Chapter Four: The First Delivery Order

After explaining the rules, the Ox-Horse stopped paying attention to Liu Zheng and lay down on the ground, snoring softly.

Liu Zheng looked around but found nothing to pass the time, so he started playing with his phone.

It was an old-fashioned phone, unable to access the internet or run apps, with only one built-in game: Snake.

“Why Snake?” Liu Zheng stared at the black-and-white pixelated snake and fell into thought.

A delivery man’s combat ability could easily overpower him, and with so many strange rules, it was clear that this mission leaned more toward puzzle-solving than combat.

Although he wasn’t fond of reasoning, he knew that in puzzle games, everything often had a purpose.

How to find out what a game is good for? Of course, by playing it first.

He pressed the confirm button, and the game began.

A black pixelated snake chased randomly appearing round pixel dots on the screen, growing longer with each dot eaten.

At the bottom of the screen, the left side displayed the score, and the right showed a time bar.

At intervals, a large flashing pixel dot would appear on the screen, while the time bar started shrinking.

One small pixel dot was worth five points, a large pixel dot up to twenty-five points, with the score decreasing as the time bar shortened.

When the score reached the maximum, a square pixel dot appeared.

Guiding the snake’s head into the square pixel dot allowed the player to advance to the next level.

Simple rules, with an equally straightforward strategy: eat the large pixel dots as fast as possible to keep the snake’s length short.

Of course, this came with risks.

As the snake grew longer, it was easy to focus solely on the large pixel dots and accidentally collide with its own tail.

Despite that, it was still a simple mini-game, and Liu Zheng quickly reached level ten.

At level ten, the difficulty spiked sharply. The snake’s speed increased, and numerous obstacles cluttered the screen.

As he concentrated on eating the large pixel dots, Liu Zheng suddenly felt a warm breath near his ear.

He pressed pause and turned around to see the Ox-Horse’s large head.

“So, you did play after all,” the Ox-Horse said, wearing an expression of inevitability.

“Is this game not allowed?” Liu Zheng asked.

“It doesn’t matter. Humans can’t resist games anyway,” the Ox-Horse shook its head.

“Since you’ve started, don’t stop, and you must not lose,” it added.

“Must I clear every level?” he inquired.

“After you reach level twenty, you can quit, but if you open the game again, you must play through to the end.”

“By the way, the highest level I’ve seen anyone reach is twenty-four.”

Liu Zheng glanced at the top of the screen, where the level counter read 10/25.

“How many people keep playing?” he asked.

The Ox-Horse didn’t answer, instead gazing toward the dense rows of lockers against the wall—each with more than one former owner.

“Alright,” Liu Zheng shrugged and resumed playing.

The Ox-Horse didn’t sleep either; it stood beside him, watching.

One level, two levels, three levels...

Liu Zheng adjusted his strategy, steadily advancing to level twenty.

At level twenty, the difficulty soared again.

The snake’s speed was more than twice that of the first level, and the obstacles were placed in cunning spots.

The appearance of large pixel dots became unpredictable, making scoring points much harder.

Most frighteningly, spiked pixel dots began to appear on the screen.

Though Liu Zheng didn’t know what they were, they seemed akin to mines.

After a grueling battle, he finally passed the level, drenched in sweat.

“Impressive. No wonder you’re so good at massages,” the Ox-Horse praised.

If it tried playing Snake, it probably wouldn’t get past the first level.

Fortunately, the game was a curse for humans only; Ox-Horses weren’t affected.

“What’s the reward for clearing the game?” Liu Zheng wiped his sweat and asked.

“No one knows for sure. Some say it’s a huge cash prize; others say a promotion opportunity; some even say it’s a ticket.”

“A ticket?” he repeated.

“Yes, a ticket to leave the Bloody Restaurant, to leave this city,” the Ox-Horse said longingly.

Liu Zheng quietly exited the game.

Though his curiosity was strong, it wasn’t enough to risk his life.

After all, he wasn’t a cat.

Suddenly, the Ox-Horse stood up.

“Here comes work,” it said.

Liu Zheng looked toward the door as the wooden plank at the bottom was slowly pushed aside.

A skeletal hand slipped in, placed a note, then quickly withdrew.

The Ox-Horse strolled over, glanced at the note.

“You’re lucky, human,” it said, nodding toward the note for Liu Zheng to pick up.

He stepped forward, took the note, and read its contents.

“Order: One serving of Odd-Eyed Salmon Head Pizza.”

“Address: Building 3, Unit 503, Merlin Community.”

“Time limit: Within one hour.”

“Why am I lucky?” Liu Zheng asked.

“You’ll find out soon. Now, go deliver your first order,” the Ox-Horse urged.

Under its supervision, Liu Zheng donned his work uniform and took his phone and map.

As he stepped out of the break room, the wooden door closed silently behind him.

A chill ran down the back of his neck—a sense of unknown danger that made his skin crawl.

“Truly, a wolf in front and a tiger behind,” Liu Zheng thought helplessly.

He looked at the delivery cart, where a sealed package lay.

Opening it, he found a square paper box with a blood-red iris painted on the lid.

He hesitated for a few seconds but opened the box.

What he saw made his scalp tingle with dread.

A dozen fish heads with varying numbers of eyes crowded atop a nine-inch dough base; their dark, juicy eyeballs stared at him as if alive.

Their gaze was so profound it seemed to pull his very soul in.

Smack!

He slapped himself hard.

The physical pain brought him back to reality.

Looking again at the pizza, the fish eyes had turned pale and lifeless.

The eerie feeling vanished, replaced by an overwhelming nausea.

“Name: Odd-Eyed Salmon Head Pizza.”

“Type: Item.”

“Quality: Excellent.”

“Effect: Temporarily enhances player perception; small chance to gain ‘Spiritual Vision’ status; permanently reduces mental strength.”

“Note: When you gaze at the stars, what you see may not be heaven—it might be hell.”

“Can it be taken out of the mission? Yes.”

An item—and it could be carried outside the mission?

Liu Zheng stared at the system prompt and conceived a daring idea.

But now was not the time to act on it.

He shut the lid firmly to block out those faint, lingering gazes.

“Merlin Community,” he said, looking at the map showing the destination about six kilometers from the Bloody Restaurant.

In the past, that distance was nothing; Liu Zheng could easily run a half marathon.

But now, it was a challenge.

Even if he could endure, his lungs might not.

“Huff, huff,” Liu Zheng choked back his breath; it felt as if a lead weight sat in his throat.

He had been forcing himself not to show weakness in front of the Ox-Horse.

Though he had lost the physical battle, the battle of will was only just beginning.