【Hoarding Addiction III】The two unexpected skills she gained filled the gap in her attack power, and Mu Shan was overjoyed.
Even so, she still firmly believed that she was a support.
One can’t forget one’s roots.
Speaking of which, Huang Hongbo and the others all had pure attacker professions. The three-and-a-half support players were forced into combat, and Mu Shan actually had no confidence in taking them out in one go.
—At a life-or-death moment, it was purely a matter of who was tougher.
Especially after Huang Hongbo’s doomed escape, he had gone out of his way to travel back and attack her safe house, only to end up struck dead by lightning.
It was too dramatic; some cosmic coincidence had sealed both their fates.
By now, it was already afternoon, long past lunchtime.
Between fleeing and fighting for her life, Mu Shan only felt ravenous and utterly exhausted once she relaxed.
She took out a 1.5L old mineral water bottle from her backpack, filled with tap water.
She simply wiped her cheeks, neck, and limbs with the cold water, washing away the sweat and blood from the battle. Only then did Mu Shan feel much cooler.
Carrying clean water was actually a strategic supply for outdoor missions, to guard against resting spots without usable water sources. In a pinch, this water could be used for washing or boiled for drinking.
Her virtual backpack had a set of spare clean clothes. Mu Shan took off her dirty, soaked outer clothes; the fabric on her injured areas had stuck to the dried blood.
When she lifted the hem of her T-shirt with both hands, she glanced back at He Yuncong in his “mummy” state.
The latter lay there with eyes tightly closed, motionless.
…
Mu Shan chose to ignore him and turned her back to quickly change clothes.
She didn’t notice that the ugly red-green badge, casually pinned to her T-shirt and long forgotten, was emitting a faint glow.
【Good Luck Favor Me (Support Type)
“Quietly adds 1 point of luck to you; it might have unexpected effects.”】
Although it was already afternoon, the sunlight wasn’t as scorching as midday, but Mu Shan felt the temperature in the forest hadn’t dropped at all. Her skin always felt sticky from constant sweat secretion, with strands of hair plastered to her forehead.
Mu Shan was sweating profusely and initially suspected the outside temperature had risen close to body temperature; even breathing grew more difficult.
Considering the environment here, the “rations” she brought were homemade chilled passion fruit juice and assorted rice balls.
Fortunately, she had bought a small fridge beforehand, which could still produce some ice cubes daily to beat the heat.
She put the ice cubes and juice together in a thermos, then into the virtual backpack; under time-stop conditions, the juice stayed cold for a long time.
The assorted rice balls were even simpler, made with the principles of “convenient, quick, portable, easy to eat, and filling” for the wilderness. She wrapped fillings in cooked mixed-grain rice and rolled them into egg-sized balls.
Mu Shan especially liked sweet-and-salty combinations.
She made three flavors of rice balls: sweet ones mixed with sugar and berries, salty ones with seaweed flakes, minced meat, and meat floss, and bean paste with pickled vegetable rice balls.
Though they looked plain, they were absolutely decent fare in a dungeon game.
She plucked a banana leaf to serve as a tablecloth; the vibrant green leaf made the food look appetizing. She slurped the ice-cold drink, her cheeks puffed out like a hamster’s.
He Yuncong remained unconscious. She had tried earlier to remove the bandages wrapped around him, but failed. These bandages weren’t ordinary “medical supplies”; they seemed alive…
She preliminarily suspected it was related to his profession’s “assimilation.” He Yuncong might have entered some kind of hibernation state.
But Mu Shan had no way to travel with an adult man.
Moreover, the two of them couldn’t stay in place for long.
1. Huang Hongbo had escaped, so it couldn’t be ruled out that he had accomplices in the dungeon. If he had leaked her location before dying, this spot was no longer safe.
2. Auntie Wang and the weather forecaster had withdrawn; they were isolated and unsupported, with slim chances of Yu Da and the others coming to rescue them.
3. The commotion from the battle might attract NPC monsters in the dungeon, especially since they were very close to the insect nest.
Mu Shan finished the rice balls, wiped her hands, and made her decision.
