They trekked for hours along the winding mountain roads.
Finally, guided by the map, they found a modest underground cavern—small enough to be defensible, and a safe place to rest.
Pang Pangzi, drenched in foul sweat, had run the entire way. Though he complained loudly for a break, his feet never once slowed.
When he saw the three in front come to a halt, he collapsed onto the ground like a limp noodle, no longer caring about appearances.
Fu Jingchuan and Fu Shiyi, though clearly exhausted, endured in silence.
Ye Shu, who had grown much stronger of late, still looked energized; she was, without a doubt, the toughest among them.
The group flopped onto the roadside curb, casually setting up a pot to boil water and cook noodles.
Ye Shu sat with her bowl, eating in small bites, eyes fixed on the barrage of scrolling messages blurring across the glowing screen.
"Lazy Overlord vs. Village Sadako: What hell on earth is this? I'm almost out of oxygen tanks—any players willing to lend me one? I'll pay you right back once we're safe! I'm a member of the Chen family..."
"Gray CP: Hah? Someone's still trying to freeload during all this? Incredible. The mighty Chens, not even worth a mention."
"Red-Gray Pairing Since Ancient Times: You two are arguing at a time like this? Shouldn’t we be thinking about how to survive tomorrow’s oxygen shortage? More than an hour has passed—how are we supposed to last another two? Most around us, players or not, aren’t dying of suffocation..."
"Treasured of Our Nation: I give up! I’m just going to wait here for the end. First time in the game and I get hit by a disaster of this scale? Why is Planet E running out of oxygen—planetwide, even? Is this some high-civilization invasion?"
"Tofu with Spicy Sauce: Who knows? My tank’s barely got 50 liters left, I’m digging through trash hoping to find anything useful."
"Sweet Rice Dumplings with Sugar: Why hasn’t anyone listed oxygen tanks for trade tonight? Let me have a look—I was going to buy one with my item tokens."
"Your Little Star: What rock are you living under? Haven’t you seen the news? Half the cities have collapsed already—damn tectonic shifts nearly buried me alive."
"…………"
Just as Ye Shu had expected.
The extraction of oxygen from the soil triggered monumental changes to the land. The ground buckled and collapsed. Many never had time to run—they were simply swallowed alive by the earth.
Fu Jingchuan sat, unblinking, watching Ye Shu. Suddenly, he felt another gaze upon him.
Every hair on his neck stood up. Unrest crept into his mind.
Fu Jingchuan’s senses had always been sharp—since childhood, he could easily judge good from evil. He was certain: someone was staring at him right now. And their intent was anything but friendly.
He’d felt the same unease during their last ordeal at sea.
And somehow, it all seemed subtly tied to Ye Xiaoshu.
"Third Brother, what are you looking at?"
Fu Jingchuan snapped out of his trance to see Fu Shiyi grinning, eyes darting back and forth between him and Ye Shu.
"Nothing. Stop overthinking it," he replied.
Last time, when Fu Jingchuan climbed back onto the raft late, he’d missed witnessing Fu Shiyi's wild outburst, and so still treated him as a kid.
Pang Pangzi, ever the tactful one, wisely kept his mouth shut.
…………
Night fell.
11:57 p.m.
The fourteenth day of the oxygen crisis was moments away.
The group donned their breathing masks in advance.
Midnight.
On the dot.
The surrounding oxygen was sucked away.
Even with tanks providing a steady supply, the weaker among them suffered—at best, ringing ears or ruptured eardrums; at worst, immediate unconsciousness.
Pang Pangzi was among the struck down.
The ground shuddered violently. Ye Shu and her companions could only cling to their positions, wary of any cracks forming beneath their feet—if the earth split, they’d need to escape at once.
Ye Shu had considered escaping to the skies.
But reality was a harsh taskmaster.
Without oxygen, engines were little more than dead weight; planes wouldn’t fly.
Even cars couldn’t be started.
Fortunately, this region was more stable than most—the worst was a tremor, and a few minor fissures like cracks in old porcelain.
Was it her imagination, or did the sky above look gloomier than ever?
Two hours later.
The oxygen returned. The earth calmed as if nothing had happened.
But the cities were rubble, heaped in wastelands. Casualties defied counting.
Players’ numbers plummeted—less than two hundred thousand now remained.
The group rested in place.
Ye Shu’s eyes followed a narrow crack at her side, spotting fractured bits of machinery wedged within.
Too small to recognize at first glance.
"Micro-satellite debris detected. Optimize?"
Ye Shu eyed the fragments in her palm, astonished.
Satellite debris?
They’d landed in G City—had the thing fallen, it should have come down like a crashing plane, causing an uproar. How had it come so quietly?
She didn’t have time to ponder. Instinctively, she triggered the restoration process.
"Congratulations—miniature satellite restored!"
A flash of white light, and the scraps vanished from Ye Shu’s hand. In their place, a geometric sphere abruptly materialized, some ten square meters in size.
It appeared so suddenly that the other three, still lounging nearby, were nearly flattened.
"Heroine Ye, what the hell is that? Why does it look kind of familiar?"
"A satellite."
Ye Shu answered blandly.
She had restored it, yes—but had absolutely no idea how to use it!
"Anyone know how this thing works?"
"Nope."
Fu Shiyi replied with the certainty of the ignorant, voice rising in volume.
The Fu family had commissioned a few such contraptions, but that was out of his wheelhouse—he’d only ever witnessed their launches.
"Sis Ye, please, next time give us a warning. About had a heart attack back there."
Fu Shiyi pressed a hand to his chest, still rattled, gazing nervously at Ye Shu.
Fu Jingchuan gave Ye Shu a long, complicated look, then stepped forward. "Let me try."
The technology of Planet E bore uncanny semblance to that of Blue Star.
Fu Jingchuan managed to activate the massive device after several hours’ struggle. Finally, he determined that this satellite had crashed the day before players entered the game.
Its purpose: monitoring Planet E’s weather and communications.
Just another garden-variety satellite—except that its particular orbit allowed it to capture something unique. It had managed to record the gradual formation of an air barrier, closing in over the planet.
Invisible to the naked eye, but clear to a machine’s sensors.
As it transmitted its data, the satellite slammed into that barrier and fell to earth.
A wall—almost transparent—encompassed the entire planet.
Was this the truth behind the relentless oxygen loss?
The little satellite Ye Shu restored was likely one of many—the authorities must have been aware of the air barrier long ago.
"So that’s why they prepared oxygen tanks in advance," Pang Pangzi breathed, still reeling.
All these days of dwindling oxygen—everyone thought it mere game mechanics. No—it was deliberate. In short: alien invasion.
Seconds before the barrier sealed them in, the satellite had captured an image—a meteor streaking across the sky.