Chapter 51: Everything I Care About Has Been Destroyed

Fifteen minutes later, Ren Zhong, fully armed, quietly slipped out the door.

His armor had changed color, now a deep blue.

Previously, when some troublemaking children were scrawling graffiti on his wall, he had returned home just in time to scare them off. They dropped their paint cans and fled. Ren Zhong picked up the cans and thought he’d return them to the kids another day. He rather liked the sunrise they’d painted. He’d intended to tell them that, if every painting was of that quality, they could paint anywhere they liked except the front door.

He hadn’t expected that the leftover spray paint from those mischievous kids would serve as his disguise today.

Switching his helmet’s visor to one-way transparency, Ren Zhong walked down the street as if nothing were amiss, appearing perfectly at ease.

Earlier, after his young neighbor tipped him off about the news, the neighbor had hurried away. They had exchanged only a single sentence.

At that moment, Ren Zhong realized only one thing: his impersonation of a “Census Officer” had been exposed.

But following that clue, he deduced much more.

Only a handful of people in the town knew about the Census Officer identity: Zheng Tian’s team, Madafu, and Ju Qingmeng. No one else.

There was no way the bounty on him came from the mayor, Madafu.

If it had, under the “Eye of Sauron,” nothing in the town would escape scrutiny. The mayor could simply use the wristwatch system to send out a wanted notice with his photo to everyone. With his frequent presence in the alleys, he’d have been identified and caught long ago.

Since the bounty was spreading through back channels among the wastelanders, it had to come from individuals or small groups, not the authorities.

Ren Zhong already had an answer in mind, but he needed confirmation.

As he walked, he listened keenly for news from the street.

An hour and a half later, Ren Zhong had melted back into the crowd.

He had his answer.

During that time, he’d first gone to the town’s north gate—a random choice, nothing significant. There, he saw Bei Lihui, legs crossed, sitting atop a grounded hover bike, his sharp gaze scrutinizing everyone leaving the town.

As Ren Zhong passed, Bei Lihui leapt off the bike and lifted a man’s visor.

Ren Zhong hid the animosity in his eyes, glanced briefly, and continued nonchalantly through the intersection.

He noticed a pocket watch in Bei Lihui’s twitching left hand, tossing it up and catching it repeatedly. Under the yellow gate light, the watch gleamed with a brassy shine, painfully bright. It was Wen Lei’s “token of affection.”

Next, Ren Zhong strolled past the lane where Zheng Tian’s team had their courtyard. He didn’t go in, just wandered by the door. The gate stood wide open, the inside a mess, chairs toppled, their electric bike gone without a trace.

A professional team had already searched here, but found nothing.

Another unfamiliar team was boisterously moving things in, apparently planning to take over the place.

Throughout, Ren Zhong overheard much.

People lamented the fate of Zheng Tian’s team. “What a shame, they were on the rise. How unlucky to run into a Level Four Ruin Beast and be wiped out.”

When Ren Zhong heard this, his pace didn’t falter, nor did he quicken it. He walked steadily.

Just as he’d thought.

It was Zheng Tian who leaked his secret—most likely her futile last words before dying.

A pity.

Zheng Tian was clever, an experienced scavenger leader, adaptable, never bound by principle—she could bend or yield as needed.

By rights, someone like her should have thrived in this world.

But a single misjudgment doomed her beyond redemption.

With the “Census Officer” status as her shield, she’d misread reality.

She grew overconfident, underestimating how ruthless the professional teams could be.

The fact that there wasn’t a single Level Two professional in Lin Wang’s semi-professional teams was no accident. Similar “accidents” had surely happened many times before. Lin Wang and his people always covered their tracks well.

Everyone suspected, but no one had proof. No one dared voice their suspicions, even in private.

These past days, Zheng Tian must have revealed a lot.

Every time she tried to take advantage of Bei Lihui, her team only got scraps, but every evening, they scored big at the resource recovery company.

Zheng Tian’s account was registered under Lin Wang’s name; funds couldn’t move without his knowledge.

The so-called “secret” never truly existed.

Zheng Tian must have known that, but she got careless.

