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7:40 a.m.
Life Countdown: 4 hours, 12 minutes.
A green taxi carried Chen Ke down Opportunity City's First Avenue, and even by cab, it took 20 minutes from Pihom's gun store to Hao Maiwu Noodle House.
The driver was a somewhat overweight, middle-aged white woman who wasn't as talkative as the guy from last night and just drove in silence. Chen Ke sat in the back seat, using the time to push the 9mm Flame Bullets one by one into the empty magazines.
The bottom of these empty magazines had plastic quick-release holsters, convenient for shooters to quickly pull the magazine out of the holster in the dark, and also to know if they were holding it upside down.
Chen Ke was very much looking forward to the effects of the Flame Bullets. If they were as useful as Pihom claimed, he could save his lifespan for using the Holy Relics at critical moments.
The female driver's eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror, her expression somewhat tense.
The car passed the office building from last night, and to Chen Ke's surprise, the Administration Bureau worked so efficiently that the entire building had been surrounded by temporary walls overnight, taking up one of the four lanes of the road.
The lower part of the office building up to the third floor was now wrapped in a black exterior wall, the material of which looked similar to carbon fiber, but Chen Ke was sure it was definitely hard.
Once this black exterior covered all the stairs, would this place become what was called "Black Box Space"?
On the black walls, Chen Ke saw a line of bold white letters: Rank D. Thinking of Parker's investigator level, Chen Ke guessed this indicated the strength of the Black Box Space.
It seemed Parker had also operated outside the rules last night, entering the building first... while the Administration Bureau was still turning the Spirit Explosion Space into a Black Box.
Wait! Something unsettling suddenly flashed through Chen Ke's mind.
Why was Parker able to enter the office building around 10 p.m., right when the Spirit Explosion Effect occurred? He absolutely didn't buy into the "just passing by after work" coincidence.
It was very possible that Parker was waiting in the building from the start for the Spirit Explosion Effect to take place.
The situation had not been simple from the beginning. Chen Ke couldn't help but wonder, how many people were in that building that night? What exactly were Pankia and Si's consortium brewing? How mysterious was Parker's background?
Chen Ke pocketed the magazine and tucked the Glock 17 behind his waist. He took a deep breath and pulled himself out of the vortex of conspiracy.
These matters had nothing to do with him. He only cared about the life countdown in his head.
Find Pankia, remove the countdown—that was his sole purpose.
The car stopped on 32nd Avenue, and right across the street was Hao Maiwu Noodle House, a distinctly Huaxia-style one-story building situated on the corner. With its red roof and simple sign featuring an oil painting of a porcelain bowl and noodles, the three traditional Chinese characters for "Hao Maiwu" beside the noodles, ah, the feeling of home.
Chen Ke paid the fare and got out, having spent 12 union coins. He paused at the street corner, surveying the surrounding buildings, mainly apartment blocks. At just past seven in the morning, the nearby shops were still closed, and a grubby three-story department store was the most conspicuous landmark in the area.
A police car whizzed by, and Chen Ke involuntarily thought of the two bodies hidden at his hideout. He wondered if the blond man and the mixed-race woman had been discovered by neighbors, and if someone had reported it by now.
Crossing the street to the noodle house, Chen Ke pushed open the glass door, and a warm blast of air hit his face, smelling much like the internet cafe he often frequented in middle school.
The noodle house was packed. Some diners were slurping noodles voraciously, others were waiting for their meals, customers stood around the pickup counter in groups of three or two, all silent and orderly.
There weren't many staff members. An Asian middle-aged man with square-framed glasses leaned against a corner of the wall, and two women in aprons were busily serving noodles. The kitchen was surely bustling.
Chen Ke looked around curiously, observing the noodles being eaten by the diners. They were served in particularly large porcelain bowls, with clear broth noodles that looked very light and bland, almost the color of clear water, not very appetizing at all.
He then turned his attention to the diners.
They dressed plainly, with somewhat dirty clothes. Both men and women had listless expressions devoid of vitality, with dull skin and unkempt hair, like homeless wanderers or unemployed workers who couldn't secure a steady income.
But it wasn't just that, Chen Ke noticed varying degrees of disfigurement among them.
A guy sitting by the window had eyes a size larger than the average person's, as if his eyeballs were about to protrude. A middle-aged woman waiting at the pickup counter had severely knock-kneed O-shaped legs. A man standing diagonally opposite to Chen Ke, waiting for a seat, had a belly that surpassed the term 'beer belly,' and even his cheeks were slightly puffed up.
At a glance, all these diners had such issues, differing only in severity.
He'd order a bowl of noodles.
