Lin Fang stood motionless, his expression carefully neutral as he faced Mr. Zhang, the sales director whose face had turned an alarming shade of crimson. Behind the desk, Zhang's fist crashed down, rattling the items scattered across the surface.

"Lin Fang! How dare you try to flirt with Lian An? Don't you know this is a reputable company?!"

Beside Zhang, Lian An's lips curved into a subtle smirk. Her designer suit clung perfectly, not a hair out of place—the very picture of composure. She was the same Lian An who had cornered him in the copy room just hours ago, her cloying perfume thick in the air as she leaned too close, her whispers filled with suggestions that made his skin crawl.

"You're fired! Get out of my office, and I don't want to see your face again!" Zhang's voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the tense silence.

Lin Fang's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Three years of being the top performer in sales, countless late-nights closing deals—erased in an instant by a spurned advance and a vindictive lie. He could fight back, tell Zhang the truth about Lian An's actions, but what would it change? In a world of power and connections, he'd learned long ago that truth rarely triumphed over influence.

He'd seen it before—the whispers, the pointed fingers, the career-ending rumors that followed anyone daring to challenge the status quo. His mind flickered to that fateful day years ago when he'd been transported to this parallel world. No magical powers, no golden finger. Just a man out of place, clawing for a foothold.

He thought he'd finally found it here, carving out a place for himself in this company. Now, he watched it crumble, undone by someone else's wounded pride.

Straightening his tie—a reflex from countless sales presentations—Lin Fang turned toward the door. His footsteps were measured, deliberate, as they echoed against the marble floor. As he reached the threshold, his eyes briefly met Lian An's. Where she expected defeat, there was only calm. Her smirk faltered.

…

The notification pierced Lin Fang's consciousness like a blade of light cutting through darkness.

[Dao Online will commence global launch in 10 minutes. All registered players, prepare for initialization.]

Lin Fang sat cross-legged on the worn mattress of his cramped apartment, evening light filtering through the grimy windows. He scrolled through the emergency broadcasts on his phone, muttering to himself, "Dangerous, they said. An alien plot to infiltrate humanity." Bold red warnings flashed from world leaders, their attempts to discourage participation only fueling the frenzy.

His gaze fell to the termination notice lying on his desk, its edges worn from idle handling. Fired from his job, Lin Fang had tried finding work in the same industry, but Zhang's connections had effectively blacklisted him.

 Each rejection chipped away at his hope until there was little left.

"What do I have to lose?" he murmured. The rumors of immortality within the game might be nothing but propaganda, but even the smallest chance seemed worth taking.

[1 minute remaining.]

"When grass grows too tall," he recited an old saying from his previous life, "it yearns to touch the sun." A bitter smile crossed his face. Grass—that was all he was now. But tomorrow, maybe, could be different.

[Launch initiated. Commencing neural synchronization.]

The world dissolved into streams of code and light. Lin Fang's consciousness expanded, stretching across dimensions he hadn't known existed. Amid the cascade of sensations, one message burned itself into his mind:

"Welcome to Dao Online. Your cultivation talent is now being activated. Please wait."

He recalled the mysterious ring that had appeared on his desk after passing the qualification test—a simple black band with a stone that seemed to devour light. Reports of the rings had spread across the Green Planet, adding to the game's mystique.

Earlier that day, he had wandered the park, the breeze cool against his face, fallen leaves swirling around his feet. "If this world has more to offer than what I see now," he'd whispered, "then why not embrace it? Why not step into the unknown?"

Now, floating in a void of light and shadow, a spinning yin-yang pattern emerged beneath him, beams of multicolored light wrapping around his body. Despite the spectacle, Lin Fang felt nothing—no heat, no pressure, only the weightless anticipation pounding in his chest.

'What kind of talent do I have?'

Time warped until the voice returned, calm and clear:

"Talent activation complete. Please review your attributes. Wishing you a long life and eternal prosperity on your path of cultivation."

The colors vanished in an instant, and Lin Fang stumbled, finding himself standing in a small wooden hut. Sparse and unadorned, it held a modest table, a single chair, and a thin mattress that barely seemed thicker than a quilt.

After confirming no immediate threats, he took a deep breath and spoke, "Status."

A translucent screen materialized, rows of text and numbers filling his vision. Lin Fang's heart raced as he read:

Name: Lin Fang

Realm: Mortal

Spiritual Root: Chaos (Ancient)

Special Physique: Dao Body

Luck: Maximum Fortune

Cultivation Manuals: Qi-Gathering Art

Skills: None

His eyes widened, jaw slack.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, shaking his head.

His gaze locked on the line: Spiritual Root: Chaos (Ancient).