CHAPTER 04

Wherever the white-robe clad cultivator went, the crowd parted like the red sea did for Moses. Suddenly, it was crystal clear who was native and who was a player.

The NPCs bowed reverentially at the cultivator, while the players seemed to see him as some form of tourist attraction. They gawked and snickered as he walked past them, some even made fun of his robe, calling it tacky.

Then, just as I thought the players couldn’t get any stupider, an eighteen year-old boy with spiky, yellow hair approached the cultivator with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. The surrounding NPCs’ faces paled as the disrespectful youth swaggered across the street.

Subsequently, the yellow-haired youth did the unthinkable.

Brandishing a sturdy… stick… he attacked the cultivator without any planning or foresight. He attacked the high-level NPC, in the middle of town, surrounded by witnesses.

Before I could facepalm, a flurry of movements seized my undivided attention.

What ensued took place in the blink of an eye. One second the cultivator was striding along the street composedly, the next, he was holding an ornate sword and the yellow-haired player’s head could be seen traveling in an arc above the crowd.

Someone screamed as the player’s severed head and body dematerialized into pixels. And after a few seconds, there was no trace left of the yellow-haired player.

But it was too late; everyone had seen what had happened. A player had just been beheaded, in the middle of a town nonetheless.

Stunned silence took place as the cultivator indifferently looked around, searching for something in the crowd. When he supposedly didn’t find what he was looking for, he sheathed his sword and continued to saunter away, acting as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn’t just killed a man, albeit a player.

When the cultivator finally disappeared, it was as if everyone in the crowd had collectively been lifted from under a spell.

Chatter erupted as a number of players discussed what they had just witnessed. Many condemned the cultivator’s actions, arguing that the town was supposed to be a safezone; others snickered, claiming that the yellow-haired player had gotten what he had deserved, proclaiming that provoking a cultivator was a death-sentence.

One person, seemingly a friend of the dead player, surprisingly started to ineffectually shout for a gamemaster to appear, arguing animately that what had happened must’ve been a bug of some kind.

There was no way a game company would allow this kind of NPC behaviour, was there?

Watching the NPCs' petrified reactions to what had transpired, I suspected it wasn’t a bug, but a feature. When the company claimed that Cultivation Online was a hyper realistic VR world, they meant that.

However, as luck would have it, the yellow-haired player would respawn in a while, only with a severe debuff plaguing him for a few hours. According to the information I had found online, the death penalty in Cultivation Online was quite lenient as long as you remained a mortal. But, once you started cultivating and amassing qi, dying could have grievous consequences. Depending on the nature of your death, you could even become “crippled”, losing the ability to cultivate.

Sighing softly, I resolved to stay as far away as I could from cultivators from now on. Even if the death penalty was lenient at this stage of the game, I definitely wouldn’t be a fan of the experience.

Moreover, the ease at which the cultivator had killed a man disturbed me.

Thus, following the stream of teenagers, I continued exploring the town.

…

Somewhere on the opposite side of the town’s entrance, I found the place where the White Tiger Sect would host the recruitment. A large, elevated platform had been constructed out of meticulously chiseled stone. In front of the platform a sign said:

“The White Tiger Sect’s annual recruitment starts at noon every day until the summer solstice. Only youths between the ages of thirteen and eighteen may participate. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination.”

Confused, I searched for an NPC who could answer some of my questions. At a nearby corner, I found a nice-looking grandma selling crab cakes for a copper apiece. Seeing as there weren’t any customers frequenting her stall at the moment, I decided to try my luck.

“Good evening.” I said, balling my fist in greeting. “Any chance I could buy a crab cake and some answers along with it?”

“Depends,” The grandma smiled as I produced one of the precious copper coins from my inventory. “On the nature of your questions young man.”

“I’m looking to participate in the White Tiger Sect’s recruitment tomorrow.” I said, money and crab cake exchanging hands. “Any tips for a newcomer?”

“Do as they say.” The grandma answered immediately. “The White Tiger Sect does not have much patience for disobedience.”

Nodding my head quickly she continued.

“I’ve seen many of their recruitments over the course of my life, short as it may be compared to the immortals.” The grandma sighed. “And since what I’m about to tell you is no secret, I do not mind sharing what I have seen with a well-mannered boy such as yourself.”

I smiled at the compliment, unsure if I deserved it. I wasn’t even a teenage boy, after all.

“Did you know that Durantel isn’t the only town blessed with hosting the White Tiger Sect’s annual recruitments?” Seeing the surprise on my face, the grandma chuckled. “Indeed, the White Tiger Sect’s domain stretches much farther than the contested borders of our kingdom.”

The grandma continued before I could say anything.

“The recruitment is always overseen by two immortals.” The grandma pointed out. “And although they may seem young, don’t be fooled. I wouldn’t be surprised if they are older than me.”

I nodded understandingly.

“Using one of their crystals, they will check if you have what it takes to join their ranks.” The grandma sighed. “Most people do not pass this test.”

“There really is an aptitude test.” I frowned at the discovery.

The grandma must’ve noticed my consternation as she continued.

“But lately, a lot more people have been accepted.” The grandma added quickly. “To my memory, I don’t think they have ever accepted as many as they did yesterday.”

Nodding slowly, I conjectured that some players must have managed to participate in yesterday’s recruitment.

“They had to have run through the night to get here so quickly…” I noted inwardly. Either way, a day’s headstart wouldn’t matter in the long run. Attaining immortality is a marathon, not a sprint, at least according to all the novels I have read.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“I noticed on the sign that they will continue hosting recruitments until the summer solstice.” I said. “When is that?”

