Meng Chuan clicked on the first video. Its Lord was a man.
Uh, wasn't that stating the obvious?
Only then did Meng Chuan realize he could see the chat panel—and the video! Before the chat panel, his Dao Wound seemed to have healed.
Meng Chuan clicked his tongue in wonder. Not bad, my group!
The young man stood in a distinctly modern room. What caught the eye most was the giant egg-shaped thing inside it.
"A Game pod." Meng Chuan recognized it. He had seen something similar before—not in Shrouding the Heavens, but in Lifetime.
Lifetime held countless worlds and countless civilizations. Forget using a Game pod to play a Game; there were even worlds that extracted the thoughts of entire populations and had them live inside Games.
There was another man in the room besides the Lord, though this one wore a uniform.
A small Starry Sky emblem marked his uniform, and he carried a toolbox.
The young man was complaining to the uniformed man, pointing at the Game pod.
"What's wrong with your company? How could you make a Game pod this shoddy?"
Meng Chuan pondered. Could this be a world built around modern virtual Games?
Was this man complaining about the Game pod's quality?
Still, selling defective Game pods really would be unconscionable.
Meng Chuan had played Games like this in Lifetime. He knew just how much public outrage a virtual gaming company would face if its pods malfunctioned.
Put it this way: your Game could be bad, but your Game pods couldn't fail. If someone died, you were finished.
The video continued. The young man kept complaining. "I only bought this Game pod seven years ago! How is it broken already?!"
"..."
Meng Chuan froze. He took back what he had said about the company being