RHWHEG – Chapter 30 Cannot Level Up

In the afternoon, Lin Luyi reluctantly trailed behind Yu Qunqing and the others. Yu Qunqing had also called Sun Min along—this was the first time their four-person team went out together.

Sun Min was a filial and good child. He wanted to earn more building materials to improve his grandmother’s life, and he also wanted to become stronger to protect his family.

He was very curious about Lin Luyi, asking him how old he was, what his ability was, and what it felt like to turn into a plant. After all, peers of his age were rare in this neighborhood. Yu Qunqing and She Lulang, though still young, seemed to belong to an entirely different world. Sun Min couldn’t help but bombard Lin Luyi with question after question.

Lin Luyi grew annoyed, distanced himself, and refused to pay attention. Seeing this, Sun Min didn’t insist either, simply walking off in another direction and leaving him alone.

The new teammates didn’t seem to get along very harmoniously, but Yu Qunqing never forced team bonding. As long as someone’s character was fine, once they went through life-and-death battles together, those meant to be friends would naturally become friends.

Over the next two weeks, the four of them clearly grew more in sync.

At first, Lin Luyi used self-harm to summon vines for attacking. Yu Qunqing quickly stopped him:

“You can remember the sensation of pain, but don’t cling to it. Instead, imagine it as a switch, and focus on recalling how you channeled the plant power.”

In order to grasp this so-called power, Lin Luyi trained until he was drenched in sweat. Finally, he learned how to summon indestructible plants with only a minor sensation of pain.

He had to learn how to protect himself.

This was an entirely new kind of knowledge.

When he used vines in a critical moment to catch a falling Sun Min, preventing greater casualties, a sudden joy rose inside him. A strange satisfaction overflowed within him, sweet and intoxicating. It felt as if his heart had started beating again. He felt human.

Before Sun Min could even thank him, Lin Luyi hugged him tightly, leaving Sun Min completely dumbfounded.

Among the team, Sun Min was the youngest, and Yu Qunqing rarely let him face enemies head-on.

Instead, he studied how to craft various weapons. No longer limited to stiff batons and rulers, he sought advice at night from Anan, who had an engineering background, and observed in the field during the day. He gradually understood the functions of blood grooves of different sizes, the curvature of blades, and concealed mechanisms.

Perhaps inspired by the subway incident, Sun Min even taught himself how to make traps. In daily life, apart from tinkering with weapons, he researched traps—and still cooked meals for his grandmother.

All in all, this was much better than ending up a pile of bones in his previous life, lined up for everyone to make use of.

In Yu Qunqing’s eyes, the most reliable teammate was still She Lulang. With his powerful ability, he could easily infiltrate any building. The white egrets he split off could fly long distances, perfect for reconnaissance. The black bird, on the other hand, excelled in combat. It didn’t resemble any real bird in nature; if one looked closely, it even gave off the uncanny sense of being a two-dimensional creature.

Yet She Lulang didn’t rely solely on his ability. His combat instincts were the sharpest of them all. He never hesitated, never wasted words, and never smiled easily. He showed a bit more patience with Lin Luyi and Sun Min, but if they made mistakes in battle, he would mock them without mercy.

They had all obtained many calamity stones.

…But She Lulang still hadn’t brought up moving out of the room.

Aside from them, many other teams from the neighborhood had also gone out to eliminate calamities. Given their higher overall strength, their team naturally ventured farther, into the most chaotic office building districts.

There they found a herd of F-class calamities—Camel Pangolins. They resembled multi-humped camels, except instead of fur, their bodies were covered in scales. They moved slowly, but were extremely tall—one ordinary Camel Pangolin was as high as a two-story building. Their calamity stones were also enormous, embedded within the humps, like ice pillars.

After the heavy rains ended, calamity creatures also began evolving. Yu Qunqing’s team encountered more and more G-class calamities.

For example, the Skin Wall—a thin, transparent membrane clinging to buildings, adept at mental attacks. Stepping on it would make one believe they had entered an endless looping maze. Lin Luyi once fell victim to it, but thanks to his telepathy, he quickly alerted the others, and they burned the calamity down.

Then there was the Giant-Stomach Serpent, with a pale-yellow, flat external stomach sac on its abdomen, moving as fast as lightning. But since it hunted alone, they swiftly decapitated it.

