Chapter 1: The Tutorial in the Snow
The last thing Lin Feng remembered was the rhythmic click-clack of his mechanical keyboard and the glow of his monitor as his guild approached the final boss of Immortal Lands Online. Then, the "Server Maintenance" notification appeared, and the world went pitch black.
Now, the smell of pine and the bite of freezing air filled his lungs.
Lin Feng opened his eyes. He wasn't in his ergonomic gaming chair. He was lying on a bed of frost-covered needles beneath trees so tall they seemed to pierce the sky.
"Is this... a VR update?" he muttered. He reached out his hand. It was pale, slender, and—judging by the reflection in a nearby frozen puddle—his hair was a shimmering, moonlight white. His eyes, once a standard brown, were now the color of deep sapphire.
He looked like a max-level character creation.
[System Initializing...]
[User identified: Raider.]
[Syncing Soul to Great Desolate Continent...]
A semi-transparent blue screen flickered into existence before him. To anyone else, it would be invisible. To Lin Feng, it was home.
Status Window
Name: Lin Feng (Raider)
Title: None
Level: 0 (trash)
EXP: 0 / 100
Cultivation Base: None
HP: 50 / 50
MP: 10 / 10
Active Skills: [Tactical Overlay - Passive/Active]
Passive Skills: [Pro-Gamer Instincts]
"Level zero," Lin Feng sighed, rubbing his temples. "I went from the #1 ranked player in the world to a 'Noob' in a single server reset. Typical."
Lin Feng's eyes glowed. An intimidating aura radiating from his eyes. He stood up, testing his center of gravity. His body felt light, responsive—almost as if his "input lag" had been reduced to zero.
A low growl vibrated through the trees.
From the shadows of the frost-laden brush, a wolf emerged. It was the size of a small horse, its fur matted with ice crystals. Above its head, a floating red bar appeared:
[Frost-Byte Wolf - Level 3]
HP: 120/120
Status: Aggressive / Hungry
"Level 3 versus Level 0," Lin Feng calculated. "In a standard RPG, that's a death sentence. But this isn't a turn-based game."
He looked around. A broken branch lay near his feet. He picked it up.
[Newbie Club (Common)]
Attack: 1-2
Durability: 5/5
"Pathetic stats," he whispered. "But the hitbox looks decent."
The wolf lunged.
In the eyes of a normal mortal, the beast was a blur of silver death. But to Lin Feng, the [Tactical Overlay] kicked in. A bright red rectangular zone appeared on the snow—the "Attack Telegraph."
He didn't run. He waited.
0.5 seconds. 0.2 seconds.
Now.
Lin Feng pivoted on his left heel. The wolf's claws whistled past his chest, missing him by a fraction of an inch—a Frame-Perfect Dodge. As the wolf flew past, Lin Feng swung the branch with the precise timing of a veteran raider hitting a counter-attack.
[CRITICAL HIT!]
-15 HP
The wolf crashed into a tree, confused. How had this fragile-looking human moved before it even attacked?
"The AI is predictable," Lin Feng said, his sapphire eyes cold and analytical. "You telegraphed that lunge from a mile away. You're just a trash mob."
For the next ten minutes, the Frost-Byte Forest witnessed a dance that defied the laws of physics. Lin Feng never took a single hit. He moved with a terrifying economy of motion, chipping away at the wolf's health with nothing but a broken stick and "game logic."
[Target Slain!]
+45 EXP
[Loot Found: Wolf Pelt (trash), Frost Fang x1]
Lin Feng stood over the dissolving corpse of the beast, his white hair barely ruffled.
[Level Up!]
[Level: 0 -> 1]
[HP Fully Restored]
"Only 99 levels to go," Lin Feng said, looking toward the horizon where the soaring pagodas of the Azure Cloud Sect loomed. "Let's see if this world's 'Immortals' can handle a Pro-Gamer."