More than three months later in the Real World.
Converted to the internal time of Metaphysics Hong Huang, that meant roughly nine thousand days later.
Over these twenty-odd years.
Nearly thirty years.
Although many players had been successfully driven away by the overly brutal game mechanics, packing up and fleeing on the spot.
Among those who persevered, more and more had gradually succeeded in joining various sects and factions.
Don't ask why.
If you must ask, it was the Belt and Road Initiative.
After those sects and factions took in a player, the players who had been brought into the fold naturally worked especially hard to pull more people in, all so they could collect referral fees...
Within this Primordial World, where only one's own heart knew the warmth and coldness of human relations.
This had even given rise to black brokers, a profession that seemed rather retro in the year 2133.
Their methods.
Were every bit as vicious as those of their predecessors.
They directly introduced ignorant, unsuspecting players into especially treacherous factions that essentially treated players as consumables.
More often than not.
After collecting a referral fee from the players, those people would collect a second round of referral fees from the sects and factions, like suppliers of raw material.
It had to be said.
Even this self-taught, cross-generational inheritance.
Carried the exact flavor of those predecessors from the latter half of the twentieth century and the early twenty-first century in the Real World.
Black brokers were still black brokers.
In the Real World, they sent people into black kilns, illegal mines, and all kinds of shady electronics factories as laborers.
In Metaphysics Hong Huang, they sent people into all kinds of dreadful factions to serve as the other side's raw material.
And the unlucky bastards were still