I'm a Salty Fish-Who Do I Fear?
[Congratulations, you have obtained a new trait, Salty Fish (S-rank): your efficiency at any task is halved, but you possess an indestructible Dao heart. You are immune to all PUA, manipulation, and inner demon interference, and your state of mind will never collapse.]
Lu Ping was stunned.
After eleven years, an S-rank had finally appeared!
Transmigrators would never be slaves!
Still, this trait didn't look like much.
Even its name wasn't impressive.
What overworked beast of burden didn't want to be a Salty Fish?
Then the latter half caught Lu Ping's attention.
An indestructible Dao heart.
Immunity to all PUA.
A state of mind that would never collapse.
The first half was poison.
Halved efficiency meant being a step behind at everything.
The second half was the antidote.
In a place where mental torment could drive him mad at any moment, a heart that couldn't be broken was worth more than anything.
S-rank—Salty Fish deserved it!
But which one should he replace?
His three trait slots held Flattery (B-rank), Fall Guy (C-rank), and Passing the Buck (B-rank).
Flattery couldn't go.
It was the foundation of his survival in the Black Tiger Gang.
Without it, the fat supervisor could have him killed the very next day.
Fall Guy couldn't go.
Although the trait was a negative one, and had been forcibly bound to him during the "mandatory equip" period,
Lu Ping stared at the fine print: "Each time you successfully take the blame, your physical constitution improves slightly."
After taking the blame for eleven years, his ability to withstand beatings and his recovery speed had risen more than one level above what they'd been when he first entered the kitchen.
Lu Ping's fantasy about Fall Guy had actually come true!
Without practicing any cultivation method, his physical condition was already considerably better than that of an ordinary gang member.
That left only Passing the Buck.
Lu Ping weighed the choice for three seconds.
Passing the Buck was useful, extremely useful.
These past few years, he'd relied entirely on it to kick deadly blame away and avoid being killed by the fat supervisor.
But after what happened when Lu Ping was twenty-four, the fat supervisor no longer dared to make a move against him lightly. His wariness was plain to see.
Over the next few years, the chance of deadly blame coming crashing down on him would decrease.
Replace it.
[Passing the Buck has been unequipped. Salty Fish has been equipped.]
[Currently equipped: Salty Fish (S-rank) / Flattery (B-rank) / Fall Guy (C-rank).]
Lu Ping studied the new combination.
Flattery kept him alive. Fall Guy improved his constitution when he got beaten. Salty Fish protected his state of mind.
One for sucking up, one for taking the blame, and one for giving up.
Nobody would believe this was a setup that could keep him alive.
The text continued.
[Age thirty: Screen Peeking (D-rank)—you can silently follow anyone and look at their computer and phone screens without being discovered.] No replacement.
[Age thirty-one: Useless Meetings (D-rank)...] No replacement.
[Age thirty-two: Sleeping in Meetings (D-rank)...] No replacement.
[Age thirty-three: Reply Upon Receipt (D-rank)...] No replacement.
The supply of garbage traits remained steady.
D-ranks across the board.
The system's randomness was as nauseating as ever.
It seemed that one S-rank had used up Lu Ping's luck again.
But the Lying-Flat Trait’s effects were real.
[The fat supervisor pointed a finger in your face and cursed you in front of the gang members for a full half hour. The Lying-Flat Trait took effect, and your state of mind didn't budge.]
[You listened to every insult on your knees, then stood up, dusted the dirt off your knees, and turned back to the stove to tend the fire.]
[The fat supervisor discovered that his cursing no longer affected you.]
[He began to fear.]
Lu Ping gave the Lying-Flat Trait a point in his heart.
In his previous life, his boss's PUA had driven him into depression. If he'd had this thing then, at least he wouldn't have dropped dead at his desk.
Two more years passed.
[Age thirty-six. Eighteen years of service.]
[The Black Tiger Gang entered into a conflict with a neighboring sect.]
[The gang leader ordered men drawn from every department to serve as cannon fodder on the front line.]
[The fat kitchen supervisor submitted your name.]
[You weren't surprised in the least.]
[After waiting more than a decade, the fat supervisor had finally found a chance to kill with a borrowed knife.]
[He didn't have to do it himself or take any risks. All it took was a transfer order to send you to die on the battlefield.]
