3. The team is assembling

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Hearing the name Watermelon Shaomai, Jiang Heyi paused for a moment, then immediately understood what had happened. After searching, he found that the other party was a female streamer on a small video platform’s gaming section with fewer than 100,000 followers.

Opening her latest post, Jiang Heyi saw that the main content was pictures of his game character from The Testament of the Stars.

“[The Testament of the Stars], a warning against toxic players.”

“Game ID: Cyber Potato.”

“Summary: toxic behavior, poor equipment, backstabbing teammates, causing debilitation status.”

“Incident origin: while exploring the map, to be cautious, a temporary team was formed among strangers. During an encounter with special monsters, Cyber Potato kept bossing others around.”

“He made mistakes in his own operation but aggressively pressured me and the mage, blaming us.”

“The three of us finally defeated the monster, and then the classic happened: seeing a rainbow drop, Cyber Potato froze and claimed the loot distribution was wrong, wanting to negotiate. When ignored, he launched a sneak attack, killing us and stealing the drop.”

“I thought that equipment from 2099 would filter out low-quality players, but within two days, I ran into such a scumbag. My whole day’s good mood was ruined. Disgusting.”

Extracting the key information from the carefully formatted text, Jiang Heyi took a few bites of his meal.

The comment section was as he expected: the streamer’s fans comforted her while vowing to punish “Cyber Potato.” Of course, their usual pretext was “cleaning up the game environment.”

There were also many rational voices quietly saying they were just bystanders, offering no comment.

Those suggesting a plot twist were quickly overwhelmed by fans and onlookers, sparking heated debates.

Hmm~~~ Quite a show. The spicy fish head was delicious, the chili pork went well with rice, and even the soda tasted sweeter than usual.

Satisfied and full, Jiang Heyi downloaded a file from The Testament of the Stars official site, renamed it, and uploaded it to his cloud storage.

Glancing at the post that kept getting new comments after every refresh, he appeared indifferent, as if he weren’t the one being criticized.

After some aerobic exercise and seeing he still had time, he browsed major platforms and game groups for information on The Testament of the Stars.

Setting keywords as “Nun” and “Monster,” the search returned nothing.

As he suspected, valuable guides were scarce. Information equaled resources, and very few were willing to share.

Most players were probably still lingering near the safe city-states; those lucky enough to teleport far away to open the map like him were rare.

Jiang Heyi switched out of the penguin group without hesitation and entered a gaming group named [Never Found Gaming More Fun When Awake].

A group nearly ten years old, with hundreds of active members. The group name changed frequently with trends, so even after not opening it for a while, one could sense the prevailing tastes and vibes among its members.

Besides Jiang Heyi and Zhong Zemo, many fortunate players who first experienced The Testament of the Stars gathered here to share their impressions since the game launched.

Combined with game videos from the official site, those waiting patiently or unlucky in lotteries could only envy and grumble.

Interestingly, the group discussion also revolved around nuns, but not the information Jiang Heyi sought…

“I just wanted a nun’s outfit, but before I could get it, the Judgment Knight caught me and locked me up for two hours. Cyber prison!”

“Are you after the nun outfit or something else? I’m still in the dark. I suggest teaming up with that guy next door who grabs NPCs and calls them ‘wife’ but is shunned by NPCs.”

“Better than me! I borrowed a few potatoes from an NPC and got warned by the Judgment Knight. I cursed them out instinctively and still got two hours locked up.”

“Played two days, and The Testament of the Stars’ NPCs feel too real—far from rigid. Their responses are like real people’s. Sometimes I wonder if it’s players role-playing. Has AI really advanced that far?”

“I recommend treating NPCs as real people. Being randomly jailed in Cyber Prison ruins the gaming experience.”

“Can torturing NPCs with idiotic questions scramble their minds so you can ‘borrow’ things from them?”

“You’re beyond help.”

Jiang Heyi, long accustomed to the group’s silly banter, found comfort in chatting with these longtime friends. Today you act dumb, tomorrow I play along—opening the group felt like coming home.

As they laughed and joked, the time neared eleven. Yawning, Jiang Heyi took out his phone and confirmed his game login time: noon.

The information would be injected into the blue-and-white headband, a mental energy framework mocked by his friends, which would automatically log the player in at the set time after they fell asleep.

Then…

“Whoosh~~~”

The sensation of falling made Jiang Heyi shudder all over.

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No one remembered when they fell asleep. Opening his eyes, he found himself in his home within The Testament of the Stars.

The boundary between illusion and reality had never been so blurred.

By the creek stood a wooden cabin, beside which a faceless doll with only a human silhouette, named Green Sprout, bowed slightly to him.

“Welcome back, my master.”

“And these stone tables and stools?”

“Unlocked as home gifts. I placed them properly while you were offline.”

Jiang Heyi was surprised. “You were active even when I was offline?”

“If you can assemble a more complete version of me, Green Sprout can do even more for you.”

He understood—another subtle hint for feeding. Yet last night’s round had already drained two days’ worth of his game earnings.

Early game rewards were precious, so facing Green Sprout’s implication, he could only promise to feed next time.

For now, the priority was further exploration, expanding the known map boundaries. Jiang Heyi’s curiosity and adventurous spirit were greatly satisfied in The Testament of the Stars. The home served as a safe house for the time being.

Wind Pod City, a place filled with medieval elements, swords, and magic, was one of the first city-states players could choose in The Testament of the Stars. Located at the southernmost part of the Anna Empire, it bordered the vast wild forests inhabited mainly by the Forest Elves, known by the Anna Empire as the “Forest Kin.”

As a trade hub connecting north and south, the city-state was well developed with highly integrated ethnic groups, providing everything players might need—from materials to information.

The catch was, you had to have money.

