At exactly 6:00 a.m., Liu Guanan woke up on the dot. His phone buzzed with a notification—his package had arrived. That was some real efficiency. He made a mental note to give Meihua Commerce a glowing review.
From the sound of breathing nearby, he could tell Zhao Nannan had stirred as well, probably the moment he did. Zhao Xin, however, was still dead asleep. Guanan didn't disturb them. He quietly went to wash up, then headed out.
Perhaps due to the recent riot—rumors said thousands had died—the city had quieted down at night. No more chaos, no more killings. But what did grow more common were the slaves and beggars piling up in the early mornings.
Just as he arrived at the commercial street, several prison wagons roared past and screeched to a halt in the plaza. A crowd of prisoners was driven out—men in uniform prison garb, eyes full of fear and confusion. Any sign of hesitation earned them a lashing. They were herded like pigs to slaughter.
"Another uprising somewhere, huh?" someone nearby muttered.
"Not necessarily," an old man leaning on a cane replied, shaking his head.
"Oh? What makes you say that?"
"If they were rebels, they'd have scars, battle wounds, the aura of people who've seen combat. These folks? Look at them—soft, pale, flabby. Their eyes are fierce on the outside but weak within. They're just paper tigers. Probably some corrupt official's family or staff dragged down in a purge," the old man said with certainty.
Sure enough, Guanan gave the group a passing glance. Most of them looked well-fed, their skin fair and smooth—clearly not soldiers or laborers. That explained why the city's slave population never seemed to shrink, despite people freezing, starving, or getting slaughtered every day—there was always a fresh batch.
It wasn't hard to imagine. In a few months, these pampered souls would look just like the others—emaciated, hollow-eyed, wrapped in filthy blankets, hoping for a few spare copper coins to survive.
Guanan retrieved his parcel, grabbed breakfast, and stocked up on water and food. When he returned, the prison wagons were gone. About five or six hundred prisoners remained in the plaza, dazed and helpless.
Back in the basement, he checked the time—and froze. He was a full minute and a half faster than yesterday. That was… unexpected. Then it hit him—last night's sprint session.
He'd been timing his breakfast runs daily to track his physical improvements. Ever since taking the first Power Seed, his speed had steadily increased by six to ten seconds each day. Eating, sleeping, and grinding monsters had turned him from a frail seventy-pound weakling to a solid one hundred and five pounds, his height shooting up to 172 cm. But this jump—ninety seconds overnight—was something else entirely.
Clearly, just consuming Power Seeds wasn't enough. Physical training had to go hand in hand.
Back in the basement, Zhao Nannan and Zhao Xin were already up. Normally, the little girl would still be snuggled under the blanket, but the scent of breakfast proved irresistible. With proper nutrition over the past few days, her cheeks had started to plump up, her complexion no longer ghostly pale.
After eating, Zhao Xin sat down to study on a tablet with her mother watching over her. Guanan, meanwhile, couldn't wait to examine the stone he had taken from that shadowy figure.
It was the size of an egg, yellowish-black, ugly to the point of being unsightly. Not a rock, not jade, not metal—if anything, it resembled amber. Strange markings covered its surface, perhaps symbols, perhaps a language. He couldn't tell.
He turned it over for half an hour, learning nothing. Ready to give up and get back to grinding, he suddenly remembered how he had activated the "Chain Arrow" skill. He held the stone to his chest, calmed his mind, and focused, clearing his thoughts.
It felt a bit like those street magicians pretending to levitate bricks using sheer willpower.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. His legs went numb, arms aching. He was about to quit when his hand shifted and the light caught the stone just right.
Boom.
A blinding seven-colored flash exploded in his vision, followed by a deafening roar in his mind—and then, everything went dark.
The stone vanished from his hands.
Zhao Nannan, mere feet away, didn't notice any flash. But instinct told her something had happened. She looked over. Liu Guanan was still seated, legs crossed, hands cupped in front of him like before—but now, they held nothing.
Four hours passed. Noon came and went. Guanan remained motionless. By dinnertime, Nannan finally noticed something was wrong.
He looked… thinner.
Over the past weeks, thanks to food and Power Seeds, his body had grown strong and lean. But now? His new clothes were suddenly baggy again. His once-sharp jawline had softened into a delicate, almost feminine shape.
Alarmed, she tried to wake him, but he didn't respond. No blinking, no twitching—just stillness.
"Big Brother?" Zhao Xin's eyes filled with tears as she shook him. "What's wrong?"
Nannan tried everything. She even considered calling for help—though a woman wandering the city alone was still dangerous, it beat watching someone starve to death.
Just as she grabbed the door handle, her gaze landed on the package Guanan had brought back. Inspiration struck like lightning.
She rushed over, tore it open, and grabbed a handful of Power Seeds.
To her relief, they melted instantly in Guanan's mouth. A hint of color returned to his cheeks. She shoved in another handful. Then another.
Half an hour later, half the 500-count stash was gone—and Guanan's improvement was obvious. His skin plumped up, blood vessels visibly pulsing beneath the surface.
Then she remembered the other stash—3,700 seeds in the cabinet. She didn't hesitate. Shoving in handfuls at a time, Zhao Xin watched with wide, tear-dried eyes as Liu Guanan slowly regained his strength.
An hour later, he was no longer skeletal. Still thin, but no longer corpse-like.
He didn't wake that night. Nor the next. By the third day, he had wasted away again—but not to the deadly state before. Energy tubes didn't help much. Nannan even considered chewing up buns to feed him like a baby bird.
On the fourth morning, Liu Guanan finally woke.
His first words: "I'm starving."
He rolled off the bed, fell to the floor, and ignored the pain. Crawling to the supplies, he devoured everything—buns, biscuits, ham, you name it. Food meant for three people over two months, gone in fifteen minutes.
"Slow down! You'll choke!" Nannan cried, just waking from a nap. She'd stayed up for days, only to miss the moment he returned to life. Tears welled in her eyes as she smiled.
Guanan glanced at her, confused. Why was she lying across his bed instead of her own?
But there was no time to ask. He grabbed three bottles of milk, chugged them, followed by two bottles of water—and he was still hungry.
His stomach burned like a furnace. He couldn't sit still.