The Postman

"Ah!"

A shriek that soared to at least seventy decibels made everyone frown. Zhao Ke snapped out of his terror at once, and as his pupils focused, a blurry figure appeared before him.

"Get lost!"

Almost on reflex, he kicked out. A muffled thud and a scream followed.

The pungent, choking air around them was mixed with the stench of some unknown beast's droppings, instantly giving Zhao Ke the urge to lose his mind.

His sense of smell was freakishly sharp. It gave him enormous advantages in certain situations, but in an environment like this, it also meant enduring at least ten times more suffering than anyone else.

Before his vision had fully cleared, Zhao Ke quickly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose and mouth. At the same time, he gripped the fruit knife he had hidden in his sleeve in a reverse hold.

After several seconds, Zhao Ke's eyes finally adjusted to the sight before him. He opened them, and the scene gradually came into focus.

What surprised Zhao Ke, however, was that this was not outside his shop, but in a stretch of wilderness.

The sky was dim and lightless. Though it was daytime, the thick smog overhead made every breath feel as though he were stuffing a handful of sand into his mouth.

The moment someone opened their mouth, they could not help but vomit. Some even felt suffocated and took a long while to recover.

"Th-This? Where is this??"

Someone had finally come to his senses and looked around. Heavy smog blanketed the surroundings, and they could only vaguely make out a forested mountain range.

Zhao Ke's brows tightened. He quickly put some distance between himself and the others, then swept his cold gaze over every face.

There were three men and two women. Aside from the middle-aged brute sprawled on the ground, the other two men looked like students.

As for the two women, the long-haired woman on the left was probably an office worker. Tall and slender, dressed in a black short skirt, and carrying the distinctive poise of a mature woman, she was clearly quite beautiful.

But at that moment, whether because of the sudden turn of events or the pungent, eye-stinging environment, no one had the energy to appreciate her beauty.

By comparison, the younger short-haired girl on the right was far inferior to the former in both looks and temperament.

Still, though panic showed in the girl's eyes, she reacted quickly. She covered her nose and mouth with her clothes and promptly pressed herself behind the female office worker beside her.

"Fuck your mother! You kicked me!"

The middle-aged man's oversized blue work uniform made him look like a life-sized Mario. He climbed up from the ground and glared viciously around him, before his gaze settled on the student behind him.

"N-No, it wasn't me!"

"Not you? Then was it a ghost?"

The middle-aged man strode forward angrily, looking ready to teach the college student a lesson. In truth, he knew the student had not kicked him. He merely wanted to vent his anger and save some face.

"It wasn't me, don't... Ah!"

Before the student could finish, the brute smashed a fist into his face, knocking him to the ground. The brute was about to continue.

But at that moment, he felt his shoulder sink, as if someone had grabbed it. His face darkened, and he shrugged sharply, trying to throw the hand off.

Unexpectedly, not only did the motion fail to shake off the hand on his shoulder, but a soft crack rang out, and the brute's expression immediately twisted.

The hand on his shoulder had merely tightened slightly, yet a piercing pain instantly drove the brute to one knee. His face flushed crimson as he sucked in cold breaths, unable to utter a word.

"Enough. We don't have much time. There's no need to waste it here." A deep, powerful voice suddenly rang out, drawing everyone's attention to the young man who had appeared behind the brute at some unknown point.

One hand pressed down on the brute, while a cigar hung from the young man's mouth. A diagonal scar nearly ran across his rugged face. He did not look utterly ferocious, but he was definitely no good man.

The scar-faced man swept his gaze across everyone's faces. His sharp, snake-like eyes made their hearts tremble and left them feeling uncomfortable all over.

The scar-faced man glanced sideways, his peripheral vision falling on Zhao Ke. That indifferent look chilled Zhao Ke's heart. Killing intent! Only someone who had killed possessed that vicious glint in his eyes. Even if the other man was not deliberately showing it, those eyes could not lie.

"Hiss!"

The scar-faced man seemed unconcerned by the murky air. He instead took a deep breath, smacked his lips, and said with slight disappointment, "Smog. As expected, the Imperial Capital's is the purest. This place's... smells terrible."

The others exchanged looks, suspicion written across their faces as they turned their attention to the scar-faced man.

At that moment, the other student said, "Who are you? How did we..."

"Don't talk. Listen to me."

The scar-faced man raised a hand to cut him off. He glanced at the time on his wrist and said, "I'm not good with words, so when I'm speaking, don't speak."

"But..."

The student could not help wanting to ask a question, but the moment he opened his mouth, the scar-faced man's gaze turned sinister. No one even saw what happened.

In the next instant, the scar-faced man was at the student's side, one hand clamped around his throat.

So fast!

Zhao Ke's pupils contracted. He had been watching every movement the scar-faced man made, yet the other man's attack had been so fast it was inconceivable. He had not even caught the trajectory of his movement.

