As Wang Xian had expected, the day after he vanished, men in suits arrived in his village.
They were calm, polite—even respectful.
They asked no threatening questions, made no demands. And when Wang Xian's father handed over the letter he'd left behind, they simply read it… and left.
No one dared touch his parents.
Far away, in a secured military compound, inside a conference room lit by cold overhead panels, the same letter sat projected on a screen.
Over a dozen high-ranking officials—generals, ministers, agency heads—sat in a semicircle. Most had stern faces worn from decades of power, yet a few showed faint amusement.
Some smirked.
Some seethed.
Some simply stared.
"Well," said the oldest man in the room, seated at the head of the table. "Let's talk about this… interesting young man."
"I haven't been threatened like that in forty years," someone chuckled. "I almost admire him."
"You think he'd be so bold if we dragged him in right now?"
"Enough." The old man silenced the room with a cough. "Back to the matter at hand."
"We've confirmed what we already knew," he continued. "Bluestar's digitalization is irreversible. Whether it's caused by some external force or system glitch, we can't stop it—and we certainly can't reverse it."
"But we can prepare for it," another added.
"And profit from it," someone said, cracking a grin. "No complaints here—this 'game world' made me feel twenty again."
"You should've seen me yesterday. I sparred with my entire bodyguard unit. Haven't moved like that since the academy."
Chuckles rippled across the room.
"But we're not here to discuss rejuvenation," the old man said. "We've seen the post from the one calling himself Prophet. And... so far, everything he wrote has been confirmed."
"Which brings us to hidden occupations."
One man leaned forward. "The Prophet placed serious emphasis on them. And after what we've experienced, I believe it. Hidden classes might be the key to early power—and long-term dominance."
Another official nodded. "Same with levels. I had livestock killed to test the mechanic. Each level-up grants clear enhancements—faster reflexes, sharper senses, and the free attribute points can compound that rapidly."
"But what if this 'Prophet' and the world-announced 'Xian Wang' are the same person?" someone asked, tone cautious.
Another replied: "It fits. The timing, the tone of the forum posts, the letter. According to the letter, Wang Xian began having dreams of the digital world a year ago. That's when he quit his job and returned home to start a... farm."
"You actually believe the dream story?"
"I don't have the luxury not to."
The projection changed. The image of a dense, distorted forest filled the screen. It flickered slightly—unstable.
"This is Jecheng Wetland Park. Originally a greening project, now transformed. It's been overrun by monsters. We've designated them as wild mobs."
"Level range?"
"Lowest confirmed is 5. Highest is 9. Possibly higher."
"And Wang Xian?"
"He's in there. We confirmed it. But…"
The old man's voice lowered.
"We can't get to him."
"What?"
"The park has spatial distortion. It's far larger on the inside than the outside. Drones get shot down by flying mobs. We haven't sent helicopters—too risky. Our personnel are all still level 0. We'd be slaughtered before we could even see him."
"Then that little bastard planned this perfectly," someone muttered.
"He even turned off his communication interface—he's rejecting every call, even from his parents."
The room fell silent.
Eventually, the old man said, "Let him go. For now."
Inside the forest, Wang Xian collapsed beside a freshly fallen goblin, breathing hard.
Two days. Dozens of monsters.
Level 6 ➝ Level 8.
Not fast enough.
Still not safe.
He glanced down at the mace in his hand—crude, ugly, and stained with green blood.
[Mace] (White – Common)Weapon: One-Handed Blunt
+14 Physical Attack
Level Requirement: 7
Garbage weapon... but better than nothing.
He pulled some dried rations from his pack and munched slowly, sweat drying on his face. As he chewed, he opened the forum for the first time in days.
It had transformed.
Where once there were only a few speculative threads, now the forum was alive—dozens of new posts every minute.
Recruitment threads. Monster locations. Black market rumors. Secret drops. Guild propaganda. Someone was even trying to sell "Virtual Real Estate."
Wang Xian ignored most of it and went to the top posts.
His own thread had changed drastically.
The toxic replies were gone—buried beneath layers of thanks, analysis, and screenshots. Public opinion had shifted.
The Prophet was no longer a lunatic.
He was a guide.
Told you.
Then, a new post caught his eye.
"I've changed jobs! And not just any job—I got a hidden class! I am the protagonist! I am the chosen one!"
Wang Xian narrowed his eyes and tapped it open.
The post was garish, written in all caps, full of dramatic emojis and exclamation marks. But sure enough—the guy had changed classes.
To Keyboard Man.
Wang Xian went silent.
...Of course.
Keyboard Man. A notorious hidden class in the Dragon Kingdom—infamous for its ridiculous combat animations and social stigma. The player fought using an RGB-lit keyboard and typing combos in real-time. It looked absurd. It was absurd.
And its most popular skill?
"Keyboard Slam": Knocks enemy back with a flurry of typed insults.
Wang Xian scrolled down past the player's flamboyant boasting and left a single reply.
"Please slay him."