The World-Destroying Goddess Brings the Child to My Door and Demands Responsibility - Chapter 2

Lu Fengmian spent nearly half a year getting the character models for both quests ready, and then had the system run through the storyline to check for any logical inconsistencies.

Although this trashy system couldn’t help her browse StarNet because it was assisting her in making the game resulting in her having only one hour of internet access per day as a slum resident and minor, getting cut off from the network the moment the time was up it was still quite smooth when used for game development.

Coupled with the fact that the system could also help produce promotional videos, Lu Fengmian forgave it.

Within a month after the game was completed, the system helped put the promotional video and a portion of the game content up onto StarNet.

At first, not many people clicked on it. Later, Lu Fengmian thought of a method: she opened a game review account of her own, went to play some games first, and then reviewed them, analyzing and making suggestions from various angles using her professional perspective.

Combined with the tag of being a slum account, this attracted quite a few people who came out of curiosity, even though most of them initially approached it with a mocking attitude.

Yet in the end, the majority of people were still won over by Lu Fengmian’s professionalism.

On top of that, Lu Fengmian played the pity card, establishing a persona for herself as a slum girl who was dying but refused to submit to fate.

Some people with an excess of empathy felt sympathy for her and even generated a stream of income for Lu Fengmian.

Even in the interstellar era, setting up a persona remained extremely useful; the essence of humanity has always been the same.

No matter how technology and eras develop, the reason humans remain human is naturally because some of the most fundamental things stay identical.

Humans still harbor massive differences from other intelligent life forms.

After promoting it for roughly two months, Lu Fengmian felt the time was差不多 right, so she directly opened the closed beta.

The game’s server was the system; Lu Fengmian didn’t worry at all that it wouldn’t be able to handle so many people flooding into the game server simultaneously. It was just that going straight to an open beta was still a bit too fast no matter what, she had to whet their appetites first, right?

As a developer, Lu Fengmian still understood game players to a certain extent.

For the closed beta the next day, Lu Fengmian had the system randomly select one thousand people and distribute closed beta slots to them.

The slots were distributed at twelve noon, and the servers opened at six in the evening.

As for why the servers opened at six in the evening, it was naturally because Lu Fengmian herself only had time after six!

The pittance earned by those review streamers was simply not enough for her to buy medicine. Although the system could guarantee she wouldn’t die, it couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t feel pain.

If Lu Fengmian wanted to reduce her suffering, she had no choice but to take her medicine regularly.

Moreover, this world was not like her past life, where becoming a streamer made earning money easy.

The moment six o’clock arrived, Quest for the Dao opened its servers on schedule, and the closed beta players entered right on the dot.

Quite a few people even started live streaming. The flow of time inside the game was identical to reality, though there were naturally time-skip techniques as well—for instance, when entering secluded cultivation, it would directly skip that portion of time and display that several hundred years had passed. After all, it was a game; you couldn’t actually expect players to sit in secluded cultivation for a hundred years, which was unrealistic.

Because the art style and settings of Quest for the Dao were entirely different from all existing games across the entire interstellar space, it attracted numerous people to watch the live streams of these closed beta players.

There were humans as well as non-humans.

Lu Fengmian, just like the other closed beta players, opened a live stream and then entered the game right on the dot.

Every player spawned at a starting point upon entering, but at first, they didn’t see any other players.

Lu Fengmian had set up an opening cinematic storyline where players could only see themselves.

The storyline setup of Quest for the Dao shared some similarities with many Xianxia games from her past life, while also featuring plenty of differences.

Since it was meant to showcase the culture of ancient humans, the initial starting point was set within a small mountain village.

Lu Fengmian, just like the other players, logged in and directly stepped into the game.

The game’s script differed from the current interstellar universal script, and even differed from the current human universal script.

However, the moment they loaded into the game, the system would directly transmit the knowledge of the game’s script straight into the players’ minds.

The ancient humans of this world once possessed extremely rich cultures, and naturally possessed numerous scripts as well.

Of course, the system wouldn’t transmit all of this script knowledge to them all at once.

After all, the volume of information was overly abundant; even contemporary humans would find it difficult to absorb it all at once.

“[Friends, this is truly magical. I discovered that the moment I entered this game, I automatically understood the language of the game world.]”

A game streamer named Bo Linghan entered the game while running a live stream, and as soon as she woke up from the starting point, she couldn’t wait to share it with the audience in her live stream room.

