"Too little. Give me a bit more to round it off."
"Alright, 900 Survival Coins!"
Qi Xu's face darkened. Rounding off to 900? How is that even a whole number? Not even reaching 1,000 and calling it "rounded"?
Qi Xu argued relentlessly, refusing to back down. It had been a while since he’d enjoyed this kind of bargaining, and it felt oddly fun. Qiuqiu, surprisingly, gave in and eventually paid the full 1,000 Survival Coins.
Qi Xu immediately split 20 of them back to Qiuqiu.
Qiuqiu: "Suddenly, a very 'criminal' idea pops into my head. The boss’s mind really works fast!"
After Green Mountains Clear Waters died, Cotton Candy Lamb suddenly felt her vision go dark, as if a tiny worm had burrowed into her brain, drilling a heart-wrenching pain.
It took her a while to recover, but when she did... her mind felt strangely light, a comfort she hadn’t experienced in ages.
Before she could even savor the relief, her eyes landed on the screen’s display—and she froze in shock.
C137 Mighty Ox: "Hurry up! Send it over already! My vehicle’s getting soaked out here. Can you stop dragging your feet?"
Cotton Candy Lamb felt like she’d lost her memory, completely clueless about what she’d been doing.
Scrolling up through the chat logs, her jaw dropped. Holy crap, was I possessed by some evil spirit? Am I out of my mind? Buying all those Love Raincoats at full price and then renting them out for free?!
And the worst part? The people taking advantage of her weren’t even grateful. No sweet talk, no pleasantries—just complaints about her being slow.
Cotton Candy Lamb was utterly baffled. What the hell happened? Then she checked her inventory and nearly fainted on the spot.
Didn’t I just top the monthly leaderboard? Why am I broke as hell now? Where’s my Vehicle Upgrade Card? My stockpile of basic supplies? My weapons?!
Damn it, does this survival game have thieves? She couldn’t make sense of it until she saw the chat logs again—her own reckless spree of handing out red packets. It was like she’d seen a ghost.
She even started questioning if she had split personality disorder and went straight to the main screen to ask.
Cotton Candy Lamb: "Help! Any psychiatrists around? Need to ask something urgent."
Still lost in thought, she ignored C137 Mighty Ox.
But the guy lost it and stormed into the public chat.
C137 Mighty Ox: "What’s the deal? Targeting me? Everyone else got free rentals, but the moment it’s my turn, you go silent? Even if you won’t rent it out, at least have the decency to reply! @Cotton Candy Lamb"
Full Sleeves of Stars: "Chill, man. Lamb isn’t like that. She’d let you use it even if she needed it herself. She’s probably just busy."
C137 Mighty Ox: "Unbelievable. Just send it already! You guys got yours, so of course you’re not in a rush. My vehicle’s getting wrecked out here. How hard is it to answer a simple question?!"
Sword Hero: "Yeah, this is messed up. She didn’t reply to me either. Ridiculous."
Fortune God's Only Daughter: "Wow, talk about entitlement! @Cotton Candy Lamb, never seen a nutjob like you before."
Ex-Girlfriend’s Future Dad: "Fortune Brat, why do you always stick your nose where it doesn’t belong? What’s it to you?"
Fortune God's Only Daughter: "Tsk tsk, another lunatic. Were you two roommates in the psych ward before the game?"
Cotton Candy Lamb: "Actually, yeah, I think I am mentally ill. So, do you know any psychiatrists? Can you refer me?"
Fortune Girl paused. Wait, she’s admitting it? Is she actually sick?
Yikes.
She shut up immediately. No point bullying someone who might actually be unwell.
Meanwhile, Cotton Candy Lamb was on a blocking spree—anyone rude, freeloaders, or loudmouths who threatened or whined got the axe.
She even changed her name.
From "Cotton Candy Lamb" to "Crushed Ice Lamb." Totally shattered. She’d been in some daze, and now half her hard-earned supplies were gone. She wanted to cry, but it was her own damn fault!
The newly merged district, Zone 136-711, quickly noticed the name change. Some even joked about it in chat.
But when Lamb didn’t reply to anyone—only begging for a psychiatrist—people grew curious.
The old Lamb would’ve chatted warmly with anyone who tagged her, never turning down requests for help.
Now? Radio silence.
Many in 711 weren’t happy. Oh, so now that she’s not the top-ranked player anymore, she’s ghosting us?
Hell no! Without her daily "wake-up" red packets, mornings lost their motivation. Complaints flooded the chat.
And then... they clashed with Zone 444.
Zone 444 never backed down from a fight. Unless it was Whirlwind Boss or Sister Cut You, they’d roast anyone.
Buried Love 2009: "Y’all ever shut up? Never seen such shameless leeches in my life."
Heartbroken Kitten: "Thy face is thicker than fortress walls, thy shame lesser than gutter rats. Tsk tsk, impressive."
Moonlit Sips: "Damn, these guys are unhinged. Makes us look sane by comparison."
Escaped Beef from Lanzhou Noodles: "Today, I witnessed biodiversity in its purest form."
Qi Xu could only sigh. Zone 444’s trash-talking genes were always ready to activate.
Cotton Candy Lamb did seem pitiful, spiraling over whether she was insane. But... Qi Xu had no plans to enlighten her.
Even if she’d been controlled, that didn’t make her trustworthy. No need to explain.
Instead, Qi Xu pulled out a "Free Station Selection Card" and typed: Assassin’s Guild.
Qi Xu wasn’t the type to swallow losses—especially when he had the means to strike back. If he couldn’t retaliate against Happyending directly, he’d return the favor in kind.
No way he’d let this slide.
The traffic lights guided him swiftly to the station. Qi Xu had only heard rumors—players paying the Assassin’s Guild to eliminate others—but he’d never visited himself.
The place was... shockingly plain. A small, unadorned house, devoid of any flair, yet dripping with an eerie aura.
The moment Qi Xu stepped inside, a bone-chilling cold shot up from his feet to his spine. The once-warm air froze into subzero mist in an instant...
...........
