### Chapter 162: Dark Boundless Realm 17
When Kui Xin returned from Su Rong’s house, it was already seven o’clock in the evening.
This was the first day back in her “hometown.” She had spent the day exercising, studying, and tutoring Su Rong, leading a calm life, but that calm might not last much longer.
While going through the forum in the evening, Kui Xin came across some very disturbing news.
Among the tens of thousands of surviving players, there was a mix of all kinds of people—some rational and some irrational, some righteous and some selfish. Certain foreign players had even placed “Crimson Soil” on encrypted websites on the external network and leaked game-related rules.
“There are players from ‘Crimson Soil’ leaking information on Spanish websites and inciting ordinary people to hunt players.”
1st Floor: I’ve posted the link here. As we all know, there’s a rule in “Crimson Soil” that allows ordinary people to inherit a player’s game qualification if they kill that player. This rule has now leaked in a small circle. Although that Spanish forum is niche, its traffic is not negligible. The one who leaked the rules deserves to be punished!
1L: Some people are unfortunate and don’t want others to be unfortunate like them. Some are unfortunate and wish for everyone else to suffer along with them.
Kui Xin copied the URL and used data manipulation to bypass the firewall for the external network.
Her thoughts surged through the data network, where thousands of characters transformed continuously. She found the leaked post—the author roughly described what kind of game “Crimson Soil” was and detailed its entry rules. Suspiciously, he only spoke about the benefits of entering the game while avoiding any mention of the dangers that players faced.
“Once you enter the game, you have a certain chance of awakening extraordinary abilities, and your abilities can be brought back to our world. Imagine, story arcs from superhero movies happening to you! Cool, right? The method to enter the game is simple; it requires a bit of luck. If there’s a game player near you, killing them will grant you game qualifications!”
Kui Xin skimmed through the discussions on the Spanish website. The current number of replies was two to three hundred, with ninety-nine percent of people questioning the authenticity of the post’s content. Many were cursing the poster, claiming he was inciting violence.
Before long, the post was deleted by the website administrator.
Kui Xin traced the IP to find the poster, ultimately discovering that he was a poor individual barely making ends meet through game boosting. She hacked into his computer and checked his past internet history, realizing from his previous comments and online traces that he was a complete failure, someone deeply dissatisfied with real life.
He leaked the rules only to spread malice.
Kui Xin quietly browsed through his information, recording his real-world name and rental address, deciding to list him as a long-term surveillance target.
Not everyone can remain silent on the internet; she could use these traces to lock down players’ identities in the real world—others could too, like He Kangshi, who approached her with a phone filled with viruses and monitoring programs. Some would act as watchers and bystanders, while others would do harm to the identified players. If they took action, Kui Xin could follow the lead and uncover other lurking players.
Kui Xin refreshed the forum and saw a post from early this morning stating: “Posting any content related to ‘Crimson Soil’ on the internet or various social media will lead to immediate locking and removal! Be careful, this applies to any! Keywords and abbreviations found will also be removed!”
The poster continued: “Please don’t easily try to post related content, as it may lead to your IP address being locked. I am a hacker with decent skills, so I did this test! If you aren’t sure you can evade IP tracking, do not post related content. Your identity will be exposed!”
A deep thought crossed Kui Xin’s mind, feeling like this was all too predictable.
Underneath this post, someone replied: “Of course… this was bound to happen. The influence of ‘Crimson Soil’ is growing, and early control is essential to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control.”
“This is to avoid expanding influence, as well as to protect ordinary people and players who unwittingly enter the game. I believe that for stability and peace in the world, the existence of the game should be known by as few people as possible, minimizing the impact and keeping the situation under control.”
“Yes, this is good; it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I was worried about information leaks; this is a relief.”
“Perhaps while we remain unaware, those involved are already looking for ways to investigate the game’s secrets… but these people are usually beyond our reach.”
Kui Xin refreshed the homepage of the forum, noticing many foreign players posting tips on stockpiling food and weapons, which types of guns were effective, how much ammunition to prepare, and some even teaching others how to make small bullet processing machines and how to build shelters—all creating the appearance of an impending apocalypse.
She recalled that a few years ago, during the popularity of zombie and nuclear apocalypse films, some people firmly believed these disasters would eventually occur, hoarding enough canned food and bottled water to last for decades in their basements.
This situation wasn’t limited to the player forum; even when casually browsing some survival and military forums, she found many similar posts.
