365: Chapter 365 I'm back!

After hearing this, a touch of anticipation appeared in both Elder Zhang's and Yang Tongan's eyes.

However, neither of them pressed for more details.

They knew clearly that the virtual gaming aspect would open up sooner or later, but not right now.

In reality, there were still too many matters awaiting their attention.

Policies, regulation, taxation, employment transition, industrial pilot programs...

The gates to the second world had already been opened, and the next step was to establish and officially release a comprehensive set of real-world rules to ensure its stable operation.

It concerned the way countless people worked, the new industries of the future, and what this new world would ultimately become.

Elder Zhang withdrew his gaze and said in a low voice, "Let's stop here for today."

Yang Tongan nodded as well. "If we keep watching, I'm afraid I really won't want to leave."

At these words, Elder Zhang couldn't help but chuckle. The laugh was light.

But once the laughter faded, he looked down at the massive futuristic city beneath his feet, and the hint of relaxation in his eyes quickly vanished.

His fingers rested on the railing, his fingertips gently stroking the smooth, warm surface.

Everything here was too real. So real that for a moment, he even forgot that his body was actually lying in the experience zone at Xishan Base.

"If government coordination, remote meetings, and scientific research simulations could all be moved here in the future…" He stopped midway through his sentence.

There was no need to spell out the rest. Lin Yuan understood naturally.

In reality, many communications that required crossing city, departmental, or system boundaries could, in the second world, be accomplished with just a thought, a conference room, or a real-time simulation sand table.

For a cross-departmental proposal, in reality, one had to wait for conference rooms, travel schedules, and approval processes. But here, all relevant personnel could enter the same virtual conference room in the very same second.

Data could be displayed on the spot. Models could be simulated in real time. The consequences of different plans could even be run through a simulation directly on the sand table.

The boost in efficiency wasn't just a matter of being slightly faster. It was a complete shift in how things operated.

Lin Yuan nodded slightly. "That day will come."

His tone was calm, yet steady. Elder Zhang nodded in agreement.

"You are responsible for pushing the technology forward; the country will handle the rest of the complications."

Lin Yuan smiled, skipping the pleasantries. "Then I'll leave that to you two."

The next second, both elders chose to log out simultaneously. Their figures faded on the viewing platform and soon vanished.

Lin Yuan stood alone at the summit, taking one last look at the city awakening below.

In the distance, light rails wove through the buildings, and aircraft drifted slowly across the city sky. All of this was just the beginning.

…Meanwhile, the internet in the real world had already erupted into chaos.

Everyone was waiting. Waiting for the first batch of users who had entered the second world to emerge and share their experiences.

But the problem was—no one had come out.

For the entire morning, the major platforms had been eerily quiet. It wasn't that no one was discussing it; it was that everyone who had actually received the equipment and logged in seemed to have collectively gone offline.

Those netizens who usually couldn't wait to post grid-style photos of their meals hadn't made a single peep this time.

In the comment sections, those who hadn't gotten in were going crazy with anxiety.

"Where is everyone?!" "Seriously? A hundred million people went in, and not a single one is breathing?" "Guys, at least come out and say something! What is it like in there? I'm dying of curiosity!"

"I've been waiting since eight o'clock; I've mashed the refresh button so hard it's practically sparking, and yet there's not a single proper review?" "Oh no, could it be that it's so fun that nobody wants to log off?"

Once this comment appeared, many fell silent. In front of their screens, countless people stared at those words, their throats bobbing as they swallowed.

If it were just some ordinary, novel gadget, someone would have logged out immediately to show it off. But now, among the first batch of a hundred million users, not a single person was willing to come out and write a review. That fact alone spoke volumes.

The less people shared, the more restless those on the outside became. Those who hadn't been selected were tearing their hair out.

Some pored over unboxing photos of the device dozens of times, feeling more stifled with every look. Those without the device stared at the silver-white headsets others had posted, their fingers hovering over their screens, unable to scroll away for a long time.

They had originally been able to comfort themselves. So what if they entered a little later? So what if they weren't in the first batch? There would surely be more chances later.

But now, the collective silence of the first batch of users had completely shattered their peace of mind.

This was no ordinary experience. It was clearly a group of people standing at the threshold of the old world, watching helplessly as others pushed the door open and stepped through, never to look back.

Domestic netizens were merely anxious, but overseas netizens were truly turning green with envy.

On foreign forums, screenshots of the trending topics in the Xia Kingdom, translated in real-time, were being reposted over and over. Countless people stared at those comments about how "no one has come out," their fingertips cold, their chests feeling tight as if blocked by something.

"Are they really collectively refusing to log off? That's impossible! Out of a hundred million people, is there not a single one who wants to come out and show off?" "This only proves just how terrifyingly addictive the second world is."

"I'm willing to pay ten thousand times the price, just for an entry pass!" "Ten thousand times? Buddy, are you still dreaming? They aren't even selling it to us!"

"I finally understand now what it means to be abandoned by the times. It's not that you can't afford it; it's that they simply aren't letting you play."

This comment was quickly pushed to the front page of the foreign forum. The replies beneath it grew in number. Some cursed. Some were bitter. Others remained silent for a long time, only to type a single sentence: "For the first time, I envy an average person from the Xia Kingdom."

Meanwhile, various media accounts were also getting desperate. Headlines had been written in advance, cover images prepared, and a few tech review channels had even finished laying out their opening scripts. All they lacked was a single piece of genuine experiential content.

In one editorial office, a young editor sat before his computer, eyes fixed on the backend, his fingers repeatedly hitting the refresh button. The cold light of the screen reflected on his face. The coffee beside him had gone completely cold.

The editor-in-chief walked over from behind and asked in a low voice, "Still nothing?" The young editor shook his head, his throat feeling dry. "Nothing." "Not a single one?" "Not a single one."

The editor-in-chief frowned, staring at the scrolling trending topics, his lips pursed into a thin line. After a few seconds, he cursed under his breath, "These people have some serious self-control."

The young editor gave a bitter smile. "It's not self-control." He refreshed the page once more, looking at the still-empty real-review section, his voice dropping. "Maybe they just really don't want to leave."

The office fell silent for a moment. That sentence was more devastating than any exaggerated marketing campaign.

Time ticked by. Noon. Still, there was no widespread experiential feedback. Dubious posts began to pop up online.

Some claimed to have flown three laps in the second world. Others said that immortal cultivation sects had already opened in the public spaces. Some even posted blurry screenshots with an air of seriousness, claiming to have snapped a photo of Lin Yuan himself.

But these were quickly debunked. "Fake." "You can tell this image is AI-generated at a glance; the lighting is all wrong." "Stop clout-chasing; the people who actually got in don't have time to post!"

The more fake news there was, the more precious a genuine experience report became. Everyone was waiting for someone credible—someone who had actually gone in and was actually willing to come back out.

At 1:17 PM, just as countless people were about to stare right through their phone screens, an account suddenly updated with a long post.

This wasn't some entertainment marketing account, nor was it some self-media outlet just looking for clout. It was a hardcore tech review blogger with a strong reputation in the industry.

Their previous post had been a photo of the device they'd signed for last night, captioned with just one sentence: "Tomorrow at eight, I'll go take a look at the future for everyone."

And now, they had finally returned. The title of the long post was simple, consisting of only one line: "I'm Back!"