Hourglass Project - Chapter 8

Li Moyao: A Boundary Arts Practitioner, born in the Domain of Boundary Arts. Currently over 300 years old. Secondary gender: G. Her body carries innate energy used for Boundary Arts.

Shen Wenyu: A Boundary Arts Practitioner, born in the Domain of Boundary Arts. Currently over 200 and a half years old. Secondary gender: S. His body carries innate energy used for Boundary Arts.

Boundary Arts Practitioner: A person with a form similar to that of humans on Earth. They possess innate Boundary Arts energy within their bodies, which grants them immortality and allows them to modify their physical traits at will through Boundary Arts.

Domain of Boundary Arts: A mysterious location whose whereabouts cannot be determined. It never appears in the known universe, and no outsiders have knowledge of it—unless informed directly by a Boundary Arts Practitioner.

Secondary Gender: Literally what it sounds like. Simplified as “Second Gender,” it refers to a hidden internal gender beyond external appearance. It can be activated or deactivated at will. Simply put, the one capable of bearing children is an S, while the other is a G. Usually, Gs possess stronger abilities than Ss.

Boundary Arts: Usually innate and growing within the body. Their scope encompasses much of the known universe and beyond. They can be enhanced and are extremely unfamiliar to those outside the Domain.

There is a strict rule in the Domain of Boundary Arts: Practitioners must not casually reveal their identity or origins to outsiders, unless the person is a deeply trusted confidant. The more outsiders who know the secrets of the Boundary Arts, the more likely they are to leak the information. If such individuals exist, the Practitioners will hunt them down and eliminate them completely.

This rule is instilled from early childhood and engraved deep into their bones. Everyone understands the consequences, so such situations never arise.

….

The five-person team understood this best. They had already confessed everything to each other over countless days and nights and had shared an indescribable bonding ritual. It may not have been sacred, but it was solid and unbreakable.

Despite their very different personalities, they stuck together and believed their bond was destined.

….

Above the floating city hung a massive hourglass. The upper inverted cone had already filled halfway with sand, which slowly trickled down one grain at a time.

This now represents the number of players.

Each grain that fell symbolized a player who had successfully completed a mission and escaped.

From the start of the global Micro-Space Event to noon on the third day, it was estimated that fewer than a million players had succeeded.

At this rate, out of the original 5.1 billion players who hadn’t died due to inability to withstand powers, only around 3.5 billion might survive by the end of this first global Micro-Space Event.

When the game began, humanity lost 2.5 billion people instantly. All prior “population control” proposals became laughable, marking the first time humanity truly experienced the tragic nature of limitless loss.

Huang Yuhan could no longer bear to look at the blinding hourglass. She sat on the ground, bowed her head in despair, staring at the pebbles below, and closed her eyes.

Only now did she remember, her family was also inside one of those unpredictable Micro-Spaces, likely battling for their lives.

And she… could do nothing.

Footsteps approached behind her. She turned her head to look.

Huang Jijun stopped a short distance away and said, “Yaoyao asked if we want to become Boundary Arts Practitioners.”

After they escaped, Li Moyao immediately revealed her identity and asked if they wanted to join her in fighting the “Game Master.” Though phrased as a question, it was clear she assumed they’d say yes.

They asked her why—why not simply return to the Domain of Boundary Arts and leave Earth behind?

She gave only one answer:

“To revive Earth’s civilization—and for you all.”

But the real reason Li Moyao stayed was to protect this planet, the one where she met the four of them. It was the first time, and would be the last time, she felt this way.

She didn’t want something beautiful that was still ongoing to be broken and scattered. So she had to resist the “Hourglass Project.”

The four had nothing more to say, because they had no other choice but to stay together.

As for identities, they were up for selection. Wielding the game-given powers allowed one to grow stronger, but gaining Boundary Arts meant having an overwhelming advantage from the start. Both paths led to growth; the difference was simply where one started.

“What other choice do we have? If we say no…” Huang Yuhan stood up and walked toward her, laughing, “she’d probably kill us on the spot.”

Huang Jijun stared at her, then turned her head with a smile after a few seconds.

The two of them walked toward the office on the first floor of the senior high school building, where the others were waiting.

The door was closed. As the two Huang girls entered, a familiar cool breeze greeted them.

Huang Yuhan paused and looked at the air conditioner. It was running. She blurted, “How is it…” but stopped halfway, realizing it must be Li Moyao.

They found seats, and soon the cool air eased them. It was touching, they hadn’t felt it in so long.

In the past, some may have considered air conditioning a luxury. Now, just having electricity was a luxury.

The six of them began discussing the issue of becoming Boundary Arts Practitioners and the current situation.

The topic was only briefly raised, they had all silently agreed the moment the question arose.

Li Moyao also told them that becoming a Practitioner would take several days, meaning they’d temporarily leave Earth.

But the four of them didn’t mind.

Everyone could see how things were now. Even the players who had escaped the Micro-Spaces would likely need to wait for the first global event to end. The system’s criteria for ending it remained unknown.

For now, players like them could go out and search for resources. The initial restrictions set by the Emissaries had been lifted. To survive the days ahead, they’d have to fend for themselves. Violence, robbery, these things were inevitable. Humanity was entering a world without law, where crime was a necessity.

