Two pieces of equipment—Shadowstep Boots and a Silver Hammer—had come from the burly, bearded man. Pity he didn't even get to swing once before he was killed. To carry such good gear and die so quickly… what a waste.
Both items were top-tier, but Liu Weian already had Shadowstep Boots, and as an archer, a giant hammer was hardly practical. So, he sold them both. Before logging off that evening, he checked his account balance: 11 gold coins, 78 silver, and 56 copper.
The transformation was almost comical—one night he was a hungry orphan, the next, a minor tycoon.
He headed straight to the commercial district and bought a roast chicken, a roast duck, a phone, new clothes, and even a tablet. In this world, food was the real luxury—the chicken and duck alone took up most of the spending. That night, the three of them ate like kings. Their bellies were round and taut, and Liu Weian sprawled lazily on the bed, feeling fuller than he had in his entire life. He watched Zhao Xin with a grin—she looked like a kitten, licking every last bit of meat off the bones, her little pink tongue curling with each swipe, utterly adorable.
Zhao Nannan glanced at the bags full of clothes and electronics, then asked abruptly, "Came into money?"
"Made a little on the side."
"And this is how you spend it?" Her tone was calm, but Liu Weian could sense the disapproval beneath it.
"How else should I spend it?"
"Have you thought about the future?" she asked, locking eyes with him.
"The future? Well…" Liu Weian trailed off. Because the truth was, he hadn't. Ever since the orphanage director had taken him away, ever since he took the fall for someone else and got swept into this mess—interstellar pirates, chaos, fleeing for his life, a game world, a constant fight for survival—there had been no space to think about the future. He had only thought about surviving the next hour, the next day. If not for the recent stroke of luck, he'd probably be asleep from exhaustion right now. When every second counted, who had the luxury to daydream?
"This is the slave zone," Zhao Nannan said seriously. "You need to find a way out."
"How?" Liu Weian's heart stirred. She was right—this place was too unstable, too dangerous for long-term living.
"I don't know," Zhao Nannan admitted. She caught the disappointment in his expression and added, slowly, "In this world, there's nothing that power and money can't do. Power is probably out of your reach. But…" Her gaze drifted toward the bag stuffed with phones and clothes. She didn't finish the sentence.
Something clicked in Liu Weian's mind. A vague plan began to form.
"In the future," Zhao Nannan said softly, "unless it's absolutely necessary, don't buy things like this. Energy tubes are enough."
"You want Zhao Xin to grow up without understanding the world?" Liu Weian asked, handing the tablet to the girl.
Zhao Nannan was silent. After a long pause, a deep, unspoken sorrow flickered through her eyes.
"Sleep," she said at last.
The lights went out.
Zhao Nannan and her daughter rustled up into the top bunk. Liu Weian lay awake, staring into the dark. He couldn't sleep. The future—what did that even look like? A goal? A dream? Become an official? A tycoon? Or… something else?
He tossed and turned, eyes opening and closing. His thoughts wandered to his parents. Who were they? Why had they abandoned him at the orphanage? Was it out of desperation? Or did they simply not want him? Were they still alive? Somewhere on this planet? Or already gone?
Eventually, Liu Weian drifted into a restless sleep and began to dream. In the dream, he had mountains of money—so much that if the gold coins were strung together, they could circle Mars several times. He became a great official, the ruler of an empire. With a flick of his fingers, heads would roll. He had countless wives and concubines, and millions bowed at his feet. He was basking in unimaginable glory—
Then the dream shifted.
Now he lay alone on a dragon throne in a vast, empty hall. He was completely naked. Suddenly, the sounds of battle erupted outside—swords clashing, screams of pain, utter chaos. A cold wind blew through the palace as a woman in flowing white appeared out of nowhere. She held a blood-stained sword and glided toward him, her blade gleaming with deadly light and murder in her eyes.
"Who are you? Why do you want to kill me?" Liu Weian tried to speak, but no words came. His limbs refused to move. He could only watch as she approached. The chill radiating from the blade made every hair on his body stand on end.
"Ahh—!"