Raising an eyebrow, she looked at me funnily. My question must’ve surprised her as she answered slowly.

“Tomorrow of course.”

Handing the old lady another copper coin, I asked another question.

“And, what happens to the ones who get accepted?”

The grandma smiled as she placed the copper coin in her pouch. “As you would expect, they are given a letter of acceptance and directions to the sect.”

Looking around she added whisperingly. “But I’ve heard that many do not make it all the way to the sect. Son, if you are indeed one of the chosen ones, I implore you to act with utmost prudence, for always remember: heaven is jealous of heroic genius.”

With much to think about, I clutched my hands in appreciation and gratitude.

“Thank you grandmother.” I said, hoping that she wouldn’t take offense at my choice of words. “You have given me lots to think about.”

“Of course dear.” She smiled a smile only grandmothers know how to smile. “I always try to help my customers.”

Just as I was about to leave, her countenance suddenly reminded me of someone very similar.

“Oh, and by the way.” I looked at the grandma who was busy preparing another batch of crab cakes. “You don’t happen to have met a young boy around my age who goes by the name of Ye Feng?”

“Ye Feng?” The grandma’s eyes narrowed as she furrowed her brows.

“Yes,” I added hurriedly. “A young man from Easton with an oval-shaped face and a defined chin.” I repeated the description I’d received from the old woman in Easton knowing perfectly well that I wouldn’t recognize the boy even if he sat on my face.

“Ye Feng… Yes, that name does ring a bell.” The grandma said before shaking her head remorsefully. “But alas son, I can’t remember where I heard it. It’s not exactly an uncommon name either.”

Thanking her nonetheless, I proceeded to take another stroll around town, savoring my freshly baked crab cake.

…

“The only thing worse than a bully, is a group of bullies.” I thought as I shook my head in disappointment. The more time passed, the more players emerged from the woodwork. Most knew how to behave themselves, but some liked to prance around pretending to be the hottest thing since sliced bread.

Currently, a group of thugs were taking advantage of the fact that the patrolling guard was away to pick on two female players.

“Come on baby.” One thug said, smirking at one of the girls. “Do you know how much work I had to put in to procure a room at the inn?” The thug shook his head, pretending to be tired.

“I just need someone to pamper me a bit.” He added. “I don’t even mind paying for it. How does five copper sound?”

“Five copper?” One of the thug’s friends interjected. “Dude, I would suck your dick for five coppers. This bitch should feel honoured.”

The thugs roared in laughter.

“You’re fucking repulsive.” The woman in question scoffed in disgust, her face pale as a piece of paper. “Come on Lilac, let’s get out of here.” She grabbed her silent friend’s hand.

“Hey hey hey!” The thug sidestepped to block her way. A shit-eating grin evident on his face. “Don’t mind him, Tom is just jesting.”

The thug sized them up with a pair of lewd eyes, stopping unnecessarily long on the silent woman’s well-endowed chest area.

“How about you Lilac? That’s a pretty name by the way. You’d fancy having a good time, wouldn’t you honey?”

Just as I was about to step in to knock some sense into the crude bastards, another group of players beat me to the punch. Led by a handsome young man with a pair of angry, blue eyes, the street quickly became crowded.

“I know some people like to roleplay as villains in VR games.” The handsome young man said, looking the hooligan in the eye. “But I guess the role comes natural to some.”

“A villain?” The thug’s eyes widened before looking at his friends for verification. “Is this guy for real? Did this dude seriously just call me a villain?”

The group of thugs chortled.

His face red, the handsome player looked ready to draw his sword when a displeased voice cut through the crowd.

“What’s going on here? Break it up immediately!” Two armed guards clad in chain mail pushed through the crowd looking ticked off and ready to fight.

Since the guard seemed to have the situation under control, I decided to move on.

“A lot of players chose to be eighteen it seems.” I remarked inwardly. In hindsight, it wasn’t strange. If given the choice between playing as an adolescent and a young adult, most would probably choose the latter. Honestly, the main reason why I chose to play as a fifteen-year-old was because of the novelty of having a character 30 years younger than my real age.

When I still felt hungry, even after eating my last piece of bread and the crab cake, I realized that it wasn’t my character, but my real body that was forcing the issue.

Sighing, I reluctantly logged out.

…

As soon as I took off my VR HeadGear and looked around my empty bedroom, an overwhelming sense of dejection swept over me.

Compared to the VR world with its bustling activity, exciting drama, and vivid colours, real life felt bland and tedious in comparison.

“And then there’s my body.” Like it or not, all the years of working as an electrician had taken its toll on me. Compared to the sprightly young physique I had in CO, my real body was slightly overweight and a lot more rough-looking. I wish I could say I had a valid reason for my unhealthy lifestyle, but apart from laziness, I really didn’t.

More dejected than I cared to admit, I didn’t hesitate to order some home-delivery to sooth my depression.

Neither of my children had responded to my previous text messages, but I persuaded myself that they must be busy playing CO.

My son and daughter, their mother, and my ex-wife’s new husband James all lived in England, while I resided in the US. I still saw my family occasionally during holidays and whatnot, but as they grew older, their old man in the US fell lower and lower on the priority list.

I didn’t blame them, of course. It’s a natural part of becoming a young adult to want to find your own place in the world. Even I had gone through something similar when I was eighteen.

I just wished they would respond to my messages more often.

…