Chapter 36: Scarcity |
“Breakfast is ready, come and eat!” Su Po called out from the courtyard. Her words were identical to those she'd used to summon them for dinner the previous night.
Seeing three corpses first thing in the morning had killed any appetite they might have had, but an NPC's command was still a command.
One by one, the players trudged toward the round table in the center of the courtyard.
Zhao Feng lingered, his eyes drifting back to the two bodies inside the room.
Human flesh is still flesh, he thought. And with three recent deaths, the supply is more than sufficient...
More people are bound to die. Even if this isn't enough, there are other ways...
Zhao Feng had never been one for morals; back in the real world, he'd often played cat and mouse with the police. His only concern was that in a confined space where they were all stuck together, an act so contrary to common decency would rapidly erode any trust or goodwill from the others. If someone decided to corner him with a moral argument, he'd be at a serious disadvantage.
By speaking up, Qi Si had positioned himself as an ally, shouldering some of the risk and moral burden.
When the time came for a sacrifice, he could easily throw Qi Si under the bus to take the fall.
To forge an alliance with no moral foundation, one had to let the other party believe they were getting the better end of the deal.
And when a plan required dirty work, a scoundrel was always more useful than a saint.
The other players were already gone. Zhao Feng knelt beside the corpse of the man with the glasses, his hands probing, trying to figure out where he could carve off a piece of flesh without it being too obvious.
While feeding human flesh to monsters could be justified as an act of desperation, and no one could truly condemn him for it, he still possessed the basic self-awareness of a human being. Deep down, he knew this was a dishonorable act.
Qi Si observed this but had no intention of giving his new tool a moral lecture. He slipped a small blade from his custom-made bracelet and tossed it casually onto the floor.
“A weapon, and a modular one at that...” Zhao Feng picked up the blade, a complex look in his eyes. “You're damn lucky. My first instance was set in a medieval church. Nothing but crosses, crosses, and more crosses.”
Qi Si smiled, a picture of sincerity. “Oh, really? I just assumed everyone started with a weapon. Don't tell me you didn't get one?”
“...”
Beggars can't be choosers. Zhao Feng swallowed his urge to curse, took the blade Qi Si had given him, and positioned it over the corpse's side.
Qi Si nonchalantly slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled to the center of the courtyard, taking his usual seat at the round table.
On the table were plain steamed buns and pickled vegetables—a stark contrast to the previous night's lavish feast. Three seats were empty, but Su Po seemed not to notice. She pulled A'Xi down to sit beside her, beaming cheerfully at the players.
Everyone's eyes, consciously or not, scanned the area. The iron basin that had held the “divine meat” was nowhere to be found, a silent, ominous warning.
Qi Si, however, remained perfectly composed. The portion of divine meat the man with the glasses had failed to take was resting safely in his pocket. In theory, it could get him through one more bout of hunger. He was more than happy to “carry on the hopes of the fallen.”
He calmly picked up a bun with his chopsticks, placed it in his bowl, split it open with the tips, stuffed it with pickles, and took a bite.
Without the basin of “divine meat” looming nearby, his appetite was surprisingly better than the day before. The simple country fare was well-made, with a pleasant texture and satisfying flavor.
Yang Yundong suddenly shot to his feet and strode over to Su Po. “Su Po, where's the divine meat today?”
After last night, all the players were counting on that meat to survive.
Su Po sneered. “Letting you outsiders have a taste was more than enough. Did you think you'd get it for every meal? It's gone. There's no more divine meat.”
Seeing Su Po's hostile expression, Zhu Ling quickly went over as well, her voice gentle. “Su Po, you must know that once you've tasted that meat, you can never forget it. Could you tell us what we need to do for you to give us more?”
Su Po just kept shaking her head. “It's gone. This old woman has no more meat for you.”
The players exchanged grim glances, their faces paling.
They had assumed they'd have to complete some dangerous side quests to get more of the meat. They never imagined they wouldn't even be given the chance!
Qi Si had already finished his bun and pickles. He wondered if the Weird Game deliberately enhanced the sensory details; the buns from this simple village home were surprisingly soft and fluffy, with a sweet aftertaste that made his mouth water as he chewed.
He suppressed the urge to have another and looked at Su Po with a smile. “The village chief is still here, I assume? Living in the ‘Village Chief's House’?” Su Po froze. She opened her mouth as if to protest, but no words came out. Finally, she forced out a single word through gritted teeth: “Yes.”
The players all recalled the “Village Chief's House” marked on the tourist map. What was so special about it?
Then Qi Si spoke again, his tone turning dangerously cold. “Su Po, yesterday you told me the village chief also became a god. Is he the same kind of god that grants you the divine meat?”
Su Po said nothing, but her silence was answer enough. The players exchanged meaningful looks. They each knew what had to be done.
They had a new source for the divine meat.
...
Back in the room, Zhao Feng was frantically slicing at the corpse with the blade.
He could only watch as the flesh he sliced away dissolved into motes of light, scattering into the air and fading into nothing, like a drop of ink in clear water.
[The deceased's body has undergone some kind of alteration.]
[Note: The altered flesh cannot be harvested.]
Lines of text materialized before him. Logically, Zhao Feng knew the game's mechanics wouldn't let him get away with substituting a corpse. More attempts would be useless. But emotionally, the desperation of a cornered man throwing his last dice refused to let him accept it.
Just one more time, he thought, a futile hope. Just one more time...
Zhao Feng sliced off another piece. Before it could even fall, it vanished in his hand.
All he could do was watch, helpless.
“Why? Why is this happening?” Zhao Feng's composure finally shattered.
He'd chosen what he thought was a path to survival in a hopeless situation, only for reality to slap a “Dead End” sign on it. What kind of cruel joke was this?
Footsteps sounded behind him. Zhao Feng whipped around to see the young man in the white shirt standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the morning sun. An unreadable smile played on his lips. “Looks like you're not having much luck.”
The smile looked suspiciously like a sneer, and Zhao Feng had to fight the urge to punch him. But he managed to keep his cool, reminding himself that this man was his only ally.
So he explained what had happened. His words were jumbled and chaotic, colored by his rising panic, but he managed to get the point across.
“Just as I thought,” Qi Si murmured, the smile fading as his eyes narrowed.
The Weird Game would never let players find such an easy loophole.
He'd had a hunch about this. Players were outsiders to the instance's backstory; linking them to the concept of “sin” just for eating the divine meat seemed too flimsy.
Now he had a new theory about the instance's mechanics—one that needed testing, but one he was about seventy percent sure of.
Qi Si chuckled softly to himself. “Don't tell me it's one of those ‘everyone is a sinner’ setups.”
Zhao Feng leaned in, expecting some grand insight, but all he heard was an incredibly ill-timed joke. “It seems the monsters in this instance are serious about food safety,” Qi Si mused. “They won't take anything that isn't fresh.”
“You son of a...”
“Well, then we'll just have to give them something fresh,” Qi Si said. “Killed to order. Sounds rather nice, don't you think?”
Qi Si's smile was radiant, his eyes curving into pleasant crescents. But beneath that bright facade, a storm of malice and bloodlust churned in their depths, enough to make one's blood run cold.
A chill went down Zhao Feng's spine. He took a step forward. “What are you saying?”
Qi Si backed out of the doorway, the smile fading slightly from his lips. “Exactly what it sounds like. I gave you the blade, didn't I? Do you really need to ask?”
Zhao Feng's hand tightened around the blade. For a fleeting moment, his face twisted into a predatory snarl.
It wasn't just because he knew what he had to do next. It was because he realized that, faced with that decision, he felt not a single shred of guilt or hesitation.