Little Pink Starfish

Speaking of which, the powers granted to players by the game system could indeed be loosely tied to the concept of “life force.” Whether it was their death and resurrection, their extraordinary recovery abilities, or even the suicide function—it all had some relation to the idea of “life.”

Still, Pei Sen felt that Bix Magic Cube’s approach was… borderline genius.

Originally, Pei Sen had planned to venture into Gate of Eternity and slowly accumulate native followers. Especially with Eagle’s abilities—they were practically divine tools for attracting believers. Compared to the healing skills of those temple priests and spiritual cultivators, his power of light looked much more like a true miracle.

“Using players as stand-in followers—why does this feel like passing off counterfeits as the real deal,” Pei Sen mused. “Oh well, doesn’t matter. Judging by how many gods there are around here, none of them probably have many truly devout believers anyway.”

While BraisedSpicySnack and the other veteran players were busy preparing for their infiltration quests, most of the new players had already followed the guidance and reported to the locations prepared by Pei Sen and Eagle, smoothly beginning their gameplay.

This time, the player spawn points were extremely varied, with the starting front lines spread thin. Bix Magic Cube had deliberately avoided any one place being flooded with masses of players.

Unlike Yali Continent, countries like the Anser Empire and the Xia Dynasty were tightly governed centralized states. Add in the fact that this world had a large number of supernatural beings—if one location suddenly saw a wave of strange mixed-race individuals, it might cause unwanted misunderstandings, or even brutal extermination.

Even though players couldn’t really die, being immediately thrust into a nightmare-mode manhunt right after spawning was not anyone’s idea of a fun start.

Back in Yali Continent, a few players had been unlucky enough to be born near the Holy City and experienced something similar—but they were rare cases. If Gate of Eternity had a large number of players suffer that fate at launch, it would seriously hinder the game’s integration with this new world.

…That’s right, in the original timeline, a tragedy like that nearly happened.

But with Pei Sen here, Bix Magic Cube seemed far more cautious than its past self had been. This time, the launch was smooth.

“So, when are you going to dive into Gate of Eternity?” Bix Magic Cube asked, sounding quite anxious, like it was hoarding faith energy and couldn’t wait to spend it.

Pei Sen snapped, “When I’ve broken through to Legendary Mage!”

He still needed to milk the players a bit, level up some more, and prepare.

Meanwhile, the new players were experiencing the unique customs and scenery of the Gate of Eternity server.

Countless forum posts started flooding in. Screenshots and video clips completely overtook the homepage.

“This is amazing, absolutely amazing. Someone said it couldn’t possibly top Yali Continent or Qinghun Era—well, sorry to say, but this new map might be the biggest one yet!”

“Haha, I remember when Qinghun Era launched, people said it’d never surpass Yali Continent. Now with Gate of Eternity, it’s the same argument. Qinghun Era’s map was about as big as Yali Continent. But this one? It’s way bigger than both of them combined!”

“The scenery is stunning—gorgeous!”

“Wow, the Anser Empire and Xia Dynasty really have totally different vibes!”

“Even the surrounding small nations and tribes have super interesting lore.”

“This server is just too good. Anyone want to team up for quests? Come on, let’s go!”

“My friend introduced me to this game, and I told him I don’t game at all, never cared for it… But now? All I can say is: it’s addictive!”

“Honestly, I haven’t gamed in years. But Bix Magic Cube isn’t even in the same category as typical games.”

“That’s nothing—my parents even bought game pods for it. This game is addictive, I swear!”

“For real, there’s this girl at my company who only ever follows beauty bloggers and celebrity gossip. She just ordered a game pod! I wouldn’t have believed it a month ago.”

“Isn’t the civilian game age about to start? This world may be virtual, but it feels almost too real. Like a second life.”

“It’s fine for now, as long as we treat it as a hobby. Work is still work. Earning real money in Bix Magic Cube is no joke for any studio.”

“Exactly. You can’t run multiple accounts, there are no hacks, and there’s not even a top-up option. Those so-called studio elites may not even beat me once they’re in this immersive mode.”

“Who knows, maybe Bix Magic Cube will keep adding new careers. Over in Yali Continent, there are already shops doing well. Even farming is starting to yield results.”

“The more players, the more potential. Gathered together, something will come of it.”

“The freedom in this game is insane. I’m obsessed! Unlike those other games that claim to be ‘open world’ and then—well, aren’t.”

“……”

As one of the new players, Bai Lian didn’t immediately start doing quests. He scrolled through the forums before closing them.

He’d heard of Bix Magic Cube long ago, and had spoken harshly of it. Not because of any real issues with the game, but because his good-for-nothing younger brother had gotten into major fights with the family over it.

As the older brother, how could he possibly feel kindly toward Bix Magic Cube?

That’s right—Bai Lian’s younger brother was Claude, one of the original beta players.

As a rich second-generation who had nothing better to do, Claude had always loved playing games. But he’d never been good at them. He was one of those pay-to-win types, using money to make up for skill. He’d play obsessively for a while, then hop to a new game—it was a pattern Bai Lian knew all too well. He’d never cared before. It wasn’t like spending money on games was a big deal to the family.

But everything changed when Claude started playing Bix Magic Cube.

At first it was fine. Game addiction? Typical for Claude. No big deal. But within a few months, he had not only broken off a long-arranged engagement—he also came out to the family, saying he’d fallen in love with someone in the game and wanted to be with them.

