Chapter 36: Diversified Supplies

He’d just stepped inside when he caught sight of the scene—Wolf Spirit Lord’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets.

Clearly, the moment Chen Zhuo had entered the chamber had lit a fuse. It was all about that crystal. Now, in its fury, the beast’s fangs stood out like jagged daggers, stretching nearly two-thirds across its snarling face.

“GRRR—!”

The roar echoed through the ruin’s narrow corridors, shaking the air itself as if the walls were trembling in fear.

As the sound reverberated through the room, the Wolf Spirit Lord swelled even larger—muscles coiled and bulging like twisted iron ropes, raw power thrumming beneath its hide. Shadows stretched long across the floor, swallowing Chen Zhuo whole.

No breathing room. No mercy.

It launched into a storm of attacks—massive claws slashing through the air with a deafening *whoosh*, each strike tearing at the atmosphere like a blade through silk.

Even though it had grown monstrous in size, its speed hadn’t slowed one bit. Every lunge was lightning-fast, brutal, relentless—pressing down on Chen Zhuo with such force he could barely keep up.

Dodging frantically, Chen Zhuo scrambled to analyze an escape route. But the onslaught kept pushing him back—cornered, breathless, trapped.

Then came the final blow: a colossal claw descending straight for his head.

No way to dodge.

With a desperate grunt, he raised his iron sword and slashed sideways—deflecting most of the impact. The force still sent shockwaves through his arms, but he barely escaped with his life.

The claw slammed into the stone wall, carving a deep, jagged gash that split the ancient rock like a wound.

Even the thick ruins couldn’t withstand that kind of power. If it had hit *him*? He didn’t want to think about it.

Staring at the ruined wall, Chen Zhuo suddenly froze—then something clicked.

He twisted and darted aside, weaving through the chaos until he finally gained distance. Teeth clenched, voice dripping with venom, he spat:

“I’m done playing your little game. Next time, I’ll take your damn head.”

“System,” he growled, “clear the wall in front of me.”

In the Wolf Spirit Lord’s stunned blink, the stone vanished—ripped away like smoke—leaving a hole just big enough for a man to slip through.

And there went Chen Zhuo, vanishing into the gap like a thief in the night.

The beast lunged forward, ready to chase—then stopped.

A thought struck it. A flicker of hesitation. Then, with a guttural snarl, it halted.

All it could do was roar in frustration as Chen Zhuo disappeared right before its eyes.

Panting, sprinting full tilt down the corridor, Chen Zhuo risked a glance back.

No pursuit.

Nothing.

The Wolf Spirit Lord just stood there, pawing at the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, watching him flee without lifting a single claw.

But Chen Zhuo wasn’t taking chances. That thing was too cunning—this might be another trick, another trap set to lure him into a false sense of safety.

He bolted onward, heart pounding. And yet… no chase followed.

He slowed, bewildered.

Since leaving the ruin, the beast hadn’t come after him. Not once.

Now, looking back at its expression—its rage, its confusion—he began to wonder:

*Maybe… there’s some kind of limit?*

“Huh,” he muttered under his breath. “This place is seriously like those old Blue Star game dungeons. Monsters spawn endlessly, and there’s always a boss waiting at the end.”

“Could it be… that the Wolf Spirit Lord is locked inside? Can’t leave the ruin?”

The idea sparked something dark and delicious in his mind.

“……”

He shook his head. “Nah. Too risky. Back at the shelter now. Save it for next time.”

Still, this trip hadn’t been a total loss.

Twelve wolf spirit corpses. All loot collected. Piled into his bag.

Sure, they were only rare-tier drops—but quantity made up for quality.

For the next few weeks, he wouldn’t have to hunt again.

Add in the food already stored in the shelter, plus these wolves’ meat—enough to survive the worst of the cold.

Until his strength improved significantly, he wasn’t touching that ruin again.

Back at the shelter, he sorted through today’s haul:

Plastic (Green) ×7
Toilet Paper (White) ×4
Brick (Green) ×1
Butcher Knife (Green) ×1
Fashion Magazine (White) ×2
Postpartum Care Guide for Sows (White) ×1
Fourth-Grade English Exam (White) ×1
Leaves (White) ×8
Over-the-Knee Black Stockings (Green) ×1
Dog Food (Green) ×2

“……”

He paused mid-count. His jaw dropped.

“What the hell is this?!”

After rummaging through everything, the *least useful* item—toilet paper—was actually the most valuable?

“Where’s the variety? You promised more useful stuff! Are you sending me garbage?!”

He remembered now—the Survival Platform had said yesterday that drop rates would be adjusted. Apparently, they’d gone full dumpster fire.

“This is worse than before.”

Muttering curses, he pulled out a book.

He squinted.

“*Mr. Sanjo’s Coastal Writing… Ohhh, nice.*”

Instinctively, he glanced around—checking for ears, eyes, anyone listening—then slipped it under his pillow like a secret treasure.

“Chests are so hard to get… and you pull this crap? Man, this is rough.”

Grumbling, he reached in again—and pulled out another gem.

Another quick scan of the room. Another stealthy hiding job.

“Life’s gonna be tough from now on…”

He said it with a sigh, but his eyes sparkled like he was already dreaming of what was coming.

Then—*another book*. He grinned, reaching for the pillow—

Only to freeze.

The title glared back at him: **"Muscle Men & Philosophy."**

“Bullshit!”

He kicked it clean into the campfire with a flying side kick.

Fuming, he opened the chat channel to see what other survivors had gotten.

Of course—everyone was complaining about drops.

Every message dripped with sarcasm.

“Yay! I got an O-Coin recharge card! Now I can top up my TX game in the apocalypse!”

“Same energy, bro! I scored a 5-yuan discount coupon for Lao Si La Si! When I buy my luxury car, I’ll take you out for champagne!”

“You’re all so basic. Look at me—I got a ‘Five-Year Pickaxe,’ ‘Three-Year Grinding’! Soon I’ll be a scholar. Your junk? I’ll own it all.”

“Dude, trade me some spicy strips for that?”

“Private.”

“HAHA, y’all gonna kill me. I thought getting *poop* was the worst possible drop.”

“Nah, you’re still not the worst.” ×4

Four messages fired off at once.

The guy who’d drawn poop went silent instantly. Probably off somewhere crying over a tiny tear-shaped pearl.

Chen Zhuo read it all, shaking his head at the absurdity of modern internet banter.

But honestly? He felt better.

His drops were trash. Yeah. But not *that* trash.

“At least my garbage can give me a break,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together like a fly buzzing over a feast.

……