Me?

Me?

"Junior Sister, you should wake up."

When someone woke her, Iron Man was still groggy. It took her more than ten seconds to realize she was in the Dreamscape.

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Iron Men's income was not high, and she had a family to support. She had to work three jobs every day and had no time at all to play in the Dreamscape.

Her Dreamscape interface had gone unused for so long that it had long since rusted over. If the Puppet Operator's package did not require her to keep the Dreamscape interface, she would have sold it for money long ago.

She answered vaguely, then burrowed back into the blankets, feeling more comfortable than ever.

If they were willing to spend money, Iron Men's sensory systems could actually reach cultivator-grade standards.

But every additional sense cost extra, and stronger senses were not necessarily a good thing.

Without a sense of taste, they could even swallow dirt. Once they had taste, though, they had to look for prepackaged meals. Many Iron Men lacked experience and activated some senses just because they were free to use, only to become slaves to their senses in the end, living their entire lives as thirteenth-class savages.

Still, everything in this dream felt especially real. The warmth and security brought by the blankets were addictive, making Iron Man feel that staying a little longer would not be so bad.

A few minutes later, the other person came in again and said helplessly, "You... if you're this lazy, how will you ever become immortal? Forget it. Don't go to morning class today. Come to town with us and help your senior brothers and sisters buy some materials."

"Okay..." Iron Man said lazily.

"For some reason, there has been especially heavy fog lately.