**[Exiting cockpit]**
**[Checking pilot’s vital signs]**
**[Checking pilot’s psychological state]**
**[20%…]**
**[50%…]**
**[100%]**
**[Ding!]**
**[Exit successful]**
As the words on the blue screen vanished, Xu Sheng knew he had finally opened his eyes for real. He first removed the heavy helmet, then stood up to stretch his muscles.
This future technology was truly impressive; even after experiencing it for so long, Xu Sheng still had his doubts. Could that world he had entered—a world that felt so real—actually just be a dream?
Xu Sheng stepped out of the coffin-sized cockpit. This was an internet cafe. Or rather, it was a cyberpunk world’s version of an internet cafe.
A year ago, Xu Sheng had been a typical college student busy with his graduation project. He had simply fallen asleep and transmigrated to this cyberpunk world in the year 2377. As a newcomer, he had no degree, no identity, and certainly no money. In the end, he had to sell a watch his family had bought him as an “antique” to earn his first fortune.
Back in his original world, Xu Sheng had often written webnovels during college to earn pocket money. In this cyberpunk world, he decided to try writing scripts to earn some extra cash. Lacking a legal identity, Xu Sheng worked out of a dark internet cafe in the Lower District.
Fortunately, there were some cultural differences between this world and Blue Star. The “cliché” plots Xu Sheng wrote were actually quite appealing to the people here, providing him with a small source of income.
However, his lack of identity imposed many restrictions. Writing scripts in a dark internet cafe was not a long-term solution. Fortunately, that was when someone approached him.
The person claimed to be from the Upper District and introduced him to a product. Xu Sheng had found the explanation a bit confusing, but it was essentially a piece of emerging medical technology designed specifically for wealthy people who had fallen into comas. The device could receive brainwave signals, followed by a bunch of techno-babble…
In short, people in comas inevitably dream. This product functioned by using data to project a person into the patient’s dream. By following a tailored script and stimulating the brain, they could prompt the patient to wake up.
Since transmigrating to this cyberpunk world, Xu Sheng had lived in the Lower District. Aside from looking up at the neon-lit sky, flying cars, and hovering motorcycles, or occasionally using the equipment in the cyberpunk internet cafe, he had rarely experienced this world’s advanced technology firsthand. When he finally came into contact with it, Xu Sheng was truly shocked.
Projecting a person’s consciousness into someone else’s dream through data… was that really something technology could achieve?
The man’s objective was simple. He admired Xu Sheng’s scripts and wanted to invite him to write stories designed to stimulate the brains of high-ranking officials and wealthy individuals. He even wanted Xu Sheng to be the “dream enterer” himself.
The conditions offered were very tempting. They included, but were not limited to:
An official identity card for Xu Sheng.
A fortune so large he could never spend it all.
A hidden identity as the “author.”
If one wanted to create a plot stimulating enough to wake someone, they would inevitably have to “mistreat” the target in the dream. That kind of brain-stimulating cruelty would result in piercing pain. As the creator of the plot and the “protagonist” entering the dream to manage the scenario, protecting the author’s privacy was a very humane consideration.
There were other detailed clauses as well…
After thinking it over for a day, Xu Sheng had agreed. After all, besides his unique status as a transmigrator, he had no reason to believe anyone would bother scamming him. He also refused to move to the Upper District; since he needed to hide his identity, staying away from areas with heavy surveillance was more convenient.
Ultimately, his workspace remained in the dark internet cafes of the Lower District. These cyberpunk cafes were different from those on Blue Star. Aside from looking a bit worn down, they featured “high-end” holographic computers and equipment like AI and dream sensory devices.
Xu Sheng had entered the dream through one of these sensory devices. He reached out and gave a light swipe, and the personal profiles of Mo Ruxue and Zhu Yuexi appeared.
Mo Ruxue, the eldest daughter of Tengyi Company.
Zhu Yuexi, Mo Ruxue’s biological niece. She had lost her mother at a young age and grew up under Mo Ruxue’s care; they were as close as mother and daughter.
Due to a car accident, Mo Ruxue and Zhu Yuexi had both fallen into comas. Currently, both were in a vegetative state. Whether due to a telepathic bond between relatives or because of their conversation before the accident, their dreams were highly similar and could be integrated and handled together.
Xu Sheng had just emerged from their shared dream. He tapped the virtual screen again.
**[Mo Ruxue’s brain activation level: 30%]**
**[Zhu Yuexi’s brain activation level: 20%]**
It seemed his script was working. The backdrop of the dream was their own creation, while the Valley of Ten Thousand Poisons was a sect he had forcibly inserted—as was the character of Xu Sheng himself.
Xu Sheng had been a psychology major in college. He had tailored this script by monitoring their dreams, analyzing their personalities, and combining those findings with his expertise in plot development. Everything was going smoothly.
Time in the dream world passed differently than in reality; 5 days in the dream was roughly equal to 1 day in the real world. Xu Sheng planned to clean himself up and then properly deal with the two of them in the dream the next day.
Xu Sheng walked to the door of his private room. Just as he was about to push it open, his hand froze in mid-air. He pondered for 2 seconds, confirming that there were no surveillance cameras in the room.
“Break!”
Xu Sheng shoved his palm forward, and a sharp whistling of wind rang out! In the next second, the door to the private room collapsed with a thunderous crash—
At least, that was the scene in Xu Sheng’s imagination.
The reality was that nothing happened. The palm he had just thrust forward couldn’t even stir a breeze. He looked at his hand and sighed.
The equipment he used had been specially modified. While other similar devices probably didn’t have even 10% of the realism of his, they were still quite addictive. It was no wonder the people in the Lower District were even more hooked on the net than those back on Blue Star.
Xu Sheng recalled the scenes from the dream. He could remember every detail, right down to every blade of grass and every tree. He picked up the helmet he had just been wearing and began to examine it.
‘Is it all really fake?’
After asking the question, even Xu Sheng couldn’t help but laugh. If it wasn’t fake, could there really be a cultivation world out there, and this machine was just a bridge connecting him to it? He really was losing his mind from all that “cultivating”…
Besides, asking a machine was far too ridiculous.
Shaking his head, Xu Sheng placed the helmet back into the cockpit. He سپس pushed open the door, planning to fill his stomach first.