She walked over to the unconscious He Yuncong and once again took out her pink bathtub.
The bathtub wasn’t large, only big enough for an adult to sit in with knees bent. Mu Shan exerted tremendous effort to stuff the tall, burly He Yuncong inside.
The man’s hair was disheveled, eyelids tightly shut, pitifully curled on his side with his long legs forced outside the tub.
To prevent him from being pecked by birds or bitten by snakes mid-flight, Mu Shan plucked several large banana leaves to cover the bathtub securely.
Looking at her handiwork, Mu Shan nodded in satisfaction and took out the confession balloon from her backpack.
Before setting out, she had set the balloon’s starting point to the No. 9 safe house (the official departure spot for the red team members). Taking He Yuncong back near Auntie Wang was safer than leaving him in the wild or the NPC village.
The small balloon hung above the bathtub, tied with just a few thin strings, looking frail. But as Mu Shan released it, the miracle defying physics occurred once more.
The heavy bathtub carrying an adult male floated up, freed from gravity’s grip, soaring higher and higher.
Mu Shan watched the pink bathtub raft disappear into the jungle depths.
After the prolonged chaos, her mental state grew increasingly bizarre: perhaps these unrealistic items were byproducts of the Main God System fulfilling human fantasies?
After a while, she cleaned up the traces around her and set off again, machete in hand.
Mu Shan had to make her own way back on foot.
In the hot, humid rainforest, every step sank her boot soles into the layer of decaying leaves, but fortunately, the thick humus acted as a cushion, allowing her to barely survive the fall from the cliff.
The vegetation at the cliff base was even denser than above; there were no traces of NPCs or players here, just mature fallen berries, strangely colored fungi, and various vegetables everywhere.
Mu Shan picked up a slender branch as a walking stick, machete in the other hand to hack through obstructing thorny bushes. She advanced along the shortest route on the map, staying vigilant around her while pondering recent events.
Near the insect nest, there was a clear dirt path trodden by humans.
Many long-dead players lined the roadside, turned into “garden sculptures,” all killed by spore parasitism.
According to Norman Nov and the others, a stone canyon lay at the path’s end, triggering a side quest upon entry.
They had originally planned to ambush Mu Shan there. When humans lie, they often mix truth with falsehood to gain trust.
Norman Nov had no reason to deceive on this info; they were likely telling the truth.
So she had a few guesses:
1. The path and stone canyon were probably the correct route to the insect nest, proven by generations of players’ corpses; otherwise, they wouldn’t have followed one after another.
2. No sign of the stone canyon yet; whether Richard’s “bang-bang” stones and swarms of locusts were just a survival mini-game or something else couldn’t be verified.
3. She always felt something was off about that path.
From the path’s width, it didn’t seem made for giant insect monsters, barely allowing two adults side by side.
Known giant insect monsters varied: some flew, some jumped, some crawled. The path’s edges couldn’t be so neat, nor the surrounding player corpses undamaged by bugs.
“Road, small path.”
Mu Shan muttered to herself as she advanced. “…Road repair?”
Just as a flash of insight hit her, on the verge of grasping a clue, a massive “boom—” thundered from high above.
Gale-force winds swept in, whipping up leaves; the blast made it impossible to keep eyes open.
Mu Shan immediately crouched and hugged the nearest tree.
“Whoosh—whoosh—roar—”
Clutching her hat, amid her whipping hair, she glimpsed something huge streaking across the sky, gliding low over the forest.
Roiling flames and thick smoke billowed, trailing a long gray streak through the air with rumbling booms.
Mu Shan squinted through the wind and flying leaves to peer into the distance.
She first thought a meteor had hit the forest, but then realized… the truth was even weirder: it was a flaming mid-sized passenger plane.
She rubbed her eyes, thinking she’d seen wrong.
Nose, wings, fuselage—the white body with colorful airline logo confirmed it was a passenger jet.
No way—in this medieval Western fantasy world, where did a Boeing 737 come from?
You’re clearly not even on the same tech tree timeline!
