Battle Royale

Lu Ze took another look at this organization called the "Illusion Alliance."

Aside from the Tianxuan Sect and the Lingxiao Sect, which had no participants, it encompassed several major sects, including the Wuji Sword Sect, the Cloud Immortal Palace, and the Qingshan Sect.

Even some renowned and respected rogue cultivators were registered within it.

Had it not been for Zhao Wendao and Chi Shengtian’s strong support for him, members from the Tianxuan Sect and Lingxiao Sect might have joined as well.

No—perhaps some had already joined under false names.

After all, the temptation of the phrase "Bond with the Heavenly Dao" was simply too great.

Lu Ze understood perfectly well that these people were here for the chance to bond with the Heavenly Dao.

And they had come prepared.

The initial server issues that had troubled him were somewhat alleviated by the divine sense arrays constructed by the three major sects.

Though compared to the Heavenly Dao server that enveloped the entire Tianxuan Continent, they were nothing.

But as private servers, they were passable.

"These commercial competition tactics are just too amateurish…"

Lu Ze chuckled and shook his head.

If it were those unscrupulous corporations from his past life, they would’ve already rolled out schemes like "Register and receive spirit stones, accumulate 3 hours online for more spirit stones, log in for 7 consecutive days to claim luxurious rewards."

Using mere illusions to compete?

Pathetic.

Of course, pathetic as it was, Lu Ze still picked up one of the illusion crystals Zhong Yi had delivered, intending to take a look inside.

……

……

Half an hour later.

Lu Ze stretched and exited the illusion.

This illusion, titled "Heavenly Dao Secret Realm," was the most popular among the dozen or so illusions released by the Illusion Alliance.

Its selling point?

"Free Combat."

And "free" here meant exactly that—utterly unrestricted.

No limitations whatsoever.

Not just in-game systems, but even the cultivators’ real-world cultivation and techniques could be brought inside.

The gameplay was modeled after "Bed Wars" and "Immortal-Demon Conflict."

The map was three times larger, and the visuals were highly detailed.

Cultivators would compete for resources on the central island and then destroy the enemy’s respawn point.

On the surface, it seemed fine—the cultivators inside were having a blast—but in reality, the problems were massive.

First and foremost, the very "freedom" they pursued was the biggest issue.

Bringing real-world cultivation into the illusion was even more absurd than whales in his past life bringing their wallets into games!

There was zero balance!

In the latter case, free-to-play players could at least grind or rely on luck to barely keep up with paying players.

Some skilled players could even match them under certain conditions.

But with cultivation?

A Qi Condensation cultivator would never stand a chance against a Nascent Soul expert!

The only way to improve was through real-world cultivation—so why even play the game?

Wouldn’t it be better to just cultivate in reality?

The same logic applied to the players’ skill systems and gameplay mechanics.

Without rules, there is no order.

Every game thrives on its specific rules, allowing players to find enjoyment within them.

When everything becomes lawless, it might seem fun and liberating at first glance, but it ultimately loses the essence of gaming.

The reason Lu Ze’s illusions were so successful wasn’t because they helped people cultivate—it was simply because they were fun.

The members of the Illusion Alliance might have high cultivation realms and illusion-crafting skills on par with Lu Ze’s, but when it came to game design?

They were light-years behind.

They couldn’t even plagiarize properly.

Lu Ze was certain that within a week, the player count for "Heavenly Dao Secret Realm" would plummet.

The reason was simple:

Low-realm cultivators inside would do nothing but get beaten up—zero fun.

Once the Qi Condensation players left, Foundation Establishment cultivators would become the new punching bags, and then they’d leave too.

This cycle would repeat until only a handful of high-realm experts remained.

Let’s be real:

In any game, even pay-to-win ones, free players are a crucial resource.

They’re the ones who provide the emotional satisfaction for the whales.

If all the Qi Condensation, Foundation Establishment, and even Golden Core cultivators left, who would the big shots flex on?

Sooner or later, such a game would die.

That’s why, when crafting his illusions, Lu Ze strictly enforced cultivation suppression—no matter how much players complained.

He wondered how long it would take these stubborn old fools in the Illusion Alliance to figure this out.

"Still… ‘free combat’…"

Lu Ze stroked his chin, muttering to himself.

He hadn’t actually made a free-combat illusion yet.

In his view, gameplay was always the priority.

Pure fighting games weren’t anything special in a world where everyone was a battle genius.

Expanding the gameplay would require an enormous map.

Fortunately, his current cultivation and divine sense were more than sufficient.

With the hype around "free combat" at its peak, now was the perfect time to release a new game.

"Alright then—let’s go with battle royale."

……

……

In Lu Ze’s past life, MOBAs had dominated the PC gaming scene for a solid decade.

During those long yet fleeting ten years, countless games had tried to dethrone "League of Legends."

None succeeded.

Until a game called "PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds" appeared.

That year, "PUBG"—with its 3 million concurrent players and 54-week sales streak—delivered the only tremor "League of Legends" had ever felt.

Streamers switched games, players migrated, the gaming landscape shook…

Even internet cafes upgraded their hardware. It was a cultural phenomenon.

The potential of battle royale was undeniable.

Unfortunately, "PUBG" leaned too heavily on firearms, making it unsuitable for the cultivation world.

As for modifying it?

Possible.

But why reinvent the wheel?

Lu Ze’s mind drifted to another battle royale from his past life—the martial arts-themed "Naraka: Bladepoint."

Admittedly, it never reached the heights of "PUBG" or "Apex Legends."

There were many reasons.

Beyond the oft-criticized management and monetization, Lu Ze believed the gaming culture at the time was dominated by Japanese, Korean, and Western styles, limiting the appeal of a wuxia-themed game.

Another factor was its high skill floor.

Partly due to hardware requirements, partly due to the inherent complexity of melee combat games.

But in this world? None of that mattered.

Style?

Ancient Chinese aesthetics were the norm here.

Hardware?

Everyone had top-tier VR illusion towers, optimized by Heavenly Dao remnants.

Skill floor?

Even Qi Condensation cultivators could pull off flawless combos.

Combine that with the battle royale formula that took his past world by storm…

This was guaranteed to blow up.

And most importantly—

"Naraka: Bladepoint" perfectly aligned with the Illusion Alliance’s "free combat" theme.

With that in mind, Lu Ze issued a server-wide announcement:

["Old farts can’t compete—real free combat starts with me."]

["New illusion ‘Naraka: Bladepoint’ coming soon!"]

["Unbound by form, infinite in the Dao."]

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