This was trouble—a new kind, far worse than before. Had it been other mutations—zombies, viruses—she could have managed easily. But this time, it was the very thing humanity relies on most: oxygen.
If Ye Shu’s guess was right, the oxygen must have been withdrawn shortly after midnight.
The first day she was transported into the game, Ye Shu had been underwater, wearing her diving gear. Naturally, she felt nothing unusual.
Having Da Piaoliang—the strange entity—stand guard had been a mistake!
Strange beings don’t breathe; they don’t need oxygen. Ye Shu, as a result, had no way to sense the loss of oxygen in the air, and so it wasn’t until the fourth day that she finally discovered the game’s core rule.
“Awoo… Master, what’s wrong?”
Da Piaoliang curled up at the foot of the bed, whimpering in a way so childishly cute, no one could possibly be annoyed.
Ye Shu could only shake her head, helpless. “It’s nothing. My fault, really…”
She blamed herself for leaving a strange entity on night watch. It might be powerful, but it was oblivious to the presence of air.
Chou Bagai and Xiao Bai, both being sentient beings, couldn’t be brought into other scenarios. Otherwise, she would have stocked up on oxygen tanks days ago.
Fortunately, the original Ye, being a diving enthusiast, had all this equipment. Ye Shu packed the gear into her spatial storage and planned to contact her old diving supplier to gather more reserves.
So far, she’d discovered a pattern: the oxygen vanished at midnight—though she still didn’t know the exact minute.
Yet something in her gut told her this so-called purge plan, targeting both native E-Star residents and players, would not be so easily cleared.
Ye Shu turned to the internet, looking up a series of chain reactions triggered by oxygen deprivation.
For instance, automobiles run on internal combustion. Without oxygen, cars can’t ignite—they’d stall in the streets, causing all kinds of accidents.
By the same logic, E-Star’s technology was not advanced. Their airplanes used the same engines, hence the spate of plane crashes worldwide.
Her phone buzzed with constant news alerts—multiple traffic accidents erupting overnight in G City.
But it wasn’t just G City. The entirety of E-Star was in chaos.
Police cruisers and ambulances raced through the streets, hauling away wave after wave of injured souls.
Drivers were being blamed, but they all claimed the same thing: their vehicles inexplicably lost power, and they themselves suffered chest tightness, struggling to breathe at the time.
More and more people online reported waking in the dead of night, gasping for air. Some were jolted awake by the suffocating pressure on their chests.
[Sunset Seniors: Felt like I couldn’t breathe last night, got a bit dizzy too. Maybe those drivers felt it too?]
[Capybara: Now that you mention it, I felt a tightness in my chest while half-asleep, thought I was dreaming. Turns out I’m not the only one.]
[Pigskin Jelly: Trust science—if you’re sick, treat it; if not, go back to sleep.]
[Durian Milk: Why does no one believe me? I really couldn’t breathe for a moment after midnight! It wasn’t just in my head.]
[Pretty Sheep vs. Dark Sports Guy: You must be tripping! Can’t breathe in the middle of the night? Please, you just want attention online because you aren’t getting it in real life.]
Most people online still refused to believe there was any connection, dismissing it as insomnia or exhaustion, not something that could cause mass car pileups.
Ye Shu messaged her supplier. Fortunately, he replied. Unfortunately, he, too, had noticed the oxygen shortage and had raised his prices.
The money that once bought her ten oxygen tanks now bought only three—triple the price and counting.
Moreover, diving tanks didn’t hold much; at most, one could breathe for about an hour—assuming no strenuous activity.
Still, she bought ten more, burning through 3,870 credits.
The seller promised delivery first thing in the morning.
Ye Shu had no idea how long the oxygen deprivation crisis would last, but she knew one thing—stock up while you can.
Thanks to the original Ye’s hobby of solo lake diving, she had about twenty oxygen tanks—enough to sustain continuous breathing for one day.
But Ye Shu knew it wasn’t nearly enough… A portable oxygen generator would be far better. Or even a medical ventilator—any hospital would have those…
If the game decided to drain oxygen for longer, her “Optimize” talent wouldn’t be enough to refill the tanks.
Resolved, she sought out another seller in the same city. The man seemed eager to get rid of an oxygen machine, and readily agreed to a price—steep though it was.
The location was not far from the outskirts. Ye Shu felt no fear of being double-crossed.
Across from her, the seller handed his phone to a man at his side, deferentially.
The bodyguard was perplexed. Why would his boss, who could win over any girl with ease, sneak around like this—offering an oxygen machine, of all things? Other rich heirs gifted diamonds and roses, even amid these bizarre days. But an oxygen generator?
……
Game, Day Four. 8:09 AM.
Ye Shu successfully acquired the oxygen machine, and—to her surprise—the man even offered it at half price.
She inspected the machine thoroughly for any damage, then demonstrated its use in front of the robust man.
Eager to help, he tried to offer her a ride home with the bulky apparatus, but she politely refused.
“No need. I don’t like strangers helping me.”
Once she was certain it worked, Ye Shu shouldered the machine, her expression mixed.
Just then, a male voice called out from behind.
She turned—there stood Fu Jingchuan, a familiar face from past trials. However awkward their last meetings, basic civility demanded a greeting.
“Fu Jingchuan! What a coincidence!”
“So, you’re in G City too.”
Fu Jingchuan’s perpetually cool demeanor softened as soon as he saw Ye Shu. He nodded. “I’ve always been here. Ye Xiaoshu, how about we team up again for this round?”
The strong man’s face fell. Where had this guy come from—and how had he gotten ahead of his own boss? The thought of losing his year-end bonus made him want to cry.
Ye Shu had always been fiercely independent; banding together was never her style, and she certainly didn’t need anyone else. She wouldn’t agree.
In a black sedan not far off, Lin Qingyue’s expression darkened, his obsidian gaze glinting coldly.
The next instant, Ye Shu’s face softened, and she nodded.
The two walked off together, chatting in a way that—from a distance—almost resembled a pair of lovers. Lin Qingyue, even from his vantage, could sense the easy warmth between them.
Fu Jingchuan’s presence here proved one thing: there was no way Ye Shu would leave the oxygen machine behind in this transaction.
He had arrived in G City the previous day. Try as he might to win over Ye Xiaoshu’s trust through indirect means, he hadn’t expected that other player to attach himself so shamelessly.
And Ye Xiaoshu didn’t even resist.
It was the one thing Lin Qingyue could not accept.
Last round, upon witnessing the two of them get along so naturally, Lin behaved in ways he himself couldn’t explain—he let that woman go.