On the very first day players entered the game, somewhere far, far away, beyond Planet E, a spacecraft… crashed to the surface. And it wasn't the only one. In other words, the authorities had known everything from the very start.
Where the siphoned oxygen had gone remained a mystery to Ye Shu. Judging by the global scale, to silently extract every molecule of oxygen from an entire planet was an act beyond human capability. It could only be… something like the survival game system, or even a higher civilization.
Then, as four long minutes crawled by… the planet’s oxygen returned. People removed their oxygen tanks, gazing in despair at their loved ones on the cusp of death—some had already perished from insufficient reserves. Such scenes had become all too common, especially these past two days.
Human nature is selfish, after all. Was there ever a shortage of deaths over oxygen tanks?
A long, rising alarm wailed in the outskirts of G Cheng. The deep silence of midnight was torn apart by the shrill cry of an ambulance.
Yesterday’s entertainment headlines had transformed overnight into solemn eulogies for the dead and rampant speculation about the cause of the oxygen crisis.
Ye Shu had seen such sights in too many games—so many she was numb to them now. She didn’t even glance at the news, just collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes to sleep. As for standing watch tonight—that duty fell to Da Piaoliang.
The uncanny ones needed neither rest nor sleep. As long as you fed them enough flesh and blood, they would tirelessly keep watch, so her supply space was always stocked with frozen meat.
On the tenth day inside the game, the oxygen deprivation period stretched to eight minutes. Those with tanks survived; those without resorted to stealing, robbing, or hoarding any airtight container they could find, crafting makeshift oxygen bags in hopes of lasting just a little longer in this silent war.
Factories halted, businesses shuttered, schools closed, and the once-bustling streets of Planet E were deserted, its people cloaked in dread. Thankfully, nearly every city had distribution points for oxygen tanks, which gave people hope. No matter how dire things seemed, they believed they would weather this calamity…
Ye Shu’s tanks were stocked in time. With a machine continually generating oxygen, she was in no danger—at least, not for now.
On the eleventh day of the game, just after midnight, 12:00, Ye Shu’s alarm blared. In an instant, she sprang from bed to take in oxygen. Da Piaoliang’s round eyes gleamed in the dark. Its serpentine tail twitched lazily in the air. With one claw hooked around a strawberry, it nibbled at the fruit, making even Ye Shu a little envious of its constitution. No rest, no sleep—that’s the ideal worker, isn’t it?
"Whew… whew…" The seconds ticked by on the stopwatch in her hand.
The deprivation lasted even longer this night… seventeen minutes. Seventeen minutes. The gravity of this new reality weighed on her—it would be a sleepless night for many.
The risk was simple: If you didn’t have enough oxygen, you could die in the blink of an eye.
Among the million-strong player base that had entered this trial, tens of thousands had vanished in just the last two days.
[Crayon Xiaoxin: Who could have predicted this? It’s always the things we take for granted—in this game, oxygen itself, light as air, has claimed so many lives. Just yesterday, my neighbor and I promised to collect our oxygen tanks together today.]
[BadLuckGoAway: Is anyone still selling oxygen? I have items to trade.]
[Little Apple: Items for oxygen? I’ve got some. How much do you need?]
[CheeseLeRong: Bro, you’re confused! If you have a big enough tank, you can store oxygen. How about this: ten liters of oxygen for a B-rank item.]
[Sichuan TyrantRex: Damn it! That’s just highway robbery. Hey, generous bigwigs, look my way—I’ll settle for eleven liters!]
There weren’t few with oxygen reserves among the players. Ye Shu felt a quiet warmth reading through the threads.
Thanks to her oxygen generator, she joined the lively marketplace on the light screen.
[Iamyourdad: Oxygen for trade! Minimum fifteen liters. Send me offers.]
[Iamyourdad: Limit for first ten traders, any item ranking accepted. Private message me.]
[PoisonAppleBlackSnowPrincess: Now you’re undercutting the market. How are we supposed to make a profit like this? Wait… that name—isn’t it the one on the leaderboard?]
[SaltedEggHero: I’ll trade. Boss!]
Ye Shu exchanged 150 liters of oxygen for ten different items. Among them: a C-rank Ghost Mask, which when worn emits a spectral aura, deceiving ghosts into thinking the wearer is one of their own—single use, three-minute duration.
A C-rank Ten-Mile Teleport Talisman—instantly teleport to a random spot within ten kilometers.
A C-rank Sketch Pen, a dream for any art student, able to turn the user’s skill to the extreme—whatever they draw, it becomes lifelike.
A D-rank Clown Roly-Poly—nothing more than a free stress ball.
A lamp that needed no power, a keyboard that hurled verbal abuse on its own, a flowerpot that watered itself…
Only the ghost mask and teleport talisman were worth a second glance; the rest Ye Shu stashed in her space, unimpressed.
Fu Shiyi had been trading oxygen long before Ye Shu, though he required buyers to bring their own oxygen bags—the pricing, at least, was fair.
But when Ye Shu went to collect hers today, she noticed the supply was clearly dwindling. After days of constant use, the previous stockpile—surely, it wouldn’t last.
G Cheng was about to descend into chaos.
"Ye Xiaoshu, your oxygen tank’s ready."
She took back her tank from the staff and made her way home in haste, catching more than one glance from a group of young men in the line.
Within the crowd, Pang Pangzi cast the group a look of deep pity. Such young men—why throw their lives away provoking Ye Nüxia? Weren’t they just asking for death?
Ye Shu’s last kill was the only reason she hadn’t been targeted yet. Today, she’d traded gasoline for oxygen. Even so, Shui Lingling clearly had her pegged as easy prey.
At the mouth of an alley, after a brief, chaotic scuffle, Ye Shu, feeling modestly magnanimous, seized every oxygen tank from her would-be robbers and offered them up on the trade market.
With the police so stretched, and guided by the noble ideal of not bringing trouble to the nation, Ye Shu simply dispatched the thugs outright. Call it a civic contribution.
On the twelfth day, the oxygen deprivation window doubled from seventeen to thirty-four minutes. The number of suffocation deaths more than doubled. Ye Shu lay serenely on her bed, breathing in oxygen. Put it this way: with her current reserves, she could be hooked up to the mask day and night without ever running out.
Just as she was quietly congratulating herself, the sky outside seemed to tear open with a thunderous crack. A bolt of black-violet lightning split the heavens, illuminating the earth. Ye Shu looked toward the source—far above, shrouded across the vault of the sky, loomed a vague, colossal shadow.
What was that? Something capable of cloaking the whole sky…
Ye Shu’s doubts grew—this game was no simple oxygen crisis.
A deafening thunderclap drowned out the rumble of the earth splitting beneath. By the time people realized it, half the buildings of G Cheng had collapsed. More accurately, the earth’s crust itself had caved in, leaving a vast, sunken crater, devouring the city’s concrete in an instant.
The shaking left behind only debris, twisted structures, exposed rebar, and a wasteland of ruins.
Unfortunately, Ye Shu’s own house lay in the affected zone. Luckily, it hadn’t been swallowed completely—only half reduced to rubble.
As for her precious oxygen bags… almost all were gone. When she escaped, she managed to save only a precious few.