As for Ren Zhong’s nocturnal hunting gains, he’d sold them with a freelance account, paying a 30% transaction tax—it seemed he hadn’t been found out. If he had, Lin Wang wouldn’t have waited; he’d have acted sooner.

No doubt, to the Spark Resource Company, the professional teams were nothing but tools.

Zheng Tian used to say Lin Wang and his ilk weren’t citizens. So, in the eyes of the upper-tier citizens—the business owners—they were still just tools.

Moreover, in their ambition to advance, Zheng Tian’s team had been aggressively scouring the town for resources, making their intentions obvious.

Most likely, as early as yesterday, Lin Wang was already planning to deal with his disobedient underlings.

Yesterday’s hunt in White Bone Valley was the last straw.

All these signs came together: today, Lin Wang’s team was simply performing routine maintenance—eliminating risks, killing off budding threats.

Lin Wang had no need for willful, independent-minded tools.

Talent didn’t matter; he wasn’t grooming heirs, just using slaves.

He only wanted to maintain his dominance among the scavenger teams.

Cold logic, but it fit the ways of this world.

Ren Zhong had survived only because he’d been lazy and skipped the hunt that day—the lone fish that slipped through the net.

Afterward, Lin Wang announced to the wastelanders that Ren Zhong, this survivor, had impersonated a Census Officer, putting a bounty of ten Contribution Points on his head.

The bounty included some personal details—his general appearance, and armored form.

Many wastelanders were drawn by the reward; the streets were busier than ever, almost festive.

Some, however, didn’t bother, treating it as idle gossip.

Ren Zhong heard people say that impersonating a Census Officer was no small matter.

Everyone knew Census Officers were mysterious figures, independent of the normal administrative association, tasked with secretly monitoring the development of towns.

Their opinions were critical during the annual census.

Different Census Officers had different styles—some flamboyant, some secretive.

Some towns, completely unaware, were coldly branded as “abandoned” by Census Officers.

Just those two words—“abandoned”—were catastrophic for the wastelanders living there.

The Census Officer’s power was immense.

Yet, impersonation was serious but not insurmountable.

In this era, with Hunters around, tracking and capturing someone was all too easy. With evidence, the mayor could upload a wanted notice to the Hunter System, and no one could escape, no matter how far they ran.

Since Ren Zhong hadn’t been caught, no warrant had shown up in the wristwatch system, and those searching only knew his name, not his face. The fact that he’d walked away from his alley unscathed meant that Mayor Madafu hadn’t made a move.

Perhaps the news hadn’t reached the mayor, or perhaps he was still verifying its truth.

Ren Zhong was lucky that, in his alley, only that boy knew him as “Mr. Ren,” figured out right away that someone was looking for him, and came to warn him.

Others knew his name, but hadn’t matched it to the face of the new, wealthy resident.

As night deepened, Ren Zhong continued to observe the swelling crowds.

People poured onto the streets—some seeking a spot in the communal sleep pods, others hoping for luck.

Drifting through the bustling crowd, Ren Zhong heard snippets all around:

“Where’s he gone?”

“Where did that guy go?”

“Ten Contribution Points, wow! If I get that, I’ll be rich!”

“So many people looking, but no sign of him. Think he’s already escaped?”

“No way! There are guards at the gates; he can’t escape. He’s still here.”

“Don’t give up!”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s keep trying!”

“Sure!”

A strange sense of comfort welled up in Ren Zhong’s heart.

He never imagined that the lifeless wastelanders of this town would suddenly be so full of energy because of him.

Look at them—the light of hope on their faces.

They saw a chance to change their fate.

All for just ten Contribution Points.

He sighed inwardly.

He realized he was trapped.

Escape was impossible.

Even setting aside the guards at the gates, if he did slip out at night, once his deception was fully exposed and Madafu, in a rage, issued a formal warrant, the Hunters would activate—then he would be doomed.

He didn’t believe he could escape a Hunter.

So, should he gamble everything?

Futile.

What then?

He realized that staying on the streets was dangerous too.

Right now, his armor’s color didn’t match the description, so people were hesitant to approach and question him.

But after ten o’clock, the streets would empty.

Hide somewhere else?

Pointless. Come morning, he’d still die.