These “guides” seemed normal, but she also spotted some illegal cultists taking advantage of the chaos, saying that the phantoms in the sky were the Lord’s kingdom, that being devoted would lead to being welcomed by angels in the kingdom after death…
Kui Xin sighed: Your Lord is really in vogue; the kingdom is actually cyberpunk-themed.
Compared to the chaotic external network, the situation domestically was much better.
Kui Xin turned on the TV, where a science program had invited meteorologists and optics experts. The meteorologist confidently stated, in response to the host’s questions, that the phantoms in the sky were a miracle of nature and had nothing to do with the supernatural. He presented various persuasive research data and pictures, leading the audience to applaud, looking convinced… After watching the program, Kui Xin could only think: Those two experts are really eloquent and knowledgeable. If she wasn’t an experienced player of “Crimson Soil,” she might have believed it…
At the end of the program, the host smilingly summarized: “Dear viewers, we must trust science and view the world around us with a scientific perspective…”
Kui Xin sighed, “…sigh.”
She could only smile bitterly.
Most things in this world can be explained by science, but “Crimson Soil” cannot; the statements in the program are meant to placate ordinary people.
A small number of foreign programs reported on the urban phantom incidents, and all their statements were nearly identical—this is a natural phenomenon related to magnetic fields, optical refraction, and solar movement, and it has nothing to do with those eerie things.
The situation was still brewing, the impact range limited, and the situation had not slipped out of control.
Kui Xin silently prayed—hoping her world would remain ordinary.
Gods, extraordinary abilities, and xenomorphs should all stay far away.
She changed the channel with the remote, where a local news bulletin reported that several wild boars were roaming in the city, warning citizens to avoid them and not to provoke them, and to call the police for assistance.
“Wild boars?” Kui Xin murmured.
In recent years, there had indeed been many wild boars roaming in the mountains and cities because their natural predators had decreased, leading to a massive reproduction. Each year, they would ruin a significant amount of crops and even break into villagers’ homes, killing guard dogs and stealing chickens and ducks.
These creatures are omnivorous, with long tusks and many injury records.
As Kui Xin was about to change the channel, a game interface suddenly popped up after a long time.
“Regional task triggered.”
She almost dropped her remote in surprise.
“Fine…” Kui Xin’s gaze darkened. “If there’s a first time, there will be a second… that’s reasonable.”
The phrase “that’s reasonable” was forced out from her teeth.
The existence of regional tasks was itself unreasonable; the game rationalized the irrational and brought the nonexistent into the real world, forcing Kui Xin to accept this increasingly unfamiliar “hometown.”
Kui Xin lowered her eyelids and read the regional task that had been issued.
“[Task Description]: Your hometown, Tonglin City, has become one of the starting points of the aberration…”
Kui Xin’s heart skipped a beat upon reading the first sentence of the task description.
The last time she received a task regarding the investigation of a cult murder case, the task description was not as explicit; it only stated, “An unknown anomaly has appeared in your hometown, in an area you are familiar with…” However, this second regional task had a clear location pointed out—Tonglin City!
If others received the regional task prompt, would that content also display “Tonglin City”?
Kui Xin suppressed the shock in her heart and continued reading.
“…the distorted shadows have not receded, and the footsteps of danger are approaching. Power from another world has seeped into yours, resolving one trouble but leaving endless troubles for you to solve. You killed the cultist Fang Zhi, but the mysteries surrounding Fang Zhi remain unsolved. At this time, your city is experiencing wild boar attacks, but is the situation really that simple? Perhaps this will be an opportunity for investigation.”
“Accept or refuse? This is not just your matter; it concerns the futures of many people and this world. You may fail, and the cost of failure is something you cannot bear. You may succeed, even though the hope is slim, but the probability is not zero.”
“[Task Content]: Arrival of the Dark Realm.”
Arrival of the Dark Realm? What do these vague four words mean? Arrival? What is arriving?
Before Kui Xin could fully think it over, she received a message from He Kangshi.
He Kangshi frantically sent messages: “Boss! Why is the regional task appearing in Tonglin City!!”
Just two seconds later, Su Rong also sent a message: “Sister Xin Xin, it’s bad! Did you see the regional task? You must have seen it! Why is this happening? Wild boar attacks happen every year, but why is it different this year!?”
Then, Yuan Lu, Xie Gankqing, and Yu Qiwen also sent messages.
Yuan Lu said: “Did you receive the prompt? Check the forum; the regional task is no longer limited to Jingchu. It seems to be on a national level…”
