Chu Guang, male, nominally twenty-six years old. His parents divorced when he was young, and he grew up with his grandfather.
In his sophomore year of college, his grandfather passed away, leaving him entirely alone in the world.
Fortunately, having grown up in an era of peace, he managed to work his way through college. After graduating, he landed a sales job. Thanks to his standout performance and his boss's appreciation, he was promoted from a rookie to a supervisor in no time.
He had powered through his hardest days, and just when Chu Guang optimistically thought he could finally enjoy some comfortable living, fate refused to play by the rules.
And this time, fate had played a rather huge joke on him.
Roughly five months ago.
Chu Guang still remembered negotiating a twenty-million-yuan contract with a client. His boss was in high spirits, and drinks flowed freely at the dinner table. Before he knew it, he had passed out.
When he came to, he was lying out in the middle of nowhere.
And not just any wilderness, either.
After trudging two li straight without spotting a single soul, he nearly got chewed to bits by a huge two-headed hound.
But thanks to that two-headed beast, Chu Guang broke into a cold sweat that sobered him up instantly, and he turned tail and ran for his life.
Perhaps because two heads were too heavy and threw off its stride, the dog chased him for a bit without catching up, then gave up with a couple of frustrated yelps.
Once the beast was out of sight, Chu Guang didn't dare turn back, nor did he know which way to go.
Only then did he realize that his wallet and phone were gone, and his clothes had been replaced with some ragged blue coat picked up from who-knew-where.
Finding a small puddle, he peered down under the moonlight—good grief, not only had his outfit been swapped, but his head had been swapped too!
He had no idea what lunatic had drugged him, given him a brand-new face, and dumped him in this godforsaken middle-of-nowhere.
As Chu Guang wandered aimlessly across the wasteland in a panic, a wisp of smoke rising in the distance caught his eye.
Looking back now, Chu Guang still felt a lingering chill.
At the time, his only thought was to call the police, so he recklessly sprinted toward that sign of life. Thinking back, it was pure luck that he stumbled upon a legitimate survivor settlement.
If it had been bloodthirsty marauders, cannibals, or mutant tribes, he would probably be simmering in a pot by now.
Even his leather shoes would be thoroughly cooked!
Only after interacting with the survivors here did Chu Guang piece together from fragments of clues that this was no longer China—it wasn't even the Earth he knew!
In this parallel world, a war two centuries ago had obliterated all achievements of civilization, leaving behind only a devastated wasteland and survivors eking out a meager existence upon it.
And now, the year was 2340.
The 211th year since human civilization entered the Wasteland Era at the start of 2129!
Dumbfounded.
Shocked.
Gripped by indescribable terror.
Fortunately, Chu Guang was reasonably adaptable. After weathering those initial days, he gradually grew accustomed to life here.
Struggling to survive five grueling months on the wasteland, living meal to meal while constantly matching wits with mutated creatures and ill-intentioned marauders.
Just when Chu Guang pessimistically believed his life was doomed to stay like this, everything took a turn a few hours ago.
Amidst the ruins of an abandoned sanatorium, he discovered the entrance to Shelter 404.
More accurately, Chu Guang hadn't found it; the facility known as "Shelter 404" had found him.
A voice echoing in his mind had guided him here.
And as Chu Guang drew close to the sanatorium, he suddenly realized that this was the very spot where he had first awakened in this world!
If he hadn't panicked and bolted in random directions back then, or if the light had been slightly better, he might have found it right away!
Regardless, his five-months-overdue cheat had finally arrived.
At the same time, a brand-new job landed before him.
The shelter seemed tailor-made for him, having waited a long time.
The moment he stepped through the shelter's blast doors, his identity shifted from a scavenger to the sole resident and manager of Shelter 404.
And his job consisted of only one task.
To use the parallel Earth's internet to guide—or rather, hoodwink—creatures known as "players" into coming to this world and working for him.
Yes, the shelter's black tech could not only connect to the internet of parallel Earth, but it even possessed its own "official website"!
Players who pre-registered for the game automatically received an ID number and were registered under the manager system's [Shelter Resident Directory].
As the manager, Chu Guang could select specific IDs to grant "game access."
Through some special method, the system would deliver the gaming helmet into the player's hands. The player only needed to put on the helmet to interface with an incubation pod inside the shelter and awaken in a clone body.
Wonderfully user-friendly.
Incredibly convenient!
Although slacking off carried no penalty, the rewards for completing missions were simply too good for Chu Guang to refuse.
Such as that bulletproof vest.
Having struggled through five months on the wasteland, he understood all too well how vital lifesavers like that were.
Besides that, the reward points were great stuff, redeemable under the [Manager Allowance] tab for prizes called "blind boxes."
