Two pieces of loot—one pair of Black Mango Boots and one Bright Silver Hammer. Both had belonged to the bearded man. Poor guy. With gear that good, he didn't even get a chance to fight back before he died. A waste, really.
The items were indeed valuable. But Liu Guanan already had a pair of Black Mango Boots, and as for the Bright Silver Hammer—what use did an archer have for a heavy melee weapon? Swinging a warhammer in leather armor was suicide.
So, he sold them both.
By the time he logged out that night, his account balance had grown to 11 gold, 78 silver, and 56 copper coins.
From peasant to tycoon overnight.
He went straight to the shopping street, splurging on a roast chicken, a roast duck, a smartphone, a change of clothes, and even a tablet. In this world, food was the true luxury. The poultry alone cost more than all the electronics combined.
That night, the three of them feasted. Bellies bulging, Liu Guanan lay sprawled on the bed, feeling like he'd never been this full in his life. He looked over and chuckled. Zhao Xin, curled up like a kitten, was licking the bones clean—pink tongue darting, eyes sparkling, irresistibly cute.
Zhao Nannan glanced coldly at the bags piled in the corner—clothes, a phone, and all the rest.
"Rich now, are we?" she asked.
"Hit a small windfall," Liu Guanan replied with a grin.
"This is how you spend it?" she said flatly, her tone laced with disapproval.
"What else would I do?"
"Have you thought about the future?" she asked, staring at him.
"The future? Well, maybe just—" Liu Guanan trailed off. He didn't know what to say. Since the moment he'd been taken from the orphanage by the dean, nothing had been normal. Framed for crimes he didn't commit, forced to escape through chaos, hunted by pirates, surviving on scraps in a rigged game… Every moment had been about staying alive. Who had time to think about the future?
Honestly, if not for the recent lucky breaks, he'd probably be passed out from exhaustion by now.
"This is a slave zone," Zhao Nannan said seriously. "You need to figure out a way out."
"How?" Liu Guanan's heart stirred. She was right—this place was a mess, dangerous and unsustainable.
"I don't know," she admitted, catching his disappointed look. Then her eyes drifted to the pile of electronics. "But in this world… there's nothing money can't buy. Power? You'll never have that. But money…"
Liu Guanan's eyes lit up. A spark of inspiration flickered in his mind.
"In the future, don't waste money on things like this," Zhao Nannan said gently. "Focus on energy tubes instead."
"You want Zhao Xin to grow up without knowing anything?" Liu Guanan countered, handing the girl the tablet.
Zhao Nannan froze. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. For a long moment, sadness welled up in her eyes like a flood ready to burst.
"Sleep," she muttered.
The lights went out.
The mother and daughter rustled onto the upper bunk, but Liu Guanan lay wide awake. Sleep? Not a chance.
What future?
What goals?
Be a governor? A rich man? Or...
He tossed and turned, eyes opening and closing restlessly. Images of his long-lost parents crept in. Who were they? Why did they abandon him at the orphanage? Was it desperation? Indifference? Were they even still alive? Somewhere out there on the planet? Or already dead?
Eventually, sleep crept in.
And he dreamed.
He dreamed of wealth—mountains of gold coins, strung together to wrap around Mars multiple times. He dreamed of power, becoming a mighty official, emperor of the empire. With a flick of his hand, heads rolled. His harem overflowed with concubines. Thousands bowed at his feet. He enjoyed every possible luxury.
Then the scene shifted.
He lay alone on a dragon-shaped bed in an empty, silent hall. Naked. Exposed.
Outside, the sound of slaughter erupted—screams, swords clashing, chaos incarnate. A cold wind howled. Then a woman appeared—pale as snow, holding a blood-drenched blade. She floated toward him, sword gleaming with murderous intent. The chill in the air bit into his skin.
"Who are you? Why are you trying to kill me?" he wanted to shout, but he couldn't move or speak. He was paralyzed, watching helplessly as she came closer. Her blade shone with icy light.
Just before the sword pierced his heart, he saw her face clearly.
Zhao Nannan.
His eyes flew open. His body drenched in cold sweat.
That witch—why was she trying to kill me?!
He sat up in a panic… and realized something was wrong.
The sounds of battle were still there.
Not a dream.
Real.
Loud, chaotic footsteps. Curses. Screaming. A voice bellowed outside:
"Break it down!"
BOOM!
The heavy iron door shook violently, a deafening clang echoing through the tiny basement like a thunderclap. From the top bunk, Zhao Xin let out a terrified scream, immediately muffled as Zhao Nannan covered her mouth, her body trembling.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The attackers hammered the door like madmen. Steel groaned. Their voices, frenzied and angry, cut through the noise:
"We're freezing out here while they live in warmth—eating bread!"
"Smash it open! Take everything!"
"Kill them! Steal their food!"
"We want food! We want freedom! We want homes! Clothes!"
The slaves had rioted.
Liu Guanan's heart pounded—but weirdly, he felt a sliver of relief.
At least it wasn't rebels or bandits. Those guys were organized, armed, and ruthless. Wherever they went, death followed.
Slave mobs, though? Weak, hungry, armed with planks and rocks at best. Still dangerous, but not as deadly.
This wasn't the first time. Slave riots happened often—sometimes every two weeks, sometimes every few days. Most were small, a few thousand people at most. Rarely did they reach this deep into the housing blocks.
But this time… they had.
The iron door dented inward, the center smashed by what looked like a stone the size of a man's head. The entire room shook.
Outside, the crowd grew more frenzied, screaming and howling. Distant shrieks echoed from other floors. Someone was already dead.
The corridor was packed with shirtless, starving slaves, their crude weapons smashing everything—light bulbs, bins, windows…
Another bang—the door dented further.
Liu Guanan clenched his fists, heart pounding. He scanned the room—no weapons.
Nothing.
If that door fell, they were dead.
And then—he saw them through the growing crack in the door: dozens of wild-eyed men, clutching stones and nail-covered planks, faces twisted with desperation and rage. No fear. No hesitation.
This is it.
One more hit. Maybe two.
He crouched low, like a predator ready to strike. If he had to die, he'd take a few of them down with him.
Then—
BANG!
The iron door quaked—but before it gave way, gunshots rang out.
Salvation.
The police—or perhaps military—had arrived.
Screams filled the hallway. The front wave of rioters collapsed within seconds. Blood splashed. Bodies hit the floor.
The rear crowd hesitated. Their madness cracked.
One terrified scream. Then another.
Then panic.
Like a receding tide, they fled. The chaos vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
The gunfire trailed off as the police chased the mob into the night.
Half an hour later, patrols returned. A loudspeaker blared:
"All clear. The threat is over."
Only then did Liu Guanan open the battered iron door. The hallway beyond looked like a war zone—blood smeared across the floor, bodies strewn like broken dolls. In the distance, corpses piled up, some in heaps five or six deep. Blood flowed like black ink.
The building was wrecked. Every door dented. Every window shattered. Some rooms had their doors torn open. A few had corpses inside—families slaughtered in their sleep.
Liu Guanan turned back.
He couldn't bear to see more.
Back in the basement, his mind was clear. Only one thought burned in his heart:
I have to get out of this place.