Fine, okay. Online romances were a thing. Plenty of people met in games and got married. But Claude… said he was in love with a man.

“At first, I thought maybe some guy was pretending to be a girl and tricked him,” Bai Lian recalled. “But apparently not.” After entering the game himself, Bai Lian quickly realized that Bix Magic Cube didn’t allow gender switching. Whatever you were in real life, that’s what you had to be in the game. Sure, you could customize your face, change your look—but you couldn’t change your gender.

“Thing is, he’s never shown any signs of this growing up,” Bai Lian muttered.

As brothers, they’d always been close. Bai Lian was sure Claude had never dated a guy before.

And then it got even more baffling. When Bai Lian tried to ask who this guy was—worried Claude had been misled or manipulated—Claude had said, “He doesn’t even know I like him. And I don’t know if he could accept someone like me.”

Bai Lian: “???”

You’re just secretly crushing on the guy—what’s the point of coming out already?!

Claude had seriously told the whole family: “Because I truly like him, I won’t pursue him until you can all accept me liking a man. If—if he someday agrees to be with me, I’ll be so happy. But if family pressure hurts him or makes us separate, I can’t accept that.”

So, to clear the path for a future confession, he had come out of the closet first.

Bai Lian couldn’t get anything else out of Claude—he refused to name the guy.

Please. Intelligence-wise, ten Claudes didn’t match one Bai Lian. If Claude ran the family business, it wouldn’t last a few years.

So Bai Lian probed around Claude’s friends, the ones who had been playing Bix Magic Cube with him since the beginning. It wasn’t hard to guess.

Too easy, in fact. Ever since Claude started playing, he’d been sticking close to one person like a loyal puppy. Everyone who played with them knew it.

“‘BraisedSpicySnack’? What kind of ridiculous ID is that.” Bai Lian muttered as he tried to send a friend request—but it was blocked.

However, since it didn’t say “not on this server,” it meant his guess was right: BraisedSpicySnack had indeed come to Gate of Eternity. Thankfully, Bai Lian had chosen this server too.

He thought for a moment, then followed the guidance marker. His journey began with a snowy trek—he’d been randomly dropped into the far north of the Anser Empire. Terrible luck.

Still, thankfully, Pei Sen and Eagle had set up branches of the Merchant Alliance far and wide—even here, there was one.

The beginner quests weren’t difficult. While doing them, Bai Lian noticed something shocking. Though this was a game, its commercial systems mirrored real-world business models. It wasn’t like other games with basic shop systems. Prices, goods, and operations were all organically designed. The little alliance branch here reflected a real-life economy, so much so that Bai Lian’s business instincts were starting to itch.

“They’ve tried to simulate the real world… but it’s still a bit rough,” he thought. “Business isn’t that simple. Whoever made this game may have studied some economics, but clearly not deeply.”

After a pause, he submitted a suggestion to the Merchant Alliance.

Ding.
“Player ‘Bai Lian’ has made a valuable contribution to the Bix Merchant Alliance. Reward: Merchant Chest x2, EXP +2000, Faith Energy +200.”

Bai Lian blinked. Faith energy? What the hell is that?

On Pei Sen’s side, the notification came in quickly. He smiled in satisfaction. “Just as I thought. There’s a lot of talent among the players.”

Just then, Eagle looked over. “Pei Sen.”

“Hm?” Pei Sen was browsing through player reports.

Eagle smiled faintly. “I’ve noticed that sometimes when you speak, certain words sound strangely muffled. It’s not that you were vague… it’s like some force doesn’t want me to hear them.”

He casually glanced upward, tone light.

Pei Sen froze for a moment before falling silent. He didn’t know how to respond. Bix Magic Cube had—unhelpfully—removed the visual censorship (mosaics), but it hadn’t lifted the language filters. Like just now, when he said “player,” Eagle couldn’t hear it clearly.

They were spending all day together now. In the past, Eagle was the young master, and Pei Sen never spoke this casually. But now? Accidents happened.

“So, Pei Sen,” Eagle said seriously, “does your Bix race truly have… gods?”

It was a reasonable conclusion. Eagle was intelligent and observant. He had already noticed similar oddities in other Bix players—he’d simply now confirmed Pei Sen also had them.

To be able to blur words that had already been spoken—if that wasn’t divine power, what was?

Pei Sen’s expression turned strange. Gods? Was he talking about Bix Magic Cube?

Please no… there were no such gods in this world.

“Young master, don’t overthink it. It… can’t really be called the Bix race’s god, but… it does protect and watch over us.” Protecting Earth from being swallowed by these foreign worlds. “If you want to interpret it that way, fine—but it’s a good god.”

Eagle looked at Pei Sen and slowly nodded, reluctantly accepting this explanation.

Ding.
“Player ‘Arcane Mage’ has exceptional fortune and has received a special system reward!”

It was a system-wide announcement, visible to all players—and it was the first time something like this had ever happened.

“Damn! This old pro hasn’t been seen in forever!”

“What did he do to earn a special reward?!”

“I really want to know what it is!”

“Hey bigshot, are you online? Can I add you as a friend? I promise not to spam you! ++++”

“……”

Pei Sen: “???”

What the heck was this?

Was Bix Magic Cube seriously rewarding him just because he said a nice thing?

So yeah. Gods? Those don’t exist.

There absolutely are no gods like this.