A basic blind box cost 1 reward point, an intermediate blind box cost 10, and an advanced blind box cost 100.
According to the Shelter 404 Manager System's explanation of the [Manager Allowance] function, the items and quantities drawn from a blind box varied, but there would always be something—meaning there was no such thing as an empty "Thank you for playing."
Different tiers of blind boxes guaranteed different baseline rewards.
For instance, a basic blind box would yield food supplies at the very least, an intermediate box guaranteed medicine, and an advanced box yielded weapons.
As for whether a basic blind box could pull prizes from an intermediate box, the system didn't specify, but even if possible, the probability was likely abysmal.
Just as Chu Guang was pondering whether to spend all 5 of his points on basic blind boxes or save up 100 points to pull a weapon, the "wastebasket" squatting in the corner spoke up again.
"Master, a new mission has been updated in your Manager Log. Please check it promptly."
"Got it," Chu Guang replied impatiently.
Damn it.
Who's the master of who here?!
Rolling his eyes at the corner, Chu Guang set the blind boxes aside for the moment and silently invoked the manager system.
Soon, a pale blue holographic screen was projected onto his retinas.
—Manager Log—
[Mission: Shelter 404 activation conditions met. First batch of "containments" approved for delivery. Requirement: Ensure at least one player logs into the game.
Type: Main Quest.
Reward: Active substance extractor.]
[Mission: Prepare a generator with a power output greater than 10 kW.
Type: Side Quest.
Reward: Reward points +100.]
Holy crap?
100 reward points?!
His eyes went wide as he finished reading the updated missions in the Manager Log.
But what caught his attention even more was the main quest reward.
"Active substance extractor… what does this thing actually do?"
Xiao Qi replied, "Active substance is the raw material for creating clones. As for how to use it, there should be an instruction manual or something, right?"
As an AI assistant, Xiao Qi actually didn't know much either.
Currently, Chu Guang's clearance only allowed access to B1 of the shelter. Clearance for other floors required unlocking through main quests.
Incidentally, if the shelter's wall structures were forcibly damaged in an attempt to breach other floors illegally, it would cause the shelter's power and air exchange systems to shut down.
The Shelter System loaded into his brain had already informed him of this when he first entered.
Even without that warning, Chu Guang doubted he'd do something as stupid as tearing up his own home.
What a joke.
If he trashed this place, where would he live?
Besides, an installation that "culminated pre-war technology and was engineered to withstand strategic nuclear strikes" wouldn't be easy to breach anyway.
Never mind a nuke; he didn't even have a gun.
"Fine, I get the gist."
In other words, active substance was like "revive tokens"—a consumable resource required to synthesize clone bodies for players.
Currently, 100 incubation pods were housed on B1, all in an activatable state. Presumably, each had 1 unit of active substance pre-loaded to cover the initial synthesis cost.
Under the system's "one machine, one account" rule, Chu Guang could summon at most 100 "players" to descend upon this world in the form of clones.
Of course, Chu Guang knew deep down that matters weren't as simple as they appeared.
First, Wasteland OL's official website currently had no web traffic.
Most people's immediate reaction upon hearing a pitch like "a one-hundred-percent realistic, fully immersive virtual reality game" would be that it was a scam, or else an outright scam.
After all, no such technology existed in reality; not even clickbait content creators could spin such ridiculous nonsense.
Second, even though eleven players had been cajoled into clicking pre-registration, he couldn't be sure any of them would listen to him.
The initiative to log in or log out rested entirely with the players.
His authority was limited to "forcefully kicking," "banning login access," or "revoking game access" for troublemakers; he had no power to force them to put on helmets and log on to do labor for him.
Therefore, the candidates chosen for game access—especially the first wave of "closed beta" players—had to be selected with great care.
Better fewer than chaos.
Otherwise, he'd just be asking for trouble!
Furthermore, and most crucially:
Conditions on the wasteland dictated that more people wasn't necessarily better right now.
One more person meant one more mouth to feed.
He was dirt poor right now, barely able to feed himself, let alone a hundred extra mouths.
Even if he had the means to activate all one hundred incubation pods right now, it would amount to nothing more than serving free rations to mutants and marauders.
Beyond that, it would achieve nothing.
Chu Guang walked back to the computer and sat down again.
Staring calmly at the screen for a long while, his thoughts gradually cleared.
Logging back into his QQ account, Chu Guang opened the gaming group chat called "Ox and Horse Club" and pulled the group owner and three admins into a private group chat.
Then, he typed into the chat:
[Send me the IDs generated on the official site when you pre-registered.]