Mu Shan gaped as the plane roared past, wreathed in roaring flames and smoke, diving nose-first into the forest.
Consecutive “boom—boom—” explosions.
The massive blast wave echoed through the valley.
Mu Shan saw countless fragments scatter in the sky—plane parts, who knew which—with flocks of birds startled into flight, blotting the sky.
She huddled behind a tree, head covered; some far-flung metal debris crashed nearby, snapping trees and sparking.
After several minutes, as the explosions subsided, Mu Shan cautiously stood and peeked out.
The crash site was easy to find: the spot belching thick smoke.
In a straight line, the plane’s crash site was surprisingly close to her.
Time neared dusk; everyone was heading “home from work.”
Excluding No. 1 unconscious on the balloon, No. 2 guarding the small village, Nos. 4, 8, 9 withdrawing, Nos. 6, 10, 11 dead—the odds of No. 3 (Anbu Chuanliang) or No. 7 (Yu Da) being nearby were extremely low.
Mu Shan hacked through obstructing branches, quickening her pace.
In other words, at this moment, she was the only player who could reach the crashed plane.
The air reeked of burning, but thanks to high humidity, the fire didn’t spread wildly in the forest.
The closer she got to the crash, the more scattered debris littered the area.
Detached seats hanging from treetops, broken wings, scattered trash.
Mu Shan had long activated 【Hoarding Addiction II】, but the skill indicated: no searchable resources nearby.
…
Upon reaching the largest fuselage remnant, she finally saw the system’s clue.
【Dungeon Fragment: Flight Snake Plague
All 119 remaining players in this dungeon failed their missions.
Dungeon fragment containment rate: 9%, containment failed.
This dungeon permanently closed.】
【Detected as the last player to witness the Flight Snake Plague dungeon.
Enter this dungeon fragment for adventure?】
Mu Shan smiled and said: “Thanks, Main God System, but I’m busy. I can’t spare the time right now—sorry, find someone else.”
The system fell silent.
The fire gradually died down, leaving only thick smoke.
Mu Shan donned two masks and a helmet, carefully stepping over ground trash and skipping obviously dead, mangled limbs, before entering the relatively intact cabin.
The plane had broken into two sections; the nose was gone, one wing missing.
But the cabin connected to the tail was intact.
Mu Shan stooped in the wreckage-strewn cabin, raising her flashlight high to sweep over rows of horrific seats.
Overhead oxygen masks had all deployed, luggage racks popped open. Most passengers were strapped to seats; a few missing.
Typically, the main wings and tail connections were the sturdiest parts, often surviving crashes relatively intact.
Though the system had declared “overall mission failure,” Mu Shan still searched diligently for survivors.
【Cannon Fodder Player No. 854129 (Deceased)
ID: Li Su
Profession: None】
【Cannon Fodder Player No. 810802 (Deceased)
ID: Deng Gu
Profession: Pet Groomer】
What was comparatively surprising was that the BOSS “Snake” from the [Flight Snake Plague] instance had not been found by Mu Shan inside the cabin. It was possible that it had been flung out of the cabin during the crash, or perhaps it had been reclaimed by the system.
After searching for more than ten minutes, she finally confirmed that no one on the plane had survived. Most of the corpses had unrecognizable faces, and their bodies bore varying degrees of burn marks, making it impossible to distinguish who was who.
The passengers’ luggage had been scattered all around, and the items remaining inside the plane had mostly been incinerated by the fire.
Mu Shan walked through the twisted and deformed aisle, picking up a still-usable pen, a woolen coat, a lady’s scarf, a pair of sunglasses in a glasses case, and a stainless steel thermos cup.
In the net pocket of an airplane seatback, Mu Shan also found a sheet of white paper, protected by the body of the passenger in that seat.
The paper had been smoked yellow. She took it down, and on it was only a single foreign-language suicide note, automatically translated by the system into Chinese:
—Zhizi, please take good care of our child, just like I’m going on a long journey.
Mu Shan was stunned for a moment before finally folding the paper and carefully placing it back in its original spot.