He sighed heavily.

He’d thought tonight he’d soar as a Level Two Professional—now, in less than a day, there was nowhere left in the world for him.

This world truly was something.

Ren Zhong tilted his head, gazing at the sky.

He had survived on Origin Star for half a month now.

The twin moons in the sky, once full and round like dinner plates, were now crescent blades with jagged edges.

This time, he was surely doomed.

But what death should he choose?

If caught, would they torture him?

Perhaps he should simply slit his own throat.

Ren Zhong didn’t even contemplate resistance.

Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was smart.

Smart people didn’t act foolishly; they knew what was possible, and what wasn’t.

A Level Four Professional wasn’t a Bladeling, nor a Crystalwing Dragonfly.

The gap in strength was too vast; the enemy was cunning. There was no way to find a weakness.

Until he closed the power gap, even if he fought a thousand, ten thousand times, the odds were still zero.

Besides, if he failed and made them truly furious, he’d be captured, locked up, unable to live or die—a far greater misery.

So what to do?

Just as Ren Zhong was pondering, a commotion erupted not far ahead.

He looked up, and in an instant, his whole body tensed.

A young boy lay on his back, blood streaming from a gash in his head.

Blood pulsed from the wound, pooling rapidly.

The boy’s body trembled weakly—a sign of severe head trauma and massive blood loss.

Seconds later, he lay still.

Dead.

The boy still clutched an old, battered submachine gun.

Before him stood a tall man, looking down at the body.

The man wore mechanical arms—clearly a freelance scavenger.

Hands on his hips, arrogant, he sneered, “Damn it, I was generous enough to sell you a gun, and you still complained. Idiot.”

He spat curses, then stomped the corpse.

Hands in his pockets, stretching his neck to scan the crowd, he seemed to be searching for someone.

He spat on the boy’s face, muttering, “Wasting my chance to get rich.”

Once the man had left, a haggard woman with a hint of excitement on her face darted from the crowd, bent down, and snatched the gun from the corpse.

She glanced at it, then threw it aside in disgust. “So rotten and rusty—how could anyone sell this for ten points? Robbery, that’s what it is.”

Someone nearby commented, “Can’t blame anyone but the kid. Didn’t even check before paying. If he had, he wouldn’t be dead.”

“True, stupidity is incurable. He deserved it.”

“Anyway, the census is in a month; people this dumb would die sooner or later. Doesn’t matter if it’s now or later.”

The onlookers nodded, smiling as they exchanged callous remarks.

Ren Zhong watched their performance in silence.

He wanted to say, “It shouldn’t be this way.”

But every face was marked with predatory hunger.

Suddenly, a woman’s wail split the air.

The boy’s mother stumbled through the crowd, collapsing over his body.

Her aged face was awash with grief and fury, tears pouring like rain.

But the crowd’s mockery didn’t stop; now they had a new target for derision.

Seconds later, the Hunter arrived with a roar.

At the sight of the Hunter, the crowd scattered, driven by subconscious terror, eager to keep their distance.

In an instant, the once-crowded street was deserted.

But the old woman stayed. She spread her arms, shielding the boy from the Hunter, like a hen defending her chick from a hawk.

A flash of cold light—her chest was blown open.

Five seconds later, her head was neatly bored through. She collapsed.

Another five seconds, and the Hunter drifted forward, expertly split the boy’s damaged skull, extracted his brain, and flew away.

Peace and calm returned.

Only the discarded gun and the two corpses lay on the street.

The cold wind whipped the boy’s ragged clothes together with the ball of yarn fallen from the old woman’s hand—a scene fit for a world-renowned painting.

On the street corner, Ren Zhong stood alone, gazing at the boy’s body.

In just one day—

Zheng Tian’s ambition vanished.

Wen Lei, with his longing for his childhood friend, was left to rot in the wilderness.

The gun-wielding boy’s bright eyes, once full of hope and dreams, were extinguished.

The old mother, who only wanted her son to live on in her stead, perished.

Ren Zhong looked up at the sky again.

Everything he cared about had been destroyed.

Suddenly, his eyes reddened.

He wasn’t sure if it was from sorrow, or from a fury beyond all bounds.