Then, attentive viewers noticed that the starting points of many bloggers were not the same place.

This point was also due to Lu Fengmian’s meticulous consideration; the system would scan the players’ lineage to check what kind of ethnicity their ancestors belonged to.

As for how the system knew this, and why its processing capability was so formidable, Lu Fengmian didn’t bother caring anyway, she only needed to complete her own mission.

The first interface upon entering the game was the character customization screen; this was familiar territory, as other games also featured virtual avatar creation before formally entering the game.

Those who managed to obtain closed beta qualifications were seasoned veterans roaming various games, so they weren’t unfamiliar with this.

Aside from a few players who loved crafting elaborate characters, most people chose to officially enter the game as quickly as possible.

From the moment they woke up, all the closed beta players found themselves in a state of continuous shock. The unfamiliar scene construction and completely novel culture all gave them a sense of novelty.

Compared to other players, Lu Fengmian appeared much more composed. Waking up from the starting point, she walked out only to see demons wreaking havoc in the village.

Yet at this moment, the player was merely a sickly youth who could do nothing, and could only watch helplessly as the village was destroyed by demons, watching the villagers die at the hands of demons one after another.

The player rushed into the village and saw a little girl in the village who was about to die under the claws of a demon, and hurriedly ran over to shield her underneath.

It should have been a guaranteed death, but at this moment, a burst of golden light erupted from the player’s body, and the demon instantly turned into wisps of grey smoke upon being illuminated by the golden light.

“[Good grief, what is going on here?]” The people in the live stream room were still not very familiar with this kind of setting; the seemingly weak protagonist would always have all kinds of external assistance.

Following the golden light, a little girl with delicate features and dressed in a white long dress appeared.

The little girl stood before the player, forming hand seals with both hands, and a sacred radiance enveloped the entire village, after which all the demons in the entire village vanished completely.

“[What kind of power is this? Why is it capable of such large-scale yet precise release?]”

After all, intelligent life forms across the entire universe had not yet developed such weapons; there were plenty of large-scale offensive weapons, but there truly were none capable of large-scale release while accurately distinguishing between friend and foe.

The player stood up in confusion, opened their eyes, and looked at the little girl before them: “You… who are you?”

“My name is Qing Shi. During the ancient war, I perished together with the Demon God, thus becoming sealed away in this place. It was your prayers that awakened me.”

The little girl said solemnly to the player.

“Are you a deity?”

“I am.”

“However, I am currently still in a weakened state; clearing away the demons just now has exhausted all my power, and what you see is merely one of my thousands of incarnations.”

Qing Shi’s body grew increasingly transparent, and the player hurriedly asked if there was anything they could do to help her.

Thus, they forged a soul contract with Qing Shi, and from then on Qing Shi would accompany the player throughout their growth along the way.

It could be considered a companion given at the start.

Every player started with this exact storyline; Qing Shi’s setting was that of an ancient deity who perished to protect the human race.

Yet only Lu Fengmian’s own storyline was not like this.

The beginning was identical, but the ending differed; the one who saved her was not the child Qing Shi, but rather the adult Qing Shi.

After finishing the village-saving storyline, Lu Fengmian laid eyes upon the breathtaking beauty standing before her, whose features were stunningly vivid yet exuded a cold and aloof aura all around her.

The character models in Quest for the Dao were all built based on real human appearances, because doing so would provide a stronger sense of immersion.

She stared blankly at the woman before her, dressed in a pink long dress embroidered with exquisite cloud patterns and phoenixes, with a jade pendant hanging from her waist, in the very center of which was a droplet of bright red phoenix heart-blood.

A portion of her white hair cascaded loosely behind her, while another portion was secured by an exquisite phoenix-tree wooden hairpin, dotted with golden hair ornaments.

A pair of beautiful, pale red eyes gazed earnestly at her, exuding an indescribable sense of loneliness and sorrow.

The woman reached out, her fingertips gently rubbing Lu Fengmian’s chin: “Mianmian, long time no see.”

Did Lu Fengmian’s brain completely crash?

Why would an NPC recognize me?

Why isn’t the NPC following the script?

Ten thousand “whys” instantly appeared in her mind.

Yet before she could recover her senses, she was once again baffled by the NPC before her.

Qing Shi bent down, pinched her chin, and pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips

extraordinarily gentle.

The live stream chat exploded, and Lu Fengmian herself exploded as well.