The trouble lay with swarm-type calamities. A group of F-class Tree Prison Flies had evolved into a G-class Tree Prison Fly King. The fruit-fly bodies had a range of a hundred meters, capable of rapid predation. Facing a cluster of such large-area attackers, every strike had to be handled with extreme caution.

This time, Yu Qunqing left none alive. Using feints, he lured the fruit-fly bodies away, then used the terrain to temporarily separate the tree bodies from the flies. One by one, they carved calamity stones out from the vine-like mouthparts that connected them. The Tree Prison Fly King’s calamity stone was a green, compound-eye gem, like a real precious jewel.

The neighborhood’s pay-to-win channel only accepted ordinary calamity stones; they kept the special ones for themselves. Sun Min claimed the Camel Pangolin leader’s calamity stone, wanting to test whether he could make bullets from it. The other special stones were kept by Yu Qunqing.

During these two weeks, Penguin Farm kept expanding. His regular farm had grown to 64 plots—half planted with rice, half with vegetables and fruits. Conveniently, someone’s ability was “Polishing and Waxing,” which could dehull rice, earning them a batch of building materials.

Next to it, a new Volcano Farm had appeared. The crops there were much more fantastical: super-hot thick-skinned soybeans, pomelos that grew underground to escape high heat, and breadfruit trees that from a distance looked as if they were burning. The crops they produced were extremely heat-resistant, making them perfect for storage in the increasingly hot weather.

Yu Qunqing’s growth value had already reached the millions, but the highest-level crop he could plant still required more than nine hundred thousand. The game’s numbers had inflated drastically. Meanwhile, their interdimensional warehouse was stuffed with fruits and vegetables—sixteen kinds in total—so at least the community’s food supply was secured.

Still, the variety was limited. Right now, Yu Qunqing was in the kitchen throwing together a big mishmash: tomato-baked apple!

Chopped tomatoes sprinkled heavily with sugar. Then boil apples in water, and finally mix the two dishes together. It sounded devilish, but in reality, it tasted sweet and sour. With rice cooking on the side and a bit of cured meat cut up, dinner was ready. He and She Lulang usually took turns cooking, though both were mediocre at it, so if they came back from missions too busy or tired, they would simply grab bread at the café instead.

Today, they decided to stay in the community to recuperate, so they were finally cooking at home again.

Monster-fighting outside was always a gamble with one’s life. At the very least, you came back with bruises. Getting cut by glass or other sharp debris meant unlucky scars. Sprains and dislocations were routine. The worst were internal injuries—vomiting blood in endless streams.

Fortunately, rebirth had taught Yu Qunqing how to protect himself and his teammates. The worst his team ever suffered was swollen faces and arms too sore to lift the next day.

Rebirth also taught him how to coexist with pain. He never lost focus in battle because of it. Sometimes Lin Luyi even wondered if he felt pain at all. At first, that unnerved him, but after a few battles, he came to trust Yu absolutely—whether in command or support.

She Lulang had always trusted Yu Qunqing.

Yu Qunqing brought the food to the table and saw She Lulang bandaging his wounds. His arm was covered in hideous scars—marks from before Yu Qunqing’s rebirth. She Lulang didn’t like others seeing them and, for ease of using his abilities, usually wore a black robe that covered his whole body. The moment he noticed Yu, he quickly pulled his hand back.

Yu Qunqing suddenly felt that life like this wasn’t so bad. Sitting at the table, he bit into a tomato-baked apple, thinking that if only their cooking were better, it would be perfect.

“The message board just lit up.” Yu Qunqing never hid his powers from She Lulang, so he said, “Someone’s selling a special disaster stone. A G-rank, from a Frozen Bird. Probably overheated and died, so someone picked it up.” The temperature outside was getting hotter and hotter.

The asking price was five thousand units of building materials. Checking his own account, Yu had more than enough and paid without hesitation.

“We already have a lot of special disaster stones,” She Lulang said. “Are you thinking of upgrading?”

Ability upgrades were irreversible and unstoppable unless one found a radiation-free sanctuary. Once begun, the process only led—slowly or quickly—to becoming something inhuman. According to the prevailing theory, once Chen-cell particle intensity exceeded 55%, the organism automatically lost its human rights. Even if an esper survived the deadly threshold of upgrading, they would drift further and further away from human society.

In the apocalypse, everyone longed for power. If Yu Qunqing wanted to upgrade, She Lulang had no right to stop him. Still, he had already resolved to always be at least one level above Yu Qunqing.

