Chapter Five: The Tree Speaks

“Boss.”
He called out once, but there was no response.
He knocked on the door again, and after about thirty seconds, it opened.
“What do you want?”
The centaur asked impatiently.
“Does the restaurant not provide any transportation?”
Liu Zheng inquired.
“No. We don’t need that.”
The centaur shook its large horse-like head.
After all, its lower body was that of a horse. Judging by the length of its legs, its running speed was probably comparable to that of a real Akhal-Teke horse.
“What about the human employees?”
“You should be going now. If you’re any later, you’ll really miss your chance.”
The centaur closed the door.
Liu Zheng curled his lips—looks like he couldn’t squeeze any more information out of it.
He picked up the takeout bag and headed toward the delivery passage.
The corridor was pitch black, without any light sources.
The floor seemed to be made of a special material; his footsteps made no sound as he walked on it.
In such an environment, it was difficult not only to determine one’s position but even to stay mentally clear.
Liu Zheng cautiously raised his arms to the sides and just managed to touch the walls on both sides.
The texture was odd, somewhat like a slime stress toy but much harder.
If one wanted psychological support, holding onto the walls while moving forward would be a good idea.
But he didn’t intend to do that.
He lowered his arms and allowed himself to be engulfed by the boundless darkness.
While learning about ALS, he had also studied other medical knowledge, including a method called desensitization therapy.
In simple terms, it involved repeatedly injecting allergens to allergy patients to gradually induce tolerance and prevent allergic reactions.
Liu Zheng thought that for psychological light and darkness, desensitization therapy might also apply.
Of course, if the system warned him about “declining rationality,” he would stop immediately.
Fortunately, his tolerance for pure darkness and silence exceeded expectations.
Moreover, the passage was not completely silent.
From time to time, he couldn’t help but cough and gasp.
His lungs and throat sent waves of strong discomfort, asserting their presence.
Physical pain became an anchor for his spirit—a kind of dark humor.
After the seventh cough, Liu Zheng finally emerged from the passage.
Gentle sunlight shone into his eyes, giving him a surreal feeling.
He felt some sympathy for his former colleagues; he only had to endure three days, while they might have to work for months or even decades.
Though, they might not live that long.
After a moment of silent mourning for those unknown human comrades, Liu Zheng set off on his delivery journey.
Like when he arrived, the streets remained empty.
No pedestrians, no vehicles, not even traffic lights.
If only he had a little electric scooter—he couldn’t imagine how joyful riding one would be.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t ride one.
“Hee hee hee...”
An eerie melody sounded.
Liu Zheng took out his phone and saw it was a ringtone.
“13871XXXXXX.”
Matching the number from his memory—it was the centaur’s phone number.
“Boss, is something wrong?”
He pressed the answer button and asked.
“There’s something I forgot to tell you—when you go to the bathroom outside, you must do it near plants, preferably trees or green belts.”
The centaur’s loud voice boomed.
“I thought only dogs did that.”
Liu Zheng joked.
“They have separate rules—they can only face cylindrical objects.”
The centaur hung up.
Good heavens, that stereotype was spot on.
Better not let dog lovers hear this, or they might pee on your leg.
Liu Zheng smiled and continued forward.
Actually, the centaur didn’t need to remind him so urgently—he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything before entering the instance, so his stomach was empty.
Even if he forced himself to pee, he...
Wait, that’s odd.
Liu Zheng stopped and clenched his spongey tissue.
He really did feel the urge.
He looked around and noticed many similarities between this instance world and reality—for example, the street trees were the same species: mostly camphor trees and London plane trees.
He even spotted several myrtle trees—fortunately, not in bloom, or the streets would be filled with the scent of life.
Liu Zheng hurried to a camphor tree, unzipped his pants with one hand.
A faint yellow arc of urine fell, splashing droplets on the bark.
“Been feeling a bit fiery lately.”
“Yeah, ate too much barbecue.”
Liu Zheng replied casually, then turned his head.
Not far off, a London plane tree was staring intently at him and his “tool.”
“Smells like alcohol—Is that moss?”
The London plane tree twitched its nose, shedding some bark.
“53-degree Ascension Moss.”
Liu Zheng quietly pulled his pants back up.
“Good stuff. Hurry, pee in my mouth.”
The London plane tree eagerly opened its mouth.
“Answer me a question first.”
“Ask quickly.”
“What exactly are you?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a tree.”
The London plane tree looked at him strangely.
Have humans really become this dumb?
“Then why can’t that one speak?”
Liu Zheng pointed to the camphor tree beside them.
“Because it’s mentally handicapped.”
The London plane tree replied.
“Mentally handicapped?”
“Exactly. All the trees on this street are handicapped; I’m the unique genius.”
The London plane tree said proudly.
“Even if they’re handicapped, why don’t they have faces?”
He found a critical point.
“Handicapped trees don’t talk, so why bother with a face? It’s a waste of nutrients.”
The London plane tree argued confidently.
Admittedly, it had a point.
“Alright then.”
Liu Zheng shrugged and turned to find another spot.
“Hey, didn’t I say pee in my mouth?”
The London plane tree shouted.
“I don’t have a fetish for peeing into mouths.”
He said without looking back.
“I’m not human.”
“Not a tree either.”
“What a hassle. Tell me, what will it take for you to let me pee in you?”
The London plane tree responded.
“I want a vehicle.”
Liu Zheng stopped and cautiously said.
“No.”
“A little electric scooter?”
“No.”
“A bicycle then?”
“No, no. I’m a tree, you know?”
The London plane tree shook its branches vigorously, shedding leaves everywhere.
“Then what can you give me? Hurry, I have deliveries to make.”
Liu Zheng urged.
“I only have this.”
A thick root emerged from the ground, dropping a white cane onto the earth.
“Name: Human Bone Cane”
“Type: Equipment”
“Quality: Excellent”
“Effect: Increases movement speed by 10%.”
“Note: There was once a big trickster who liked to sell canes to normal people. He ended up getting his legs broken.”
“Can it be taken out of the instance? Yes.”
A trade of one urine for one item—very cost-effective.
But Liu Zheng didn’t immediately pick it up; instead, he looked at the root that hadn’t retracted.
“Just asking, you’re not planning to eat me, are you?”
He asked with a flicker of suspicion.
That human bone cane couldn’t have grown naturally from the earth.