"I told you, when I'm speaking, don't speak!"

His arm looked thin, but it possessed astonishing strength. Like lifting a chick, he raised the college student beside him into the air.

The college student being lifted was named Qi Liang. He was a sports recruit, standing six feet tall, half a head taller than the scar-faced man. Yet he was held aloft like a chick, the scar-faced man's fingers locked around Qi Liang's throat, leaving him unable to muster even the slightest strength to resist.

Someone opened their mouth, intending to stop him, but after seeing that, they wisely shut up.

Smack! Smack!

The scar-faced man swung his hand and slapped Qi Liang twice. Qi Liang saw stars as both cheeks swelled, his mouth unable to even open. The scar-faced man casually tossed him aside like garbage.

Zhao Ke watched the scar-faced man coldly.

Especially the scar-faced man's arm. Its lean muscles looked almost no different from those of an ordinary person, yet that was what alarmed Zhao Ke.

With such an arm, he had effortlessly lifted another college student who looked sturdier and stood around six feet tall.

Zhao Ke had also noticed that the muscles in his arm had not even tensed in the slightest. It showed that lifting the other man had apparently taken no effort at all.

Seeing the fear on everyone else's faces, the scar-faced man revealed a satisfied smile. He cleared his throat, his expression turning solemn as though reciting lines.

"Ahem. First, on behalf of all my colleagues among the Postmen, welcome. From now on, we're coworkers."

"I know you have many questions, but that's fine. In the real world, did you receive a package? It may have been black or white, but in any case, it had a very strange stamp attached to it. Receiving that package meant that from now on, you would have another identity: a Postman."

The scar-faced man then began explaining everything to them in detail.

This was a horror space.

A world that only Postmen could enter.

To leave, they had to complete the missions here.

After becoming a Postman, they would receive packages from the Post Office at intervals. Whether they accepted or opened them or not, they would be brought into this alien world. Only by completing missions could they leave.

Of course, completing missions would also earn them Post Points as payment and rewards. If they were lucky, they might even obtain a special stamp.

Post Points were the foundation of a Postman. As long as one had enough Post Points, one could buy anything one wanted. Remember, anything at all—even immense power.

"One last thing. You are currently trainee Postmen, so the difficulty won't be too high. As long as you find the mission, leaving won't be a problem."

"Wait! You said Post Points can buy anything we want. Can they be exchanged for money?"

Seeing that the scar-faced man had finally finished speaking, the middle-aged brute on the ground seemed to think of something and suddenly asked.

"Money?"

The corners of the scar-faced man's mouth lifted. As he looked at the brute, disdain seeped into his eyes, as though he were looking at a clown.

Though disdainful, the scar-faced man patiently explained. He stretched out his hand and, as if performing a magic trick, pulled out a gold bar from nowhere. He weighed it in his palm and said:

"This gold bar weighs about two pounds. It's pure gold, worth roughly two or three hundred thousand. But for gold like this, you only need one Post Point to exchange for one. And its source is guaranteed to be completely legal, with no trouble whatsoever in the real world."

After hearing the scar-faced man's words, Zhao Ke clearly sensed that everyone present had begun breathing faster.

Sure enough, compared to things they could not see, money was far more tempting. It seemed that as long as they made it back alive, they could become rich overnight. Under that temptation, even those who had harbored doubts began to waver.

The scar-faced man raised his brows. He had already received the reward for completing the novice guidance mission, and a hint of delight appeared in his eyes.

"Everyone, my mission is complete. The rest depends on your luck. If you're lucky, we'll meet again."

As soon as the scar-faced man finished speaking, his figure gradually began turning insubstantial, vanishing bit by bit before everyone's eyes.

"H-He disappeared!"

Seeing the scar-faced man vanish, the female office worker's face immediately turned ugly. Her eyes widened as she screamed.

"Pah! Damn it, this has to be a scam. Maybe that was some kind of projection. Don't be scared!"

The person speaking was the student who had taken the blame for Zhao Ke and been pinned down and beaten by the man in blue.

He walked to the spot where the scar-faced man had disappeared, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, and continued:

"I think this is definitely some high-tech scam. That man must have been some kind of projection. Listen to me, we should... Huh? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

He could not continue halfway through his sentence. Everyone was staring blankly at him, their expressions as though they had seen a ghost.

The female office worker in particular had gone deathly pale. Pointing behind him, she said, "Y-You... behind you."

The student froze, then seemed to understand. The corner of his mouth rose into a confident smile. "Is there a ghost behind me? Heh, I told you, that was a projection. It's..."

Drip!

Before he could finish, he felt heat on the top of his head. He reached up to touch it and found something wet and sticky.

A low growl sounded by his ear, accompanied by a powerful wave of foul stench that hit his nose, giving him a terrible premonition.

Gulp!

The student swallowed and slowly raised his head. Looking at the gaping bloody maw inches from his face, his expression stiffened. "Fuck!"