Chapter 139: Earth's Wasteland Arc (5)
Chapter 139: Earth’s Wasteland Arc (5)
[Side Quest Completed]
The system prompt chimed, and Feng Bu Jue finally exhaled in relief, collapsing onto the ground.
“Strange… this thing is still invisible even after dying?” Kuangzong Jianying crouched down, reaching out to touch the monster’s corpse.
“This proves,” Feng Bu Jue replied, pulling out his steel knife and slicing a piece of the creature’s skin, placing it on his palm, “that its invisibility isn’t active but a passive trait.” He flicked the skin away dismissively. “Unlike a chameleon’s optical camouflage, this thing is completely transparent.” Holding his flashlight in one hand and the knife in the other, he cut into the corpse on the floor, the blade squelching and spattering blood into empty space. “Not just its skin and muscles—its organs, bones, bodily fluids… everything is transparent. Hmph.”
“Feng Bu Jue,” Kuangzong Jianying interjected, “I get it. Can you stop messing with the monster’s body now?”
“I’m not playing around,” Feng Bu Jue retorted, “I’m testing if its skin or flesh could be used for camouflage.” He shrugged. “Turns out it doesn’t work.”
“If it did, would you really skin it and wear its hide as a cloak?”
“Consider it,” Feng Bu Jue said flatly.
Kuangzong Jianying paused. “That grenade I wasted earlier… I bet you’d even bite that fat worm to death yourself if the reward was high enough.”
“Of course. If biting it to death gave five million game currency, I’d eat the whole thing without hesitation.”
“Alright, alright—spare me the details,” Kuangzong Jianying grimaced, already imagining the grotesque scene.
Feng Bu Jue stood, brushing himself off. “Back to business. Now that the side quest is done, we’ll at least get the extra reward at the end of this kill game mode, win or lose.” He walked to the door, sheathing his flashlight and knife, then heaved open the thick metal door. Artificial light spilled into the doorway’s edge. “Let’s keep moving down the next corridor. Stopping to rest here is like throwing away resources. I suggest we stay active.” He stepped out.
Kuangzong Jianying nodded and followed. They trudged through the troll’s puddles of pus and corroded metal for five to six meters, then turned down another T-junction.
The corridor’s lighting remained unchanged—alternating dim stretches with bright patches. The cold metallic walls and rancid air created an oppressive atmosphere, as if each breath inhaled gaseous rust. The environment steadily drained their vitality value, an inescapable, gnawing discomfort.
When their vitality values hit 50%, Feng Bu Jue pulled out two medium-sized vitality value supplements from his satchel, handing one to his teammate while downing the other.
“Feng Bu Jue,” Kuangzong Jianying hesitated, “you only have four of those left, right? Don’t play hero—save them for yourself. I’ve got large ones.”
Feng Bu Jue held his ground. “I suggest you stop relying solely on large supplements. Drinking a large one at full vitality is always wasteful. It restores 100%, but the minimum theoretical effective use is 1%. Most players chug it at 10% vitality to avoid getting killed before drinking, but the excess healing just vanishes. Simply put, a large bottle usually wastes 10-20% of its effect. But there’s a fix.”
Kuangzong Jianying, though not hearing the full theory yet, accepted the medium supplement, sensing he’d be convinced soon enough.
“Considering diminishing returns,” Feng Bu Jue continued, walking ahead, “carry five small or medium supplements. Prioritize smaller doses to top up vitality, saving large ones for critical moments. This way, you avoid wasting large doses’ overflow.” He paused. “In this scenario, this strategy halves our healing costs and eliminates waste.”
Walking beside him, Kuangzong Jianying fell silent. Something felt off.
“So let me get this straight,” he said. “You give me a 6,000-currency medium bottle, and then I’ll be handing you infinite large bottles worth 12,000 each?”
“Exactly. You practically said the same thing yourself,” Feng Bu Jue replied, his tone maddeningly smug.
