Compared to the ghostly silence of the frontlines, this place felt like another world—brightly lit, bustling with people. The street wasn't large, but it was the only commercial zone for dozens of miles. To the left lay the slave sector, and to the right, the slums. Compared to the slaves who had absolutely nothing, the slum dwellers at least had some purchasing power.
Commercial zones only exist where there's demand.
Biscuits, canned goods, buns, steamed rolls, ham, sausage—foods once considered casual snacks before the apocalypse were now staple luxuries. Due to widespread radiation, Mars was nearly barren. There was virtually no land for open farming or livestock. All food had to be greenhouse-grown or lab-produced. Even a single peanut had become a rare delicacy.
Liu Guanan had always lived below the poverty line. Today, by sheer luck, he managed to collect 255 copper coins. Added to his previous six, that made 261 coins—the most wealth he had held in the past three months. Still, it wasn't enough to be reckless.
Each bun cost 10 copper coins. Liu Guanan bought ten in one go. Compressed biscuits were eight coins each; he grabbed ten. The rest of his funds went toward energy tubes, five coins per tube. He purchased sixteen. By the time he headed home, only a single copper coin remained in his pocket.
Thank the Plunder game—its in-game currency was usable in the real world. It was worth noting that the global credit collapse was one of the triggers of the End Times War. After the three empires rose to power, they unified currency and abolished paper money that relied on trust. Now, three currencies circulated: gold coins, silver coins, and copper coins. In practice, copper and silver were used most, with gold being quite rare.
As Liu Guanan passed through dark streets, the slave district grew colder and more dangerous. Most people stayed indoors after nightfall to avoid the biting cold, but starvation still drove many into the night. Murders, thefts, and horrors were commonplace in the shadows. For undocumented people like Liu Guanan, if something happened, no one would even ask.
Despite the technological advances of modern society, this place felt like lawless wilderness. Fortunately, he made it home safely. It was still early—true danger came after ten.
Back in the basement, the lights were off as expected. Liu Guanan turned them on. Zhao Xin's eyes immediately lit up when she saw the steaming buns in his hands.
"Eat," Liu Guanan said, grabbing a bun and taking a large bite. The long-lost taste—while nowhere near as good as Earth-made food—was a supreme delicacy for someone who'd lived off energy tubes for three months.
Zhao Nannan stared but didn't move. Of course she understood the difference between a bun and an energy tube. But in the end, she couldn't resist the hopeful glint in Zhao Xin's eyes. With a pained heart, she silently took a bun. Zhao Xin let out a cheerful squeal, grabbing one for herself and stuffing her mouth with joy.
Energy tubes were only meant to keep a person alive. They lacked trace elements essential to the body. Long-term reliance on them would turn people into walking husks. Real food was essential.
Zhao Nannan stopped after one bun. Seeing this, Zhao Xin also stopped. Liu Guanan had already finished his second. He glanced up and said gently, "Eat. I'm doing well in the game now. We won't starve anymore."
Zhao Nannan hesitated, then took another. She knew her daughter—if she didn't eat, the child wouldn't either. She lowered her head, hiding her reddened eyes. Zhao Xin smiled brightly and grabbed another bun.
After finishing three buns, Liu Guanan returned to bed. He thought for a moment, picked up his helmet, and logged into Plunder. Zhao Nannan looked surprised but said nothing. Normally, he'd be asleep by now. Tonight was different.
The bed was an old iron bunk—Liu Guanan on the lower level, Zhao Nannan and her daughter on the upper. After Zhao Xin finished eating, Zhao Nannan packed the remaining food and climbed into bed with her. Though cramped, the shared warmth was comforting.
Inside the game, night had also fallen. Time in the game mirrored reality. There was daylight, a 24-hour cycle, but at night, the moon turned blood red—demonic and foreboding.
Due to his weak physical condition, Liu Guanan usually logged in during the day. Six to seven hours was his stamina limit. This was his first time playing at night.
Stone City was quieter than usual. Shops were closing. Torch-lit figures moved in and out of the city. Ignoring them, Liu Guanan headed straight for the gates, guided by the faint moonlight. He was familiar with the way to the cemetery.
The farther from the city he walked, the fewer people he saw. After ten kilometers, he was alone. The fields were pitch black, trees casting eerie shadows. Insects chirped, and distant birds let out unsettling cries.
He entered a forest and began cutting trees. It was an iron poplar grove—only about a hundred of them. Iron poplar was elastic and tough, ideal for bow-making.
Ancient records described bow-making as reliant on six materials: wood, horn, sinew, glue, silk, and lacquer—each serving a purpose: distance, speed, power, cohesion, durability, and protection.
"Wood" formed the bow's body. The best wood was cudrania, followed by types of oak and bamboo. "Horn," sliced thin, was affixed to the bow's belly for speed and elasticity—typically from white-horned cattle. "Sinew," attached to the back, added strength. "Glue," from animals or fish, bonded everything together. "Silk" reinforced the bow with color-coded threads. "Lacquer" sealed and protected it from moisture and decay.
Of course, Liu Guanan had no time for such craftsmanship. He needed a quick and functional weapon. He baked a piece of iron poplar over fire, bent it into shape, tied it with animal sinew, and called it done.
It was his second time crafting a bow. It took just one hour, unlike the first attempt, which spanned two days. Next came the arrows. Though more complex, he needed only disposable ones—function over form.
He couldn't find bamboo, so he traveled northeast three miles into denser, eerier woods. If he hadn't been here before, he wouldn't dare enter.
After surveying carefully, he spotted a cluster of finger-thick saplings. He cut five or six down and ran. The darkness was suffocating; flapping wings behind him made him sprint faster. Only upon reaching the road did he stop to breathe.
The trees were iron birch—dense, straight, and difficult to cut. A single sapling made four arrow shafts. He carved and polished them, then fitted each with sharp nails looted from carrion corpses.
Twenty arrowheads were carrion claws, one was a bone shard, and three had no heads—just sharpened tips. Using pheasant feathers and floral down, he fletched them. Twenty-four arrows, ready to fly.
With bow and arrows prepared, it was time to hunt. Liu Guanan hesitated, then set off toward the cemetery. A lone figure in the dark, even he felt a trace of fear.
Monsters were more active at night—civet cats, bobcats, hyena dogs, and even wealthy wolves. Liu Guanan wasn't confident in facing them yet, so he cautiously avoided each.
After nearly two hours, he reached the cemetery. The red moon hung low. The silence was eerie—no creatures, no insects. Even the wind felt absent.
It seemed the corpse miasma scared everything away. No monsters, no movement. Just endless stillness. Bracing himself, Liu Guanan clenched his teeth and stepped inside.