Zhou Kai wasn't sleepy at all. Last time, it had been due to the thrill of narrowly escaping death.
This time, it was because of the fireplace; the firelight had completely banished his drowsiness and fatigue.
He felt better than if he'd actually slept.
The corresponding search results quickly appeared on the webpage.
[Evelyn Soraka]
He had some impression of her. A few years ago, he had watched a movie called *Peeping*, and she had earned a Best Actress nomination for it.
He clicked open the encyclopedia entry and skimmed it.
Useless information.
He quickly filtered to the next one.
[Noble Residence in the Dekeli Mountains, Exploring the Mysterious Soraka Town].
This was it.
With a light tap of his finger, the link redirected several times, and a video playback window of three minutes and twenty seconds popped up.
The image quality was rough, the aura of an amateur expedition team hitting him right in the face.
An overly excited narrator's voice, paired with cheap canned music.
"The Soraka Town that legend says disappeared half a century ago was actually a noble summer resort built in 1786..."
The camera swept across several small wooden cabins renovated to a brand-new shine, filled with the hypocritical air of a commercial tourist attraction.
"Surrounding Villa Number One, it gradually became a prosperous town nestled deep in the mountains... In the oral traditions of history, for some reason, there are no textual records..."
"Local legends turned it into a ghost village, but our investigation shows that the town likely encountered a devastating mountain flood... After half the buildings were destroyed, the remaining residents all moved away..."
"...So, the town we see today is actually a modern scenic area restoration project..."
The sunny "Soraka" in the video had nothing in common with the rotten, oppressive, darkness-devoured wasteland in his nightmare except for the name.
He watched it again.
Then a third time.
Nothing. Not a single shot matched.
He snapped his laptop shut with a smack, looking depressed.
The next second, he flipped it open again and continued searching.
This time, he focused on those bizarre forums.
A niche antiquities forum caught his attention.
Zhou Kai posted a thread there.
He quickly received a reply—almost instantly. Along with the reply came a friend request.
[Shining Dirham: Soraka? Are you talking about that grand knight family bestowed a surname by the ancient conqueror? You're interested in that period of history?]
Zhou Kai narrowed his eyes.
A stranger who was online at three in the morning and actively offering help.
What do they want from me?
My kidney?
He clicked to accept the friend request.
The instant-reply bro was a chatterbox, with an almost fanatical worship for that so-called "ancient conqueror."
Zhou Kai patiently guided the direction of the conversation, precisely steering the other's bragging toward the direction he needed.
Finally, he cut to the chase.
"Soraka swordsmanship? Yeah, that stuff can be learned at any random swordsmanship club on our side."
"How about this, I'll send it to you."
A file transfer popup jumped out.
[Soraka Swordsmanship.mp4]
Zhou Kai stared at that filename, stunned.
Just like that?
Without any attached conditions?
He deliberated over his words, typing slowly: "This... is too generous. Thanks, bro."
Shining Dirham: "We're already calling each other bro, so what else is there to say."
Shining Dirham: "I have quite a collection. I'll share with you when there's a chance."
Zhou Kai suddenly felt a bit moved. Bro... was simply an internet angel.
To think there were still such rare creatures these days.
Zhou Kai typed back: "Too real, bro."
...
One hour later.
Zhou Kai held a broomstick, imitating the sword move trajectories on the screen.
The video was real, the movements precise and ruthless.
But his body was like a rusted machine; every movement felt awkward.
Nothing happened.
No system prompts, no flash of insight.
Only an idiot swinging a broomstick in the living room.
He felt the problem wasn't with the software, but the hardware.
Maybe he needed a real two-handed sword.
Another expense.
He threw the broomstick aside.
If he could really learn it, that would be great. That way, the next time he burned corpses, he could squeeze out every last drop of experience points.
He switched back to basic training.
In the darkness, he threw punches and slid his feet.
When dawn broke, familiar text lit up before him.
[Lightfoot EXP +1]
Unfortunately, Mixed Martial Arts made no progress.
