wavenovel Chapter 1 You have unfinished games!
Chapter 1 You have unfinished games!
"A qualitative leap in prismatic gradation? I'll take the gamble!"
Without hesitation, Fang Jianqiu pressed the left mouse button in front of the computer screen.
A powerful light appeared, and then a Prism Hextech synergy icon radiating a colorful halo was firmly attached to Lucian, who was wearing the High Noon skin.
[Draw your sword: You will become a melee fighter, gaining bonuses to attack power, life steal, and movement speed.]
Fang Jianqiu slapped his thigh hard, causing the chair to shake twice.
"This is supposed to give me a free sword?! Hahaha! Those few dead warriors, you five snowballed at my face in the early game, I didn't care about you."
He couldn't suppress the smile on his face.
"Now that I have my all-purpose scope and the 'Bright Sword' weapon, what should you call me?"
On the screen, Lucian, wearing a trench coat and wielding two pistols, was twitching erratically as Fang Jianqiu clicked, as if foreshadowing the impending carnage.
The teammates on the field obviously noticed this as well.
A series of question marks popped up in the chat box instantly.
"??????"
"Holy crap? This lets you instantly summon a sword?"
"666, is this what a gambling monster is like?"
Seeing his teammates' reactions, Fang Jianqiu's smile deepened.
He piloted Lucian, leaping high into the air aboard the map cannon, his Western Shadow skin radiating flames and smoke.
But just as Lucian was about to land...
The screen in front of me suddenly went black.
Fang Jianqiu was stunned for a moment. Before he could check if the power supply had been kicked off, a huge wave of dizziness suddenly hit the back of his head.
Then everything went completely black.
Then, he lost consciousness.
......
......
"You idiot, you spineless coward, what are you doing hanging your head like that? Don't you care about the cost of rice? Don't you want to eat today's spoiled pork?"
(You idiot, what are you doing with your head drooping? Do you think you're too old to live and don't have to worry about making a living? You don't want to eat today's pig slop, do you?)
A burst of rude cursing pierced my ears like a drill.
Fang Jianqiu felt a throbbing pain in his head, like the day after a hangover, or like he had been hit hard with a wooden stick.
He struggled to open his eyes.
Dim.
That was my first impression.
Then came an indescribable stench that assaulted our senses.
It was the smell of sweat and foot odor, mixed with a kind of rotten, sweet, and fishy smell, all mixed together, rushing straight to Fang Jianqiu's mouth and nose.
He almost threw up on the spot.
Fang Jianqiu was somewhat bewildered.
One second I was in an air-conditioned room, ready to dominate the battlefield, and the next second I found myself in this garbage dump?
This dramatic reversal of extremes caused his brain to short-circuit for a moment, completely ignoring the reprimands of the man spitting at him.
He instinctively wanted to figure out what was going on, so he first looked around.
This is an extremely oppressive space.
It's more like a large livestock shed than a house.
The walls were blackened and moldy wooden planks, with no windows. The only source of light came from a few faint rays of light filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, and visible dust floated in the air.
The cramped space was crammed with people, or rather, crammed with creatures that resembled people.
Fang Jianqiu saw dozens of men with long braids lying haphazardly on the communal beds or huddled in a corner.
The floor was a dark, muddy mess, covered in dried stains and unidentified liquid. Several wooden buckets sat in the corner, emitting a nauseating stench; clearly, these were everyone's toilets.
The man closest to him was wearing only a few tattered rags, his ribs clearly visible, like a skeleton wrapped in skin.
He just leaned against the wall numbly, staring blankly into the void, his eyes cloudy and yellow.
Further away, a younger man was coughing violently, his body hunching over with each cough as if he were about to cough up his lungs. The people around him didn't even glance at him, only reluctantly shifting to the side because the space was too cramped.
lifeless.
Fang Jianqiu felt like he was in a morgue, except the corpses were still breathing.
What kind of weird place is this?
Fang Jianqiu frowned, his eyes filled with doubt and wariness.
The scene was so realistic that the smell of feces and urine made his stomach churn.
He lowered his head and looked at his hands.
Although the light was dim, he could still see clearly.
Large palms with distinct knuckles.
There is a thick layer of calluses on the tiger's mouth.
There are several scars, some deep and some shallow, on both hands.
Everything makes sense.
"Yes, the familiar calluses, the familiar scars, even the nails I accidentally cut crooked a few days ago are still there. I'm sure of it, I'm still the same me."
Fang Jianqiu silently muttered a sentence to himself.
The body hasn't been replaced.
This is even stranger.
Since it's a physical transmigration, what's with this outfit?
He looked down at himself.
The original T-shirt and shorts were gone, replaced by a rough gray linen outfit.
The fabric was as stiff as sandpaper, and it chafed my skin painfully.
The clothes were clearly ill-fitting; the cuffs were too short, and the buttons were the old-fashioned frog buttons, one of which was buttoned incorrectly, making the clothes look loose and baggy.
The trousers were wide and baggy, rolled up to the knees, and the shoes were worn-out straw sandals with the toes sticking out.
There are still... too many questions swirling in Fang Jianqiu's mind.
For example, where exactly am I? What era is this? How did I get here?
But he didn't have time to think about them one by one. The shrill noise in his ears was becoming more and more annoying. It seemed that Fang Jianqiu's long-term neglect had made the hunchbacked manager in front of him completely angry.
