Feng Qi clicked on the option to enter the Silver Moon Domain Field dungeon.
A brief moment of disorientation followed before cracks spread across the urban scene like shattered glass. Piece by piece, the virtual city crumbled away, revealing a brand-new instance.
Unlike the early versions of virtual games he had experienced at Star City Academy, the Crimson Research Institute's internal build had an impressively smooth scene transition, eliminating the long, blank loading screens.
As he entered the dungeon, a breathtaking sight unfolded before his eyes—twelve silver crescent moons hung in the sky, illuminating the world below. A vast plain covered in vibrant purple vegetation stretched out in front of him, while mountain ranges rolled endlessly to his left. To his right, a tranquil lake shimmered under the moonlight.
Further ahead, the horizon was lined with a dense forest of strange silver-colored trees.
In the top right corner of his vision, a translucent mini-map hovered, displaying a 0% exploration status, its details obscured by thick fog.
The sheer realism of the environment left Feng Qi in awe.
The initial goal behind designing these virtual dungeons was to allow cultivators to study the combat styles, behavioral habits, and ecological traits of domain creatures.
With such a system in place, warriors would no longer have to endure perilous field explorations to gather this data. By mastering the countermeasures against domain creatures within the game, they could apply the same strategies in real battles.
Of course, this was merely the ideal vision for the dungeon system.
In reality, many unpredictable variables existed.
For example, domain-dwelling intelligent species possessed independent thought—many even had exceptionally high intelligence. Unlike in a game, they wouldn't follow rigid AI behavior patterns.
At best, the dungeons could only simulate the combat styles and basic characteristics of these creatures, but their strategic thinking and adaptability could never be fully replicated.
Even so, the introduction of virtual dungeons would undoubtedly reduce the casualty rate of frontline warriors by a significant margin.
With this in mind, Feng Qi stepped forward, making his way toward the silver tree forest at the far end of the field.
The wind howled across the plains, causing the peculiar vegetation to sway violently. Even his beginner's outfit rippled under the strong gusts.
The stunning realism of the simulation completely exceeded his expectations.
After walking some distance, he noticed a peculiar orange flower blooming among the sea of plants up ahead.
Curious, he quickened his pace toward it.
The moment his gaze focused on the flower, a semi-transparent information panel popped up in front of him.
[Demon Bone Flower]
Material Grade: Tier 3 Spiritual Herb
Origin: Formed from the remains of the Demon Bone species after death in the Silver Moon Domain Field.
Uses:
Direct consumption can slightly enhance bloodline strength but may cause mild side effects such as diarrhea.
Can be further refined for medicinal purposes (extraction, blending, purification).
Can be used in metallurgy (infused into specific attribute-based equipment).
Suitable for research and experimental applications.
Seeing the detailed breakdown, Feng Qi couldn't help but be impressed.
It was evident that every spiritual plant appearing in the dungeon was modeled one-to-one based on real-world data.
This meant that Demon Bone Flowers would definitely exist in the actual Silver Moon Domain Field of the future.
At that moment, the Narrator's voice echoed in his mind.
[Incredible! With such a comprehensive breakdown of medicinal effects and applications, it seems like Crimson Research Institute plans to fully integrate spiritual plants from virtual simulations into practical use.]
Hearing this, Feng Qi nodded in agreement.
During his conversation with Liang Yu, he had already learned about this initiative.
One of the key long-term goals of virtual dungeons was not just to simulate combat but to incorporate various auxiliary functions.
For example, in addition to fighting, players could use virtual environments to study alchemy, spiritual enchantments, and other auxiliary cultivation fields.
If this system could be successfully implemented, it would have an immense impact on the progress of human civilization.
Take alchemy as an example.
In the real world, gaining access to alchemical training was an incredibly difficult feat—akin to crossing a single-log bridge with thousands of others while only a handful made it across.
Alchemy programs in universities were notorious for their extreme selectivity.
The lack of alchemists wasn't due to an unwillingness to train more professionals.
In fact, the persistent shortage of healing potions and cultivation elixirs on the frontlines proved that the market had plenty of room for expansion.
The real issue was the astronomical costs of training alchemists.
Every spiritual herb was expensive, and the learning process was inherently wasteful—students had to experiment, fail, and refine their skills, consuming massive amounts of valuable materials in the process.
Because of this, academies had no choice but to prioritize quality over quantity, focusing resources on a select group of elite alchemists.
The high cost of spiritual herbs also meant that ordinary people had no way of entering the field.
This situation was vastly different from cultivation training.
