Of course, this was just an excuse to brush off Ling Mo.
In the game’s early stages, individual strength mattered little. Clearing dungeons mostly relied on external gear and weapons. And Xia Xinyan had spent quite some time in safe-zone dungeons before—being a gun enthusiast in a near-limitless real-firearms environment? Her skill level wasn’t hard to guess.
But this body of hers…
She’d asked the system: this body’s stats were copied straight from Ling Mo’s current state. So although she looked slender, her baseline matched his exactly.
Still, compared to her peak strength in her past life, this body fell far short.
Yet if they actually fought now? She could probably spin him like a top.
Only for now, though. Once Ling Mo grew stronger, she might not stand a chance.
That’s why she cherished this moment.
Gotta train him well while I still can.jpg
Speaking of which…
What would *her* Awakening be this time?
As Xia Xinyan readjusted her grip on the pistol, her thoughts drifted.
The greatest gift *Realm of Divine Descent* gave players was the Awakening—a lifelong power, humanity’s backbone against the Calamity.
Triggered after clearing the first warzone dungeon, each player received only one ability. Effects varied wildly in strength, sparking complaints about unfair starting lines. Some powerful Awakenings felt like beginning at the finish line.
Only after the Calamity invaded reality did people realize: perhaps the Awakening wasn’t granted by the game. It was dormant potential within humanity—*Realm of Divine Descent* merely awakened it.
All Awakenings held growth potential, but the game offered no guidance. Players had to unlock it themselves. As the saying went: no useless Awakenings, only players who failed to wield them.
Still, innate differences showed—even with equal effort.
The gap *could* be bridged: divine artifacts, rare items. But acquiring them demanded wealth or strength.
Hence, the early game—when everyone was weak—was the perfect window for ordinary players to catch up. Otherwise, weaker Awakenings trapped players in a vicious cycle:
Weak power? Can’t compete for resources. Minimal loot, barely any game points.
Solution? Get strength-boosting gear.
How? Buy it.
Not enough points? Can’t afford it.
Then steal.
Can’t beat the strong?
Then get strength-boosting gear!
…
Too many missed this early truth. The gap only widened later.
Xia Xinyan didn’t care. Warning the world? Pointless. Even if believed (most would call her crazy), it’d only spark panic.
Surviving—or fighting back—the Calamity demanded overwhelming strength. That meant dying dozens, hundreds of times in warzones. 70% pain reduction still felt terrifyingly real. True torment. Few had that resolve.
Even the strong weren’t guaranteed survival.
Might as well die cleanly when the time came.
And forget players farming warzones just for cash. Slackerville. Same base rewards for clearing—being carried while slacking off was rampant last life. But *choosing* danger to grow? Worlds apart.
Yet humanity’s final counterattack last time hadn’t been weak. If Xia Xinyan had been slightly luckier, she wouldn’t be here.
So this life? Focus on herself.
The system still hadn’t revealed her Awakening. If innate ability lagged, she’d need to work harder than ever to keep pace with Ling Mo’s future.
As for *this* guy…
Watching Ling Mo handle the pistol with surprising competence, Xia Xinyan felt a flicker of irritation.
Being surpassed by her *former self*? The jealousy cut deeper than losing to someone she disliked.
Idiot.
Idiot. Idiot.
She muttered inwardly to vent.
Then, smiling, she set down her gun, circled behind him, and wrapped her arms around his chest. “Your grip’s off. Let me fix it—”
Ling Mo froze.
Even in-game, the soft warmth against his back felt hauntingly real—he’d felt it recently. Yet despite prior hugs, this closeness still left him defenseless.
Xia Xinyan felt his tension and chuckled. “I won’t eat you. Why so tense?”
First time? Understandable. She *knew* her past self was an innocent virgin. But after multiple hugs? Still this flustered?
A grown man, acting all shy like a girl.
She mused: swap their bodies now, and the scene would feel perfectly natural.
“I… ahem. First time with a gun. Just… excited,” Ling Mo stammered.
“No worries. You’ll adjust,” Xia Xinyan said, correcting his stance before stepping back. “This game? Plenty of gunplay ahead. All kinds of firearms—modern, futuristic, things only dreamed of. Enough to satisfy anyone. Now stand up. Fire two shots. Find your rhythm.”
Her words were innocent. The game *did* feature weapons beyond current tech—imaginary arms made real.
But Ling Mo’s mind wandered.
*All kinds of guns…*
A blush crept across his face.
*Is she… hinting at something?*
He kept his expression neutral, stood, aimed at the same fruit on the branch, and pulled the trigger.
Bang—!
The fruit shattered into dust.
Xia Xinyan raised an eyebrow. “Wow~ Sharp aim!”
Book knowledge vs. real recoil? Huge gap. Hitting a small target first try? Better than her own debut.
No wonder—he *was* her.
Ling Mo lowered the pistol, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks…”
(He’d actually aimed at a *different* fruit.)
But honestly…
Firing a gun?
*Damn.* Thrilling.
