Chapter 34
Chapter 34: She Hated Every Magic Beast Equally!
Different dungeon ranks had different reward mechanisms.
Once an E- to B-rank dungeon was cleared, the dungeon clearer who landed the finishing blow would receive attribute bonuses based on the boss’s traits. A three-headed magic lightning lion, for example, could grant bonuses to Strength, Speed, Agility, and lightning attribute.
An E-rank dungeon, though, only granted one attribute bonus. Which attribute you got depended on the killer’s own qualities.
A lightning elementalist would prioritize lightning.
A Strength-type support class would prioritize Strength.
And someone like Qian Qi—who was basically none of the above—would get… whatever the dungeon felt like handing out.
Fortunately, this three-headed magic lightning lion’s Strength had already surpassed E-rank. Its raw power had reached D-minus level, comparable to D-rank.
Which meant Qian Qi, the tiny newbie, got a massive bargain.
She was thrilled with the Strength boost. Weapons were nice, but the body’s own power was king. With absolute defense and a heavy fist, flashy tricks were just smoke.
The blue panel floated above the horned head and displayed: “Additional clear rewards available.”
Qian Qi looked—and saw the horn had naturally fallen off. She lit up.
The horn was a watery blue spike, still humming faintly with lightning power.
“How much is this worth?” she asked.
The System went quiet for a beat, as if offended by her existence.
Then it replied, “For 100 yuan, I can sell you the Magic Lightning Lion Horn Usage Manual.”
Qian Qi stared. “Hey. Who’s the one obsessed with money here?”
She refused to buy it. Thinking about the “ninety thousand yuan” worth of Earth Tuber Fruits she’d already swallowed made her heart ache. Right now, she didn’t want to spend a single cent.
She’d ask Senior Su Xing Le when she got back. He would definitely know.
With that decided, she rummaged through the lion’s body, hunting for anything else valuable.
A few minutes later, she suddenly said, “System, did you know…”
The System flashed: “Know what?”
“When I was little, the orphanage director said we’d have lion’s head the next day, so we could taste it.”
Her eyes lowered. Nostalgia flickered across her face.
The System faced her. Quiet.
“Back then I thought they meant a real lion head,” Qian Qi continued softly. “I was so excited.”
She stroked the black lion head beneath her palm, voice turning wistful. “Then I found out ‘lion’s head’ was just a giant meatball. But we were poor. Having meat at all was… the best thing in the world.”
The System paused, then flashed: “If you want it, we can buy lion’s head meatballs on the way back.”
“System…” Qian Qi sighed, shaking her head like a tragic heroine. “Even now, that imagined ‘lion’s head’ still hasn’t appeared on my plate…”
The System’s messages stalled.
Then: “…?”
Wait.
She didn’t mean—
Qian Qi patted the lion head, eyes bright with disgusting curiosity. “Do you think if we roast this, it’ll taste good?”
The System flashed: “…”
Absolutely not.
Qian Qi burst out laughing. She was about to tease it more when the ground suddenly trembled.
“What? An earthquake?”
She whipped her head around.
Not an earthquake.
A magic beast surge.
Not a huge one—this part of the Black Forest didn’t have many monsters. Only a scattered dozen rushed toward her.
Still more than enough to make her want to piss herself.
“Oh my god!”
She stuffed another Earth Tuber Fruit into her mouth. With her small hands still gripping the lion head, she dragged the whole three-headed corpse and sprinted like a lunatic.
Behind her, the magic beasts chased with blood-red eyes, fixated on the corpse like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Qian Qi nearly sobbed. “Why won’t they stop chasing me?!”
The blue panel hovered near the lion head, glanced at the messy gore, and flashed a cheerful message: “Because you’ve got quick-acting sugar… brain mush?”
Qian Qi panted, furious. “Stop using jokes that old!”
It didn’t matter. She couldn’t outrun magic beasts.
They slammed into her and launched her skyward. Qian Qi and the lion carcass traced two arcs—one dark, one yellow—before crashing into the ground with a heavy boom.
She’d lost count of how many times she’d been thrown today.
To survive, she abandoned the lion corpse and sprinted back the way she’d come.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t fight them—it was stamina.
Earlier, when she’d swung the blue panel with C-rank force, she’d strained her arm muscles. And she had no idea whether the remaining Earth Tuber Fruits in her pockets were enough to deal with this many magic beasts.
Better to leave the dungeon than burn money and strength.
If she left the lion corpse, surely they’d stop chasing her, right?
She was wrong.
A few higher-level magic beasts claimed the lion carcass for themselves.
The rest—starving and furious—turned their attention to Qian Qi.
Qian Qi froze.
“…Are you kidding me?”
“I’m not tasty!” she yelled as she ran. “I’m hard as hell! You’ll break your teeth!”
She sprinted anyway.
But an ordinary person’s speed was nothing next to a magic beast.
They caught her.
And then—because they were fighting over her like she was a snack—she got tossed around between them. One moment she was crawling out of one mouth, the next she was scrambling out of another.
She shoved Earth Tuber Fruit into her mouth while ugly-crying.
“Four hundred and eighty thousand… four hundred and fifty thousand… four hundred and twenty thousand… three hundred and ninety thousand… three hundred and sixty thousand…”
Her Little Qian money!
Her sweet, beautiful retirement life!
She hated magic beasts!
She hated every single magic beast equally!
After a brutal scramble, she finally burst into open plains. The spot where she’d first appeared in the dungeon now held a rectangular black void.
The exit.
Qian Qi nearly cried with relief. She sprinted to it, stepped into the black space, then turned back long enough to raise her middle finger.
“Bye-bye!”
And she was out.
She landed in the vegetable garden behind Bright Orphanage.
Clean air hit her lungs like a blessing. She sucked in several deep breaths, eyes closing in pure relief.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “This is better.”
Then she remembered something.
“Oh right.”
She hurried to the spot where she’d fallen earlier and found the sharp black object that had triggered everything.
Curious—because of course she was—she touched it.
Instantly, she was sucked back into the dungeon.
She met the searching magic beasts face-to-face.
Qian Qi stared.
They stared.
Qian Qi managed, weakly, “Hi?”
A magic beast roared.
Qian Qi screamed, flailed, and dove headfirst into the exit, tumbling back into the human world.
“That was close!”
She gulped air, shaking with fury. “This dungeon is insane! At least give me a confirmation button!”
The System flashed a long, exhausted pause.
Then: “This isn’t a video game. A confirmation button? Keep dreaming.”
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