Chapter 66: Complaints Abound, Yet the Goods Sell Like Hotcakes

"Really?" Wang Changjun nodded as he tried to pull his arm free, twitching from time to time and contorting his neck, his mouth askew and eyes slanted. The collar was nearly driving him mad.

Lin Mu opened the interface to check the item’s status; if it was broken, he’d demand ten replacements.

[If the wearer has more than five negative thoughts about the owner within a day, continuous electric shocks will occur. Please don’t worry, this is a normal phenomenon and will return to normal in 24 hours.]

Lin Mu’s lips twitched. Just how unwilling are you to give up? You’ve tried to harm me so many times?

He gave Wang Changjun a discreet look. This man needed to be replaced at the first opportunity—such people couldn’t be kept.

“Ahem, it’ll be fine after 24 hours. Just endure it for now,” Lin Mu said.

Wang Changjun’s eyes widened. What? Twenty-four hours! How was he supposed to sleep?

“Why not take this off for me? You could just chain me up instead.”

As long as there was no twitching, he could accept almost anything.

Lin Mu shrugged. “This thing can only be removed when you’re near death. If you really want it off...” Suddenly a dagger appeared in his hand. “I’ll let you bleed a bit—just need to get you close to dying.”

Seeing the dagger, Wang Changjun shook his head frantically. “No, no, it’s fine. I can manage like this.”

This guy was nuts! Who does things like this?

...

After dinner, the group returned to the vehicle. Lin Mu drove on aimlessly. By ten o’clock that night, not only had he not seen another car, he hadn’t even come across a house. What was going on? Did everyone clock out at night?

Screech!

Lin Mu brought the vehicle to a halt and opened the regional channel.

[Area 562] — Population: 18,856!

He gasped. So many had died?

But thinking about it, it made sense. Just in that car battle arena he’d encountered, nine people died outright. Looking at it this way, the death toll wasn’t as high as it seemed.

“People have lost their minds! These vehicle cores are pure loot drops!”

“That’s just bad luck on your part. I’ve come across twenty houses and collected twenty-six cores. It only cost me an arm...”

“Hey, has anyone met any foreigners? Why have I only met people from our country?”

“Now that you mention it, seems like that’s the case. Are different regions sent to different places?”

“Apparently not. Today I met someone from Area 432.”

“...”

Lin Mu rubbed his chin, nodding subconsciously. He hadn’t met anyone from other countries either. Could it be that people from other countries weren’t here?

He turned to Wang Changjun, who sat behind him. “Which area are you from?”

“Area 544.”

Lin Mu nodded. So he really was from a different area.

Could it be that people from Areas 400-600 were all from China? It wasn’t impossible—after all, the population was larger.

With this thought, he opened the global channel. The population was shown as 710 million.

It seemed the whole world was suffering.

But what was the real purpose of this game? If things went on like this, everyone would eventually be wiped out.

[Anonymous (America)]: “Fuck! When is this going to end?”

[Anonymous (Japan)]: “Hahaha, I’ve already got a level six vehicle. I wish I could meet people from other countries.”

[Anonymous (China)]: “You upstairs, you’re garbage.”

“...”

Lin Mu shook his head. The global channel was useless—there wasn’t a single piece of valuable information. The only useful thing was the population count.

He sighed, shut the interface and looked outside, shaking his head. Time to sleep; tomorrow morning he’d get up early and see what could be done.

...

The next morning at five, Lin Mu was already in the driver’s seat. The others were still sound asleep.

He started the vehicle and drove toward the distance.

He simply refused to believe it: others could find so many houses, and he couldn’t find any?

There were about five hours left before this area ended.

He wasn’t asking for much—just to find ten houses.

But an hour passed, and still he found nothing.

Lin Mu began to doubt himself. Was he cursed with bad luck?

But that shouldn’t be—if he were truly unlucky, how did he get such a good vehicle?

He opened the regional channel to check on others.

“Damn! Is anyone selling gasoline? I’m almost out!”

“Bro, don’t even mention it. I’ve been stranded for more than an hour.”

“I knew something was off—not a single resource crate all day.”

“...”

Lin Mu was stunned—everyone was out of fuel? What was going on?

He glanced at his backpack—he had tens of thousands of liters of gasoline. There was no way he’d run out.

His eyes gleamed.

He immediately opened the trading center.

[100L Gasoline]: Exchange for Vehicle Core Lv1

[150L Gasoline]: Exchange for Vehicle Core Lv2

[300L Gasoline]: Exchange for Vehicle Core Lv3

Is this ruthless?

No, no, this isn’t ruthless—it’s just fulfilling needs. Without gasoline, you can’t move. If someone shows up nearby, you’re in danger.

He thought for a moment.

[10L Gasoline]: Exchange for Antidote X1

Lin Mu nodded in satisfaction—now it was perfect.

As soon as he put his goods on the market, the regional channel exploded with curses.

“Who the hell is this? Money-mad! 100L for a Lv1 core?”

“That’s nothing. Look at the Lv3 core—how many does it take? This guy must be an idiot. Who doesn’t know Lv3 equals several Lv1s?”

“Why not use antidotes to trade? Are you stupid?”

“I think you’re the idiot. After these disasters, who doesn’t know new resources are always related to the next catastrophe?”

“...”

Despite their complaints, Lin Mu’s items were vanishing quickly. The quantities were limited—only ten of each core, but a hundred antidotes.

With nearly twenty thousand people, this was far from enough.

Most thought the exchange was unfair, but some saw no issue.

After all, resources only mattered if you survived. If you died, what use was a backpack full of supplies? Would you become a courier, delivering them to others?

His mailbox was flooded with private messages, but since these didn’t trigger dialog notifications, he ignored them. Even if they did, Lin Mu wouldn’t bother reading—there was little point.

...

At eight o’clock, Lin Mu finally spotted his first house on the radar projected by 001.

“At last!”

Lin Mu was nearly moved to tears.

He’d covered so much ground but hadn’t seen a single house. Three whole hours passed before finding the first one—how hard could it be!

He strode up to the house and immediately hacked it open with his axe.

No beasts—excellent.

Pulling the house apart, Lin Mu was surprised.

There was no core inside, only a blind box.

He gasped.

A blind box! This was a treasure!

He hurried to pry it open with his axe.

Bang!