“You’ve got nerve, buddy,” Kuangzong Jianying muttered.
“From what I’ve observed, this level of team resource sharing is well within your psychological and financial tolerance,” Feng Bu Jue said. “Besides, if we stop the vitality drain within the next hour, you might not need your large bottles at all. That’d mean free profit for you.” He wagged a finger. “Plus, you’ve gained exclusive knowledge on optimizing healing efficiency—future savings could be astronomical if you monetize it.”
“Why do you look like you’re escalating from scamming to extortion?” Kuangzong Jianying glared.
“Just casual intellectual exchange between adults,” Feng Bu Jue shrugged. “You know, sharing ideas.”
“Okay, okay—I surrender. Take as many as you want.”
As they spoke, a clattering echoed from their left front, growing louder.
The sound came from a corner thirty meters away—a heavy, uneven, stumbling gait.
“It’s probably a person,” Feng Bu Jue whispered. “Running, panicked, hugging the wall. Definitely fleeing.”
Kuangzong Jianying listened. “Why no footsteps from whatever’s chasing them?”
“And the runner isn’t panting or screaming for help,” Feng Bu Jue frowned, drawing his knife. “Something’s wrong.”
The mystery unraveled seconds later.
A figure in bright orange protective gear rounded the corner, helmeted, his headgear fused to his collar. An octopus-like creature clung to his skull, its tentacles piercing through the helmet and into his brain. The monster had replaced his neural control. Struggling to navigate the human body, it staggered forward, arms swinging limply with its lurching steps.
Kuangzong Jianying watched the approaching figure and asked, “You think… if we rip whatever’s on his head off, will this guy still be alive?”
Feng Bu Jue shook his head, stepped forward, and swung his steel blade in a powerful baseball-style swing, cleanly severing the creature’s head as it charged.
“I kind of miss my shotgun,” Feng Bu Jue muttered, walking toward the headless corpse. “This scenario’s straight out of those grotesque sci-fi horror flicks from the West… the monsters here are about as repulsive as they get.”
The octopus monster was still alive, detaching itself from the severed neck. As its tentacles peeled away from the helmet, the face inside was revealed—a mangled mess of flesh with at least seven gaping holes punched through the skull. Brain matter oozed from the suction cups on the tentacles, mixing with blood and splattering onto the floor.
Feng Bu Jue was genuinely grateful he’d bought a blade before entering this scenario. Using a blunt weapon to kill a squishy creature like this would’ve been a nightmare. Even zombies had the decency of a skull—crack a few bones with a pipe wrench, and you’re done. But this thing? Taking it down felt like trying to flatten dough with a rolling pin.
The octopus didn’t put up much of a fight. Its segmented body was easily hacked apart, leaking pools of suspiciously colored fluids before it finally stilled.
“This thing’s attack method reminds me of Alien’s facehuggers,” Feng Bu Jue said, flicking debris off his blade as he examined the head. “Though the parasitic method’s different. Facehuggers don’t drill half a dozen holes into your skull and shove tentacles inside.”
While Feng Bu Jue was chopping the creature apart, Kuangzong Jianying had already begun looting the corpse. He retrieved a strange object from the man’s pocket, and as he held it up, an item menu materialized.
Name: Anti-Gravity Launcher
Type: Weapon
Quality: Fine
Attack Power: Moderate
Attribute: None
Special Effect: Can levitate objects under ten kilograms and less than one cubic meter, then launch them forward.
Equipment Condition: Shooting Proficiency D, Mechanics Proficiency E, Level 15
Background: Please don’t attempt to suck out your own eyeballs. I can assure you, the results will be disastrous.
“Feng Bu Jue, check if you can use this weapon,” Kuangzong Jianying said, handing the item over.
The Anti-Gravity Launcher resembled an iron but was thinner. Its grip had two buttons—one clearly for “lift,” the other for “launch.” Feng Bu Jue checked the item stats, then casually aimed at the severed head lying meters away. At the press of a button, the helmet containing the head hovered inches in front of the device, humming softly.
