Behind the stage, in the players' lounge.
Smiles' real name was Zhao Mingwei. He had been the captain of the Sovereign team for a full seven years. As old members of Sovereign left one after another, only the ID "Smiles" had stayed on the team continuously throughout those seven years.
Now most of Zhao Mingwei's former teammates had retired. For the past year, he had been leading a group of new players to compete in the professional arena.
Zhao Mingwei was the last to return to the players' lounge. Before he even pushed open the door, he heard hysterical shouting from inside.
"Why did you bench me for the third match? Putting that old guy in just means we'll get crushed!"
"Feng Yi! Whiteblade's frontline attacker is too strong this year. Your aggressive style just gives them openings!"
"Then why not let Laughing God play a casual game? He's won two world championships already! He surely isn't aiming for a third…"
The voices stopped the moment Zhao Mingwei pushed the door open and entered. All eyes turned to him.
Zhao Mingwei pushed up his black-framed glasses and looked toward Feng Yi, the starting attacker for Sovereign. Feng Yi was a young player with great potential but a very strong personality.
His eyes were already red-rimmed; it was obvious he was very upset about the loss.
"Little Feng, wins and losses are common. You'll have plenty of chances in the future," Zhao Mingwei said gently, stepping forward to pat Feng Yi's shoulder—but Feng Yi immediately pushed him away.
"You've won two championships, so it doesn't matter to you! This is my first World Championship! You don't understand…"
"Feng Yi!"
The coach cut off Feng Yi's words again. Feng Yi sat back down in his chair, covering his face and crying bitterly.
The defeat made the atmosphere in the Sovereign team very heavy. Eventually, the coach gathered everyone and they boarded the bus back to the hotel.
Zhao Mingwei sat in the back row of the bus, next to his old friend and one of the few remaining veterans, Lin Xi.
"Laughing God, you tired?" Lin Xi asked softly, noticing Zhao's serious expression. "Reaching the semifinals isn't bad."
"It's not about the result," Zhao Mingwei said, turning to meet Lin Xi's eyes. "Lin Xi, I want to ask you something."
"Laughing God! I didn't make a single mistake in these four matches! Well, maybe once!" Lin Xi raised his hand quickly in surrender. Although they were close, Zhao Mingwei was still the captain.
"You made at least seven mistakes. But that's not what I want to ask..." Zhao Mingwei paused, then slowly said:
"When was the last time you really laughed playing this game?"
"..."
Lin Xi was stunned for a moment, then forced a faint smile.
"Laughing God, we're professionals. This game is our job. We play to win."
"It wasn't always like this." Zhao Mingwei lay back in his seat wearily and closed his eyes.
Lin Xi didn't dare to continue. He was afraid if they kept talking, it would lead to the topic of retirement.
Though Zhao Mingwei's skills had declined, his popularity remained at the peak among all pro players. As long as he was on the Sovereign team—even just as a mascot—the team's commercial value soared.
Zhao Mingwei returned to his hotel room and lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.
Years of rigorous training had left him exhausted. For the first four years, chasing championships gave him enough motivation, but this year, he truly no longer wanted to play Conflict.
However, the contract Zhao Mingwei signed with Sovereign was like a slave contract—he had to serve two more years before he could retire.
He took out his phone and happened to see a message in a WeChat group from an old teammate:
"Is there any game more fun than Conflict in the world?"
Zhao Mingwei forced a smile upon seeing it, knowing it was not a question but a joke.
Without much interest, he lazily scrolled through the chat, then noticed a strange new icon on his phone. It was an inverted triangle with only two simple characters below:
"Holy Zero" (圣零).
He didn't remember downloading this weird mobile game.
He tried to drag the app icon to the trash to delete it, but after five or six attempts, it wouldn't budge—it was as if it were nailed to his home screen.
"Is my phone broken?" Zhao Mingwei checked carefully. It wasn't the phone; the app was the problem. He even ran antivirus software.
But the scan found nothing.
"Is there such a powerful virus nowadays?"
Out of curiosity, Zhao Mingwei tapped the app open. Its content was simple: a short explanation and a single button labeled "Login."
He skimmed the instructions: it was an app to enter a virtual game world. Pressing login would immediately transport the user into the game world.
Any normal person would call this a scam—logging into a VR game directly from a phone was still science fiction.
With a "why not" attitude, Zhao Mingwei clicked the login button.
In the next moment, his vision changed dramatically. When he regained consciousness, he found himself standing in a pure white world.
A translucent data frame floated before him.
As a veteran player, everything looked very familiar: character appearance customization, job selection, character naming, etc.—just fewer options than Conflict, for example no race choice.
Currently, the game only allowed choosing humans to start.
Zhao Mingwei spent about an hour sculpting a decent face. Without hesitation, he picked the Fighter profession.
For the name, he first typed "Smiles" (嬉笑), but hesitated and deleted it. Instead, he input the words "Happy Game" (快乐游戏).
"Character creation complete."
An emotionless voice sounded in his ear. The bright white light quickly faded.
When Zhao Mingwei opened his eyes again, he was on a bustling street in a magnificent capital city.
He glanced at his hands: he wore pure white half-finger gloves, and his clothes had changed from modern wear to a fighter's training outfit.
"Newcomer?!"
Before Zhao Mingwei could get used to the system, a friendly greeting came from nearby.
He looked up to see a mage-looking player running toward him.
This player's ID was "No Update Today" (今天不更新).
(End of Chapter)