Chapter 7: Genius Entertainment Anchor

Connecting to the network…

Establishing mental link…

Downloading game [Dear Son]…

Scanning body…

Body scan complete.

Identity check successful.

Mental link established.

Game download complete.

But before officially entering the virtual game world, the first thing to appear is the character creation screen, where Xu Bei needs to create a virtual avatar.

The player’s gender, body type, face, and age are all locked in place.

Now that real-name registration is required online, whatever information is on your ID card is what you log in as.

Players generally only have one thing they can customize, and that’s their hairstyle.

Players are allowed to set their own hairstyle.

Xu Bei spent a full half hour tweaking his hairstyle on the customization screen, since he wanted to adjust every single strand.

He gave himself long, slightly wavy, messy light blond hair—curly, wild, and long, extremely flashy. Word is, this is the hottest new hairstyle among boy bands.

Since he was here to play a game, he definitely had to make his hair as dazzling as possible.

If you don’t go for something that’s hard to achieve in real life, what’s the point of playing a game?

Because a hairstyle like this in reality would require several stylists just to put together. And even then, the look would last at most a day before falling apart.

Even for idol boy bands, they probably only do this kind of hairstyle for concerts—it’s just too much trouble.

But in the game, your hair can ignore the laws of physics!

“Confirm.”

He dawdled in front of the mirror for ages before Xu Bei finally chose to confirm his appearance.

But after confirming, another line of text popped up on the screen.

[Please enter an ID name for your virtual character.]

[Note: This ID will be used for all your virtual characters across all games. Please choose carefully.]

Oh, so you can still name your virtual character.

But your real name is still displayed to the public, anyone can check it, so it doesn’t really matter.

Xu Bei thought for three seconds, and immediately decided on his virtual name.

He’d be called…

“Unfilial Son.”

Character creation successful!

Logging in to the game “Dear Son”.

(This game is not suitable for players under eighteen.)

(This game contains frightening elements. People with heart conditions should not play.)

Welcome, [Player – Unfilial Son], to the world of [Dear Son]!

In the next instant, the system interface gradually faded away, and the scene before his eyes reshaped itself as if space itself was being rebuilt—an utterly wondrous sensation.

Very soon, Xu Bei felt his senses—sight, hearing, touch—return one by one.

The experience was incredibly real. His feet touched the ground, and he found himself in a simulated game world even more realistic than reality.

…

The sky was dim, and he was sitting inside an Old Car.

The Old Car’s engine was off, and somehow every detail was nudging him to get out.

Xu Bei pushed open the door and got out.

At this moment, he truly felt the allure of the virtual game world.

A chilling wind swept over him, the eerie blue moonlight illuminated the darkness, and fallen leaves scattered everywhere.

It was the perfect depiction of a “dark night, high winds, the kind of night where murders happen”—truly an ideal day for slaughter.

Xu Bei glanced around. Aside from his own stalled Old Car, there was nothing else nearby.

The ends of the road ahead and behind were shrouded in pitch blackness, like an abyss, making anyone reluctant to take even half a step closer.

And the only direction left to move…

Xu Bei pulled his gaze from the ends of the road and looked straight ahead, where the car door faced—a rusty Ancient Iron Gate.

Standing before him was a long-abandoned Mysterious Factory, overgrown with weeds, and under the moonlight, it looked like a giant beast lurking in the darkness.

This Mysterious Factory was the only way forward, and likely the core area to explore in the game.

“Hmph, even though it’s my first time playing a game, even I can tell at a glance that the roads to either side are dead ends.” Xu Bei muttered to himself.

(Would you like to enable Live Broadcast Mode?)

(Enable Live Broadcast Mode to have the system automatically create a Live Room and save the recording.)

(Enabling Live Broadcast Mode allows you to register for the Anchor Speedrun Competition. The first player to clear the game wins up to 500,000 yuan. Clearing the game within the first week after launch also earns a consolation prize.)

Xu Bei took one look and naturally chose to enable Live Broadcast Mode.

He was here to play the game to earn money.

(Ding! [Anchor Room of Unfilial Son] created successfully!)

(Ding! You have joined the Dear Son Game Speedrun Anchor Competition.)

(Players can enter the backend to manage their Live Room.)

Seeing that he’d successfully joined the competition, Xu Bei didn’t bother with the rest and got ready to move forward.

He didn’t know how to enter the backend to check his Live Room, nor did he care about the broadcast itself—as long as he could make money, that was enough.

Xu Bei finished surveying his surroundings and checked himself over.

“So realistic.”

He looked down at his clothes—he was wearing a brown professional suit, the texture exactly like in real life.

He moved his hands and feet—no different from reality, no issues with movement at all.

Xu Bei checked all the items on him. There was only a Work Badge hanging on his chest and a Camera.

He picked up the Work Badge, glanced at it confidently, and said with feeling, “Sakata TV Station Reporter, Unfilial Son. So I’m a Reporter.”

But aside from that, there was no other information.

Are games these days really this minimalist? They don’t even tell players what to do?

But that’s not a problem for me. Even if it’s my first time playing a virtual game, I’m a rock-paper-scissors master.

Xu Bei rushed forward, quickly climbed up the Ancient Iron Gate, and leaped into the abandoned factory.

“Jiji ji~ jiji ji~”

But when he reached the top of the Ancient Iron Gate, he realized it was slightly moving inward on its own.

Looking closer, it turned out the rusty gate wasn’t locked—he could’ve just pushed it open, no need to climb at all.

“Damn it.” Xu Bei lay there a bit embarrassed.

But since he’d already climbed up, he just hopped down the other side, pretending he’d meant to do it that way—after all, no one saw him.

But actually, someone did see…

Don’t forget, he’d just opened a new Live Room, even if he was still a complete unknown.

Right now, there were more than ten thousand pages of anchors broadcasting the Dear Son game on the dedicated channel.

The Dear Son live broadcast section ranked streams by popularity.

The most popular ones were at the top of the first page.

But the Anchor Room of Unfilial Son was ranked below page ten thousand.

Even so, there were still some supremely bored people who managed to find his Live Room and clicked in, instantly giving him over a hundred popularity points.

(This pig-nose anchor is killing me with laughter!)

(It’s my first time seeing someone climb that busted iron gate.)

(LMAO)

(What a total newbie anchor!)

(Hahahaha)

(There are actually newbies like this?)

(LMAO)

(LMAO)

These netizens all saw Xu Bei’s ridiculous move and started spamming the comment barrage, roasting him like crazy.

But Xu Bei hadn’t enabled the barrage display system and didn’t even know what a barrage was, so he just continued on his way.