Chapter 19: Shen Huairen

“It’s not just that,” said the survivor, voice low and tense. “After the acid rain, the real nightmare began—every living thing mutated.”

“I used to be able to slaughter those farm chickens with one hand before the disaster,” he continued. “Now I ran into one that’s not only green rare-tier but reeking of blood, vicious as hell. It pecked holes in my leg like it was trying to drain me dry.”

“The weirdest part? I stabbed it through the chest with a stone sword—and it still hopped around like nothing happened. Only when I chopped off its head did it finally stop moving.”

At that moment, a user named Shen Huairen stepped in.

“Everyone, if you encounter anything like what he described, tread carefully. These creatures usually glow with a crimson aura. Their names almost always start with ‘Crimson.’ Early analysis suggests they’re direct results of the acid rain.”

“My team just took down a blue-legendary-grade Crimson beast today. Key trait: it either has no pain sensation or barely any. To bring it down, you’ve got to hit the brain or heart. Any other attack just makes it wilder. If you’re not certain, your best bet is to run—fast.”

“Seriously? You’re telling us this?” someone asked skeptically.

“Believe it,” came another voice from the sidelines. “I remember this ID. He’s been posting calming messages in the channel since we first arrived. Even warned us before the rain to stock up on rocks. He’s legit.”

...

“Damn. People are out there, and they’re already figuring out the patterns of Crimson beasts. That’s impressive.”

But the speed of adaptation, combined with the tone—calm, precise, almost official—made Chen Zhuo suspect this guy had ties to the system. Or at least someone who knew how things worked.

Chen Zhuo stared at the name, frowning. Something about it felt familiar. He scrolled through his friend list—then it clicked. This was the guy he’d tried to trade bandages with back in the early days. Too bad someone else beat him to it, hoarding resources like a miser.

The information Shen Huairen shared was accurate—but incomplete.

After a moment’s thought, Chen Zhuo decided to level the playing field. Sure, order was crumbling. Some survivors were turning into monsters themselves, burning villages, killing for scraps. But plenty weren’t. Most were just trying to survive.

He didn’t want them dead. Not because he cared about strangers—but because they were all from Earth. Blue Star. His people.

So he sent a message.

【Chen Zhuo: Your team’s impressive. Took down a blue-tier beast so fast.】

Shen Huairen paused. The message caught him off guard.

【Shen Huairen: What’s up?】

【Chen Zhuo: Just wanted to give you a heads-up. Crimson beasts aren’t just numb to pain. They’re bloodthirsty—and once they lock onto a target, they won’t stop until one of them is dead. Killing them isn’t just about blasting the head or piercing the heart. Letting them bleed out works too.】

【Shen Huairen: You sure?】

【Chen Zhuo: Yeah.】

Across the screen, Shen Huairen’s mind raced. This guy sounded like he’d fought more than one Crimson beast. No way someone who hadn’t faced them wouldn’t know this.

【Chen Zhuo: Don’t worry about how I know. I’m just giving you a free tip. Call it charity from a stranger.】

After a long silence, Shen Huairen exhaled. This wasn’t a trap. If false info got someone killed, Chen Zhuo gained nothing. And someone capable of hunting multiple Crimson beasts? Unlikely to go full sociopath over nothing.

The truth was probably real.

He typed back.

【Shen Huairen: You could’ve just said it yourself.】

【Chen Zhuo: I don’t do the spotlight thing.】

【Shen Huairen: Fine. Then I’ll say it for you. I owe you one. If you ever need help, find me.】

Chen Zhuo didn’t argue. He accepted the debt. That kind of favor might come in handy later.

On the other side of the screen, Shen Huairen turned to his teammates. After confirming their agreement, he posted again.

【Shen Huairen: A quiet, anonymous survivor just dropped some crucial intel. I’m relaying it now. Crimson beasts aren’t just pain-resistant—they’re blood-hungry and obsessively relentless. Besides destroying the brain or heart, you can also kill them by draining them of blood.】

“Thanks, Elder Shen! Deeply grateful. If your shelter’s still accepting new members, I’d be honored to join the fight for humanity’s survival.”

“Same here!”

The chat exploded with replies. Chen Zhuo was about to close the interface and call it a night—when a private message popped up.

【Du Xin: Still alive?】

His lips twitched. Du Xin—the digital pet. The one he’d accidentally adopted during the chaos. Seeing her name made him grin like a kid who’d found a hidden cheat code.

【Chen Zhuo: What’s with the sudden concern? Miss me?】

【Du Xin: You’re small in power, big in ego.】

【Du Xin: Pfft. I couldn’t care less if you live or die. Honestly, I hope a Crimson beast stomps you flat.】

【Du Xin: All I care about is my necklace. I’m here only to get it back.】

Her tone remained sharp, unapologetic. But Chen Zhuo didn’t mind. He liked her attitude.

【Chen Zhuo: So what’s your trade? Got something shiny to offer?】

A quick transaction request flashed.

【Trade Request: Du Xin → Item: Vitality Fruit | Required: Pure Gold Necklace】

She’d gone straight to the point. No negotiation. No fluff. She clearly believed he’d trade the necklace for the fruit.

Then—

【Trade Cancelled】

【Du Xin: ?! Are you serious? This is a Vitality Fruit—it boosts stamina and strength. I wouldn’t even trade it for gold bars. It’s more than enough to get my necklace back!】

【Du Xin: If you’re too dumb to see its value, I’ll just turn it into gold for you. Happy now?】

【Chen Zhuo: What’s wrong with me not knowing the value? The fruit’s good, sure. But it’s not *that* special. Keep it. Use it yourself.】

Du Xin froze. She got it now. This guy knew exactly what the fruit was. He wasn’t desperate—he was using her attachment to the necklace to squeeze extra value.

“Damn bastard,” she muttered under her breath. With a huff, she closed the chat window.

She’d figured him out. Arrogant, clever, and utterly shameless. No point wasting time on failed trades. Better to cut her losses and move on.

Chen Zhuo had actually been about to ask her to send another selfie—just for fun. But then he stopped himself.

This wasteland was dull enough. Having one weird, feisty digital pet to mess with? That was entertainment. He’d keep her around. Just… not too much. Wouldn’t want to break her. Not yet.