Mutated plants weren’t unheard of in other instances.
But for all vegetation to suddenly become aggressively hostile? That was a first.
Behind them, the café’s plants surged—vines stretching, leaves twisting.
“Shit,” Qiu Yi cursed as they ran. “So this is the kind of battle royale we’re in!”
“We need to find shelter—no, screw that, we need a car!”
Street trees “woke up,” swaying ominously as they lashed out at pedestrians.
Screams and sobbing echoed through the plaza as unprepared NPCs were whipped raw by tree branches—willows, poplars, everything in between.
The gentle brush of willow fronds that once felt like silk now became torture instruments—razor-sharp and merciless.
Blood stained the pavement. Severed limbs scattered like trash.
It wasn’t hell—it was worse than hell.
Fu Changxun ran as best he could with the others, but he hadn’t gone far before his stamina gave out. He stumbled to a halt, panting hard.
“Where can we hide?”
He was rapidly realizing he’d probably be the first to die in a real battle royale. Struggling to breathe, he wheezed, “Is there even… anywhere left without plants?”
Dong Zi saw him lagging behind and immediately put Xiao Xiao down, crouching in front of Fu Changxun.
“Get on.”
Fu Changxun didn’t waste time arguing. He climbed onto Dong Zi’s back, arms wrapping around his neck. Dong Zi stood, adjusted him securely, then scooped Xiao Xiao back into his arms.
With one person on his back and one in his arms, he still managed to catch up with the others.
Lulu gasped in awe, “Damn, Mr. Dong—you’re amazing!”
Fu Changxun finally had enough breath to talk. He pointed to the entrance of the mall, where panicked NPCs were flooding in.
“There—inside. I think it’s safe. I remember there were no real plants in there.”
He vaguely recalled that all the greenery inside was plastic. Artificial decor.
Bless the mall manager. Skipping real plants might’ve saved their lives.
The six of them pushed against the fleeing crowd and entered the mall.
Sure enough—no plants.
Qiu Yi led the group to a relatively safe area. They sat down to rest and tend their wounds. The plants outside had managed to nick them on the way in—nothing serious, just shallow cuts that only needed quick bandaging.
The mall wasn’t crowded.
Because when NPCs heard screams and news of the attacks, their first instinct was to go home, or find their loved ones.
Which meant… they had to go outside.
And once you left this place—the only real shelter—you were pretty much doomed.
Still, a fair number of alert NPCs had chosen to stay behind, eyeing the newcomers with wary glances.
It seemed the plant invasion had affected the network infrastructure—cell service was mostly down, with only the most basic functions left operational.
That alone wasn’t the scary part.
What was terrifying was that they had no idea what was happening outside, no way of knowing when it would be safe to leave—or whether they’d survive if they did.
“Qiangqiang, hurry! Get inside!”
A woman’s voice suddenly rang out from the mall entrance. “Run! Go, now!”
It was immediately followed by a boy’s panicked cry: “Mama—!”
Then came her scream. “Aaaah—!”
And then… silence.
A moment later, a small boy—covered in blood—stumbled into the mall, crying hysterically. He ran a few steps, tripped, and fell hard to the ground.
The NPCs inside all looked heartbroken. A young woman rushed forward to pick him up.
“What the hell is going on? I just want to go home…” A pair of high school girls clung to each other, trembling in fear as tears streamed down their faces.
Their panic was contagious. Soon, others joined in—some crying, some screaming—and the mall descended into chaos.
Amidst the panic, the six of them, silent and composed, stood out like a sore thumb.
Dong Zi leaned in and murmured, “There are probably over a hundred people in here. I see kids… and the elderly.”
“We might make it out… but they won’t,” Qiu Yi sighed. He knew these were just NPCs—but still, it tugged at him.
Fortunately, they were NPCs. This battle royale instance wasn’t real. That thought helped ease the guilt.
“I get it now,” Fu Changxun said. “Why food is so important here. Because almost all food—plant-based or meat—originates from plants. Even livestock rely on feed. So in this apocalypse, the scarcest resource… is food.”
Qiu Yi let out a breath of relief. “Then we’re in decent shape. We stocked up ahead of time—should be enough to last a month.”
As for what came after the month? They’d have cleared the instance by then. No need to worry.
But Fu Changxun didn’t look so optimistic. “No… we might not even make it through the month.”
Qiu Yi blinked. “Huh?”
“Think about it—there are 167 players in this instance. How many of them do you think had the foresight to stock up on food?”
A faint red gleam flickered in Fu Changxun’s deep eyes. “You think they won’t come looking for us? And when they do… can you honestly say you wouldn’t share what we have?”
The other five fell silent, considering the question—and all came to the same conclusion.
They couldn’t do it.
They couldn’t stand by and watch other players starve to death.
“You’re… not wrong.”
Just then, a man walked straight up to them.
“Hey there. You guys are players, right? We are too. How about we team up? It’s safer that way.” He rubbed his hands together and gave them a friendly smile.
As usual, Fu Changxun leaned weakly against Dong Zi, playing up his delicate persona.
