"Unbelievable. I wrote so well, and I only got fifty-six subscriptions? This is ridiculous!"
Wang Ping stared at the mere fifty-six first-day subscriptions on the writer's dashboard, furious and exasperated.
He, Wang Ping, was exactly like his name suggested—ordinary and unremarkable his entire life.
He had gone through the usual nine years of compulsory education, then attended a vocational college.
After graduating, he had worked as a waiter and tightened screws on an assembly line.
His girlfriend had thought he was useless and unambitious, so she had run off with someone else.
That was what left him depressed and frustrated, burying himself in the world of novels.
Whenever he saw an author feeding him poison, he would mock them for not knowing how to write novels.
Then, he heard people say writing novels could make a lot of money, so he figured that after reading novels for so many years, writing one would be easy as pie.
Then... there was no then.
From being unable to squeeze out even a fart at the start to eventually being able to write somewhat fluently, he had poured in an unknown amount of effort.
Yet after his first book went premium, its first-day subscriptions were in the single digits, nearly driving him to collapse.
This second book was much better than the first, but it was still enough to make someone despair.
Most importantly, he had no money left to hole up in his rented room and devote himself wholeheartedly to writing novels.
"Ugh, sure enough, no industry is easy."
Wang Ping looked at the instant noodle cups scattered across his messy computer desk, took a drag of his cigarette, and let out a long sigh as he stared blankly up at the ceiling.
He was already twenty-five. He no longer knew how he was supposed to live the rest of his life.
At twenty-five, he did not have a cent in savings. He was an orphan too, so marriage was probably out of the question.
If he came down with any random illness, the sky would come crashing down.
"Earth Online really is a trash game. Better not play it at all!"
Wang Ping viciously blew out a smoke ring and muttered gloomily.
"Ding. The Transmigrator Chat Group invites you to join. Would you like to join immediately?"
Just then, a mechanical voice suddenly rang out in Wang Ping's mind.
At the same time, a pale blue virtual screen appeared before his eyes.
It displayed the options "Yes" and "No."
"!!!"
Wang Ping snapped back to his senses and could not help rubbing his eyes, thinking he was hallucinating and hearing things.
However, after rubbing his eyes several times and finding that the pale blue screen before him had not disappeared, he could not help growing excited.
"A Chat Group!?"
"So I'm also a winner in life with a Golden Finger! It's just that this Golden Finger arrived years too late."
Wang Ping rubbed his hands together excitedly.
Come to think of it, the protagonists in many novels were ordinary and unremarkable, only to obtain a Golden Finger at their lowest point. From then on, they soared into the sky and reached the pinnacle of life.
He was probably in the same situation.
Still, a Chat Group-type Golden Finger was considered somewhat outdated in the current webnovel scene.
Besides, Chat Groups generally handed out Golden Fingers to everyone, so it did not really count as a personal one.
If it was the kind of Chat Group with a harmonious atmosphere where everyone helped one another, that would be wonderful.
If it was the kind of Chat Group full of intense scheming and intrigue, then things would be troublesome.
"Whatever. Even if it's a dark-style Chat Group, as long as I keep a low profile and lower my desires, it shouldn't be too much of a problem."
Wang Ping muttered to himself.
The world he lived in was just an ordinary world. As long as he could use the Chat Group to make his body stronger, earn some money, and enjoy life, that would be enough.
That was right. Even if he joined a Chat Group, all he wanted was a relatively prosperous, happy, and peaceful life.
It might be a little lacking in ambition, but compared to his previous days, it would already be hundreds of times better.
Of course, that was assuming he joined a Chat Group with a less-than-ideal atmosphere. If it was an exceptionally friendly Chat Group, he would still fantasize about extraordinary powers, immortality, and the like.
As thoughts surged through his mind, Wang Ping chose "Yes."
"Ding. Congratulations on joining the Transmigrator Chat Group. Your transmigration will begin in half an hour. Please prepare yourself mentally."
The system's voice rang out, leaving Wang Ping stunned.
"Transmigration? What the hell is that?"
While Wang Ping was still in a daze, new messages appeared in the Chat Group.
"Ding. Congratulations to the 66th group member, Wang Ping, on joining the Transmigrator Chat Group."
"Ding. Congratulations to the 67th group member, Chen Kang, on joining the Transmigrator Chat Group."
As those two group notifications appeared, the group became lively.
Wu Jun (20): "Oh? Two newcomers at once? Welcome, welcome!"
Liu Mei (15): "Two more unlucky souls? How pitiful."
Zhang Hu (5): "My condolences. I wonder whether these two can survive."
Fang Yun (3): "Hard to say. Of the last ten newcomers, not a single one survived. It's been absolutely miserable."
"???"
Looking at the conversation in the Chat Group, Wang Ping was somewhat dumbfounded.
Huh!?
What did the group members mean by that? Did people in this group die all the time?
Just as Wang Ping was about to speak, the other newcomer beat him to it.
Chen Kang (67): "Transmigrator Seniors, what do you mean when you say all ten recent newcomers died!? This group can't have some kind of trap, can it!? Terrified.jpg."
Fang Yun: "Hehe, you caught on quickly. You knew this was a Transmigrator Chat Group, so you called us Transmigrator Seniors. Just as you said, this group really does have a trap—and it's a bottomless pit."
Chen Kang (67): "."
Wang Ping (66): "."
Zhang Hu (5): "You can tell our joining order from the numbers after our names. Now look at the group member list and see how many people are left."
After Zhang Hu spoke, Wang Ping hurriedly looked at the group list.
Then, he saw a sight that made his scalp tingle.
Group members: 7/67.
A long string of black avatars and names.
Did that not mean that sixty-five members had joined before them, and only five were still alive?
That mortality rate was absurdly high!
For a moment, Wang Ping went numb as terror began breeding wildly within him.
He had thought a Golden Finger had arrived, but who would have imagined it was actually a Life-Reaping Talisman?
Wang Ping (66): ". Is it still too late for me to leave the group?"
Chen Kang (67): ". +1 for the guy above."
Liu Mei (15): "Hehe, no. Once you enter the group, there is no turning back. Rather than panicking, I think you should prepare for the transmigration in half an hour. That might raise your chances of survival a little. Of course, only a tiny little bit."
Wang Ping: ". Why do you say that?"
Liu Mei (15): "Your imagined transmigration is probably soul transmigration, where you get a decent family, right? Or, at worst, the classic orphan start."
Chen Kang (67): "Isn't it?"
Liu Mei: "Hehe, of course not. The real beginning is that this Chat Group randomly selects a world and throws you into it. In other words, your identity is completely undocumented. To the people of that other world, you are an alien with strange clothes and perhaps even a different language. I don't need to tell you what the consequences will be, do I?"
Before you continue