Apocalypse Forecast

This was the one thing Raven hadn’t told anyone else—no amount of red string could sever the Book of Fate’s immense influence and pull. Not even temporarily. Only during an advancement could the Book of Fate’s agitation be thoroughly vented.

At that time, the entire world would be affected by this advancement. If this interference manifested in reality, it would undoubtedly be a terrifying catastrophe.

—A disaster sufficient to utterly crush Huai Shi, plunging him into complete despair, would descend upon Current Circumstances, and thus upon everyone.

It was December 6th, 2110, at 4:21 PM.

The terrible period that many would later call the Darkest Day officially began from this moment, heralded by a surge of emerging cries and screams.

In the beginning, no one noticed the catastrophe’s arrival.

Everything operated as usual. For most people, this day was no different from any other.

After waking early to practice his marksmanship and finishing his winter vacation homework, Yuan Zhao confirmed once again that his older cousin was attending a fan club meet-up and wouldn’t be home until evening, meaning he wouldn’t be disturbed.

He then hastily retreated into his room, closed the door, and secured it with multiple locks.

He quickly turned on his computer, skillfully posted notifications on Weibo and WeChat, and finally, launched his live streaming software.

”Hello to all friends in front of the TV, I’m your friend, Ultimate Little Yuan.”

In the crisp voice of a youth, a cute, 2D cat-eared boy avatar vividly appeared before the live audience.

Countless bullet comments instantly flew past. One wealthy fan even sent a rocket to celebrate the stream’s start.

Although he hadn’t been streaming for long, Yuan Zhao had quickly become famous for his astonishing performance in FPS games, carving out a niche for himself on the Douji platform.

And he had female fans! Female fans! Female fans!

Important things must be said three times.

An adorable young lady had even sent him a private message inviting him to dinner. For Yuan Zhao, who had been pushed around by his cousin since childhood, this was too much to handle.

Although he hesitated and didn’t accept, his passion for streaming gradually intensified.

”So, without further ado, let’s get to today’s main topic,” he said.

Yuan Zhao quickly opened the game software. Amidst the familiar and melodious music, the client for ”Card of the Ages·Multi-world Duel” launched.

Today’s extraordinary popularity was because Yuan Zhao had already announced he would be opening a thousand card packs from the Card of the Ages New Year’s commemorative pool!

You have to understand, Transworld was so greedy—even more so than Giant Goose—that they’d never offer a New Year’s pool where a ’Ten in a row’ pull guaranteed an SSR. Even the normal drop rate for Flash Gold Cards was appallingly low.

This time, the New Year’s commemorative card pool would last a week. The drop rate for Flash Gold Cards was said to be increased to about one percent, and various out-of-print cards were also being added to the pool.

At the same time, the price was astonishingly steep.

It was ten times more expensive than physical card packs; one pack of five cards cost 900 Dongxia Yuan. Although all cards pulled online would quickly have their physical versions delivered to users, so you didn’t have to worry about getting absolutely nothing.

But you still had to pull something good.

Otherwise, if you ended up with a handful of ”blue skies and white clouds,” you wouldn’t even be able to cry.

Ordinary, ’financially challenged’ Card of the Ages players would feel a chill run down their spines when faced with such a pool, observing hesitantly. Only then would wealthy players make their grand entrance, splurging extravagantly to show off their boredom and riches.

And someone like Young Master Yuan, wealthy and bored enough to splurge on a thousand packs, would naturally capture most viewers’ attention.

The client launched, and his account was quickly topped up. A text notification chimed for the deduction—a sound that made Yuan Zhao’s heart ache—and all the allowance he’d saved for two years transformed into one thousand card packs on the screen.

If his cousin found out, she’d break his legs!

Luckily, he could sell any gold cards he pulled to recoup some of the cost; otherwise, he’d really be eating dirt for the foreseeable future.

Suppressing the ache in his heart, he forced a smile and coughed twice. ”Alright then, let’s get started on these packs.”

Instantly, a flood of bullet comments hoping to leech his luck appeared. Among them were a couple of gay dudes also trying to leech his luck, whom Yuan Zhao promptly muted. Below the live streaming window, the betting pool had already opened.

The bet was on how many orange cards Yuan Zhao could pull.

Naturally, no one bet on him pulling one hundred orange cards. However, quite a few people were tempted to risk betting on fifty, while most cautiously chose thirty or twenty.

The entire betting pool was now fluctuating wildly. Many onlookers wanted to place a few bets, hoping to win some official ’Chicken Feed’ props to take home. The atmosphere was indeed exceptionally lively.

After a brief pause, Yuan Zhao, filled with anticipation, moved the mouse and clicked, opening the first pack.

”Let’s get a lucky first pull!!!” he roared.

Blue skies and white clouds greeted him.

The bullet comments instantly erupted with laughter and mockery. Many offered consolation: ”The drop rate is so low, it’s normal not to get anything in the first pack.”

Yuan Zhao wasn’t bothered. He clicked open the second pack—still blue skies and white clouds. The bullet comments had already thinned, and everyone began to watch intently.