In the military, there were many cases where individuals who slacked off during school only realized their potential later in life, picked up cultivation again, and eventually became elite frontline warriors.
Some even turned into legendary figures.
However, for ordinary people, alchemy was completely inaccessible.
Becoming an alchemist apprentice required backing from an academy that could provide a steady supply of spiritual resources for practice. Ordinary people, however, had no such privilege.
Even if someone was determined to try, studying online and reading a vast amount of theoretical material, they would immediately face a harsh reality—the cost of practical training.
They might be able to grit their teeth and afford a single attempt.
But alchemy was a craft that required repetition and refinement. A few failed attempts would be enough to bankrupt a middle-class family.
This severely hindered the advancement of alchemy as a profession.
For alchemy to flourish, increasing the number of practitioners was crucial.
With greater numbers, even among ordinary students, there would be those who shone with exceptional talent. Only by expanding participation could new formulas, techniques, and innovations emerge, pushing the field forward.
A problem that was nearly impossible to resolve in the real world could be tackled through virtual technology.
In reality, spiritual herbs were incredibly expensive.
But in a virtual game, they were merely lines of code.
With super-immersive virtual technology, even ordinary people could access alchemy training that was previously reserved for elite academy students.
According to Liang Yu, future updates to Dawn would include dedicated academic exchange modules.
Crimson Research Institute's ultimate vision for virtual gaming was to create a talent training hub.
Using minimal costs, they aimed to mass-produce specialists in combat, strategy, alchemy, enchantments, and more.
The game wouldn't just serve frontline warriors—it would also provide ordinary people with an upward path for personal growth.
As long as someone had the talent and determination, they could reshape their fate through the virtual world.
Thinking about this, Feng Qi couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement.
This game's impact on human civilization was comparable to a divine-level cultivation technique.
This was also why the realism of virtual gaming continued to improve.
Only by closely replicating reality could a game serve as an effective training ground for talent development.
The same applied to scientific research projects.
The more accurate the simulated environments, the more closely in-game experimental data would match real-world results.
This reduced resource wastage and the risks associated with real-world testing.
Take rune modification experiments, for example.
In the real world, failure meant death.
But in the game, dying was just a fresh start—every player had countless opportunities to experiment until they perfected their craft.
The only true limit was their real-world lifespan.
[You might have just paved a groundbreaking future for the Crimson Research Institute.]
Hearing the Narrator's praise, Feng Qi grinned.
At this moment, he stepped forward, making his way toward the forest of silver trees.
Observing the terrain of the Silver Moon Domain Field, he opened his attribute panel.
This latest version of Dawn had abandoned the real-world stat mirroring approach.
Instead, it adopted the traditional level-up system for character progression.
Earlier, Liang Yu had explained the reasoning behind this change.
If players had to cultivate and progress just like in the real world, it would greatly slow down the game's pace.
This would make Dawn far less appealing to most players.
Instead, an experience-based leveling system was implemented to let players adapt more quickly to enhanced combat strength.
For PvP modes, the game also introduced combat power balancing, ensuring fair and competitive matchups.
After all, Dawn was never designed to be a pay-to-win game.
That said, monetization features would still be introduced in the future, including an in-game shop.
However, the shop would only sell non-pay-to-win content like cosmetic skins and vanity items.
These purchases would never disrupt the fairness of gameplay.
The primary purpose of monetization was to cover operational costs.
Maintaining massive virtual servers, funding superfactories for gaming pods, and ensuring ongoing technical updates required substantial financial support.
Virtual gaming was just one key piece of Crimson's long-term future plans—but it wasn't the only one.
Thus, implementing in-game monetization wasn't about profit—it was about ensuring the survival and development of other research departments.
Lost in thought, Feng Qi continued walking for several hours until he neared the Silver Moon Forest.
But before he could step into the forest, he suddenly spotted a humanoid figure perched atop one of the silver trees in the distance.
It had silver eyes, a lean, agile build, and wielded a silver longbow—its appearance bore a striking resemblance to elves from fantasy movies.
This was Feng Qi's first time seeing a Silver Moon Tribe warrior in person.
And it looked exactly like the historical records described.
At that moment, the warrior's bowstring was already drawn.
Silver light gathered at its fingertips, glowing brilliantly.
Sensing imminent danger, Feng Qi instinctively dove to the side.
However, his in-game Level 1 stats were far weaker than his real-life abilities.
As he leaped, the Silver Moon warrior released the bowstring.
Twang!
The crisp sound of the bowstring echoed through the air.
A brilliant silver arrow rapidly expanded in Feng Qi's vision before completely engulfing his sight.
