For most of the past year, Cao Cheng had been busy with helmet development and the creation of a new game.
During this time, he also participated in numerous lotteries, acquiring many new technologies.
However, none of these were integrated into the core of the virtual world.
For instance, one of the technologies allowed people to play games in their dreams.
Simply put, it involved using a gaming pod where users could simulate sleep while their brains remained active in gaming or learning.
After playing all night, they would wake up the next morning feeling refreshed, as if they had slept, yet having spent the entire night learning.
It could even enable workers to labor tirelessly for 24 hours a day.
This technology would undoubtedly thrill capitalists.
But...
Such advanced technology was too groundbreaking to reveal.
How could something like this be made public?
Although...
Releasing it would make the gaming helmets even more impressive, drive up their price, and potentially make humanity utterly dependent on them.
But the consequences would be undeniable.
Fewer people would engage in real-life activities.
Businesses in the physical world would struggle more.
Those who worked or studied would no longer step outside after returning home—everything would happen in the game.
This would severely disrupt the functioning of society.
The problem would trigger a chain reaction.
It might even completely alter the fabric of society.
And it could lead to other unforeseen issues.
So,
Cao Cheng wouldn’t release this technology—at least not yet. The timing wasn’t right.
Such advancements were better suited for the era of space exploration.
Since Cao Cheng withheld this technology, gamers still experienced fatigue.
They needed breaks after playing for a while.
After all, reality remained the primary way of life; the virtual world couldn’t replace it.
......
Meanwhile,
Cao Cheng shipped nearly 100,000 units of equipment to the military every month.
Most were helmets.
Less than 1% were gaming pods.
The price difference was significant—a hundredfold gap.
Four months later,
A second factory was completed.
Production capacity multiplied.
Within the next two months, a multi-billion-dollar contract was fulfilled.
The remaining time was spent stockpiling inventory.
And right around this time,
International tensions arose, just as Old Taishan had predicted, but everything remained under control.
Cao Cheng didn’t need to worry about global affairs; his role was simply to supply the chips.
He had factories.
And technology.
He had prepared long ago.
Most of the technology wasn’t from system lotteries but acquired through the Eternal Life Club’s channels—such as lithography machines...
......
By the end of the year,
The game’s existence was exposed.
It couldn’t be kept secret any longer.
Of course,
Cao Cheng had mentally prepared for this.
After all, over half a million people had already used the gaming helmets.
Among them were his own security personnel—a group he could trust.
There were also many company employees, whose loyalty wasn’t in question.
But with so many people having families, occasional leaks were inevitable.
Then there were the soldiers.
Most were undoubtedly loyal.
But with such a large number of users, secrecy was hard to maintain.
Consider this: Even under these circumstances, the game had a daily active user count of nearly a million.
And the total number of helmets distributed or sold was just over a million.
Among the soldiers, initially, one helmet was often shared by two or three people.
Especially early on, when helmets were scarce, most soldiers had to wait in line, watching and hoping for their turn.
Later, as helmet and gaming pod production increased, most soldiers eventually had their own—standard issue.
Distribution followed a strict order: frontline troops first, then second-line units, then third-line, and so on.
So,
The user base grew increasingly diverse.
Even among soldiers, while many appeared loyal, who knew what some truly thought?
That the helmet’s existence remained hidden for six months was already beyond expectations.
Cao Cheng and Old Taishan had estimated leaks within two or three months.
Delaying it twice as long was a remarkable achievement.
It proved... that most of our people were truly dependable!
......
......
Once the news broke, Cao Cheng immediately traveled to the capital to meet with Old Taishan.
A few meetings followed—mostly formalities.
Then, in collaboration with various stakeholders, he co-founded two tech companies, contributing mainly through technology shares.
After that, Cao Cheng stepped back, leaving management to others while he waited for dividends.
Of course,
These two companies had nothing to do with the helmets—they focused on chip-related ventures.
Once everything was settled, Old Taishan privately summoned Cao Cheng to discuss the helmet situation.
"Intelligence intercepted just two days ago..."
Old Taishan handed Cao Cheng a file.
Without ceremony, Cao Cheng skimmed through it.
The document contained intel from operatives stationed abroad.
Information flowed freely overseas—their defenses were full of holes, like a sieve.
Aside from a few highly secure locations, operatives could usually obtain whatever they wanted with minimal effort.
So,
Once foreign forces got wind of the gaming helmets, rumors spread like wildfire. The operatives embedded there couldn’t miss it.
But these operatives were sharp.
Seeing no public discussions or online leaks about the helmets, they immediately recognized it as classified intel from their homeland.
That very night, the operative compiled a detailed report and sent it back.
After two more days of digging, the file was complete.
......
The report was clear:
Foreign entities, after months of investigation, had confirmed that soldiers in the Eastern District were all using gaming helmets.
From the intel they gathered, they knew quite a bit.
They knew the game used neural feedback for training.
That it enhanced real-world combat skills and physical capabilities.
Exactly how much it improved individual combat effectiveness remained unclear—no precise data yet.
But,
Based on intel from their moles, they were certain the gaming helmet was a revolutionary invention.
Its emergence could change everything.
Additionally,
Foreign forces had traced the technology back to the gaming division of Miracle Group.
In other words, the mastermind behind the gaming helmet was—Cao Cheng!
The target was identified.
Yet no one had made a move against him—whether through force or subtle recruitment, they held back for now.
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
end. Thus one must continue to cultivate, and become a saint or great emperor, in order to prolong one's life. Chen Xia, however, completely reversed this. Since his transmigration, he has gained immortality, and also a system that awards him with attribute points for every year he lives. Thus between the myriad worlds, the legend of an unparalleled senior appeared. "A gentleman takes revenge; it is never too late even after ten thousand years." "When you were at your peak I yielded, now in your old age I shall trample on you." - Chen Xia
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
