Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Liang Chen Ranch – End

In the end, Ling Mo left with five sickly calves, twelve weak lambs, and five foals that couldn’t even stand. She didn’t find any piglets, but she wasn’t disappointed.

As each animal vanished, the robot didn’t look shocked at all. If anything, it seemed used to it.

After the lunch break, Ling Mo returned to work in an excellent mood. She even started humming under her breath.

Not far away, another player shearing wool heard the tune and glanced her way, as if about to say something. A companion beside him hurriedly cut in.

In this game, you could only see someone’s face after you’d gotten to know them and earned their recognition.

“Are you crazy? That’s the girl who was smiling while picking up cow dung on the first day.”

The player paled on the spot.

By now, everyone in the game had heard about the “crazy girl”—the one who would occasionally let out eerie laughter for no reason at all. It was creepy as hell.

“I thought she got eliminated already.”

“Who knows? Maybe idiots really do have idiot luck.”

Ling Mo kept shearing wool while sending her awareness into the pocket space to check on the little ones.

They were still listless, but they looked a bit better than before. She suspected it was the environment. No matter how much she cleaned that house earlier, it couldn’t compare to the pocket space.

Whether they lived or died now depended on their own will to survive. They’d better not let her down.

As dusk deepened, Ling Mo sensed time was almost up and sped up her hands. The moment she finished the last sheep, her vision went black.

The next second, she stood in a blue space made of flowing data.

A notification appeared.

“Welcome, Player Ling Mo, to the System pocket space. You have excellently completed the ranch owner’s tasks. The ranch owner is very satisfied and hereby grants you the title of ‘Outstanding Employee.’ In recognition of your contributions, the ranch owner will provide you with an additional reward.”

Ling Mo’s eyes lit up. “A reward? What kind of reward?”

“In response to the player’s strong request, the System has automatically converted the reward into an interstellar language learning machine.”

A thin blue screen—about the size of a tablet, but lighter and sleeker—appeared in her hand.

Overall, Ling Mo was satisfied. Trying to communicate with the robot in the game had been like talking to a wall.

Hopefully interstellar wasn’t too hard to learn.

Another message followed.

“Since the players have successfully cleared the first game, before the next game begins, the game will assist players in awakening their talents. Those who fail to awaken will lose their qualification.”

After that, the System vanished. Ling Mo found herself back in her own room.

She grabbed her phone and checked the time. She’d spent three full days in the game, yet only five minutes had passed outside.

Clearing the game wasn’t enough. She still had to awaken a talent—and if she failed, she’d lose her qualification anyway.

Skill could carry you through the game. But awakening? That was luck. Who knew whether she’d make it?

Worry crept in before she could stop it.

Just then, two maine coon padded over and rubbed against her legs. Ling Mo scooped them up, their soft fur warm against her arms, and her anxiety loosened a little.

Even if she didn’t awaken, she could still survive the apocalypse. She had to.

She checked her rewards. Besides the learning machine, she had three silver-colored coins—metal, not true silver. The weight was wrong in her palm.

The learning machine was the extra reward. These three coins were her pay for three days of work.

She tucked everything away, especially the learning machine. That had to stay safe.

After working nearly nonstop for three days and two nights, she only wanted sleep. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

She stripped off her workout clothes, changed into comfortable pajamas, and fell into bed.

Ling Mo was asleep in seconds.

She slept peacefully, unaware that outside, the world was in an uproar.

Not everyone had been pulled into the game. People who watched loved ones vanish called the police in a panic.

The police lines were flooded. To make matters worse, plenty of soldiers and police officers had been dragged into the game as well, leaving law enforcement stretched thin.

Fortunately, everyone who disappeared returned five minutes later. Even so, it was enough to attract attention from higher up.

The next day, Ling Mo slept until noon. She rubbed her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes before forcing herself up.

The moment her feet hit the floor, her legs buckled and she dropped to her knees.

“What…?”

Her thoughts felt sluggish, as if her brain were wrapped in cotton.

She pressed a hand to her forehead. Unsure, she grabbed the temperature gun and checked.

38.9°C.

On a day when the outside temperature had already climbed past 50°C, she’d somehow come down with a fever.

That made no sense. She was healthy. She kept the air conditioner at 26–27°C. How could she get sick out of nowhere?

A spark cut through the fog.

Was this… the sign of talent awakening?

In the novels she’d read, protagonists always ran a fever right before gaining powers. Was the same thing happening to her?

If that was true, should she take fever medicine or not?

What if it interfered?

After a moment, Ling Mo decided to hold off. It was only 38.9°C. She could endure that.

She stumbled downstairs, abandoning her plan to start learning interstellar today. That would have to wait.

Today’s deliveries had arrived. She signed for them as usual.

“I see you’ve got a ton of packages every day,” the security guard said, unable to hide his curiosity. “What are you buying?”

Ling Mo smiled politely. “I just moved in. The house was empty. It’s all basic necessities.”

“Oh, got it.” He waved her along. “Then hurry back inside. Don’t let this heat get you—every day’s worse than the last.”

He mistook her fever-reddened face for sunburn.

Ling Mo stacked the boxes in a corner. The fever had left her drenched in sweat and aching all over. Signing for the deliveries had already pushed her to her limit.

Unboxing could wait until she felt better.