[Character: Zhou Kai]
[Status: Erosion]
[Skills: Mixed Martial Arts Lv.2 (0/25), Lightfoot Lv.2 (3/25), Occultism Lv.0]
[Items: Residence Certificate, Bloodstained Axe, Rusty Chef's Knife, Dawnstar Manuscript, Withered Seed, Oil Lamp on the Verge of Drying Out]
[General EXP: 4]
[Erosion Progress: 3/9]
(Tip: Some items can be upgraded using General EXP)
"It finally stopped prompting me to avoid death... As for item upgrades..."
Zhou Kai had actually noticed this long ago; it was just that EXP had always been in short supply.
And the items that could be upgraded were only the axe and the chef's knife. Now there were also the seed and the oil lamp.
The seed.
Based on that letter's description, it might be worth upgrading.
He focused his consciousness on the item bar.
Zhou Kai immediately found it quite interesting.
The upgrade paths were actually not fixed, but customized.
From [Withered] to [Plump], it cost 1 point of EXP.
Upgrading to [Glowing Sunflower Seed] required an expensive 59 points.
The axe was the same. [Sharper and Less Prone to Damage] needed 2 points, while [Transform into a Huge Axe with High Temperature] needed 30 points.
A thought suddenly popped up.
If items could be upgraded, what about [Home]?
That monster with the twisted, terrifying silhouette outside the window instantly flashed through his mind.
A safe shelter...
Its value far exceeded a flashy axe.
Zhou Kai leaned back against the chair. A cruel reality pressed down on him.
General EXP would never be enough.
He would forever struggle on the poverty line.
Increasing income was always more effective than reducing expenses.
He needed a new "source of income."
...
Zhou Kai casually ate something, sent his sister his customary good morning message expressing "I'm fine, fully recovered,"
then went out, heading toward Falcon Wing Fist Hall.
As he walked, his gaze swept across every recruitment poster pasted on utility poles and shop windows.
He needed to find a job, a job that could bring in quick money.
Zhou Kai mentally planned out his current stage objectives.
He couldn't keep leeching off his sister.
And to purchase items that would make survival easier in the nightmare, he also needed a lot of money.
"Shop assistant? Seventeen per hour... Delivery driver, six thousand plus monthly..."
...
"It's him, he's out, follow quickly!"
When Zhou Kai walked out of a narrow alley, heading toward the bus stop in the drizzling rain,
a black sedan silently slid out from the roadside, following behind him not too far and not too near.
It wasn't intuition.
It was keen observation.
Zhou Kai saw its reflection in the glass of the bus stop advertisement board.
One block later, he saw the same reflection in the display window of a closed bakery.
Truly amateur.
Zhou Kai boarded the bus, chose a window seat, and observed quietly.
That car disappeared, swallowed by the morning rush hour traffic.
Such camouflage still failed to deceive Zhou Kai's eyes.
Half an hour later, Zhou Kai got off the bus and walked into a mall near the fist hall.
In his peripheral vision, that black car appeared again, parked in a lot over a hundred meters away.
Five men got out, gesturing with their hands, splitting into three groups and entering the mall from three different entrances.
A classic pincer encirclement.
Soon, three of them surrounded a safety passage.
The man in the lead reached out and patted the shoulder of a young man in front of him.
"Are you Mr. Zhou? Can we talk? We mean no harm."
"Ah, who?"
The young man turned around. Similar build to Zhou Kai, same style of fist hall sportswear.
But the face was a completely different face.
He stared at the man, his face full of confusion and vigilance.
"It's you, you've been following me just now! What do you want?"
"I warn you... I'm not someone to be trifled with... If you lay a hand on me, I'll call the police immediately!"
The man froze awkwardly on the spot, his hand suspended in mid-air.
"Sorry, mistaken identity..."
After that young man walked away cursing, the man leaned against the fire door and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
"Damn it, a young kid who just graduated from university, how does he have such sharp counter-surveillance awareness?"
"Shit, we lost him!"
He pressed his earpiece.
However, the next instant, the man felt the air move behind him.
Before he could turn around, an arm had already clamped across his throat like iron pincers.
*Ka.*
A tremendous force instantly locked his throat, and he was silently dragged into the darkness of the fire passage.