Chapter 1187:
Allison exited the virtual basement, her surroundings gradually reshaping into the familiar world she once knew.
She had entered the virtual realm of hackers.
Vibrant electronic screens enveloped her, while black skyscrapers of varying heights towered above.
In this world, the sun would never rise, and unfulfilled desires lingered endlessly. The impossible in the real world found its place here. The brilliance of Hackerâs World lay in its flawless replication of the real world.
The moment it rebooted, a surge of users from across the globe poured in. Excited chatter erupted among them.
âWhat triggered the sudden restart of Hackerâs World?â
âIs the founder online today? Do we have a chance to meet them?â
âHey, I find that, even after all these years, the content remains pristine â itâs unbelievable!â
Meanwhile, Allison casually masked her ID. Unlike the aimless users, she had a clear objective and made her way toward a mountain. She recalled that her mother had left a message for her in Hackerâs World. It was something Kinslee had told her.
If the message truly existed, it would be found here.
Nestled on the desolate mountainside was a villa â once Allisonâs home, now nothing but barren ground.
Standing at the entrance, Allison sighed as she took in the barren surroundings. She inhaled deeply before pushing the door open.
The door creaked as the courtyard unfolded before her.
The yard inside was overrun with weeds, and the once-flourishing tree now stood withered, casting an eerie, haunted atmosphere.
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Allison gazed at the scene, her expression blank.
âThis would never look so desolate in the real world.â
As she was about to step inside, she froze abruptly.
A courtyard like this wouldnât be so desolate in reality. Why did it appear this way in the virtual world?
Allisonâs gaze shifted sharply toward the tree.
On the barren trunk, a lone leaf clung stubbornly, while the rest lay scattered on the ground.
Without hesitation, she climbed the tree, leapt to the branch holding the leaf, and carefully plucked it. The leaf appeared slightly charred.
Surprisingly, the moment Allisonâs fingers brushed it, green shoots began to sprout from its stem.
Slowly, it regained its fresh, vibrant hue.
âWhatâs happening?â
Staring in disbelief, Allison noticed writing etched on the leaf. The text was a blend of numbers and letters, unmistakably forming a web address.
The handwriting was unmistakably her motherâs.
A soft âpingâ signaled Allisonâs exit from the virtual world.
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