A Midnight Exchange

Liu Zhengxuan’s decision to gather his teammates was the result of careful deliberation. The precise nature of his considerations, however, remained known only to him.

Since a show of goodwill had been decided, Xiang Ke naturally offered no opposition. She, too, rallied her own people, bolstering her leverage and ensuring she wouldn’t be caught in a passive position.

Truth be told, Liu Zhengxuan initially failed to perceive Xiang Ke’s overtures of goodwill. Subconsciously, he regarded her as an adversary, opting for caution and vigilance. He only truly grasped the situation later, during an exploration trip.

After numerous fruitless searches, he realized the gravity of their predicament.

Logically, games with longer survival times should make finding food and water relatively easy. Such basic resource scarcity typically only occurred in dedicated survival modes.

Yet now…

They had walked for two hours. While they had found plenty of items that could serve as weapons, not a single trace of food or water had surfaced.

This defied all logic, elevating what should have been a moderately challenging game to an almost impossibly difficult, hellish level.

Given his performance in the previous round, he wasn’t entirely surprised by the increased game difficulty. He had vaguely sensed something was amiss, but hadn’t paid it much mind.

Now, however, he could no longer afford to ignore other factors. Connecting the dots, he immediately understood the core issue.

Humans could endure for a time without food, but seven days without water was a death sentence.

At most, three or four days, and all the escapees would lose their ability to resist, becoming mere lambs to the slaughter.

The Hunter, however, had no such concerns. With all their attributes amplified tenfold, they could easily outlast these few days.

This realization led to Liu Zhengxuan signaling Xiang Ke. The two met under the cloak of night, when the world was silent.

More than half an hour passed as they exchanged the basic information they had gathered thus far.

“Four days, five at most.”

The blue-haired young man pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep, harsh drag.

“The Hunter will come for us. Without some special measures, we won’t even have the strength to run.”

Xiang Ke understood what ‘special measures’ entailed, but she subconsciously recoiled from the idea.

“Why five days? The longer the time drags on, the lower the Hunter’s score will be in the system. That doesn’t align with their interests.”

She awkwardly changed the subject. Unless absolutely necessary, Xiang Ke did not want to discuss that particular issue.

“Heh heh…”

The young man chuckled, though whether he was laughing at Xiang Ke’s naivety or foolishness was unclear.

“Alright, I’ll do it if I have to.” She closed her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Tomorrow, perhaps. If there’s still no turning point by tomorrow night…”

Such thoughts brought forth unpleasant memories. Who didn’t harbor a few sad stories from their past?

“I’m tired. Let’s go back to sleep.”

The blue-haired man snuffed out his cigarette and headed towards the staircase. Since their attitudes were clear and their basic information exchange largely complete, there was no reason to linger.

The night air was quite cold.

In truth, both still held back certain information from the other. No one was foolish enough to reveal everything.

Veterans who had navigated the game for a while weren’t so easily trusting of others.

Forget others; sometimes, they couldn’t even trust themselves.

Who knew what strange talents might exist that could manipulate one’s thoughts, inducing a slide into an unpredictable abyss?

Those who survived in this game were no fools; each possessed their own unique qualities.

Underestimating enemies or overly trusting others invariably led to a single outcome: death.

****

At some unknown hour, the wind began to rise outside. It rattled against the windows, producing a mournful wail that rose and fell, nearing and receding, casting an eerie atmosphere over the scene.

Someone awoke at this moment. He first gazed around in a daze, then finally recalled his grim situation.

‘Honestly… how did I end up in such a mess?’

Given that he would soon perish, we should grant him the basic respect of a minor character and reveal his name.

Yu Mingyuan was an ordinary worker. Plain and unremarkable since childhood, his most notable experience was perhaps once spotting a disguised, eighteenth-tier celebrity on the street. Beyond that, his life held little worth mentioning.

He had always believed his life would continue in such an uneventful manner. He never imagined he would one day encounter a supernatural phenomenon.

His first thought wasn’t excitement, but a creeping sense of unease.

An ordinary person, devoid of any special abilities, would inevitably feel utterly helpless when suddenly confronted with something beyond their comprehension.

This was only human nature. Somewhat muddled, he had followed the group, eventually joining Liu Zhengxuan’s team for reasons he couldn’t quite recall.

Yu Mingyuan was not a man of strong opinions. Whatever the team asked him to do, he did. Knowing he possessed little skill, he naturally chose to follow others’ arrangements.

Even so, he understood some basic truths.

Without food, people would die.

He rubbed his stomach. Having not eaten for an entire day, Yu Mingyuan had never craved food and water as intensely as he did now.

Only by experiencing it did one truly comprehend the preciousness of things often overlooked in daily life.

He had considered the possibility that the blue-haired young man had hidden the food and water, but lacking any proof, he eventually dismissed the idea.

He had seen it with his own eyes during their outdoor explorations: the houses lining the roads truly contained no food or water.

Now, however, his mind began to stir.

Everyone was sound asleep; this was the ideal time to act.

Yu Mingyuan’s hands trembled slightly. He wasn’t greedy; he merely wanted to search for any hidden food to alleviate the gnawing hunger in his belly.

Ashamed and uneasy about his own thoughts, he failed to notice that the person designated for night watch had inexplicably vanished.

Even if he had known, he likely wouldn’t have cared. Having never experienced such circumstances, he didn’t understand the significance of a night watchman in this situation.

They had been assigned in pairs, rotating shifts. This arrangement should have been sufficient to ensure everyone’s safety, waking them immediately should any emergency arise.

No one would have anticipated both watchmen disappearing simultaneously.

As he cautiously left the living room, his peripheral vision caught a faint black silhouette through the window.

‘Who, who’s there!’

Startled, he almost cried out.

But upon a closer look, the shadow had vanished, as if it had merely been an illusion. Perhaps he had simply misseen; after all, the night was dark, and moonlight often played tricks on the eyes.

Yu Mingyuan tried to convince himself, yet a sense of unease persisted.

‘No, I should still wake everyone up…’ He gritted his teeth, turning back, only to feel the world spin. He collapsed softly to the ground.