Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Liang Chen Ranch

When Ling Mo finally stepped out of the waste processing plant, the sky was already bright.

The sight jolted her fully awake.

Oh no.

Was she late?

She’d stayed too long again. The trash inside was too tempting—like a bunch of little devils, dragging her deeper.

She was about to sprint for the worksite when the same robot appeared and blocked her path.

It held out a bottle of pale blue liquid.

Ling Mo took it, wary. Was this meant for her?

The robot turned and left without explanation.

She opened the bottle and sniffed. A faint fruit scent drifted up—sweet, but unfamiliar.

She took a sip. The liquid tasted lightly sweet, and the fog of exhaustion in her body faded almost instantly.

Ling Mo’s eyes lit up.

Good stuff.

Without hesitation, she downed the entire bottle. Warmth spread through her limbs, and the fatigue vanished as if she’d just slept until she woke naturally.

She exhaled slowly. Today was the last day of the instance. If this followed novel logic, there would be rewards after completing everything.

She just didn’t know what.

At the work area, sheep with astonishingly thick wool grazed lazily in the grass.

Looking at them made her want to raise one all over again.

With that much wool, who needed blankets in winter? You could probably sleep against the sheep and stay warm.

Today’s assigned tool was a sharp pair of scissors.

The scissors looked fine, but the sheep were enormous—bigger than Blue Star cows. She couldn’t shear more than a handful with scissors alone. The speed would be awful.

Then she remembered: she had a proper sheep clipper in her pocket space. When she’d bought sheep back home, the seller had tossed one in.

After rummaging through a pile of brand-new, unopened gear, she found it and returned to the flock.

She approached a sheep. The animal glanced back at her, seemed to understand, and calmly lay down.

Ling Mo ran her hand over its wool.

The scavenged wool from the waste plant carried a heavy sheep smell and needed treatment before it was usable. But this sheep was clean, soft—and smelled like nothing at all.

Her desire spiked dangerously.

She forced herself to swallow it.

The waste plant had been empty, yet the robot had still found her with perfect accuracy. That meant they were watching. They’d tolerated her taking “trash” and had even guided her to more.

But if she touched a living sheep, she would be expelled immediately—if she was lucky.

Ling Mo understood the difference between one big meal and a steady supply.

She started from the sheep’s belly and worked methodically, clipping the wool clean and sending it into her pocket space.

Even with the clipper, one sheep took her about an hour. Worse, the blade dulled quickly—after each sheep, she had to replace it before continuing.

By noon, other players went to eat. The game provided lunch. It even allowed naps.

Ling Mo skipped both.

Time was the one resource she couldn’t loot.

She remembered the system’s phrasing from day one: complete the ranch owner’s tasks excellently. That word—excellently—felt like a clue. Otherwise, it would’ve simply demanded completion.

And judging from the cards, the ranch owner seemed genuinely pleased with her work so far.

She scarfed down a sandwich in a few bites and reached for the next sheep.

A robot appeared behind her again.

Ling Mo flinched hard and glared over her shoulder. “Could you not appear behind me? You’re seriously terrifying.”

The light on the robot’s head blinked twice. It spoke again—still incomprehensible—but the message was unmistakable.

Follow.

Ling Mo hesitated. Another waste plant? During lunch? She wouldn’t have much time.

Still, she went.

The robot led her to a red building divided into small stalls. Inside were sheep, cows, pigs, even horses.

Every animal was several times larger than the ones on Blue Star. The horses, in particular, looked exceptional even to someone who knew nothing about horses.

Ling Mo’s heart thudded.

Was this a reward? Was the ranch owner disposing of livestock and letting her take them?

For a moment, she almost believed it.

Then she reminded herself: nothing falls into your lap for free.

They continued deeper until they reached the nursery area.

Only then did Ling Mo realize the adult animals she’d seen earlier were nearly all pregnant.

The robot walked her past stall after stall of newborns and young animals, then stopped at one.

Inside were babies too—but sickly ones. Thin. Weak. Some couldn’t even stand, lying on the floor and breathing with visible effort.

They looked like they’d never developed properly in the womb, like premature infants.

Ling Mo pointed at them, then pointed at herself, asking the question without words: These are for me?

The robot nodded.

“In that case,” Ling Mo murmured, “I won’t be polite.”

She’d been regretting she couldn’t take a few sheep or cows. Now, just as she’d started to feel the sting of that loss, someone handed her exactly what she wanted.

Even if they looked half-dead, Ling Mo didn’t mind.

She could raise them in her pocket space first.

And if they didn’t make it…

Well. Meat was still meat.