“Natural disasters evolve quickly. Humanity is a step behind. With upgraded abilities, our actions would be safer in the future,” Yu Qunqing admitted calmly. “But these special stones don’t seem useful for my upgrade. I’m collecting them to upgrade weapons.”

She Lulang: “Not useful?”

“I’ve tried. I can’t feel any radiation from them…” Yu Qunqing was curious about this odd phenomenon, but didn’t dwell on it. His current ability strength was enough.

Little did he know, She Lulang was already planning which doctor to abduct after they toppled the shelter, just to get Yu Qunqingexamined.

For now, Yu Qunqing wasn’t upgrading, and that let She Lulang quietly breathe a sigh of relief.

They went downstairs together to pick up the special stone, greeted by many people along the way. Over the past two weeks, life in the community had gradually returned to order.

In terms of healthcare, apart from a small therapy room for minor injuries, manpower was scarce—only the doctors from the shelter and a few residents with basic nursing skills rotated shifts.

As for technology, one major “crocodile mission” had been completed: setting up a radio broadcast.

Anan, a graduate of the Agricultural University’s Electronic Engineering department, had modified a radio station and sent out a broadcast to the whole of Jiangbei City:

“This is the Central District Community… This is the Jiangbei branch of the Eco-Ethics Foundation… This is the Jiangbei branch of Polar Bear Corporation…”

“Whether you’re an esper or ordinary, non-human or quasi-green-tagged, we welcome all survivors!”

The endlessly repeating radio message reached every station in Jiangbei. The hoarse female voice drew mixed reactions: for some, like rain in drought; for others, anger and curses; and for some, thoughtful silence.

The Central District Community’s name had officially reached the formal shelters.

Yu Yanlan not only heard it, but also learned that his elder brother Yu Qunqing was in that community. A few days earlier, some returning squads had announced that She Lulang had defected—with a strange man. Someone had even recorded the enemy’s appearance and made it public.

Their mother came crying to him: “You have to do something, that’s your brother!”

Yu Yanlan sneered. “I’ll write an obituary right now. We’ll declare that our family’s Yu Qunqing died long ago. That way, no one will implicate us.”

His mother cried harder. Yu Yanlan slipped away to find his good friend Han Shuzhu.

Han Shuzhu mysteriously took him somewhere and whispered, “Got a surprise for you, look!”

Yu Yanlan turned his head—and saw a handsome dark-skinned man talking with one of the administrators. He carried a wild, primal allure, his muscles brimming with inexhaustible vitality.

Han Shuzhu said, “Well? How do you feel? He’s your future—uh, I mean, I bet you’ll get along great.”

The man they were watching was Jiang Qiwen, an agent from Polar Bear Corporation. The company’s original undercover operative had suddenly gone dark, and with a new branch mysteriously appearing in the city, headquarters had dispatched him to investigate alongside the shelter.

The shelter staff disliked Polar Bear Corporation but, after extorting plenty of benefits, reluctantly accepted.

Jiang Qiwen said, “I really admire your shelter. If you eliminated ninety percent of the useless trash, it’d be even better. Have you considered an elimination system? That way, everyone would have enough to eat.”

The administrator swallowed his anger. “We’ve obtained a crate of imitation disaster-stone soil from the Foundation and are studying it. No need to worry about food supply for now.”

As they walked away, Han Shuzhu looked at Yu Yanlan with bright, expectant eyes.

Yu Yanlan thought for a moment and tactfully replied, “I support all orientations—just for normal people.”

“What the heck!” Han Shuzhu almost blurted out That’s your future boyfriend! A crime-lord-type bigshot, falling in love at first sight with a pure, untarnished little white flower—first comes the forced possession, then the chase-and-escape, rivals entering the scene, until the bigshot finally realizes his true feelings, pursues with devotion through breakups and reunions, and at last embraces his beloved.

Honestly, that kind of story was exactly Han Shuzhu’s taste. He had read such novels many times with relish.

But he had begun to notice the “book in his mind” wasn’t completely accurate. When he tried to check certain past events, some of the pages he had seen before were suddenly splattered with blue ink.

The ink seemed alive, steadily eating away at the book.

“This can’t go on,” Han Shuzhu suddenly thought. He felt as if he had grown smarter in some ways, duller in others.

“I have to set everything back on track,” he resolved.