He leveled his arm and launched the head down the corridor. It rocketed forward at roughly seventy miles per hour, vanishing like a cannonball.
“This tech’s incredible,” Feng Bu Jue remarked. “Too bad the guy couldn’t save himself with it.”
Kuangzong Jianying stared blankly at the flying head. “You’re playing with corpses again…”
“C’mon, old Kuang,” Feng Bu Jue said, clapping his shoulder. “You can just call me Sword Junior, you know.”
“Sword Junior, huh? Sure,” Feng Bu Jue smirked.
“You know I meant ‘sword,’ right?”
“Oh, definitely. Definitely,” Feng Bu Jue drawled. “Anyway, Sword Junior… this equipment—”
“You can have it,” Kuangzong Jianying interrupted. “My shooting and mechanics skills are garbage anyway.” He’d expected Feng Bu Jue’s request and handed it over without hesitation.
“Then I won’t be polite,” Feng Bu Jue said, pocketing the weapon. He glanced at the corpse. “This scenario’s tougher than expected. There are actually humans here.”
Kuangzong Jianying frowned. “The plot synopsis said the archaeology team left with Jason’s body, didn’t it? Could there be another human squad here?”
“That’s the only explanation,” Feng Bu Jue replied, already stripping the corpse.
“Wait—what are you doing?!” Kuangzong Jianying’s voice rose. “You’re not into necrophilia, are you?”
Feng Bu Jue tugged off the body’s armor, revealing a white undershirt and shorts. He lifted the arm, pointing at a tattoo on the outer left bicep. “Look at this.”
Kuangzong Jianying leaned in. A ship-shaped emblem and the word Scavenger were inked onto the skin. After a pause, he asked, “This guy wouldn’t be part of some futuristic grave-robbing gang, would he?”
“The tattoo’s likely an organization’s emblem,” Feng Bu Jue said, inspecting the corpse’s palm. “Though maybe it’s just some punk who thought marking his arm with a tramp’s nickname was cool.”
“People like that exist?”
“You’d be surprised,” Feng Bu Jue muttered, pressing his face close to the corpse’s hand. “Back in elementary school, I saw some kids in an Mmorpg naming their guild ‘*’—I forget the full name. They all walked around with swastikas on their heads, feeling proud.” He moved to examine the nails. “So yeah… plant a stupid seed in ignorant soil, fertilize it with pretentious nonsense, water it with the poison of rote education, and you’ll eventually grow some self-made trash.”
“Dude,” Kuangzong Jianying blinked. “Did you reverse-engineer this game’s censorship system? How’d you say all that with just one beep?”
“This guy’s fingerprints were deliberately removed,” Feng Bu Jue said, ignoring him. “Maybe glued off or something more brutal. Either way, they’re gone.” He paused. “These hands don’t look like a laborer’s. His build’s not muscular either.”
“With a device like the launcher, he wouldn’t need physical strength,” Kuangzong Jianying noted.
“And his wrists don’t show signs of frequent computer use,” Feng Bu Jue added. “Though future tech might’ve phased out mice entirely.”
“Detective, are you planning to strip this corpse naked and analyze every inch?” Kuangzong Jianying asked.
Feng Bu Jue chuckled. “No time for that. If I were, I wouldn’t have tossed the head aside.” He lifted the corpse’s shirt, inspecting the torso. “I’m just checking for mutations—extra limbs, strange organs, anything that sets him apart from regular humans.”
“You think this scenario’s from X-Men and not Friday the 13th?” Kuangzong Jianying frowned.
“I’ve got a theory,” Feng Bu Jue replied. “What if these people aren’t the same as those on the spaceships? What if they’re Earthborn survivors? Maybe some humans never left Old Earth. Perhaps a few descendants are hiding, keeping civilization alive while the colonists forgot they existed…”
(End of Chapter)
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