In such an environnt, even with a cultivation growth system, the thin spiritual energy in the air cannot be utilized.
Wandering through the city, it heard a frequently ntioned term, "Virtual World."
It seems to be a spiritually fabricated scene, akin to an illusion.
In the eyes of Life Throat, it's just a group of ants unable to cultivate, simulating a spiritual world with clumsy electronic signals, a self-deceiving act.
Its ears twitched slightly as it continued to catch conversations on the street.
Below, two creatures were discussing content from the Virtual World.
A hint of mockery flashed in Life Throat's feline eyes.
These beings, though alive in the real world, are obsessed with a false illusion.
In Monster World, at least the weaker races strive to survive and grow stronger.
But the creatures of this world, astonishingly, are willing to live in the cage woven by the illusion, without even the desire to struggle—how tragic.
But on further thought, it felt that bla doesn't solely lie with these beings of the Small World.
After all, given such an environnt, no matter how hard an individual struggles, they cannot escape the world's shackles.
Thinking of this, the question returned to the beginning.
How could such a world possibly nurture beings capable of opposing the Destiny Rule?
Life Throat couldn't figure it out.
It decided to investigate further to understand the social structure of this world in detail.
Over the next two days, Life Throat fully embraced the identity of an orange cat.
In the morning, it would perch on a trash can by a breakfast stall, watching the hurried people chanically swallow the poor-quality food synthesized by robots.
The stall owner was a chanical creation, with an advertisent panel on its chest cycling through various promotional content.
The most-discussed topic among those in line was the topic of virtual gas.
"Are the things in the Virtual World more tempting than real-world material?" Life Throat tilted its cat head, watching a young man stuff the last mouthful of food into his mouth, then eagerly talk about going back to play "Dark Land."
At noon, the orange cat slipped into the resting area of a technology office building.
Through transparent glass walls, it could see that two-thirds of the workstations in the open office area were empty.
Most positions were completely managed by robots.
Those at the workstations lay in sleep pods, their consciousness active in the digital world.
The remaining people gestured in the air, handling the interface business between the virtual world and the real economy.
"Truly an interesting form of enslavent." Life Throat watched a man who looked like a supervisor scold a subordinate.
Without needing a whip, these enslaved individuals desperately maintain this system of enslavent themselves.
In the evening, the orange cat perched on the school wall.
The children on the playground were in a physical education class, with supervision requiring them to follow their own ideas.
"Were even the young ones tad?"
Life Throat's tail slapped the ground, feeling a strong curiosity about this Small World's ordinariness.
What puzzled Life Throat the most were the residential areas at night.
Through windows, it saw countless families, although sharing the sa room, each imrsed in their own separate virtual spaces.
No communication between husbands and wives, no interaction between parents and children, and even many pets were equipped with virtual companionship systems.
After days of observation, Life Throat felt that this world's civilization was undergoing a chronic suicide.
All beings were escaping reality.
They caged their consciousness, completely indulged in false fantasies.
It's unimaginable what future awaits such a civilization.
But upon reflection, after all, this is just a Small World.
In such a world, perhaps indulging in illusions might be a solace in their short lives.
Life Throat crouched under the eaves, gazing at the blurred city lights through the rain, suddenly feeling sowhat bewildered.
In Monster World, billions of races struggle, where the law of the jungle is the Eternal law.
Every being fights for survival from birth, the strong devour the weak, the weak struggle to survive, never daring to rest for a mont.
The Reverse Tide Army, which once sealed them due to a failed gambit, was the sa, where each being's first goal in growth is to beco a warrior, the process like sieving through great waves, and the few most outstanding ones are sent to the Reverse Tide Training Camp for even harsher grind.
Not just the Reverse Tide Army.
Even those at the Peak of Monster World must constantly guard against being replaced by later arrivals.
Such a world, though brutal, is also majestic, every mont filled with the tempering of blood and fire.
Yet this world before him...
The orange cat's tail moved slightly, its gaze sweeping across the holographic advertisent at the street corner.
In the image, a family of three laughed on a virtual beach in a social ga.
Sunshine, sea waves, breeze, everything was so perfect.
Though an advertisent, it reflected the everyday life of the Small World's beings.
No survival pressure, no fear of the jungle's law, they just need to connect to the device and can enjoy a short yet stable life in a dream woven from data.
"Perhaps... this isn't bad?"
A complex emotion flickered in Life Throat's feline eyes.
He was born in Monster World.
There, the weak do not even have the right to choose to live.
Even in death, their blood, flesh, or spirit would be drained by the strong, becoming nourishnt.
Yet the creatures of this world, at least, can choose their way of living.
Even if it's just living in an illusion.
Their lives are no more than a hundred years, as fleeting as mayflies.
Perhaps it's precisely because of this that they long to experience Infinite possibilities in their limited ti.
The illusion offers them another life, even if it's just a facade, at least it allows them to forget the mundanity of the real world before death arrives.
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