Chu Cheng returned to his room, quietly closing the door behind him as though instinctively sealing off the outside world. The sealed package lay on the desk like a puzzle waiting to be solved. He picked up the paper knife and cut through the wrapping with a satisfying slice.
The moment the package flared open, his breath caught.
A single green eye patch, identical to the one worn in the game, rested silently within. For a long moment, Chu Cheng could only stare. No illusion. No digital rendering. It was real.
He reached out, hands slightly trembling. The blindfold was made of a material he'd never seen before—soft, cool, almost silk-like in texture yet unnaturally smooth. It felt… advanced. Alien. Like something that didn't belong in his world.
Slipping it on, Chu Cheng expected the usual tension of elastic or straps. But none came. The blindfold affixed itself to his face seamlessly, as if magnetized to the contours of his skin, fitting with uncanny precision. It neither obstructed his vision nor imposed any physical weight. Just like the in-game description—if you didn't focus on it, you'd forget it existed.
He removed it, still in disbelief, and glanced at the empty package again. No sender. No return address. No courier mark. It had appeared just seconds after he clicked "purchase" in the game.
"What the hell…"
A package with no sender, delivered seemingly between blinks. Was this Amazon Prime from another dimension? Reality-bending logistics? Even SF Express would shed tears of shame at such speed.
But one thing was certain—the game could affect reality.
Green Arrow—"Brother Sugar" as netizens nicknamed him due to the branding coincidence—was no tech billionaire, but a vigilante molded in Robin Hood's image. Proficient in single-handed bow combat, acrobatic melee, and stealth, he was a lethal hybrid of athlete and marksman. Chu Cheng could imagine the utility of his arrows and gadgets, but a blindfold? What kind of joke was that?
Yet if this mysterious "summoning array" system could materialize even the most obscure item…
Could it do more?
Could it conjure Batman's utility belt, grappling hook, or the glide-enabled suit that let him soar over Gotham's skyline? Or Spider-Man's web shooters? Iron Man's armor?
The moment that thought ignited in his mind, Chu Cheng felt his heart beat faster.
If those came into the real world… he wouldn't just be playing a superhero. He'd be one.
He sat back down in front of his monitor, the game still running, casting an ambient glow across the room. He clicked into the simulation training module once again.
This time, it wasn't for fun.
Today's training wasn't to kill time. It was preparation. Real training, with real stakes. Stealth techniques, escape routes, gear mastery—all of it now felt like a martial discipline, not just a digital skillset.
Chu Cheng had always been gifted at games. But now he was driven. His progress in the simulation accelerated. Though this game was even more complex than the Arkham series, its polish was immaculate. The more familiar he became, the more he felt like he was the Dark Knight. His mouse and keyboard were now extensions of Batman's will.
The hours blurred. When night fell outside his window, it also fell in-game.
He selected Batman from the hero interface.
The screen blacked out.
When it returned, the familiar silhouette of the Caped Crusader crouched on a rooftop, his cloak billowing against the moonlit cityscape like a living shadow. The lights of the urban sprawl glimmered beneath him like stars, and Chu Cheng instinctively knew—it was the same area he'd explored before. Directly across stood the Klein Group building.
He moved Batman to the edge, adjusting the mouse to get a bird's-eye view. A cordon was still stretched out below. Officers lingered around the site. From this angle, Chu Cheng could even picture the shot he saw earlier that day on the forums. It was here. This was the exact spot someone took the photograph from.
A prompt appeared.
Tutorial complete. First mission complete. Free exploration unlocked.
Chu Cheng pressed M on the keyboard. A detailed map unfurled on screen. It wasn't just a generic city layout. It was Jiangdu. His city.
He zoomed in, scanned the streets, and his jaw tightened.
He found his neighborhood.
His building.
His room.
He stared. "Wait… can I find myself?"
Though the in-game Jiangdu wasn't a perfect replica of the city he lived in before crossing over, many districts were eerily identical. His uncle's residence, the winding alley near the old cinema—it was all there. And yet, this version of Jiangdu was massive, easily three times the size.
As previously noted, this Earth Pole Star lacked strict national borders. The city blended global cultures—people with features from every continent mingled, yet clusters still formed along racial or cultural lines.
Chu Cheng remembered a meme from his old streams: how the audience always mocked his sense of direction. In Souls games, players feared bosses. He feared maps. "All roads lead to Rome" didn't apply to him. All roads, for Chu Cheng, were just different hallways in the same endless labyrinth.
Thankfully, this game respected fools like him. Its traditional navigation was divine. Mark a location, and a glowing bat-signal icon would guide you step by step.
Chu Cheng marked a spot: his own home.
Exiting the map, a bat-logo appeared on screen, hovering like a silent whisper of direction.
Time to go.
Batman's grappling hook had a load-bearing threshold over 500 catties, and his cape wasn't decorative cloth. It was reactive—rigid when powered, forming a glider's wingspan. The combination made him a phantom through steel canyons, flitting between rooftops like a ghost in the machine.
Chu Cheng was enthralled.
He flew past buildings he recognized—his high school, the alley behind the milk tea shop, the square where he'd seen open-air concerts. It felt impossible and real all at once.
Instinctively, he avoided surveillance cams and populated intersections.
The suit helped. Batman's design was engineered for stealth: jet-black armor built with radar-absorbent materials, detective mode granting thermal and electromagnetic vision, and a decryption device that could hijack any security feed. He was a ghost, invisible even in plain sight.
As the screen showed Batman gliding closer to his marked destination, Chu Cheng's pulse quickened.
Was he ready for what came next?
With a final shot of the grappling gun, Batman surged upward, cloak spreading into full glide mode, landing precisely on the rooftop of a residential building.
Chu Cheng hit X to activate detective mode.
The screen shifted into thermal scan, digital overlays flickering with data. He zoomed in. The perspective sharpened—then locked—on a lighted window in the opposite building.
His window.
His room.
His own face.
There he was, sitting at the computer, staring at the screen.
Chu Cheng sucked in a deep breath.
He stood up, walked over to the window, and looked across the narrow alleyway.
There, on the opposite rooftop—stood the Batman.
The wind tugged at the vigilante's cape. Moonlight cast sharp angles across his armor. He didn't move. He simply watched.
Chu Cheng stared into the darkness.
And the darkness stared back.