The Third Day

Wang Xuan squeezed his way out of the bustling plaza at the tower gate, heading home without once looking back.

In the old resettlement district on the outskirts of Starfire City, the houses were all uniformly allocated—gray, drab, and packed tightly together.

His home was in a corner of this "pigeon coop," a small studio left behind by his parents.

Come to think of it, it was quite a dark comedy. In this world, especially on the Origin Earth Star, both the Longevity Families and the Federation desperately encouraged reproduction.

As long as you were willing to get married and have children, you would be showered with credit point rewards and allocated a house directly, though it would only be the most basic of dwellings.

No one threw obstacles in the way of this; after all, to them, the lower-class population was nothing more than expendable material—the more, the better.

Wang Xuan's parents were exactly that.

They gave birth to him, left him their credit points and this apartment, raised him for three years, and then entered a plot world, never to return.

For ordinary players, once their five chances were used up and they had no extra plot cards, dying in a plot world meant true death.

Wang Xuan used his key to open the thin sheet-metal door, which let out a creak.

The room smelled of dust, and the furniture was pitifully sparse.

He closed the door behind him, leaned his back against the panel, and let out a long breath.

A safe zone.

Under the shroud of the Heavens Tower rules, transcendent powers were suppressed, and players could not harm one another.

But was this safety truly safe?

The three guys from the Royal Clan he had driven out—the Yu and Shen Royal Clans—would surely not let this go, would they?

You didn't need to be a genius to know that was impossible.

As for the Longevity Families... Wang Xuan smiled self-deprecatingly. With his current standing—a bottom-tier player who had just left the novice village and luckily snagged an SSS rating—he probably wasn't even on the radar of those true titans.

To those powerhouses who could pluck stars and grasp the moon, he was no different from an ant, or at most, a slightly sturdier one.

He walked to the bed and sat down, dragging a small box from underneath. Inside were rows of tubular synthetic nutrient paste.

He twisted one open; the pale gray paste was flavorless, providing only the most basic energy and nutrition.

This stuff was the daily ration for the vast majority of ordinary players on the Origin Earth Star—cheap and filling, but tasting absolutely atrocious.

Wang Xuan expressionlessly sucked down the tube.

Next time I enter a plot world, I need to prepare more food and try bringing it out in a storage bag. The thought flashed through his mind. The textbooks didn't say whether it was possible, but theoretically, since storage bags could hold items, bringing them out shouldn't be a problem, right?

He couldn't keep eating this pig swill forever.

The first day after his return was very quiet.

Outside the window, there was the occasional hum of a hovering car passing by, and the faint sound of commotion from the direction of the tower gate plaza, but none of it had anything to do with his small room.

Wang Xuan spent most of his time sitting cross-legged on the bed, circulating the Divine Illumination Scripture.

Sitting in Divine Illumination, his spirit turned inward, polishing the Three-Unity Great Xiantian realm he had just broken through.

He possessed the [One-Click Max] talent; any cultivation technique he obtained could instantly reach an unprecedented, ultimate level.

But cultivating it himself wasn't impossible, it was just that the speed... was like a snail crawling. After experiencing the thrill of one-click maxing, going back to slow practice was simply torture.

However, the act of cultivation itself could help settle his state of mind.

On the second day, things started getting lively outside.

First, there were more footsteps, pacing back and forth near his home.

Then came some deliberately hushed conversations, and some gazes, peeking through the door cracks and window gaps, secretly eyeing the room.

Wang Xuan ignored them.

He continued his cultivation and ate his nutrient paste as usual.

On the afternoon of the third day, the sound of a key inserting into the lock rang out.

Click.

The door opened.

Wang Xuan didn't even lift his eyelids, maintaining his state of Sitting in Divine Illumination. This house was allocated; it was perfectly normal for others to have keys, and that thin sheet-metal door wouldn't stop anyone anyway.

The person who entered was a young man, looking about the same age as Wang Xuan, his face plastered with a smile, though that smile was somewhat stiff.

"Wang Xuan? Hey, it really is you! I'm Zuo Feng, remember me? We were in elementary school together!" The newcomer walked in with an air of familiarity, casually closing the door behind him. "Not bad, brother! I heard you were slaughtering your way through the Heavens Tower and drove the Royal Clan out? Badass! You're the only powerhouse to come out of our class!"

Zuo Feng.

Wang Xuan did have a memory of such a person; the surname was quite rare, they had been in the same class in elementary school, but they hadn't interacted much, and his impression was very vague.

Zuo Feng chattered on incessantly, moving from embarrassing stories from elementary school to recent news, trying hard to build rapport, his tone of voice exaggeratedly enthusiastic.

Wang Xuan didn't make a sound, not even changing his breathing rhythm.

But in his perception, Zuo Feng's heartbeat was ridiculously fast, the sound of his blood flowing betraying his nervousness, along with a deeper layer of... fear and despair.

This performance was far too clumsy.

After Zuo Feng had been talking for a long time and saw that Wang Xuan hadn't reacted at all, like a stone statue, the smile on his face finally couldn't hold up anymore.

The exaggerated enthusiasm receded like a tide, replaced by a sense of wretchedness.

He was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly relaxed, his shoulders slumping as he plopped down onto the floor.

