Pirate Phantom
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Chapter 125: Fractured Shield
🕑 Added 2025-10-22 22:33:11 +0000 UTC“My wife is truly wonderful!”
“You’re calling her your wife without even knowing her name?”
“Are you insane? Is every woman your wife?”
“You’re the insane one! How could she not be my wife?”
In the video comment section, the most frequent shouts were variations of “speed it up.” The general populace of the CN region had a particular fondness for silver-haired young women, their tastes having been refined and sharpened by countless artificial virtual idols. Their standards for figure, temperament, and appearance were exceptionally high, and the black-clad nun in Li Sanguang’s video surpassed even these stringent benchmarks of CN region online gaming aesthetics…
What Miss Maria herself could never have anticipated was that, completely unbeknownst to her and without her consent, she had inexplicably gained a throng of admirers. The fearless players known as the Fourth Calamity cared little for such trivialities. They were already busily scheming and inquiring about the in-game identity of the black-clad nun. They were simply waiting for the game’s open beta to commence, ready to charge in and immediately grind several hundred points of favorability with her!
Once her favorability was sufficiently high, everything else would naturally follow.
And so…
Li Sanguang’s video post was utterly overwhelmed by the onslaught of enthusiastic viewers. The breakneck speed at which new comments piled up was dizzying; a user might move their mouse to click on a specific post, only to find it had already vanished, swept away in the relentless torrent of new messages.
As the original poster, Li Sanguang found himself with a monumental headache.
The situation forced him to temporarily disable replies to his thread. He then typed out a response below the main post, fearing that if he didn't address the chaos, he would get no peace for the rest of the day.
In the midst of the commenting stampede, he had recognized many old acquaintances adding to the commotion. If he handled this poorly, he might very well be dragged from his bed in the dead of night and subjected to a sound thrashing by overzealous fans. Such incidents were not unheard of and had previously stirred up significant controversy within the CN region.
“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know much about this particular nun’s detailed circumstances either…” Li Sanguang wrote. “I just happened to record this scene while I was completing my final mission. As you can all probably tell from the video, the nun and I were in opposing factions at the time. Attempting to strike up a conversation would have likely resulted in me being cut down on the spot. Therefore, my knowledge of her identity is also quite limited.”
After his response had been posted for a while, Li Sanguang estimated the fervor of the ravenous horde had probably subsided enough. He then cautiously re-enabled replies to the thread.
The instant he did so, he felt as if he had unsealed a colossal floodgate.
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep!
The notification sounds came in a frantic, unending stream.
“Damn it all! Are you people animals? You’re starting again?!” Li Sanguang stared at his instantly maxed-out notification counter, a pained groan escaping his lips. He could almost smell his computer’s CPU beginning to overheat.
The multitude of players, deeply unsatisfied with the poster’s vague answer, proceeded to bombard the thread with their skepticism, their curses, their fury, and their vehement objections. The intensity of their language was a perfect testament to the formidable combative spirit of the CN region populace. Many of them boasted that, if not for the region’s inherent network barriers, their district’s trolls alone could verbally overwhelm the entire rest of the world, employing a vast and creative arsenal of insults against opponents who wouldn't even know how to respond in kind.
To elaborate, the replies in Li Sanguang’s thread were exceptionally vigorous. The vast majority were filled with straightforward anatomical references, philosophical debates on the ethics of mating and procreation, and subtly worded suggestions that the original poster might benefit from a comprehensive intellectual evaluation.
In summary, the collective sentiment was: “You think having moderator privileges makes you special? If you don’t have the lady’s information, why are you even posting? Get lost! Let someone who actually knows what they’re doing come and give us the good stuff we want!”
Given that the closed beta had a limited number of participants, there were naturally other test players who had been active in Torrent City.
Word by word, sentence by sentence, these players soon pieced together the basic information about the nun from the video.
Name: Maria.
Occupation: Nun.
Faction: The Church.
Height: Estimated to be around 170 centimeters, possessing a standard, statuesque figure.
Measurements: Unknown, but visual inspection confirmed the desirable areas were ample, the slender areas were trim, and the curved areas were pronounced.
Area of Activity: The city of Torrent and its surrounding regions within the continent’s Southwind Province.
Rumors also suggested she had a younger sister.
The sheer enthusiasm, the staggering efficiency…
Li Sanguang, who had been feigning death in his own thread while watching the proceedings, observed the ravenous mob operating with a coordination that nearly rivaled a military command staff. He silently cursed their unscrupulous behavior even as he diligently copied down the summarized information on Sister Maria for his own future research and reference.
Naturally, Tyr had not missed such a sensational thread, though his mood was considerably more sour than the general air of excitement enjoyed by the majority.
Tyr had seen Li Sanguang’s video post very early on.
When it came to understanding the details concerning Miss Maria, players like himself, who operated within the sphere of the Luminous Cathedral, undoubtedly possessed far superior knowledge. Yet he had deliberately refrained from joining the enthusiastic public discussion. His sharp instincts had warned him that Maria likely held the key to a storyline rich with valuable rewards. He had harbored the intention of sharing this potential plotline exclusively with a select few informed individuals, like Old Ralph, Phylin, and Su.
But now, this had happened!
With the appearance of this viral video post, all those careful plans were utterly ruined!
Tyr could clearly foresee the scene that would unfold the moment the open beta began. Fellow players spawning in the Southwind Province would descend upon the Luminous Cathedral with overwhelming, fanatical zeal. He imagined that Sister Maria would find herself besieged, her personal space invaded for 20 out of every 24 hours by a relentless swarm of pestering admirers.
Given the notoriously high simulation fidelity of the Fractured World, it was easy to imagine the profound annoyance Sister Maria would experience. Anyone subjected to such constant, unsolicited attention from strangers during nearly all their waking hours would naturally grow furious. And in this world, that fury could very easily become the source of extreme and violent repercussions.
He could only hope, he prayed silently, that Miss Maria would not be driven to a complete and utter violent breakdown by the ordeal…
The conclusion of the Fractured World’s closed beta sent ripples far and wide, like a hurricane sweeping across the digital landscape.
-
The Real World. A Secure, Fully Enclosed Conference Room.
A circular table was surrounded by five imposing, jet-black high-backed chairs. As a faint, cerulean light washed over the room, glowing symbols and codes flickered to life on the tall backs of these dark seats. A cascade of shimmering azure data flowed, and within moments, five human figures with indistinct, blurred features materialized in the chairs.
“It has been too long, regional directors. It brings me great satisfaction that we are able to convene once more, united in our struggle for humanity.”
The first to speak was the figure whose chair displayed the projection of a gently waving red banner.
“That is enough, Director of the CN region. Our time is exceptionally valuable. Let us not squander it on pointless formalities,” interjected a second figure, their voice carrying a distinct rolling accent. While their reunion was indeed a significant event, for individuals of their stature, time was a resource as precious as life itself.
The other three blurred figures nodded in silent agreement with this pragmatic suggestion.
“Very well,” the first speaker conceded. “Let us proceed. All regional directors, please prepare for the routine exchange of situational reports from your respective jurisdictions. The Ironwall Veil system will activate in five seconds. It will remain active for twenty minutes. The reporting focus will be the project designated Fractured Shield. All content discussed in this session will be classified as a Humanity-Level Alpha Secret and archived accordingly.”
