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Chapter 121: The Human Purge Initiative VII

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Meanwhile, the television in the living room endlessly replayed coverage of last night’s mass asphyxiation event. As the most advanced beings on Planet E, humans could normally hold their breath for about a minute without issue. But this oxygen crisis had provoked mayhem—chain collisions on the roads, scores of patients dying in the hospitals, and the airline industry called a press conference by daybreak to announce a temporary suspension of flights.
The humans held their breath, but small creatures could not… Cockroaches and rats, hidden in the underground pipes, burst out onto the surface in droves.
“It’s clear the core of this ‘game’ is hypoxia,” Fu Jingchuan mused, his tone laced with deeper meaning. “But we still need to confirm the specifics. I suggest we prepare our oxygen bags ahead of time, in case the power goes out later. E Star is nothing like Blue Star. Around here, all the electricity comes from wind and solar. Missing oxygen will set off a chain reaction—not obvious yet, but as time drags on…”
Oxygen wasn’t only in the air. It was in the earth as well. Go too long without it, and even the planet’s crust would shift, leading to cave-ins above.
“Who’s there?”
Ye Shu looked across, gaze sharp. Only the whisper of the wind rustling the leaves replied.
For a moment just now, she was certain she was being watched.
“There’s nobody, Yezi-jie!” Fu Shiyi mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit.
“Must have been my imagination… Never mind, carry on.”
But her instincts were never wrong. Someone really was spying on them nearby. She’d have to draw the watcher out…
They decided to keep filling the oxygen bags as they worked. Fu Shiyi and company had delivered two bulky oxygen generators and even a breathing apparatus; empty tanks now crowded every inch of the trunk, nearly eighty in total.
Oxygen tanks weren't exactly common wares; few sold them. It was Pang Pangzi, blessed with the brilliant idea to rent from the hospital, who’d wrangled up so many.
The Fu brothers and Pang Pangzi bunked at Fu Jingchuan’s place, Ye Shu stayed as before.
Players active on the holo-screen grew lively:
[Zhizhi Meimei: Oh my god! I’m a total newbie, still need my baby dish just to eat. Can’t they cut us beginners some slack? How can the game toss us in at max difficulty on day one?]
[Filial Daughter Liu Ruyan: Pfft! Keep dreaming! Survival games never go easy just because you’re green. If you think it should be easier for you, dream on! I’m a veteran from the first weird wave—fight me if you dare!]
[Can’t Eat Grape Skins: Did anyone notice the duration of last night’s hypoxia event? I clocked it at somewhere between thirteen and fifteen seconds. It could go up again tonight. I’ve hoarded a crate of oxygen tanks—should last me thirty straight hours of breathing. That ought to be enough, right?]
[Adopted Camel: Sis, you’re smart! Stockpiling all those tanks ahead of time… I only have one, and that’s thanks to the local officials. Oxygen suppliers can’t keep up, and the five tanks I ordered overnight won’t be here till the day after tomorrow.]
[My Beloved Motherland: I feel like a couple of tanks isn’t going to cut it. Twenty days on this planet—surely we won’t be losing oxygen for a few seconds every single day? That would be far too easy.]
Ye Shu kept an eye on the player banter. Official channels rolled out an announcement: every citizen could claim one portable mountaineering tank per day, with their ID.
Left with nothing much to do, Ye Shu poked around the G City website and found the distribution spot just nearby. Her take-it-while-it’s-free philosophy won out—so she went.
It wasn’t as she’d imagined at all!
Those netizens who’d boasted online about their breath-holding or ‘tortoise-breath skills’ now lined up, ID cards in hand, meekly joining the queue.
The crowd was huge and chaotic. Some even carried out their children in hopes of scoring extra oxygen tanks. Several volunteers struggled to keep order—it was bedlam.
Among the milling masses, Ye Shu spotted Pang Pangzi, his mountainous frame impossible to miss in the crowd.
It took half an hour until it was finally her turn. After reporting her name and confirming her identity, a volunteer handed over her tank.
Ye Shu noticed the truckload—each tank crammed full of oxygen. Oddly, their manufacture date seemed to be just a few days ago: the very day the “game” had begun.
Clearly, someone at the top knew what was coming. These supplies had been ready.
She tried to probe the volunteers for more intel, but all they knew was that the oxygen shortage wasn’t something a handful of people could fix—nothing more.
That night, they ran another trial.
Fu Shiyi stood out on the open balcony, Pangzi stayed inside, and Ye Shu worked the stopwatch.
Midnight. Ye Shu felt the pressure in her chest, and hit the timer button.
It lasted a long time this round. One, two, three… Thirty-one, thirty-two seconds. Whether in the open air or inside—the oxygen content was precisely zero.
Every breathless second was torture. Most handled it okay, but Pang Pangzi, with his poor constitution, was flushed and gasping and red in the face.
“Yezi-jie… How’d we do?” Fu Shiyi’s face was graver than ever before.
He didn’t need a watch to know it—the duration had nearly doubled.
Ye Shu, face tense, showed them the stopwatch: thirty-two seconds. And today was only day six.
Tomorrow, it would be sixty-four.
A full minute. That would be the breaking point for most humans.
No doubt about it now: the hypoxia “game” was doubling the duration each time—and after day seven, that escalation would only get faster.
The authorities issued another emergency message before dawn, urging everyone to store up extra oxygen, even bringing in specialists for live lessons on making DIY oxygen bags. Anything—a plastic bag, a bottle, any kind of jar—could be pressed into service. With the knowledge to make oxygen bags at home, panic became less acute.
After the group left, that prickling sensation—of being watched—only grew.
Ye Shu glanced toward the old European-style building across the way, but quickly looked away, giving nothing away on her face. If she were the one lurking in the shadows, that would be the perfect place to hide.
If you won’t come out, she thought, then stay there—forever…
By the time Lin Qingyue realized what was happening, Ye Shu was already at the battlefield, peachwood sword in hand, driving its tip through the door panel.
“So it’s you!” she exclaimed.
Ye Shu pulled back three steps tactically. She’d known someone was lurking, but she hadn’t expected the shadowy ‘hamster’ would turn out to be—Lin Qingyue.
This person had tried to kill her again and again. Her nerves were primed for him.
Was he here for her?
Was it too late to back out now? Maybe she should just kill herself and respawn…
But the urge to flee vanished in a heartbeat. She’d forgotten she still had the checkpoint reset ability. She couldn’t be timid now—she had to go for it!
She dashed forward, swinging her peachwood sword straight for Lin Qingyue’s heart.
“Ye Xiaoshu, are you out of your mind?” Lin Qingyue shouted, dodging madly, eyes cold as he watched her attack.
“Shut up! It’s you I’m here to kill!”
“Quit talking! Just die already!”
He had never witnessed such a reckless, desperate style of fighting—every strike was deadly, each aimed for his vitals. Ye Xiaoshu was like a machine built only for killing: the harder he dodged, the more exhilarated she became.