"Forget it, I can't keep acting anymore." Zuo Feng's voice became very calm, even carrying a hint of relief. "Wang Xuan, I know you saw through it."

"Eighteen years, going to school—that might have been the happiest time of my life." His gaze lacked focus as he stared at the ground. "At eighteen, I didn't awaken a talent and entered a story world... I don't even know what kind of hellhole I ended up in, just living in a daze until I came back."

"Then, I saw 'that'." Zuo Feng tugged at the corners of his mouth, looking as if he were laughing, yet also as if he were crying.

He turned his head to look at Wang Xuan, who still had his eyes closed, his own eyes hollow. "I no longer hold any hope for the rest of my life. I didn't even want to come here today."

Zuo Feng paused, took a deep breath, and spoke as if using his final ounce of strength: "Wang Xuan, please avenge me. Work hard to kill the Royal Clan, kill the Longevity Families, and flip this goddamn world upside down!"

The words fell.

His hands suddenly lifted uncontrollably, and with a bizarre angle and immense force, they violently clamped around his own throat!

There was no expression of struggle on Zuo Feng's face, only complete calm and liberation.

Snap!

A clear, crisp sound rang out.

His neck was snapped by his own hands, forced to break.

His head tilted to an impossible angle, and his body slumped limply to the floor. His face still retained a flush of red, and his eyes remained open, staring in Wang Xuan's direction.

The room was deathly silent.

Wang Xuan slowly opened his eyes.

He looked at Zuo Feng's corpse, his expression complex.

"So, the safe zone isn't absolutely safe after all." He whispered to himself, "Killing oneself... the rules allow it."

After Zuo Feng, the door opened again.

This time, a middle-aged woman entered. Wang Xuan had some impression of her; she was a neighbor from the same street who had given him candy when he was a child.

When she entered, her face was filled with despair. Her lips trembled, wanting to say something but unable to get the words out.

She looked at Wang Xuan, then at Zuo Feng's corpse on the floor, and tears streamed down her face.

There was no small talk, no nonsense.

She simply looked at Wang Xuan and mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

Then, just like Zuo Feng, her hands lifted uncontrollably and snapped her own neck.

Thud.

Another corpse fell.

Immediately after, the third, the fourth...

Men and women, old and young.

Some faces were very familiar to Wang Xuan—classmates, former playmates.

Some were strangers, but upon careful reflection, it seemed they had all had brief intersections with him during his eighteen years of life.

They walked into the small room one after another, as if following a specific order of appearance, from childhood to adulthood, from blurry memories to clear ones.

When they first entered, some tried to force a smile and say "long time no see"; some broke down completely, pointing at Wang Xuan and cursing him madly for provoking the Royal Clan and dragging everyone down with him; others just cried, crying incessantly.

But in the end, without exception.

After a brief moment of madness or despair, they would become strangely calm and leave behind a few final words.

"Wang Xuan, live well."

"See the higher scenery for me."

"Kill them all!"

Then came that crisp "snap" sound.

Neck broken, falling to the ground.

Wang Xuan remained sitting cross-legged on the bed, his eyelids lowered, as if he were a monk in meditation.

When night fell completely, the door closed for the last time.

Those who had entered during the day never walked out again.

But the corpses on the floor had disappeared at some point. Even the bloodstains had been cleaned away completely; the floor was as smooth and new as ever, clean to the point of being blinding.

In the pitch-black room, the lights were not turned on.

Wang Xuan kept his eyes open, staring into the darkness before him.

His right hand had long since clenched into a tight fist, his fingernails digging deep into his palm. Blood trickled through his fingers, dripping onto the old concrete floor.

Drip.

Drip.

The voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear in the silence.

He recalled a figure from the history of his past life, Huang Chao. How did that line go again?

"Trampling the bones of nobles across the Heavenly Street?"

No! It was about following the trail, hunting people down by their family trees!

Wang Xuan slowly exhaled, his breath heavy and carrying the metallic tang of blood.

He was not made of stone.

So many acquaintances, dying one by one before his eyes, and in such a cruel manner—dying for his sake.

How could he remain indifferent?

His heart felt as if it were blocked by a piece of red-hot iron, scorching and stifling, pressing down until he could barely breathe.

Anger? Sorrow? Killing intent?

He felt them all.

But he was even clearer on one point.

"If they had begged for mercy, would they not have died?" Wang Xuan asked the darkness in a low voice, as if asking himself.

The answer was obvious.

They would not.

From the moment they signed that Servant Contract, the fates of these people had been sealed; they were stepping stones in the eyes of the Royal Clan, consumables, pawns to be discarded at any moment.

Although Wang Xuan did not know the specific details of the contract, recalling the thousands of players who had died alongside Shen Chenzhou and Yu Qingtian in the plot world, he knew the terms were far from simple, and death was merely a matter of time.

The Royal Clan used this method for no other reason than to plant a thorn in his heart and leave a shadow behind.

Even if they couldn't break him, simply disgusting him would be enough to achieve their goal.

It was despicable.

But it was effective.

Wang Xuan opened his palm, looking at the wounds pierced by his nails, blood still slowly seeping out.

"Longevity Families, Royal Clan..." He chewed on these words, his lips curling into a cold arc.

There was no telling how many more underhanded tactics lay ahead; these next five days would likely be very difficult to endure.