Around eight o'clock, Liu Guanan woke up. Though he'd only slept for a little over two hours, he felt refreshed and alert. Zhao Nannan and her daughter were already awake. Since they lived in a basement without windows, the room remained dim even though daylight had broken outside. Liu Guanan turned on the light and gave himself a quick wash.
"The landlord knocked just now. I think it's time to pay the rent," Zhao Nannan said.
Liu Guanan did a quick mental calculation—it was already the first of March. He nodded and opened the door. A blinding ray of sunlight burst in, its intensity stark against the dark interior.
Mars had extreme temperature swings. The nights were bitterly cold, while the days felt like midsummer. Liu Guanan stepped out, careful not to expose Zhao Nannan and her daughter—they couldn't risk being seen and reported.
The streets were hot and crowded. People moved about, scrubbing, working, hustling. Most looked malnourished, with hollow cheeks and hungry eyes.
Despite having lived in the area for over a month, Liu Guanan didn't know anyone. He rarely went outside, having ventured out less than five times. His days were consumed by gaming, and his nights by sleep.
The landlord was a chubby middle-aged man said to be a steward for a powerful family. He managed several buildings in the area, and thanks to his influence, even thugs and slaves didn't dare cause trouble in his jurisdiction. Liu Guanan had chosen this place specifically for its relative safety.
The basement rent was 40 copper coins per month, but Liu Guanan's unit cost 50 due to a private bathroom. Add in 1 copper for water and 3 for electricity, and the total came to 54 copper.
The landlord barely acknowledged him. Liu Guanan paid the rent, took the receipt, and turned to leave. Nearby, a middle-aged woman was pleading:
"Please, just five more days—we'll definitely have the money then—"
"You didn't pay last month. I'll give you three days. After that, you're out. Plenty of people are waiting to rent," the landlord replied coldly.
Liu Guanan continued through the ragged streets toward the commercial district. Along the way, he passed countless people, a sharp contrast to the eerie emptiness of the night.
Most of the area's renters were poor, unable to afford better housing. They settled near the border between the slave district and the slums, where the cost was lower. But since there were no factories nearby, they had to cross the commercial street to reach work.
Behind the slums lay a vast industrial zone that fed hundreds of thousands. The buildings here were centuries old, many crumbling. Within makeshift shelters, skinny slaves huddled together, sunbathing after surviving the frigid night. Many didn't. Every morning revealed new corpses.
The more savage slaves—brawny men with cruel eyes—were survivors who resorted to violence to scrape by. Murder, theft, and extortion were commonplace. They lived better than most, but even they had to work daily.
Slaves weren't completely destitute. Every few days, they received energy tubes, and some scrounged for valuables in the trash—broken electronics, scrap weapons, or anything worth trading. They had their own rules for survival.
The commercial street was bustling. In the central square, thousands lined up, hoping for factory jobs. Paupers, civilians, and desperate slaves alike filled the area. Buses regularly took recruits eastward through guarded gates.
The city was divided into four districts: East for civilians, North for paupers, West and South for slaves. The commercial street connected them all. The slave districts lacked clear borders, while the Eastern District had strict enforcement, tall iron gates, and towering walls—a different world entirely.
Liu Guanan wasn't bitter. This was just how society worked. Complaining wouldn't change a thing. All he could do was survive—and maybe, gradually, change his fate.
A bottle of water, which cost 2 coins centuries ago, now sold for 50. Nuclear pollution had made clean water incredibly scarce. Thankfully, humanity had adapted, or else millions would've perished.
He bought four bottles of water and used the rest of his money on dried goods and compressed biscuits—enough to last half a month. When he returned home, he noticed how much stronger he felt. Once, a walk like that would've left him gasping. Now, he was steady and energized.
His anticipation for the "looting game" grew. What began as a survival tactic was now a genuine thrill. After eating, he logged in.
The virtual world was crowded during the day. Liu Guanan wondered: don't these people have jobs? As far as he knew, most players were outlaws. Anyone with a real-world job wouldn't risk dying in-game—doing so meant a half-month of weakness.
His destination: the Graveyard.
He spent two hours crafting 90 arrows and quickly made his way there. As he neared, he heard sounds of battle. Alarmed, he rushed forward.
Over twenty carrion monsters were attacking a group of a dozen players. Dozens of corpses littered the ground. A woman's scream pierced the air as she was dragged down and devoured. Only six survivors remained, two of them wounded. Bleeding made things worse—carrion could smell blood like sharks.
A girl stood frozen in fear as a monster lunged at her.
"Run!" someone shouted.
Too late.
Just then, a black arrow streaked through the air, striking the monster in the forehead. It collapsed.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
Three more arrows flew. Three more monsters dropped. Each hit was precise—a clean shot to the brow.
The six survivors turned in awe. Their savior was young—no older than twenty, pale from lack of sun, with sharp eyebrows and cold, ink-black eyes.
Liu Guanan didn't acknowledge them. His gaze was locked on the approaching monsters. His bow sang with deadly rhythm. Within seconds, over twenty carrion lay dead.
The six survivors were stunned. Only when Liu Guanan began extracting white crystals did they snap out of it.
A tall man, seemingly the leader, approached. "Thanks for saving us. I'm Wang Bo. Let us help you gather the loot."
"No need," Liu Guanan said without looking up.
Wang Bo's face twitched. He gave a silent signal to a short man nearby and said, "Let's go."
As the group began to leave, the short man lagged behind. Silently, he crept toward Liu Guanan, dagger raised.
But his strike met empty air.
He looked up—just in time to see an arrow flying at his face.
Thud.
Right between the eyes.
"Shit! Run!" Wang Bo yelled.
Liu Guanan's eyes sharpened. If they had charged him, it might've been trouble. But turning their backs? That made things easy.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Five arrows. Five screams. Wang Bo and his men collapsed. Each shot had pierced the heart from behind.
Liu Guanan's expression didn't change. It was his first time killing humans, but he wasn't fazed. In this world, betrayal for loot was commonplace.
He looted quickly. Over twenty corpses yielded 26 white crystals and 26 meat sacs. Then he checked Wang Bo's group. He wasn't paying respects—just searching for valuables.
He found: three daggers, one iron sword, one machete, a pair of boots, a lump of iron ore, an herb, four silver coins, and 78 copper.
A small smile formed on his lips.
"Not bad. Rich bastards."