A sharp pain shot through his body.
Then, a gentle female voice resonated in his mind:
[You have been slain by a Silver Moon Tribe warrior. This dungeon attempt has failed. Would you like to respawn at the main scene revival point?]
The screen before him had turned gray.
Feng Qi clicked on the "Revive" option.
The gray scenery was gradually swallowed by darkness. When his vision cleared again, he found himself back in the central plaza of the main game scene.
Having completed his initial experience with the virtual dungeon, Feng Qi felt thoroughly impressed.
He pulled up the function menu and selected "Exit Game".
A ten-second countdown appeared. As it reached zero, the world before him dimmed, once again plunging into darkness.
The sound of liquid being drained reached his ears as he slowly opened his eyes.
The nutrient fluid enveloping his body was being siphoned away through small holes in the chamber walls, while the lid of the virtual gaming pod was slowly opening.
Feng Qi sat up, stepped down from the pod, and looked toward Liang Yu, who was standing nearby.
"Director Liang, this is incredible!" he praised sincerely.
Liang Yu chuckled and waved him off.
"We should be thanking you instead. This isn't really our achievement. The technology for the virtual gaming pod came from the Future Research Institute, and the core architecture of Dawn is something you brought back from the year 3528. All we did was assemble the pieces together."
"Honestly, this is the result of your other self from another timeline—the product of over fifteen hundred years of effort. If anything, I'm just a courier bringing it all together."
The two exchanged looks, then burst into laughter.
[Is this some kind of mutual flattery contest?]
Ignoring the Narrator's sarcastic remark, Feng Qi was about to speak when Liang Yu asked,
"Qi-ge, now that you've tried out the latest version of the virtual technology, do you have any suggestions for improvements? We're already drafting the next fifteen hundred years of development."
Feng Qi pondered for a moment.
"Nothing major for now... but I do think the pain simulation system might get some complaints from players."
Hearing this, Liang Yu nodded.
"We anticipated that. But Dawn is ultimately a combat training tool, and simulating real pain is crucial for cultivating elite fighters. If we introduce adjustable pain settings just to cater to player feedback, it would defeat the entire purpose. People can complain all they want—we're not changing it."
After chatting about the future of the game, Feng Qi left the Virtual Research Department.
This test run had solidified his belief that virtual gaming would bring massive changes to humanity's future. He was convinced that, once the game officially launched, it would play a key role in guiding humanity from the brink of extinction to the path of resistance.
[Who knows? Maybe the next time you visit the future, you won't just see a single shelter's worth of people waiting for you—it could be an entire city of future allies.]
"Maybe," Feng Qi replied with a grin.
For the next few days, Feng Qi remained at Crimson Base, waiting for Wei Wei to complete her research.
One afternoon, after finishing lunch, he picked up a takeout container and headed to Wei Wei's private laboratory.
"Wei-jie, lunchtime," he called out.
He placed the food on her workstation and turned to look at her—she had been up all night working on her experiments.
However, Wei Wei ignored him, her eyes fixed on the screen as she compared experimental data.
Just as Feng Qi was about to leave, Wei Wei suddenly stood up, walked briskly toward him, and spoke with a serious expression.
"I've made a major discovery."
Feng Qi raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of discovery?"
"If I drink your blood, our spiritual link becomes significantly stronger."
"...What?"
Feng Qi was taken aback.
He had heard of rituals in ancient religions where believers bathed in or drank the sacred water blessed by their deities.
But drinking the god's blood?
That was definitely a first.
"This is a good thing, right?" he asked. "That means we can move forward with testing spiritual free movement."
However, Wei Wei shook her head.
"It's not that simple," she explained.
"Your blood contains a large number of unknown, destructive substances—it's not safe to drink directly. I need to develop a method to filter out the harmful components so that I can safely consume it without my body suffering negative effects."
"Last night, I only drank one milliliter of diluted blood. My body is still in the process of breaking it down."
At this point, Wei Wei looked at him seriously.
"You're heading back to Star City Academy soon, right?"
"Yeah, I'll be leaving soon. If you discover anything new, just call me."
"Alright. But before you go, I need you to leave me a larger blood sample for further testing."
"No problem. I'll give you plenty before I leave," Feng Qi agreed without hesitation.
Losing a bit of blood had no real effect on him.
This was an easy request to fulfill.
At that moment, the Narrator's voice chimed in:
[Are we underestimating you, musclehead Feng? Just giving her a little blood? No, no, no! Drain yourself! Empty the tank! Spill some on the floor if you have to! Don't be stingy!]
Feng Qi: "..."