make up for that past life, which had already been finalized.
What he needed to do was simply to ensure that this life left no regrets.
In this life, he was no longer alone.
He had Yu Wenqiu, who had written hundreds of thousands of words of fanfiction for him and was willing to cry until her eyes were red; he had True Monarch Liuyun Suyu, who was willing to entrust him with a thousand years of secrets and her true name; he had that group of cultivation techniques who were always causing trouble but were fiercely loyal to him; and he had teachers who were willing to risk their lives to protect him…
In this world he once treated as a game, he had found people worth protecting with all his might.
“So, Senior… please go back.”
“What I want is simply for the people I cherish to be happy, prosperous, and safe.”
“This wish is something I can realize bit by bit in this real world with my own hands. I do not need any illusory compensation, and I certainly do not need a ‘Penglai’ that should have vanished in time and exists at the cost of devouring lives.”
“So, if this Penglai truly intends to destroy everything I want to protect—”
“Then,” Gu Chengming met her gaze, speaking one word at a time, “I will do everything in my power to send this Penglai, which should be buried in history, back into its grave.”
It seemed she truly hadn't expected Gu Chengming to give such a resolute answer. The Penglai Sect Leader froze for a moment, a flash of surprise crossing her lazy eyes before she finally laughed helplessly.
“That is truly a pity.”
She shook her head gently, her tone carrying a hint of regret. “I thought someone as transparent as you, little friend, would be the most capable of seeing the benefits of Penglai.”
“What Senior calls benefits are nothing but a flower in a mirror or the moon in water to me. A Penglai built on devouring the lives of the world, no matter how blissful it may be, is a man-eating Penglai.”
“Man-eating?”
The Penglai Sect Leader seemed to find this phrasing amusing, the corners of her lips curving slightly. “Those words are a bit biased, little friend. Every person who enters my Penglai comes voluntarily and with a smile after fulfilling their long-held wish. Where is the ‘eating’ in that?”
“Coming with a smile and having one's soul return to nothingness are not mutually exclusive,” Gu Chengming said, not giving an inch. “Senior uses that ‘original belonging’ as bait to lure people into the trap. Those people might indeed step into Penglai with hearts full of joy. But they will likely never understand until they die that the ‘belonging’ they embrace is itself a void that does not exist in the world.”
The atmosphere in the hall quietly became confrontational with this back-and-forth exchange.
The Penglai Sect Leader listened quietly, but the smile on her face never faded.
She wasn't angry after Gu Chengming finished speaking. She simply propped up her chin lazily, her relaxed posture exuding the composure of one who held all the cards.
“Enough, enough.”
She chuckled, seemingly unwilling to entangle further in this verbal dispute. “As I said at the beginning, I invite others into my Penglai, and every single case is out of their own free will. You needn't worry about that, little friend.”
“I also don't understand what you mean by ‘destroying everything you want to protect.’” She looked up at Gu Chengming, her gaze carrying a hint of knowing mockery. “From where I sit, it seems you have a very deep prejudice against my Penglai from the very start.”
Gu Chengming's brow furrowed imperceptibly.
He could naturally tell that she was retreating to advance.
“In that case…” The Penglai Sect Leader suddenly changed the subject, a hint of interest in her lazy eyes. “How about we make a bet?”
“A bet?”
“Yes.”
She nodded and said with a light laugh, “I promise you that I will not use any means against those you cherish. No bewitchment, no induction, and none of that divination art that guides the mind. I will use none of it.”
“I will simply leave Penglai open there and let them choose for themselves.”
“If those you cherish are truly taken by me through force or schemes, then that would naturally count as the ‘destruction’ you spoke of.” she said slowly. “But if they see this Penglai, feel a yearning in their hearts, and voluntarily step into it to fulfill the wish that has haunted them, then that is their own choice. How could the word ‘destruction’ apply?”
Gu Chengming's heart slowly sank.
She didn't need to use any forceful means at all. Simply placing the “bliss” of Penglai—which could fulfill the long-held wishes of all living beings—there was enough to be the most heart-piercing temptation. How many people in this world could truly remain indifferent when faced with the wish they had dreamed of for a lifetime?
“If, at that time, they all voluntarily enter my Penglai to join you in bliss,” the Penglai Sect Leader offered the final stake with a smile, “then you can reconsider the matter of joining my Penglai. What do you say?”
This was clearly a bet using the “true hearts” of the people Gu Chengming cherished as the stakes.
Before Gu Chengming could answer, the Penglai Sect Leader gave an understanding smile and gently waved her slender finger.
“Then, I shall await your good news, little friend.”
The moment the words fell, Gu Chengming felt the scenery before him ripple like water. That peaceful Penglai Immortal Sect, that lazy Sect Leader, and the spiritual energy filling the hall all turned into light and vanished in an instant.
When his vision solidified again, he and Ano were standing back in the courtyard of the Wenjian Sect.
In the courtyard, True Monarch Liuyun Suyu, Mo Wu, along with his master Ren Wencai and Sect Leader Shen Qianqiu, who had rushed over upon hearing the news, were all staring at the two of them. Their gazes were filled with a worry they couldn't hide.
Clearly, during the time the two of them had delved into the Dream Moon, the people outside had been truly anxious for them.
Gu Chengming opened his mouth, but for a moment, he didn't know where to start. He could only look up at the sky.
The two moons still hung high side by side.
One was bright and clear, the moon that should have been there, while the other looked down at everyone in the courtyard with that familiar coldness.
Gu Chengming looked at that Dream Moon, a subtle feeling in his heart.
So this time, it wasn't just his turn to pass a “resolve” check, but the whole team had to pass a “resolve” check together?
Rate on N.U.