Qiu Yi, who had only ever seen him do this in livestreams, couldn’t help but glance over with mild amusement before replying, “How many of you are there?”
The man barely glanced at anyone else. From his posture and build, he clearly assumed Qiu Yi—military bearing and all—was the team’s leader.
“Eight of us. I found two people during the safe period, then five more later. Including me, that makes eight players total.”
Qiu Yi nodded. “Alright. I’m a member of the Special Affairs Office. You’ve done well. For anyone watching the stream: remember—whenever you enter a large-scale battle royale instance, teaming up with other players greatly increases your survival odds.”
His stream was still on, and the chat immediately exploded with:
[666]
[Got it, noted!]
The man’s eyes lit up with joy. “Seriously? That’s amazing! We’ve found the government! I knew it—only the Special Office gives people real peace of mind.”
He turned and waved excitedly, calling the rest of his group over to join the six already seated.
But once they arrived, the group of eight… apart from the man, consisted entirely of the old, the weak, the sick, and the almost-pregnant.
Two elderly people, probably a couple, both in their sixties or seventies. A young woman in a wheelchair. A thin, frail young man who coughed incessantly—he introduced himself and the wheelchair girl as siblings. A woman in her forties and her two kids, a boy and a girl, both around thirteen.
Most importantly… aside from the man and the coughing brother-sister duo, everyone else was a new player.
This hodgepodge crew of fragile human beings wouldn’t survive five steps out of the mall without help.
Qiu Yi shook his head silently, praying they’d at least be obedient and not get anyone killed.
“Hello everyone. I’m Qiu Yi, with the Special Affairs Office. I’m sure you’ve heard of us on the news. I’ll do my best to make sure everyone gets through this instance alive.”
He made the promise solemnly.
The elderly couple clasped each other’s hands, their voices trembling. “Good… good… we’re saved.”
The siblings were visibly relieved. “Thank you, Qiu-ge!”
Only the middle-aged woman didn’t look impressed. She scowled. “Just the two of you?”
She’d clearly excluded Lulu, Dong Zi, and Fu Changxun—assuming they were rescued players as well.
Qiu Yi was about to correct her when Fu Changxun gasped weakly, “Ah Zi, your leg! It’s cut! What should we do—what if it gets infected?!”
Dong Zi played along smoothly. “Just bandage it. It’s really nothing.”
Fu Changxun knelt and rolled up his pants leg, let out a soft, “Wahh…” and flung himself into Dong Zi’s arms, trembling.
“I’m scared… I can’t—there’s blood… I’m gonna faint…”
“Don’t be scared…” Dong Zi patted his back gently.
Xiao Xiao, watching in confusion, couldn’t help but recall a term she’d once seen online: drama king.
Still, she was Fu-ge’s patient for half a year. Without missing a beat, she threw herself into the scene as well. “Gege, gege! I’m scared too! Hold me!”
Just like that, the three of them huddled into one big, clingy pile.
No matter how natural their performance was, the three from the Special Office couldn’t help the twitches at the corners of their mouths.
As for the eight new players—every single one wore the same look.
That blank, baffled expression.
Qiu Yi understood and turned to the middle-aged woman. “No, it’s three people—she counts too.”
The woman glanced at Lulu, her face showing clear disdain. But thankfully, she didn’t say anything more.
Qiu Yi then instructed Song Zhenpeng to take them to the food section. While the NPCs were still distracted, they needed to quickly grab whatever food they could.
This was exactly the kind of moment that revealed the gap between ordinary players and veteran ones.
Earlier, Fu Changxun had mainly picked up dried, compressed, or vacuum-sealed foods. Qiu Yi went for items with long shelf lives. But once the other players realized they could “just take whatever,” they immediately rushed toward their favorite cakes, chips, fresh fruit, meat—even the soft-serve ice cream machine.
Yes, that thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy happily filled a massive swirl from the ice cream dispenser.
Their behavior was downright suicidal. Song Zhenpeng kept urging them to hurry, but the middle-aged woman grew impatient. “So what if my son wants to eat something? This isn’t the real world!”
Song Zhenpeng, being a straight-laced kind of guy, didn’t know how to argue with that. In the end, he just let it go.
The woman and her son ended up grabbing a bunch of bulky junk food—and dumped it all on her daughter. She returned empty-handed herself.
Song Zhenpeng still wanted to advise her, but Lulu stopped him. “Let it go. People like that are beyond saving.”
She turned to the livestream to explain, “Sorry, folks—Special Affairs isn’t the police. We’re trying to survive too. In situations like this, we’re not responsible for anyone else.”
[Then what’s the point of you being there?]
[That last one—yeah, you’re screwed. No one can save someone that reckless.]
[Fair enough. If I ever end up in the game, I’ll cooperate fully. Swear to value my life!]
[Man, that’s depressing. You even have to explain this to us. Just clear the game—help where you can. If not… well, guess it’s fate.]
[Don’t you get paid to save people?]
[Sure, but let’s be honest—those trolls would keep arguing even inside the instance. I say don’t save ’em. They’ll just bitch and moan afterward anyway.]
[You son of a bitch!]
[Whoa, did someone really just curse?!]
