The way these people spoke was downright unpleasant—did they think just because they ranked first, Qi Xu was obligated to hand out supplies to them?
Even if they formed an alliance later, Qi Xu would never willingly use her own resources and money to support others.
For a team to develop smoothly and sustainably, there couldn’t be freeloaders who only wanted to take advantage. Over time, the hardworking members would inevitably grow resentful.
After all, if slackers could get supplies without lifting a finger, why bother working their tails off?
After tearing into all of them, Qi Xu felt an indescribable satisfaction. Truly... first you question Sister Cut You, then you understand Sister Cut You, and finally, you become Sister Cut You!
This feeling was exhilarating—Qi Xu was starting to love it.
And to her surprise...
Her "show-off points" seemed to be skyrocketing again.
It didn’t take long for Qi Xu to figure it out. Ordinary players wouldn’t dare single-handedly roast an entire group—they’d worry about making enemies or getting ganged up on.
Since both handing out red packets and cursing people out boosted her show-off points, Qi Xu now knew the right path forward.
Seriously, who had time to hand out red packets instead of driving around to loot supply crates? Begging and guilt-tripping for handouts—how shameless.
Qi Xu blocked all the players who had spoken up in the chat, one by one.
No private messages. No trades.
Not everyone was this shameless, but some were surely thinking the same things without saying them aloud. Qi Xu was already reflecting and decided she’d never send red packets in the main chat again.
Breaking Cocoon into Butterfly: "Sister Cut You, you roasted them so hard! Those idiots had me fuming."
Cursed by Non-EU: "Exactly. Signing up for the dungeon was voluntary. Sure, all my supplies got wiped, but I’ve already found two golden crates since leaving. If you just move, you won’t starve."
Blessed by EU: "Damn, bro, how’d you get so unlucky?"
Cursed by Non-EU: "Sis, I got strung up to ‘clean windows’ and the monsters complained I did a terrible job."
Panda Pan Da: "Those guys are delusional. Serves them right for running into a top-tier player like the God of Light."
Cold Shower: "Wow, the bootlicking is real. Can’t we just joke around in chat? Red packets are optional—no need to be so harsh."
Spark of Fire: "Wow. Really seeing our great Sister Cut You in a new light. Guess it’s all just an act."
Qi Xu casually flashed her inventory.
"Location Cards ×95"
Instantly, all the snark in the chat vanished. Her show-off points surged again.
Qi Xu had an epiphany: if she wanted to boost her show-off points, handing out red packets should be her last resort!
From then on, the chat became Sister Cut You’s stage. She dragged everyone out for another round of humiliation before wrapping up her daily quests.
And not a single person dared to clap back.
With some free time, Qi Xu reorganized her supplies, emptying the smaller primary spatial stones and transferring all her remaining items into the advanced spatial stone.
She made her temporary hideout even cozier.
The advanced spatial stone could be fused with any item. After some thought, Qi Xu merged it with her thermoregulation suit.
She’d be wearing this suit constantly—it adapted to all weather conditions. If she ever stopped needing it, she could always separate them. For now, it was a must-wear.
Qi Xu mused about building a small cabin inside the advanced spatial stone. That way, during extreme weather, she could stow her vehicle and take shelter inside.
She could stay for two hours at a time, up to three times a day—six hours of refuge total.
Plenty.
Dressed head-to-toe in thermoregulation gear, Qi Xu stepped outside without issue. Other players weren’t so lucky.
The dungeon had been perfectly temperate, but outside, temperatures had spiked by 30-40 degrees. It was unbearable.
Every inch of their bodies felt scorched—except their hearts, which were ice-cold.
Yet they couldn’t afford to stop. With empty backpacks, they had to scramble for supply crates, or their avatars would soon turn gray.
Back in the main chat, Qi Xu scrolled through the messages.
Most players were in the same boat—the dungeon had reset their progress by over a month.
"Five days of grinding, and we’re back to square one."
At least the chat was free of obnoxious show-offs—or maybe they were just hiding it well, not daring to whine now.
The wait felt endless. Eight hours passed, from dawn to dusk.
The moment her vehicle finished upgrading, it expanded significantly. Qi Xu scooped up Little Seven and darted aside.
No time to inspect the changes—she jumped straight in. With only two hours left, she still had 100 kilometers to cover for the daily mileage goal.
And she wasn’t about to skip the supply crates. Since she didn’t need to slow down to collect them, she told Qiuqiu:
"Full speed ahead. Calculate the route—hit the 100km target first."
"Got it. You rest now. You’ve earned it."
Qi Xu kept waiting for the system announcement, but it never came.
A pang of disappointment hit her—she wasn’t the first to upgrade to a Tier-6 vehicle.
How had someone else done it so fast?
Were they also a scrap collector, or did they have some special advantage?
Gathering 66 types of metal was no joke. Without stumbling into that dungeon, she might’ve waited ages.
She let the regret linger briefly, then shrugged it off.
Sure, it stung, but dwelling on the past was pointless. If she fixated on every setback, survival would feel even grimmer.
Driving alone on these endless roads was depressing enough—no need to pile on unnecessary pressure.
She examined the vehicle’s interior upgrades. The driver’s cabin had more space, and the dashboard was now fully digital. A row of buttons lined the bottom, each labeled.
The red one controlled the energy machine gun—tilting it would fire in that direction.
The blue button was for poison gas bombs.
A consumable weapon, it required stockpiling poison gas bombs in the vehicle. Without them, it’d just shoot air bombs...
Still functional, but far less intimidating.
