His gaze was sincere. “Don’t tell Fu Songcheng you want to get something from him—you can tell him what help you need. As long as you don’t give up on yourself, as long as you’re willing to learn, he’ll teach you how to use your own abilities to get what you need—just like he never stinted on sharing project techniques back then.”
Li Yang listened in a daze. He was about to enter an instance, and the repeated instance journeys and the ever-dwindling player count constantly tormented him—anxiety, terror, and fear followed him like shadows.
But Fu Songcheng had pointed him in a direction, and Chen Muhuai had untied the knot in his heart.
He took a deep breath, as if to expel all the turbid air from his lungs, and nodded hard at Chen Muhuai. “Old Chen, thank you for the points. I know what to do now.”
…
On the other side, Fu Songcheng and Yu Huaiting had already walked far.
The rest area’s streets simulated a real-world night market on both sides, scattered NPC vendors selling food. Fu Songcheng noticed these were almost all Blue Star dishes, though the seasoning and presentation were somewhat awkwardly imitative—but at least they smelled of everyday life.
The two casually bought a bit from a roadside stall, counting it as dinner.
Yu Huaiting polished off the food in his hands in a few bites and turned to look at Fu Songcheng, who was slowly wiping his mouth, his eyes sparkling. “Gege, it’s still early. How about we stroll around the rest area~”
His tone rose at the end, carrying a hint of ingratiation—Yu Huaiting’s customary coquetry.
Fu Songcheng tossed the tissue into the recycling bin and answered with a faint “Mm.”
That counted as agreement.
Before the 5.0 version update, the system had forcibly closed all instance entrances, so they wouldn’t be entering any instances. This afternoon they’d also completed their high-intensity physical training—might as well treat this as relaxation.
Even in this rest area where death could come at any moment, Fu Songcheng kept a strict daily schedule as he would in the real world.
But he wasn’t an emotionless machine. He wouldn’t sink entirely into the frantic pursuit of strength and points. Life was finite, fate unpredictable—and along the way, being able to see the scenery with the puppy was also extremely precious.
Unfortunately, the rest area’s environmental simulation was too monotonous.
Aside from taverns, tea houses, and restaurants—places for people to vent and socialize—there were no other forms of entertainment.
The buildings on both sides of the street were mostly identical. The two walked side by side, and Yu Huaiting suddenly caught Fu Songcheng’s hand, fingers interlaced.
Fu Songcheng’s steps paused. He turned to glance at him, didn’t pull away, and let himself be led onward.
After walking a long stretch, Yu Huaiting suddenly spoke. “Gege, you’ve changed a lot.”
“What do you mean?” Fu Songcheng looked straight ahead.
“You used to get embarrassed easily. You wouldn’t dare do these things with me outside.”
Today at the tea bar, Fu Songcheng had openly introduced him to all his old colleagues without avoiding anyone’s gaze. That candid attitude had greatly satisfied a certain possessiveness in Yu Huaiting’s heart.
He couldn’t help wanting to confirm Fu Songcheng’s feelings again and again.
Fu Songcheng heard the meaning in his words and suddenly pulled his hand free from Yu Huaiting’s grip.
“If you’re not used to it, keeping some distance is fine too.”
Fu Songcheng said deliberately.
How could Yu Huaiting agree to that? He immediately clung back on like taffy, both hands clutching Fu Songcheng’s arm for dear life, practically hanging off him, declaring sovereignty through gritted teeth: “In your dreams! Since you admitted me in front of so many people, don’t even think about shaking me off this life. Admit it—you love me!”
Fu Songcheng let out a soft laugh.
Most of the players passing by were worried and heavy-hearted. They drowned their sorrows in drink on the streets, wept in corners with their heads in their hands, or stared at the system panel’s instance countdown judgment like walking corpses.
If Fu Songcheng hadn’t met Yu Huaiting, he might have become one of them too—a cold, emotionless calculating machine, stopping at nothing to survive.
There’s no right or wrong in choices.
But he liked his current state: vivid, fervent, surrounded by hatred and hope, climbing step by step toward higher ground.
They strolled around and returned to their personal rest room. The scenes inside the rest room weren’t observable by Source Star viewers—a rare bit of human rights and privacy protection.
Over the next two days, the two followed their routine: Fu Songcheng did physical training in the morning and combat sparring in the afternoon.
Every night, Fu Songcheng would connect into “Source Star.” Shen Ning seemed busy and overwhelmed again by the new version update, leaving him alone.
With the version update, many popular players hadn’t entered instances, and viewers had even started complaining that Death Party was getting more and more boring.
Besides Death Party information, Fu Songcheng also downloaded several technical papers. He himself came from a technical background—unfortunately, the technological gap between the two civilizations was too vast. Fu Songcheng forced himself to learn slowly from the beginning.
Shen Ning seemed to have anticipated that even if Fu Songcheng could access and study Source Star culture, he couldn’t change anything—a technological development speed dozens of times faster wasn’t something an individual could bridge overnight through study.
But Fu Songcheng forced himself to learn more, understand more, every time—until the ten minutes ran out, then he’d exit Source Star and quickly find paper and pen to record.
Yu Huaiting was a total night owl, and at times like this he’d keep watch nearby.
The illiterate puppy couldn’t understand what Fu Songcheng was writing and drawing—formulas and flowcharts. But Fu Songcheng’s handwriting was beautiful, and so were his ideas.
Time quickly came to the third day.
[System 5.0 version update loading: 92/100]
A storm was brewing.
At this moment, in the training room.
Bang!
A dull sound of flesh colliding rang out.
Yu Huaiting swept a vicious whip kick, carrying a whistle of torn air.
Fu Songcheng slid backward, simultaneously reaching out to precisely catch Yu Huaiting’s ankle, then surging power to the side to flip him.
Yu Huaiting flipped through the air with the momentum, landing steadily, and lunged again.
“I’m about to be unable to beat you, huh.”
Yu Huaiting teased while throwing a heavy punch.
Fu Songcheng tilted his head to dodge the fist wind—the punch grazed past his cheek—and backhanded an elbow strike into Yu Huaiting’s chest. “I’m waiting for the day you say you can’t beat me anymore.”
The two fought to a standstill. Fu Songcheng wanted a quick finish, but Yu Huaiting always dragged it into his specialty—a war of endurance.
Suddenly, Fu Songcheng received a message from Chen Ke.
One look from him, and Yu Huaiting stopped, running to the side to fetch him water.
Fu Songcheng strode to the bench and opened the chat box.
[Chen Ke: I made it out alive. Zhao Yixing is dead.]
Fu Songcheng stared at the words on the screen and took a deep breath.
Zhao Yixing—the one who could bless a target, the player who loved intangible-heritage bamboo carving.
[Fu Songcheng: Did he use his skill?]
[Chen Ke: He used it. He blessed that humanity will surely achieve victory.]
If the system weren’t dominated by Source Star, that wish might truly come true.
Unfortunately, they were in an arena built by people from another planet.
The system was cunning too—it called it a blessing, but never said whether the blessing would be fulfilled. In the end, it was nothing but a vision.
Just as Fu Songcheng was lost in thought and sentiment, Chen Ke’s messages continued.
[Chen Ke: Dawn’s higher-ups are very dissatisfied with this wish. Let’s meet—some things are better discussed in person.]
[Fu Songcheng: Fine. Five o’clock, the system tavern.]
[Chen Ke: We don’t allow drinking in bars…]
[Fu Songcheng: Then the restaurant. You’re treating.]
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