[Options appeared.]
[A: Use the Flattery trait to appeal directly to the gang leader, requesting to stay on the grounds of your "importance" in the kitchen.]
[B: Offer no resistance, obey the transfer order and go to the front line, then look for a chance to escape on the battlefield.]
[C: Steal a cleaver from the kitchen and stab the fat supervisor first.]
Option A: appeal to the gang leader.
Lu Ping played it through in his head.
The gang leader did have a favorable impression of him, and Flattery would give him a boost.
But the problem was that the gang leader was fighting a war and needed lives to throw into the front line.
Going to him now and saying, "Gang Leader, I don't want to go," would be defying orders when he needed cannon fodder most.
Flattery could curry favor with a superior, but currying favor wasn't the same as going against his wishes.
No matter how much the gang leader liked him, he wouldn't break military orders for a kitchen drudge.
Besides, even if the gang leader made an exception and let him stay, thwarting the fat supervisor's attempt to kill with a borrowed knife, what about the next time?
Or the time after that?
As long as he remained in the Black Tiger Gang, the fat supervisor would always have another chance.
Option C: stab the fat supervisor.
It would feel good, but then what?
The gang leader's men would chop him into mincemeat the next second.
Option B: go to the front line, then run.
The front line was hell, but beyond hell's borders lay freedom.
Lu Ping chose B.
[You seemed to accept your fate and took the transfer order.]
[You took the Body Tempering Instruction from the crack between the bricks beneath the stove and followed a squad of ashen-faced cannon fodder to the front line.]
[The fat supervisor stood at the kitchen entrance, watching you leave, and smiled.]
[The front line collapsed at the first clash.]
[The Black Tiger Gang's cannon fodder was torn apart in a single charge by the enemy.]
[The people around you fell in wave after wave.]
[You heard bones breaking, heard screams, heard death more densely packed and more desperate than in the mine.]
[The constitution you had built up over years of taking the blame played a crucial role.]
[Though you had never cultivated, your stamina and recovery were visibly beyond those of an ordinary person.]
[Your attack power was still at a mortal's level, but your defense and recovery had already reached the Body Tempering realm.]
[You survived the first wave of slaughter.]
[Then you played dead.]
[You lay beneath three corpses. Blood dripped from above, soaking your clothes, your hair, and the cut at the corner of your mouth. You didn't move.]
[You waited three days and three nights.]
[On the morning of the fourth day, the battlefield fell silent.]
[You crawled out of the pile of corpses.]
[The Black Tiger Gang was gone.]
[The triangular-eyed overseer who had whipped you countless times was dead.]
[The fat kitchen supervisor who had embezzled and framed you for eleven years was dead.]
[The gang leader who had patted your shoulder and said, "Good kid," was dead too.]
[You stood on scorched earth, thick smoke rising from the ruins of the Black Tiger Gang behind you, a boundless wilderness before you.]
[You still clutched the Body Tempering Instruction in your hand.]
[Its pages were soaked in blood and muddy water, but you had never let go.]
A system notification appeared, with a gray border and text one size smaller than the normal story text.
Fine-print culture was everywhere...
[Host detected to have left the Black Tiger Gang (Black Workshop Company). Automatic resignation process initiated.]
[Warning: After more than one year away from an organization, your length of service will be interrupted and traits will no longer be generated.]
[Time until automatic resignation: 364 days.]
[You are now a vagrant of unknown identity, with nothing but a battered book and bloodstained clothes.]
[Or rather, you are an unregistered person. No one will take in someone like you.]
[But you didn't panic.]
[You spent eighteen years in the Black Tiger Gang.]
[From the mine to the kitchen, from being whipped to taking the blame, from stealing half a piece of dry rations to kicking away a human life.]
[Eighteen years of scrabbling to survive taught you one thing: only by staying alive could you be of any use.]
[Besides, Salty Fish made your state of mind rock-solid.]
[Options appeared.]
[A: Head east to the nearest secular town and find a job to keep your length of service going.]
[B: Head north. You vaguely remember that there seems to be an outlying post of a low-level cultivation sect in the north.]
[C: Head south. Word is that a place in the south is recruiting, and its job posting promises "lots of money, little work, close to home."]