Near the North Gate of Wind Pod City, Jiang Heyi waited quietly for Zhong Zemo to log in.

With time to spare, he began admiring the players teleporting back into the empty spaces of the Pilgrimage Square.

A game with such high freedom naturally “trapped” many players in the character customization phase.

Jiang Heyi simply created a human male character. To be safe in case there were cutscenes, he decided to look like a person.

Many players strived to make their characters beautiful enough to catch passing eyes.

Some chose to act as ancient gods’ avatars among mortals, irresistibly drawing attention.

Of course, once they entered the game and opened the shop, they found no option to reset their appearance; reshaping the face required finding in-game methods. One wonders what they felt inside.

The Testament of the Stars had few microtransactions. The monthly card was the main expense, priced differently in each country. Jiang Heyi’s cost was only 21 yuan, which felt like charity compared to the experience gained.

A message from the Star Messenger popped up: Your friend, [All Humanity Ascends], has entered the game.

A hazy glow flickered, and in an instant, a young Forest Elf with golden long hair, dressed in black and white, appeared near Jiang Heyi.

Zhong Zemo had chosen the Martial Artist class, like Jiang Heyi, both at level 4 and still wearing mostly starter gear after two days.

“Sorry, a bit late.”

“No worries, let’s start the group.”

“Wait, let’s add one more.”

“Who?”

“Jailor Bro.”

Soon, a human youth with the ID [Jailor Appreciation Expert] teleported into the square.

A genuine heavyweight, he was the one in the penguin group studying if the nun’s outfit could be stolen and planning to use idiotic jokes to torture NPCs. Unlike the more conventional Jiang Heyi and Zhong Zemo, Jailor Bro was known for his unconventional style.

“Potato, I heard you got called out.” Holding his staff like a cane, Jailor Bro was curious. “What’s the rainbow drop?”

“A selectable avatar fragment. But I haven’t even unlocked one avatar yet, so I don’t know what avatars do. It’s promising for the future.”

Knowing how rare avatar fragments were, Jailor Bro was shocked. “What kind of monster did you meet? Are there any near Wind Pod City?”

Jiang Heyi pulled up the map; the faded scroll displayed a glowing screen. The explored area was surrounded by darkness.

“It’s not within the Wind Pod region.”

“How did you get there then?” Zhong Zemo pressed.

“To be honest, I don’t know. Maybe the two people cheating for me triggered some special story or met certain conditions and I was teleported unintentionally.”

Wind Pod City and the ruling Anna Empire were still being explored. A distant, unknown, and mysterious map had now opened before the three.

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“If you can kill that lantern-carrying monster, it proves the creatures there are just high-level, not unbeatable…”

Jailor Bro knew what Zhong Zemo was thinking: “The question is, how do we get there?”

“Isn’t the Starry Sky Jade good enough?”

The Starry Sky Jade Zhong Zemo referred to was an item each player got after entering the game.

Its description read, “No matter where you are, the light of the stars will guide your way home.”

There were two in total: one automatically marked local altars and statues upon arriving at a safe city-state, reusable after energy recharged or accelerated with specific items.

The other was a cracked Starry Sky Jade, unable to recharge automatically.

Jiang Heyi had asked craftsmen in Wind Pod City. Except for a few crafty scammers, most claimed repairing it was beyond their ability—perhaps only the Anna Empire’s core strongholds or royal city possessed such technology.

The good news was Jiang Heyi had marked a location with the Starry Sky Jade. The bad news was fully recharging it might be troublesome.

Though there were items for sale in Wind Pod City to recharge the jade, their prices were exorbitant.

In other games, microtransaction prompts would pop up to “take my money,” but The Testament of the Stars didn’t offer that.

Want to recharge? Figure it out yourself—that’s your adventure and life.

Some saw this as immersive; others called it brainless.

Experienced gamers like the three didn’t mind. If it meant grinding, so be it—it didn’t take away their waking time.

The in-game to real-time ratio was 8:1, with a daily 6-hour play limit equaling two in-game days.

After a full workday, corporate drones with no personal or leisure time could only indulge in vengeful entertainment, staying up late and yawning early, running like cogs in a concrete-and-steel city.

The impatient pace left no luxury for savoring quality works. Fragmented entertainment was the only option.

Now, the dreamscape offered unprecedented redundancy. Wasting time no longer felt as guilty or uneasy.

The three entered a magic goods shop. As soon as they took out the Starry Sky Jade, the clerk understood their intent.

Zhong Zemo and Jailor Bro emptied their convertible materials and handed everything to Jiang Heyi.

Facing the ever-growing pile of materials in the trade panel, the clerk smiled and shook his head.

“We should have brought a smooth talker to bargain,” Jailor Bro mused.

Before he could perform, the clerk politely reminded them,

“Even if you trade everything, the magic stones obtained won’t fully recharge this jade. Dear customers, are you sure you want to proceed?”

With a basic understanding of the massive cost, the three left the shop.

“You think we could ask an NPC to lend some…”

Jiang Heyi immediately cut off Jailor Bro’s new idea: “Remember, you just spent two hours in Cyber Prison yesterday. Do you want to be caught by the Judgment Knights again? Feel free.”

“Then let’s add someone else to the team. Strength in numbers.”

Jiang Heyi didn’t reject this; whether collecting materials or exploring after teleporting to the destination, a well-organized team was necessary.

But given Jailor Bro’s notorious wild social style, Jiang Heyi decided to ask about the new member first.

“He’s from the group, hasn’t been active for a while, and only surfaced after recently getting game access.”

“Who?”

“Original Fries.”

Among hundreds in the group, Jiang Heyi naturally remembered those most interesting and active—the usual in any group where most stay silent, watching the show.

Zhong Zemo suddenly clapped his hands, “Are you talking about Deep Diver?”