Chen Ke walked up to the counter and glanced at the menu. He found that the noodle house actually had a variety of dishes, with appetizing pictures, but why were all the diners eating clear broth noodles?
"Hey buddy, are you from the Fei Huang Republic too?"
As Chen Ke was perusing the menu, the middle-aged man with square-framed glasses came up to him out of the blue to start a conversation.
"Huh?" Chen Ke was taken aback.
"Hmm? Not from Fei Huang People? From Shengyang?" The man with square-framed glasses also seemed surprised, then asked.
Chen Ke caught on, realizing that Fei Huang Republic and Shengyang were the names of countries.
```
"Pankia's," he replied in Chinese.
The man with the square-framed glasses looked delighted and laughed, "Fellow countryman, fellow countryman. How long have you been here? Haven't seen you around before?"
"Only a few hours," Chen Ke said. "Your business seems to be doing well."
The man with glasses smiled, adjusted his spectacles, and, upon looking up, leaned in close to Chen Ke with an indescribably eerie expression and whispered, "Do you smell something foul?"
Chen Ke was momentarily puzzled—what did he mean? He actually sniffed subconsciously, finding nothing beyond the slight stuffiness of a poorly ventilated room that was a bit turbid, but there was no disgusting odor that would make one feel sick.
On the other hand, he also didn't detect any scent of noodles. After all, if it was just water-boiled, there wouldn't be any aroma, right?
"I don't smell anything," Chen Ke answered truthfully.
The man with glasses sighed, disappointingly showing a downcast expression, and shook his head, "Here to have noodles as well, I suppose?"
"Do you only serve water-boiled noodles here?" Chen Ke retorted.
The man with glasses glared at Chen Ke and, no longer paying him any attention, went back to fiddling with his phone behind the counter.
Although Chen Ke did not understand why the man's attitude had shifted so drastically, he was certain something was off about this place.
"I'll have the beef stew noodles," Chen Ke told the waitress.
"Only water noodles. Take it or leave it," the waitress retorted sharply.
"Fine... give me a bowl then!" Chen Ke hadn't expected the restaurant to be this lousy.
He took out a few union coins and placed them on the counter. The menu did not list water noodles, so Chen Ke wasn't sure how much to pay, but considering the beef stew noodles were four union coins, the water noodles couldn't be too expensive.
"What are you doing?" the waitress asked, puzzled by the paper money on the counter.
"What do you mean 'what am I doing'? Don't you have to pay for noodles?" Chen Ke countered.
The waitress looked at him in surprise, leaving him utterly confused. He suddenly felt an odd atmosphere and, turning around, saw that several diners in the restaurant were also staring at him with baffling looks.
What was going on?
Chen Ke could only awkwardly take back the union coins, and, tapping on the counter, urged, "Hurry up."
With the bowl in hand, he found a spot against the wall to sit down. The guy opposite him had just finished eating and was standing up to leave when he suddenly sneezed, spraying chewed bits of noodles and saliva all over the table—quite disgusting.
Chen Ke frowned, picked up his bowl, and moved to another spot, then cracked open a pair of disposable chopsticks and stirred the noodles.
The noodles were indeed chewy, but they appeared to be exceptionally bland. Chen Ke lifted a few strands close to his nose and sniffed; apart from a faint scent of flour, there was not a hint of any other aroma.
He hadn't eaten anything since arriving in this world—might as well give it a try!
Chen Ke picked up a chopstick-full of noodles and slurped them into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It wasn't tasty at all, just a mouthful of the flour taste, even worse than the "Unity" brand Old Tank Suancai instant noodles.
At that moment, a line of small text suddenly appeared in the corner of Chen Ke's eye:
"-10 minutes of life to resist mutation curses."
He furrowed his brows, realizing something was poisoned in the noodles! Recalling the photo Pihom had shown him of the monsters, it would not be a surprise if the noodle house's patrons were victims. Chen Ke stood up abruptly, his anger surging as he approached the man with glasses.
"What's...?" As the man with glasses watched Chen Ke approaching, he slowly put down his phone, looking somewhat panicked.
"Do you mind stepping outside for a talk?" Chen Ke grabbed the man's left wrist and said coldly.
"Are you from the Administration Bureau?" the man with glasses asked, his eyes lighting up, seemingly relieved at the prospect.
"You'll find out once we're outside," Chen Ke said, gripping the man and moving towards the exit. It was then that he suddenly felt waves of killing intent frantically rushing at his back.
"+1 minute"
"+1 minute"
"+1 minute"
"Killing intent: 50/50"
...
He turned around to see all the diners in the restaurant staring at him, each of them silhouetted with a red outline...