It was like the apocalypse had come.

“So… when do we become Boundary Arts Practitioners?” Lin Yi asked, looking at Li Moyao.

Holding the child on her lap, Li Moyao rested her head on his, then smiled and asked, “Now?”

With that, a red light formed on her left hand and floated forward, shaping itself into a doorframe made of red lines. Through it, one could see a sky full of drifting clouds.

Huang Yuhan walked over, stuck her head in and pulled it back out. “There’s nothing there,” she said, then looked at Li Moyao and asked, “Did you put the door in the sky just to drop us to our deaths?”

Li Moyao laughed, stood up with the happy little boy in her arms, and said, “Aww, such a clever little brain~”

Seeing her step through the door and stand on the clouds, the others hesitated for a second and followed.

Once they were all inside, the door vanished. Their clouds began floating off to some unknown place. Li Moyao placed the child on the cloud and lay down, stretching lazily.

Lin Yi looked around. There was only sky and clouds. “Is this really the Domain of Boundary Arts? Looks like heaven.”

The boy sat swinging his little legs. “Heaven at least has buildings.”

“You’ve been?” Lin Yi crouched down and grinned at him.

He grinned back sweetly.

Huang Jijun sat beside Li Moyao and asked, “Why haven’t we seen any other Practitioners?”

“Most are off wandering the world~” Li Moyao said lazily, smiling. “You could travel ten thousand miles and still not see a single person.”

The Domain had experienced a great war that severely reduced their numbers to a third. Yet the survivors still preferred to travel rather than settle down and have families.

Li Moyao had been traveling when she arrived on Earth, and stayed.

“How do you all stay in touch?” Huang Jijun asked.

Li Moyao tapped her forehead. “Call Zones.”

Call Zones are mental chat spaces. Practitioners can chat privately or in groups via thought. They’re a unique ability exclusive to them.

Huang Jijun was impressed. She felt reassured that choosing to become a Practitioner was the right call. With such abilities, surviving the game was more than possible.

Standing nearby, Tao Luo asked, “What’s the process like to become a Practitioner?”

Li Moyao squinted and smiled, “I don’t know myself, but I’ve heard… when you wake up, your brain hurts.”

Before the ceremony, you lie on a cloud bed and sleep. Your body is connected to white threads, which link your brain to a Practitioner known as the “receiver.” The receiver must have the highest mental standards to ensure the process doesn’t damage the convert’s brain.

The whole process takes half a day. If a Practitioner wants, they can enter the receiver’s mind to observe the transformation.

Afterward, the new family member (as they’re now part of the Domain) must lie on the cloud bed for another day and a half to absorb knowledge of the Domain. It’s not a pleasant mental experience.

“Yaoyao Yaoyao,” Huang Yuhan flopped beside her, clearly excited. “So after we become Practitioners, we can do that magic trick?”

She had realized now that the “acceptance” Li Moyao mentioned meant the massive transformation into a Practitioner.

Li Moyao looked surprised, teased, “So you were listening?”

Huang Yuhan: “…”

Li Moyao laughed. “Before you can do magic tricks, there’s one condition, you need a space pouch.”

Space pouches are native to the Domain. Every Practitioner has one. It can store items in a separate space and retrieve them with a custom or default gesture.

Anything alive placed inside will enter suspended animation and resume life upon removal.

“Ahh… so that’s it~” Huang Yuhan muttered, rubbing her chin.

She thought the magic tricks needed to be learned.

The clouds floated for about 30 minutes before stopping atop another cloud. The six stepped out, four of them confused.

Only practitioners can see doors on clouds. To others, it just looks like a cloud.

As they stood there, a man appeared ahead.

He wore ancient-style clothes, was 195 cm tall, with handsome, elegant features. When he saw them, he smiled.

“He Kun, secondary gender G, your receiver,” Li Moyao introduced. She walked over and hugged him, smiling. “Been a while, huh?”

He hugged her back and joked, “How’d you get so short?”

The other four were stunned.

Short?! Over 180 cm is short?!

The boy called out “He Kun!” and ran over on his little legs. Li Moyao picked him up so he could hug He Kun.

After the brief hug, He Kun looked at the group and said warmly, “Hello, welcome to the Domain of Boundary Arts. If you’re ready, please follow me.”

The four nodded. A doorframe appeared behind He Kun just like before. The seven stepped through into a room with four walls made of marble-like material.

Lined up along the far wall were cloud beds. He Kun told them to pick one they liked and lie down, probably to help them relax.

The four chose beds near each other. Li Moyao stood beside He Kun, then casually flopped backward onto a suddenly-appearing cloud chair, the boy in her arms.

He Kun smiled at them and said, “Just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

Thanks to Li Moyao’s earlier warnings, they didn’t ask questions. They looked at her, she gave them a reassuring smile, then they closed their eyes and let themselves drift off.

Cloud beds had a hypnotic effect. It took less than two minutes for them to fall asleep.

Once fully asleep, glowing white threads appeared on their bodies, connecting to various organs. The other end floated midair, linking to He Kun’s mind.

He Kun sat down on a cloud chair and closed his eyes.