Liu Guanan took off his helmet and collapsed onto the bed. But something felt…off. Normally, logging out of the game left him drained and weak, but now he felt energized, his mind sharp. He instantly recalled the two white crystals he had consumed earlier. That had to be it—they weren't ordinary items.
He opened his eyes to a dimly lit room. It was later than usual—he must've logged out at least an hour and a half late. He flicked the light switch, and the fluorescent lamp buzzed to life, flooding the room with harsh white light.
Two silhouettes—one large, one small—stood in front of him.
He wasn't surprised. Instead, he asked casually, "Why didn't you turn the lights on? It's already dark."
The pair were women. The older one looked to be in her thirties, the younger barely eleven. Both were painfully thin—malnutrition evident in their sunken cheeks and skeletal frames. Their oversized eyes looked even more haunting because of the red, inflamed spots covering their faces and skin. Some lesions were oozing pus, giving them a frightening appearance. Still, Liu Guanan didn't flinch. To him, this had become normal.
They were a mother and daughter—wanderers. They had saved his life once, and in return, he took them in during his own time of desperation. He couldn't even feed himself back then, much less others, but turning them away would've been a death sentence. Everyone believed the red spots on their skin were signs of a contagious virus.
But Liu Guanan knew better. They weren't infectious.
The mother was Zhao Nannan. Her daughter, Zhao Xin, shared her last name. "Xin" meant "hope"—a name chosen in the vain hope she'd grow up happy and healthy. Life, clearly, had other plans.
"Mom said we should save electricity," Zhao Xin said softly. Her wide eyes sparkled with relief at seeing him awake, though they also held a shadow of shame—clearly conscious of her scarred appearance.
Zhao Nannan had delicate features and a graceful face. Without the sores, she'd be stunning. She quietly stroked her daughter's hair, lost in thought, her melancholy gaze far away.
Liu Guanan sighed inwardly and sat up.
The room was tiny—barely ten square meters. Besides the bed, there was barely space to stand. No windows. The metal door was rusted through from the humid air, but the lightbulb at least worked. At the head of the bed was a worn-out cabinet. He opened the drawer—inside were only two energy tubes.
Now he understood Zhao Nannan's gloomy expression.
Energy tubes were the most basic sustenance available—essence extracted from food, tasteless and clear. Enough to keep you from starving, but barely that. The poor and enslaved lived on them.
Officially, one tube was supposed to last a day. But among the impoverished, three days per tube was normal. Some stretched it to five. Starved of nutrients, these people slept more just to conserve energy. Too weak to work, they earned nothing. It was a vicious cycle.
Zhao Nannan and her daughter hadn't eaten in three days. The mother could endure, but Zhao Xin was still growing. Even so, Zhao Nannan hadn't dared let her daughter take one. The priority was Liu Guanan—he was the breadwinner. Without him diving into the World of Warcraft to earn money, they'd all be dead.
He looked at the two of them with a complex gaze—touched, guilty, angry at the world's cruelty. But the emotions passed quickly. He stood up and said, "I'm heading out."
Both mother and daughter froze. Zhao Xin's face turned pale with worry. Zhao Nannan hesitated, then said softly, "Be careful."
Liu Guanan nodded and left.
It was around 6 p.m., but the sky was already pitch black. The wind howled through the streets, cold and biting. He pulled his ragged coat tighter and marched forward with determined steps.
This wasn't Earth anymore—it was Mars. The Mars of the year 3017. Though he'd been here for three months, he still hadn't adapted to the harsh climate and unforgiving environment.
Three months ago, he was on Earth, living in an orphanage. It wasn't perfect, but he had food, books, even a few friends. Then fate turned cruel.
One night, the kind-looking director called him aside. Next thing he knew, he was being dragged away like a criminal. He was falsely accused of murder and sentenced to exile—on Saturn. Permanent.
At first, he was confused. By the time he was aboard the ship, bound for Saturn, he realized the truth—he'd been framed.
Too late.
But fate wasn't done with him yet. En route to Saturn, their ship was attacked by space pirates—a once-in-a-decade event. Amid the chaos, the ship crashed… right into Mars's slave district.
Liu Guanan escaped. In the scramble, he grabbed a game helmet—pure luck. During the escape, he'd hidden beneath Zhao Nannan's filthy skirt. Despite the stench and the oozing sores, she shielded him. They evaded capture together.
By traveling day and night, he reached the edge between the slave zone and the slums. With what little cash he'd scrounged, he rented a basement and started over.
A month ago, he ran into Zhao Nannan and Zhao Xin again. They'd somehow wandered here. But slums, while barely better than slave districts, were more strictly controlled. Disease carriers like them would be detained—or shot on sight if they resisted.
Out of gratitude, he quietly brought them home.
It had been a month since then. Their combined consumption had more than doubled his own, and despite frugal living, they were now on the brink.
The World of Warcraft wasn't some fantasy playground.
It was a real world—one not part of our solar system.
In 2717, after a peak in human civilization, everything went downhill. Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn became overcrowded. Tensions boiled—between rich and poor, governments and rebels, nations and terrorists. It was like a pressure cooker… and eventually, it exploded.
The wars began on Saturn, spread to Jupiter, then Mars, and finally Earth. A year-long conflict reduced entire planets to rubble. One-third of humanity perished.
And then came the aliens.
For centuries, humanity searched for extraterrestrial life, finding nothing. But when the solar system was weakest, the aliens struck.
That war—now called the Battle of the End Times—nearly ended human civilization. Though victorious in the end, radiation choked the planets. Civilization was rolled back to a near-primitive state. Population dropped to less than a thousandth of its peak.
Over 300 years passed. Technology rebounded to 2717 levels, but the planets never recovered. Vast regions remained uninhabitable. Mutated creatures roamed the wastelands.
Worse still—resources were gone. The solar system was dry.
Facing extinction, the ruling powers of the time—the Great Han Empire, the Mayan Empire, and the Atlantis Federation—planned the Weeding Project.
Its goal: eliminate "useless" humans—slaves, paupers, criminals. The plan was shelved when an accident occurred.
The Black Hole Project—a failed experiment—ripped open a gateway to another world.
A world full of magical beasts… and endless resources.
It was nicknamed the World of Warcraft.
Soon after, a game called Loot was born. Not a simulation—a real portal to that world. Human consciousness could enter through helmets, forming bodies identical to the real one. These avatars could even die and be resurrected—though at a high cost and long delay.
While no living beings could pass through the black hole, inanimate matter could. Food, minerals, magical items—they could be brought back to Earth.
And so, the solar system's resource crisis was… temporarily eased.
Liu Guanan's mind drifted, but his feet didn't slow.
Ten minutes later, he reached a bustling commercial zone—bright lights, loud voices, and one thing on his mind:
He had to survive.