Death by Accident

"Ding ding..."

Not sure how long he'd slept, Zhao Ke was woken by the alarm. He shook his head, climbed out of the coffin, and checked the time.

It was already noon. However, the attic room had blackout curtains on all four windows. Even though the sun was shining brightly outside, the room was pitch black.

He had set the alarm himself. If he didn't wake up by noon, it would forcibly rouse him.

Sitting up in the coffin, Zhao Ke stretched. He had slept for several days in that town in the horror space, but he still wasn't used to the hard bed. Honestly, he preferred sleeping in his coffin.

He instinctively glanced around the room, checking the cabinet, doors, and windows for any signs of disturbance. Only then did Zhao Ke climb out of the coffin.

Just as he was about to go downstairs, Zhao Ke had a sudden idea. He turned back to look at the coffin behind him and thought, I might as well put the coffin into my Post Album. Then I won't have to worry about where to sleep anymore.

His eyes lit up at the thought. He placed his palm on the coffin and silently chanted, "Transform!"

"Object too large, your permissions are insufficient."

The cold system prompt instantly soured Zhao Ke's mood. But, strictly speaking, the coffin was indeed quite large.

Cremation was encouraged nowadays, and coffin shops had all switched to making urns. Some coffins were rented for ceremonial purposes, but very few were actually sold.

This one he had was custom-made by an old carpenter in the countryside, arranged by Lei Ke. The material wasn't top-notch, but it was a standard six-by-six coffin.

And it was very comfortable to lie in. He hadn't been used to it at first, but after sleeping in it twice, he couldn't do without it.

Since the coffin was too big to transform, Zhao Ke had to abandon the idea. He went downstairs and looked at the sky.

The sky had cleared up, and the sunlight streamed down on a vast expanse of blue. After being washed by the heavy rain, the air was exceptionally fresh.

His canteen was located in the suburbs. Normally, vegetable farmers would deliver produce every day at four in the morning as arranged.

However, perhaps due to the heavy rain over the past few days, the vegetable farmers who were supposed to deliver had not shown up for several days, and the remaining vegetables were scarce.

He remembered the reservation list for tonight was for four people. Zhao Ke's lips curved slightly as he waved his hand, summoning his Post Album. Looking at the pieces of corpses stored within, he narrowed his eyes, an idea already forming in his mind.

He turned and grabbed his motorcycle keys, about to head to the farmers' market in the suburbs to buy some vegetables. Suddenly, Zhao Ke's peripheral vision caught sight of the dark rosewood box on the table and the file bag Lei Ke had delivered.

"An urn!"

Looking at the rosewood box, Zhao Ke thought it looked more and more like an urn. Then it struck him: if he were to die in the horror space, would this urn contain his ashes?

His gaze flickered to the file bag beside it. He casually picked it up and threw the entire bag into the rosewood box.

He no longer needed these people's personal files.

Instead, the stories within the horror space were what Zhao Ke found more thrilling and novel.

He tossed the urn into the kitchen stove, hopped on his motorcycle, and headed straight for the suburban farmers' market.

Donghan Farmers' Market was the largest agricultural trading hub in the area. It only took Zhao Ke fifteen minutes to get there by motorcycle, and he arrived around noon.

Most of the fresh ingredients were already gone. What was left were the vegetables the vendors had picked out, or unsold stock.

Zhao Ke wasn't in a hurry. He knew that behind this farmers' market, there was a smaller market, which was his real destination.

"Look, fresh bamboo shoots, just picked."

"Free-range eggs, free-range eggs, 6 yuan a pound, fresh free-range eggs."

As Zhao Ke entered the small market, he was met with a cacophony of hawking vendors. Even though it was noon, the place was still bustling.

The people selling here weren't merchants; many were villagers from the surrounding countryside, bringing their homegrown or wild-picked vegetables and fresh goods to sell.

There were no stall fees, and it was legally operated. It was a local support initiative, and with official promotion, it had become quite a popular market.

"Young man, these are wild mountain goods, just picked! They make a delicious soup."

Zhao Ke approached an elderly man and saw mushrooms in two bamboo baskets. After the recent heavy rains, wild mushrooms from the mountains would immediately sprout.

These mushrooms had to be picked quickly, or they would lose their flavor. Zhao Ke glanced at the mud on the old man's shoes and a hole in his pants, through which he could faintly see a bit of blood.

Clearly, the old man had gone through a lot of trouble to pick these mushrooms.

Unfortunately, despite the quality of the goods, no one had shown interest all morning. Wild mushrooms from the mountains didn't look appealing, and most people didn't know their value, so the old man hadn't sold anything.

"I'll take it all!"

Without asking the price, Zhao Ke took out four hundred yuan from his wallet and handed it over. The old man was stunned and quickly waved his hands, "That's too much, too much!"

"It's not too much. These are good products, worth the price. Grandpa, this is my address. If you have more in the future, just deliver them here. I'll take everything."

"This... Yes, yes, yes."

The old man took the money, his face beaming with joy, but his eyes welled up a little. Four hundred yuan wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to buy medicine for his wife.

Carrying the mushrooms, Zhao Ke continued further inside. He bought more items along the way, including chickens, ducks, and fish.

Zhao Ke didn't care about the strange looks from others. Carrying large bags in both hands, he walked into the restroom. After a while, Zhao Ke emerged with empty hands, causing the old man watching the restroom to widen his eyes.

He scratched his head and quickly went back into the restroom to search. He even rummaged through the trash can, but couldn't find a single chicken, not even a feather. A moment later, he came out looking bewildered, muttering, "Strange, did I see things?"

"Boss, one bowl of wonton noodles."

After browsing all morning, Zhao Ke walked into a wonton noodle shop on the left side of the market.

This Long Ji Wonton Noodles shop, though small in appearance, was a well-known local delicacy. The five or six tables inside were all full, and a long queue stretched out the door.

Many cars were parked outside, including some high-end sedans, all here to try the famous noodles.

Zhao Ke ordered a bowl of wonton noodles and waited there. At this moment, a local news report was playing on the TV hanging in front of the shop.

"A renovation worker in our city had an accident early this morning. According to investigations, the deceased was working on a window and accidentally fell from the 24th floor. This station reminds everyone to prioritize safety when working at heights..."

Zhao Ke didn't pay much attention at first. After all, accidents like this happened every day. It was just that with today's advanced information, they were reported more frequently.

However, as soon as Zhao Ke looked up at the news, his whole body froze. The renovation worker who had fallen in the footage was none other than Li Hongbing, whom Zhao Ke had encountered in the horror space before.

In the horror space, Li Hongbing had been drugged by Xiong Er's mother and turned into a pot of meat congee. Yet, in reality, he had died in an accident.

If Li Hongbing met such a fate... what about the others?

Zhao Ke remembered the scar-faced man saying that one Post Point could be exchanged for a gold bar, and it was guaranteed to have a legal source in reality, causing absolutely no trouble.

Suddenly, a bold speculation appeared in Zhao Ke's mind: could there be a force that was constantly creating accidents to cover up the truth?

And behind these accidents, perhaps, like Li Hongbing, they were killed in the horror space and then died in reality from an accident, silently, without anyone noticing anything unusual.

As this thought struck him, Zhao Ke felt a chill down his spine, a cold sensation crawling up his backbone, making goosebumps erupt all over his body.

Just then, Zhao Ke suddenly felt a tightening on his shoulder. He turned his head slightly and saw a hand, which he didn't know when it had appeared, resting on his shoulder.