[There are only four closed beta slots. Don't let the goodies go to strangers—I'll apply with the company to see if I can get the closed beta access and gaming helmets sent straight to you guys.]
They were all regular squadmates who played PUBG together, so looking out for them didn't feel out of place.
Most importantly, Chu Guang couldn't think of any real-life acquaintances he could turn to. The only ones he could rely on were these online friends whom he had never met in person, yet shared some camaraderie with.
Relatives?
After his grandfather passed away, they hadn't kept in touch for years. If the police hadn't notified them, they might not even know he was gone.
Landlord?
Probably scouring the earth trying to track him down for rent.
Classmates?
Hadn't been in contact since graduation.
Coworkers?
Haha.
Probably thinking he was bad luck, Chu Guang found they had already deleted him.
Besides, even if they hadn't, Chu Guang couldn't possibly message them. After all, he had dropped dead at the dinner table.
A dead man messaging the living was plenty creepy just thinking about it.
By comparison, these goofball netizens were undeniably the best choice.
They didn't know him in real life, so even if he hadn't logged on for five months, they wouldn't overthink things.
Fleeting White Horse: [Big boss is awesome!]
Gale Force 8: [Sick, absolutely sick!]
Ample Time Ahead: [666!]
Up Ten Times a Night: [Solid! You're unstoppable, bro! Awaiting your gaming helmet! (funny)]
Chu Guang continued typing instructions:
[Just one thing I need to make clear: the hardware is strictly on loan to you. Don't lose it, and definitely don't take it apart, or I won't be able to explain it to the company.]
[Also, the device binds to the user's personal ID info. In principle, one device can only register one account and can only be used by one person.]
Though he phrased it as a warning, he wasn't really worried about players disobeying.
According to the system, the helmet verified the player's personal ID info; anyone other than the registered player couldn't use it at all.
As for the hardware... he wasn't worried about that either.
Since the system could deliver helmets to players, it surely had ways to handle "after-sales service." It wasn't his problem.
Ample Time Ahead: [Does it cost anything?]
Chu Guang: [No fees whatsoever during the closed beta. But since funds are tight, there's no pay either.]
Ample Time Ahead: [6666. Sent you my ID in a private message. Ship one my way.]
Fleeting White Horse: [Awesome, awesome. Hahaha, count me in too! If this is really the fully immersive virtual reality you claim, I'll livestream myself taking a dump while doing a handstand!]
Gale Force 8: [Haha, I'll support it too.]
Up Ten Times a Night: [(funny.jpg)]
Even though the four guys clearly didn't believe a word he said, much less that such a fully immersive VR game existed in the world, they still sent over their IDs in the spirit of humoring his gag.
It was just an ID generated by an official website. Not like it was a bank card number or password.
Besides, they were genuinely curious about what kind of game he was playing...
After receiving the IDs, Chu Guang didn't hesitate. He immediately brought up the manager system, located the [Shelter Resident Directory], and checked "Grant Game Access" next to the four IDs.
It took three days for the incubation pods to synthesize clone bodies.
During these three days, the system would use special methods to deliver the gaming helmets into the players' hands... without even requiring a shipping address.
As for the exact methods, whether it would attract attention in modern society, or whether it constituted illegal business operations—troublesome questions like those—Chu Guang couldn't care less.
If anything, he hoped more people would notice their website; causing a sensation would be ideal. That way, he'd have far more options to choose from.
"Master, haven't eleven players already pre-registered on our official website? Why did you only grant four slots?"
Perhaps having noticed the incubation pods being activated in the adjacent room, Xiao Qi squatted in the corner and voiced its confusion.
"Because we don't need that many for now."
Closing the [Shelter Resident Directory], Chu Guang then opened the [Manager Allowance] tab in the system and dumped all five reward points into "basic blind boxes."
Saving up for an advanced blind box was pointless.
Mission 2's reward was a whopping 100 points, so he wouldn't miss these 5 points anyway.
Phosphorescence flickered across the pale blue holographic screen. One of the room's walls vibrated softly once again, and with a faint click, the alloy door of the "dispenser chute" slid open.
Staring at the items lying on the platform, Chu Guang was momentarily stunned.
"These... are the blind boxes?"
Xiao Qi replied, "Presumably so."
Collecting himself, Chu Guang said, "I thought the prizes would at least be packed in boxes."
Xiao Qi tried to offer an explanation. "Perhaps 'blind box' is merely a concept?"
But what was the point of a blind box you didn't even unbox? Why not just call it a lottery draw?
Staring at the rewards in front of the conveyor belt, Chu Guang fell silent for a moment.
"I get the idea."
"But I clearly redeemed five... why did only four come up???"
Chapter 2