At precisely 6:00 AM, Liu Weian woke up to the chime of a message. It was a notification—his delivery had arrived. Impressive efficiency. The Plum Blossom Chamber of Commerce certainly deserved praise.
He could tell from her breathing that Zhao Nannan had also woken up at the same time. Zhao Xin, on the other hand, was still sound asleep. Ignoring them both, Liu Weian brushed his teeth and washed his face before heading out.
Perhaps because of the recent riots and the shocking death toll—rumored to be in the thousands—things had been eerily quiet at night lately. No more violent incidents. But each morning, there seemed to be more and more slave beggars on the streets.
Just as he arrived at the commercial district, several prison wagons roared by, exuding a menacing aura. They came to a screeching halt in the square, and a horde of prisoners in convict garb were herded out like livestock. Anyone who hesitated or disobeyed was immediately lashed without mercy.
"There must've been another rebellion somewhere," someone muttered nearby.
"Not necessarily," an elderly man leaning on a cane shook his head.
"What makes you say that?" asked another.
"If they were rebels, you'd see scars or wounds. Veterans carry a different kind of energy. These people? They may look fierce, but it's all for show—paper tigers. I'd bet they were implicated in a corruption scandal. Probably families of disgraced officials," the old man concluded.
Everyone looked again. Sure enough, most of the prisoners had pale skin and soft bodies. Clearly people who had lived lives of comfort. No soldier looked like that.
Liu Weian glanced briefly, then moved on. But now he understood something: no matter how many slaves died—frozen, starved, or killed—they were never in short supply. There was always a fresh batch. Given time, these prisoners would soon resemble the local slaves: emaciated, numb, wrapped in filthy blankets, huddled under walls, praying for a few copper coins…
He picked up his package, bought breakfast, stocked up on food and water. By the time he returned, the prison wagons were gone. Around five to six hundred prisoners now stood in the square, most of them dazed and fearful. Some had begun to drift away, but many stood rooted, lost in the unfamiliar surroundings.
Back in the basement, Liu Weian checked the time and was startled—it was a full minute and a half faster than yesterday. Strange. Then he remembered last night's sprint. Ever since things had improved a little financially, he'd made it a habit to run out for breakfast every day—not just for food, but for training. Each trip was precisely timed to track improvements. After the initial surge from the first dose of the Strength Seed, his speed had increased steadily by six to ten seconds per day. The biggest boost had come after taking the first zombie seed—thirty seconds. But this jump of ninety seconds? That was something else entirely. It told him one thing: training mattered. Seeds alone weren't enough.
By then, Zhao Nannan and her daughter were up. Zhao Xin was still at that age where sleeping in was her favorite hobby, but the smell of food had coaxed her out of bed. With better nutrition lately, her cheeks were rounder, and her complexion had gone from sickly pale to a healthy pink.
While Zhao Xin studied with a tablet under her mother's supervision, Liu Weian eagerly took out the mysterious stone he'd snatched. It was the size of an egg, dark yellow tinged with black—ugly by any standard. Not a gemstone, not metal, and definitely not jade. It resembled amber, with strange markings on its surface—maybe symbols, maybe characters. Liu Weian had no knowledge of such things.
He turned it over and over for half an hour, getting nowhere. Just as he was about to give up and go earn some money in-game, a thought crossed his mind—like when he learned the "Triple Arrow" skill. Holding the stone to his chest, he focused his gaze, emptying his mind.
It looked like something out of a magic trick—like those street performers claiming they could move bricks with their minds.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. His legs went numb, his arms sore. Just as he was about to give up, the stone in his hand flickered under the light—and then exploded with a burst of seven-colored radiance. His mind was struck with a thunderous boom, and he lost consciousness.
The stone vanished from his hand.
Right next to him, Zhao Nannan saw nothing. But her intuition told her something had happened. She looked closer—Liu Weian was sitting cross-legged, hands to his chest, just like before. Except now, his hands were empty.
Four hours passed. It was noon. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. Was he asleep? Had he passed out? He didn't even wake up for lunch. By dinner, Zhao Nannan noticed something was off—he had visibly lost weight.
Liu Weian's body had bulked up significantly in recent days, thanks to food, rest, and regular Strength Seeds. He'd gone from under 70 to 105 pounds, and had grown from 165 cm to 172. Once slightly shorter than Zhao Nannan, he now stood taller. His frame had filled out so much he'd needed new clothes. But now, the new clothes hung loose. His once-chiseled features had softened. The square jaw was now a pointed chin.
Whatever was happening, it wasn't good.
She wanted to wake him—but didn't dare. Hours crawled by. Night came and went like a century. By dawn, Liu Weian had withered into a skeleton. Sunken eyes, jutting bones, a real-life cadaver with only skin to hold it together.
Panicked, Zhao Nannan made up her mind to go outside and seek help. It was safer by day, though still dangerous. But where would she go? She didn't know anyone. Her hand touched the doorknob, then paused. She looked back at Liu Weian.
And spotted the parcel he'd brought back.
Suddenly, it clicked. She dashed over, tore it open, grabbed a handful of Strength Seeds, and shoved them into his mouth. She was ready to force him to swallow, but the seeds dissolved on contact—no water needed.
As the first seed melted, a faint color returned to his face. Overjoyed, she fed him another. And another.
One handful. Two. Three.
In less than thirty minutes, half of the 500+ seeds were gone. His skin regained some elasticity. Color returned to his cheeks. Blood vessels bulged under his skin—he was alive again.
There were still 3,700 seeds in the nightstand drawer. Zhao Nannan didn't hesitate. She fed them to him by the fistful. Zhao Xin, who'd been crying earlier, stopped as she watched his body recover, curiosity lighting up her eyes.
By the time the last seed dissolved, Zhao Nannan's arms were aching. Liu Weian now looked as he had a month ago—thin, yes, but no longer skeletal. No longer a corpse.
But he still didn't wake up.
By nightfall, he'd slimmed down again, though not as drastically. On the second and third day, he once again wasted into skin and bones. But this time, his skin wasn't deathly gray—it had a faint glow. Better than before, but still terrifying.
Zhao Nannan tried everything—even feeding him energy paste. It helped, but not much. She was nearly reduced to chewing up buns to feed him by hand.
On the morning of the fourth day, Liu Weian finally opened his eyes.
"I'm starving," he said.
He jumped out of bed, but his legs were numb from sitting too long and he collapsed. Ignoring the pain, he crawled to the food stash like a madman—devouring buns, biscuits, sausages—everything they had. The stockpile, meant to feed three people for two months, was gone in fifteen minutes.
"Slow down, slow down!" Zhao Nannan woke up groggily. She'd stayed up for days and had finally dozed off—only to wake and find him feasting like a wild beast, tears and laughter mixing on her face.
Liu Weian gave her a puzzled look. Why was she on his bed? But there was no time for that now. He chugged three bottles of milk and two of water. Still starving. His stomach felt like it was on fire.
"I'm going to buy more food!" he shouted, and bolted out the door—forgetting to even close it behind him.
Thirty minutes later, he returned with two giant bags of meat: roast chicken, duck, suckling pig… He devoured six chickens, five ducks, and two pigs, plus three liters of milk, before finally slowing down. The hunger had dulled, though it still lingered. His mind was finally able to focus—and when he looked down at his hands, he recoiled in horror.
They looked like a pair of skeletal claws.
"What the hell happened to me?"
"We'd like to know that too," Zhao Nannan said, echoing his question.