Liu Weian woke with a gasp, just as the sword pierced his chest in the dream. Before the dream shattered, he saw the woman's face.
It was Zhao Nannan.
His back was soaked with sweat. What the hell? Why would she want to kill me?
He shook his head hard. Something wasn't right.
The screaming hadn't stopped.
Hadn't he woken up? Was he still dreaming?
Heavy footsteps pounded outside. Shouts, curses—then a loud voice yelled, "Smash it!"
Boom!
The heavy iron door shuddered violently. The sound echoed like thunder through the cramped basement room. On the top bunk, Zhao Xin cried out in fear, but Zhao Nannan quickly covered her mouth. The girl trembled in her arms.
Bang! Bang! Bang…
They were trying to break down the door, hammering furiously, shouting all the while.
"We're freezing out here while they're warm inside, eating bread!"
"Smash it! Smash that damn door down!"
"Kill them all! Take their food!"
"We want food! We want freedom! We want shelter! We want clothes!"
A slave riot.
Liu Weian instantly understood. Oddly, he felt a moment of relief—better a slave riot than bandits or rebel troops. Rebels and bandits had real weapons and left nothing but corpses. Slave mobs were different. They were weak, poorly armed—mostly with sticks and stones. Dangerous, yes, but not nearly as deadly.
Slave riots happened regularly in this district due to its harsh history and living conditions. Sometimes every two weeks, sometimes every few days. The worst ones involved hundreds of thousands of people, but more often it was just a few thousand. Still, even that was terrifying.
What scared Liu Weian most was that this time, they were smashing doors. That rarely happened. The building he lived in was deep in the interior zone. Riots usually didn't reach this far.
But here they were—at his door.
He'd heard of outer-district residents being killed in riots, but this was the first time it had come to him personally. The pounding was deafening. The door creaked and groaned. There was nothing in the room that could be used as a weapon.
Bang!
A dent the size of a human head appeared in the middle of the door. Must've been hit with a rock. The whole room shook.
Outside, the sight of the dent drove the rioters into a frenzy. They howled like beasts and slammed even harder. Farther off, someone screamed in pain—someone else had been caught in the chaos.
The entire hallway was packed with slaves wearing rags, holding makeshift weapons. They smashed anything they could find—trash cans, lights, windows.
Boom!
The door was badly warped now. Liu Weian's heart pounded. His fists clenched. He planned to fight back the second the door fell—take out as many as he could. He knew what came next. The starving slaves would kill everyone inside and loot everything, like a swarm of locusts.
The door's bolt was nearly destroyed. The gap between door and frame widened. Firelight streamed through. Liu Weian squinted—he could clearly see the mob outside. Dozens of them, faces twisted in rage, gripping rocks and spiked clubs. No fear in their eyes—only madness.
If not for the fact that they were packed so tightly they couldn't swing properly, the door probably would've been down already. But even so, it couldn't last much longer.
Two more hits, maybe three. That was it.
Liu Weian crouched like a leopard, ready to pounce, fists clenched.
Bang!
Another massive impact. The gap widened—you could fit a finger through now.
Then—gunfire.
The police or military had arrived.
Screams rang out. Then the mob surged forward, crazed and fearless. But it only lasted five seconds. In that brief moment, the front lines were cut down. The sight of corpses scattered across the ground snapped the rest out of their frenzy. Someone screamed, and the mob scattered like mice, retreating as fast as they'd come.
The gunfire faded into the distance as police pursued the rioters, making sure the area was fully cleared.
About half an hour later, the officers returned, patrolling the streets and broadcasting over loudspeakers that the danger had passed.
Only then did Liu Weian open the mangled iron door. The hallway was wrecked—everything smashed. He climbed the steps to the street. Several corpses lay nearby, their blood staining the ground. He looked farther out—more bodies, scattered across the street. Some spots had five or six piled up. Blood ran in rivulets like ink in the night.
The entire building was a ruin. Every door deformed, every window shattered. Some homes stood wide open, lifeless figures sprawled inside.
Liu Weian turned away from the carnage and returned to the basement.
In that moment, one thought burned clear in his mind:
He had to get out of the slave district.
No matter what it took.