Gestation

When Lin Feng saw that his character panel had followed him into the real world,

he took a couple of swigs of ice-cold cola to steady his nerves.

He had known there was something wrong with this damn game.

Seeing this strange development, he actually felt that it was only to be expected.

Lin Feng stood before the mirror, grumbling.

But so what?

This was swordsmanship!

Swordsmanship Mastery!

And there were all those other powerful spells he had seen the high-ranking Taoist master use in the game.

If he could bring those out too...

He wanted them so badly!

Who could resist the lure of such superhuman power?

Especially Lin Feng, who had always been the sort to profess a love for things he had never actually encountered.

If the secret arts of your ancestors appeared before you,

would you learn them or not?

Of course you would!

Without another word, Lin Feng picked up a stick and performed a sword routine as smoothly as flowing water. Not only that, everything that had happened in the game—the pitch-black road, the dangers he had encountered along it, the timing and methods of his swordplay—surfaced in his mind in painstaking detail.

His consciousness from inside the game had also been successfully copied into reality.

Beneath the gaze of the camera set up beside him, the complete sword routine was captured on video.

He recorded a sword routine picked at random from those in his head.

Once he finished, he imported the footage from the camera onto his computer.

On screen, he moved with the grace of a startled swan and the agility of a roaming dragon, like a wandering swordsman, like a gentleman.

Even Li Bai, the Sword Immortal who had roamed the ancient world with a blade at his side, probably looked no better.

Lin Feng indulged in a little vanity.

Seriously, so damn cool!

Lin Feng rubbed his chin, thoroughly pleased that he had drawn swordsmanship in the lottery.

After all, strength depended on the current patch, but looking cool was for life!

Though he wore shorts and a T-shirt, the moment he picked up a sword, his bearing and expression became completely different from his old self, carrying a sharpness that could not be ignored.

One sword routine left Lin Feng panting. Though he held only a short stick, and his swordsmanship looked astonishingly cool, his physical fitness was worlds apart from that high-ranking Taoist master's.

Physical fitness was the foundation. Never mind giving Lin Feng Swordsmanship Mastery—even a Sword Immortal descended to earth could not sustain sword combat for long without a good body.

Sword combat was, after all, an activity that required a solid foundation.

To withstand prolonged, strenuous exertion and the killing fields of battle, a general's physique was essential.

That so-called general's physique was what the old romances often described as broad shoulders, a thick waist, and arms reaching past the knees.

Mass and strength, able to dish out punishment and take it.

Gasping for breath, Lin Feng was drenched in sweat after one round of the Wudang Taiyi Xuanmen Sword Art. He sat on the sofa, slumped in a boneless sprawl.

He had originally planned to livestream that evening.

But as he stared at the console and helmet,

Lin Feng began to waver.

Could he, perhaps, just this once, skip tonight?

Once the idea of skipping surfaced, it was like a ghost whispering to him, or a kitten scratching at his heart, an unbearable itch.

The thought kept tempting him, making his already shaky resolve waver even more.

Finally, Lin Feng clenched his left fist and struck it into his right palm.

"That's settled, then. I'm skipping."

He swiftly logged into his account dashboard and posted an update.

"Tired today. No stream."

Then he thought better of it. If he kept working in fits and starts like this, he might lose followers in droves.

That would hurt his livelihood.

So he did a quick edit of the sword routine he had just recorded and uploaded a clip to maintain his visibility.

"Just an ordinary day. Don't miss me too much."

Only after posting everything did Lin Feng put on the helmet with a clear conscience and hear the console reading the disc again.

Gaming, yes!

Immersing himself in the console, Lin Feng entered [Western Hunan Blood God] once more.

His vision went black, and then he opened his eyes again.

The blood-red lettering still hung before him. Since so much time had passed, blood streamed continuously down from beneath the large words "Western Hunan Blood God."

It was deeply unsettling to look at.

Lin Feng caught the rusty smell coming from in front of him.

It turned his stomach.

The piercing suona beside his ears seemed never to stop. Its sound flowed from the distant darkness and forced its way into Lin Feng's ears.

The whispers concealed within the suona sounded nothing like Chinese. Lin Feng had never heard the Miao Language and did not know whether Miao people spoke like this, but the voice used many throaty sounds, resembling throat singing while remaining fundamentally different.

It sounded like some other kind of "refined speech."

Just as Lin Feng tilted his head to listen, beginning to lose himself in the sound, the suona suddenly rose into a bone-piercing shriek, jolting him fully awake!

For some reason, Lin Feng broke out in a cold sweat and felt his heart flutter with unease.

He let out a long breath and stopped paying attention to the background music. Lin Feng looked at the game before him, cleared his head of stray thoughts, and selected [Start game].

A cool breeze brushed past. Lin Feng opened his eyes and found himself back at the [Clear Spring Village Shrine].

It was roughly morning. The sun had just risen, and the air was fresh.

He walked into the [Clear Spring Village Shrine].

The five people before him all looked at him.

The grossly obese man who had spoken first pulled open his clothes as the weather grew warmer, exposing his hairy belly.

"Why did the imperial court of the Central Plains send a wet-behind-the-ears brat to our village? Boy, did you offend someone? Did they send you here specifically to die?"

[Five Stockade Pacification Office, Peng Tianli] spoke with no small amount of malice.

He did not seem afraid of either the imperial court or Dragon-Tiger Mountain, the powers Lin Feng represented.

There was even a faint attempt to sow discord in his words.

Hearing him, Lin Feng instinctively clicked his teeth together.

[Name: Lin Feng]

[Class: None]

[Status: None]

[Skill: Swordsmanship Mastery (permanent passive)]

[Equipment: None]

[Fortune: Five coins (Fortune can empower spells, strengthen the body, and purchase skills)]

[Note: Nothing to say]

Seeing this, Lin Feng understood why Peng Tianli had said that.

He had entered the game on a fresh account, and someone had seen right through him!

He felt inside his sleeves and around his waist. Sure enough, everything was gone.

All that remained was a sword hanging from his back, along with dry rations and a water flask at his waist.

Every piece of the high-ranking Taoist master's equipment had vanished.

Even the ritual sword on his back had become a very common, very ordinary Wrought-Iron Sword.

Lin Feng felt numb.

The damn developers never failed to disappoint.

Sure enough, this time he entered the game, the inhuman thing had dumped him from a veteran's account onto a blank one.

Calling that gulf disappointing did not begin to cover it.

His deluxe talismans were gone.

His deluxe cultivation arts were gone.

His entire set of equipment was gone!

And this time, the game was called Gestation.

In a mountain village without a single living soul, where everyone had died—Gestation?