Chapter 377: Hitchhiking
Chapter 377: Hitchhiking
Feng Bu Jue circled the car wreckage for a while, racking his brain for a way to climb the cliffs, but eventually gave up and sought an alternative path.
At this point, Feng Bu Jue had lost his supernatural agility, his cultivation skills, Equipment, and even basic survival tools. As an ordinary commoner stuck in this valley thicket, the situation was undeniably extremely dangerous.
He wasn’t even sure if this scenario imposed additional harsh rules—like requiring players to eat and drink to avoid starvation (for the record, Feng Bu Jue had originally experienced this scenario in sleep mode). If such a rule existed, his years of watching Survive in Wilderness would at least let him last a day or two longer than average.
“So I’ve got no choice but to move forward blindly on instinct…” Feng Bu Jue muttered as he trudged through the forest.
This was unavoidable. With his current physical limits, climbing a tree for a better view felt as difficult as scaling the heavens. Even if he managed it, leaning out from the canopy would be perilous without protective gear—slipping could easily mean death.
Still, things went smoother than expected.
After twenty minutes of struggling through branches and undergrowth, a small stream appeared before him. Looking up, he noticed the forest across the stream was much sparser, with a visible dirt path winding through the trees.
Feng Bu Jue approached the stream cautiously, scanning the area for beasts before crouching to splash water on his face and drink deeply.
The dryness in his throat and overwhelming exhaustion confirmed his character in this scenario needed food, water, and rest. The only missing mechanic was bathroom breaks—thankfully, because he couldn’t even drop his pants.
After hydrating and resting briefly, he resumed his journey.
Though no dangers had emerged since the car explosion, Feng Bu Jue’s cautious nature and lingering fear of Nightmare Mode kept him hyper-vigilant. He even crossed the knee-deep, five-meter-wide stream with utmost care.
On the opposite bank, he dried his feet with his suit’s hem before pulling on socks and shoes, then followed the path forward.
“Hmm… My reflection in the water shows my usual face,” he thought while walking. “All my pockets are empty, and there’s no insignia or marking anywhere. So… what’s my name as this famous detective?”
As he pondered, the path ahead sharpened, but the terrain grew steeper. Looking back, the forest he’d traversed now lay far below his current elevation.
For nearly half an hour, he continued forward. After exiting a pine forest, the land flattened suddenly, and soon a highway emerged into view.
Feng Bu Jue quickened his pace to reach the main road. The sight of utility poles stirred unexpected nostalgia—though a few missing posters or advertisements would’ve made them feel even more familiar.
In truth, he’d merely circled back to the highway’s elevation after climbing from the valley.
Wooo—
Not long after starting down the road, a distant engine roar approached.
Feng Bu Jue turned to see a flashy red convertible speeding toward him.
Without hesitation, he planted himself in the road’s center, legs apart, arms raised to form a giant “T” shape—a clear “either give me a ride or run me over” stance.
“Hey! Help me out!” he shouted, waving both arms as the car neared.
The vehicle carried a middle-aged white couple, both dressed in mid-20th-century styles, from their clothes to the car itself.
Though wary of roadside strangers, the pair noticed Feng Bu Jue’s gaunt, unarmed figure in disheveled but respectable attire, shouting “help.” Seeming genuinely desperate, he earned their cautious trust.
The convertible slowed and stopped. The driver turned to his wife: “Stay in the car, Carol.”
“Be careful, Dennis,” she replied.
Dennis stepped out, halting two meters from Feng Bu Jue. “Sir, what’s wrong?”
Feng Bu Jue sized him up—a near-six-foot-tall, fortyish man with a sturdy frame, brown hair, blue eyes, and a neat mustache. His beige short-sleeved T-shirt, white trousers, and polished shoes contrasted with the blue cardigan draped over his shoulders, knotted at the chest. This outdated style confirmed Feng Bu Jue’s suspicion: this scenario was set in the 20th century.
“Ah… yes, sir. I was in a car accident,” Feng Bu Jue replied.
“A crash?” Dennis glanced at him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Feng Bu Jue said. “My car plunged off the road. I hiked an hour from the valley to get back here.” He shared details strategically to build trust. “Forgive my abrupt roadblock, but I really need a ride.”
“I see,” Dennis said, relaxing slightly as he stepped closer. “Don’t worry, buddy—I’m happy to help.”
“Appreciate it,” Feng Bu Jue said politely.
Dennis led him to the car, gesturing to the woman inside. “My wife Carol.” Then, turning to her, he motioned toward Feng Bu Jue.
“Feng Bu Jue,” he offered his real name to test the Npc’s reaction.
“This is Mr. Feng,” Dennis continued smoothly, showing the system had already accommodated name and appearance factors.
“Oh, what terrible luck! Are you sure you’re unharmed?” Carol asked.
Seated in the back, Feng Bu Jue had already boarded. Even if they changed their minds now, tossing him out wouldn’t be easy.
Carol wore a red wool coat, her brown hair framing dark eyes. Though not conventionally beautiful, her odd facial contours stood out despite heavy makeup. Age hadn’t been kind to this forty-year-old—thick foundation couldn’t hide all her wrinkles.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking, ma’am,” Feng Bu Jue replied as he settled in.
Dennis slid into the driver’s seat, glancing back. “My wife and I are heading to our mountain villa for a family gathering. We’re almost there—if you don’t mind, come with us. We’ve got a phone for contacting your family or friends.”
“Grateful beyond words,” Feng Bu Jue said. “Might I ask your name, sir?”
“Lovecraft,” Dennis answered, revving the engine. “Dennis Lovecraft.”
(End of Chapter)
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