After twenty days away, that “ah” and the unlucky War God Swordsman had probably both left the domain. Now the place was deserted; after fighting monsters for half a day without seeing a single living soul, he simply went to do quests, at least to hear the NPCs talk.

Two hours passed in a flash, and he was called offline by Little Nurse, taking them out for a walk.

Over twenty minutes later, a familiar figure appeared in the Demon Domain.

Chris Foster strolled around leisurely, still not seeing the Sealer, so he took off his glasses and went to eat.

After “Love’s Five” dropped off the trending searches, he hadn’t bothered with it anymore.

Sure, he could have reposted that status, provokingly asking, “Are you afraid to meet me?” But he understood the principle of moderation—saying too much would seem deliberate, as if forcing someone to show up.

Besides, there was no need.

Just like he’d told William Bennett that day: if that Sealer wasn’t impressive, he wouldn’t lose anything from all this fuss. Likewise, if he couldn’t find the person, it didn’t matter.

His own club’s players were all strong, and there were a few talented newcomers in the training camp. It wasn’t as if only that Sealer would do, so if he could sign him, great; if not, he wouldn’t force it.

Relationships between people are all about fate—some people are destined to have no connection.

Chris Foster had always seen things clearly and wasn’t one to get stuck on a single point. It’s just that, occasionally recalling how at ease that Sealer had been, he felt it was a bit of a pity, so he’d drop by whenever he had time.

He’d considered a few possibilities.

One: that kid was busy and hadn’t logged in at all; two: he’d seen the trending topic but, for some reason, didn’t want to deal with him; three: he hadn’t seen the trending topic, wasn’t actually busy, and hadn’t disappeared, but… they just couldn’t run into each other.

If they couldn’t meet, he could only search for the Sealer’s ID to add him as a friend.

But he hadn’t remembered the guy’s ID.

They’d just met at the time, and he’d only glanced at it casually, never really memorizing it—so it ended in tragedy.

Luckily, he had a vague impression, so he tried various combinations to search, but up to now, he still hadn’t found it. All he could do was wander around in his spare time, hoping for a chance encounter.

But the odds were very low, because Dream Tour was just too big.

Just the domains of each race included a main hall and three small cities, not to mention the even larger public areas outside.

With such a huge map and only a little over a thousand players, with no contact info and relying solely on luck to bump into someone, it was practically impossible.

It wasn’t just hard for him—the two newcomers from TQ had it tough too.

Chris Foster even set up a small group chat, telling them to give a shout if they saw the person. The two newcomers didn’t dare disobey and agreed.

As the days went by, their communication became less and less frequent, and the intervals between chats grew longer and longer.

He knew that after a while, once that bit of regret in his heart faded, he wouldn’t even bother wandering around anymore.

He still didn’t know what was up with that Sealer.

Captain Foster sat in the restaurant waiting for his food, propping up his chin and thinking helplessly.

At this time, Ethan Grant was eating.

After the meal, he listened to Little Nurse recite a poem and play some music, then went for a nap, planning to play again after he woke up.

His daily routine was gradually becoming regular, his health slowly recovering, and he looked better day by day. He’d leveled up to over thirty in the game, but the only flaw was that he’d turned this closed beta into a single-player experience.

He’d been an internet-addicted teenager before and knew that people in the gaming circle were all night owls—basically “comatose” in the morning, getting up around noon or afternoon, grabbing some takeout, logging in half-awake, and only fully coming alive at night—perfectly missing his own gaming hours.

Occasionally, he’d see someone pop up in the world channel, but before he could decide whether to chime in, the topic would end and things would go quiet again. After this happened three times, he lost interest in even checking the channel.

Maybe it was just bad luck, or maybe his path had gotten too narrow, or maybe he just didn’t have enough time to play each day. After nearly a month, he could count the number of living players he’d seen on one hand, and each time they were busy, passing by in a hurry, leaving him only a dashing silhouette.

With the closed beta about to end, he couldn’t be bothered to grind levels anymore and found a scenic map to treat as a sightseeing tour.

Compared to his isolation, Chris Foster’s closed beta experience was colorful and lively.

He had lots of friends and always had company for whatever he did. At first, he’d log in during the mornings to look for people, but later, finding it too quiet, he switched to logging in at night—though he never stayed up late.

That day, after saying goodbye to a group of friends and getting ready to log off for bed, he habitually typed in a string of symbols and hit search before leaving.

In an instant, a transparent screen appeared before his eyes, displaying a simple introduction.

ID: {xu-5cc靉の！

Class: Sealer

Level: 53

Online: No

{方景行}: “……”

After trying for so long, he’d given up hope, never expecting such a twist of fate.

Looking at that pitiful level 53, he figured that kid really hadn’t logged in for a while, and quickly checked the logout time—turns out it was just after 4 p.m. today.

That meant he’d probably been playing recently.

Captain Foster’s cooled-off interest was instantly rekindled.