Fang Jianqiu finally snapped out of his reverie, slowly raised his eyelids, and looked at the guy who had been buzzing in his ear like a fly.
This was a thin, middle-aged man with a mustache and wearing a clean but somewhat greasy long gown. He was also holding a short, patinated wooden stick.
The manager, with his triangular eyes, spitting as he spoke, muttered curses and profanities:
"Looking? Still looking? Believe me or not, I'll smash your head in! Do you know how hard it is to find a customer to sell piglets? You really deserve a beating!"
(Looking? Still looking? Believe me or not, I'll smash your head in! Do you know how hard it is to find a buyer for you piglets? You deserve a beating!)
This person had a heavy Cantonese accent, but fortunately, Fang Jianqiu usually liked to listen to Cantonese songs and had watched countless Hong Kong movies.
Therefore, I could still barely understand what he was saying.
As he spoke, Manager Chen seemed to be trying to establish his authority, or perhaps he was angered by Fang Jianqiu's fearless gaze.
He suddenly raised his right hand, the heavy short stick in his hand whistling through the air, and was about to strike the shoulder of the guy who dared to look him in the eye.
Those around them watched the scene numbly, their eyes devoid of any emotion, as if they had long been accustomed to violence and had no reaction to the impending bloodshed.
Fang Jianqiu narrowed his eyes slightly.
Years of honed instincts were immediately activated.
His muscles tensed instantly. Although he appeared to be squatting silently on the ground without moving, his center of gravity had actually shifted back, and his right foot was firmly gripping the ground, ready to launch a counterattack at any moment.
Although he hadn't fully grasped the situation, his personality wouldn't allow him to be beaten up for no reason.
however.
The short stick that the steward held high did not fall for a long time.
Instead, it just awkwardly stopped in mid-air.
Manager Chen was also a little uneasy.
Normally, as long as I raise a stick, even if it's just a gesture, these piglets would be so scared that they would shrink back, cover their heads, and kneel down to beg for mercy.
But why isn't this guy reacting at all?
Not only did they not flinch, but their eyes were fixed on him, cold as knives.
And if you take a closer look in the dim light, you can see how big this kid is...
He had broad shoulders, and although his squatting posture was casual, it was clear that he had a large frame, and the muscle lines on his arms were faintly visible even under his tattered linen clothes.
Unlike those sickly people next to him who were so hungry they were just skin and bones.
If a fight really breaks out, and he resists, in this narrow space, my thin arms and legs might not be able to gain the upper hand.
The atmosphere suddenly became somewhat stiff and awkward.
In this somewhat delicate situation, a weak voice suddenly rang out, breaking the deadlock:
"Manager Chen! Manager Chen! Please be magnanimous and don't hold it against him. I know this man; he's mentally challenged, a simpleton!"
In the crowd, a boy who looked only fifteen or sixteen years old struggled to stand up.
He was thin, but his eyes shone with a cleverness.
The boy quickly approached Manager Chen, his face full of ingratiating smiles, and pointed to his head as he spoke, making a helpless expression.
Upon hearing this, Manager Chen's eyes flickered.
There's a step conveniently located down there.
He snorted coldly, casually putting down the short stick in his hand, and spat on the ground with a look of disgust, muttering:
"Damn it, turns out he's an idiot. I knew it, no normal person is this blunt. You're lucky, I won't argue with an idiot, lest he go crazy and hurt your old man, that would be bad luck."
Now that a way out had been provided, Steward Chen stopped pressing the matter.
He reached into his pocket and rummaged around for a while, then pulled out a dark, lumpy object and casually tossed it to Fang Jianqiu, as if feeding a dog.
"Clatter".
The object landed on the muddy ground and rolled all the way to Fang Jianqiu's feet.
Fang Jianqiu stared intently.
It turned out to be a cornbread that had been sitting for who knows how long. It was dark and covered with bits of straw, and it was as hard as a rock.
"Hmph, eat up, someone will be coming to pick you up soon. Once you get there, even a fool will turn into a donkey, hehe."
(Eat quickly! Someone will pick you up soon. Once you get there, even a fool will turn into a donkey!)
The steward spoke in a low voice, his tone revealing a sinister schadenfreude.
The following words were spoken in a very soft voice, almost inaudible, as if talking to oneself:
"But this damn bastard is actually quite good-looking, with firm skin and flesh. Who knows, those foreign devils might have other ideas..."
After saying that, Manager Chen put his hands behind his back, fiddled with the short stick in his hand, avoided the stains on the ground with a look of disgust, and walked out of the dark and narrow room with malice.
But Manager Chen never considered that he should have remembered such high-quality piglets before, instead of handling it so hastily...
With a muffled bang, the heavy wooden door was slammed shut again, cutting off any fresh air.
The room fell silent again.
Fang Jianqiu didn't pick up the dirty steamed bun on the ground. He just glanced at it indifferently and then turned to look at the boy who had helped him out of the predicament.
Although Fang Jianqiu was not afraid of the person in charge, it would not be wise to start a conflict before understanding the current situation.
The young man breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the manager leave, and quickly walked towards him.
The ingratiating smile on the boy's face had vanished, replaced by a sense of shared misery and helplessness.
Just as Fang Jianqiu opened his mouth, about to thank the young man and ask him a few questions about the situation,
A cold, emotionless, mechanical female voice suddenly exploded in his ears, as clear as if he were wearing headphones:
"An unfinished game has been detected. Do you wish to continue?!"
Fang Jianqiu:
"?!?!"