Chapter 4: The First Drop of Blood

Zhou Yan suppressed his excitement and closed his personal interface. With his growing understanding of “Fate Armor” and “Innate Talent,” his approach to surviving had shifted accordingly. He had always been a cripple—holding no value for use or harm in anyone’s eyes. Yet now, some mysterious, unknown force had bestowed upon him the Fate Armor and even awakened his potential talent. The road to becoming powerful lay wide open before him.

Faced with such treatment, if he were to hesitate or act coy, it would be downright ungrateful. Zhou Yan turned his attention to his two “missions”: one, to survive for six hours; the other, to kill at least one enemy. Neither seemed particularly difficult. In fact, even if the missions were much harder, he would still attempt them. After all, since the “Cheat Master” had issued these missions, their completion was clearly expected. As long as it wasn’t a direct invitation to die, the will of the Cheat Master was the path he would follow!

But before setting out, he needed to prepare. Zhou Yan thought calmly. He was disabled—his right eye and left hand were completely useless, and his body was hardly strong. Even with the Fate Armor, his enhanced physique likely wouldn’t be enough to overpower an ordinary person with ease. Aside from the “Basic Short Weapons Technique,” he had no formidable means of fighting. Even that skill was self-taught, never tested in actual combat. Rushing into a fight might only bring unnecessary injury—or death.

Preparation was essential before venturing out. Zhou Yan’s gaze fell on the wardrobe.

***

[“Survive” 6 Hours (05:06:33)]

Almost an hour later, the entire apartment was in chaos. Zhou Yan’s appearance had changed drastically. The room’s previous occupant seemed to have lived here long-term; pots, pans, household necessities, and clothing for every season filled the apartment. This made Zhou Yan’s preparations much easier.

Now, over his clothes, he wore a long green coat. Underneath it, he layered a denim jacket and a leather jacket. On his legs, he wore jeans with corduroy and cotton pants over them. On his head—he donned a motorcycle helmet.

Looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Zhou Yan nodded with satisfaction. Compared to the neat look of the Fate Armor, he now appeared bulky and almost vagrant-like. But these many layers offered solid protection.

If this were a zombie apocalypse, even if he were unfortunate enough to be tackled by a zombie, those mere three-centimeter teeth wouldn’t pierce his defenses without exhausting the attacker. As long as he wasn’t facing real swords or axes, ordinary sharp objects would barely scratch him. His mobility was hardly affected—he could still run and jump normally.

His hands, too, were far from empty. In his right, he gripped a claw hammer. Though his left hand was missing, he had tied a makeshift “wooden shield”—a square of wood from a dismantled chair—to his left forearm with shoelaces and tape.

Soft armor all over, a blunt weapon, and a shield—rock-solid defenses. Even though his Fate Armor could absorb half the damage, the real key was to avoid getting hurt at all.

Before acting, Zhou Yan swung the hammer with all his might a few times, then practiced big steps, jumps, and squats. This gave him an idea of his physical capabilities with the Fate Armor’s boost. He checked the armor’s durability—it had dropped from “100” to “99.”

Such simple exertion reduced the durability? Clearly, he’d have to use it sparingly.

Everything was ready. Zhou Yan took a deep breath, removed his helmet, and approached the security door. He first peered out through the peephole.

A wide, staring eye appeared on the other side!

Thunk.

Zhou Yan jolted, as if punched in the face, his head jerking back instinctively. He quickly pressed himself to the wall. Even with all the layers he wore, cold sweat broke out on his back.

Someone was spying!

Who did that eye belong to? How long had they been watching? What did they want?

Zhou Yan stayed silent, hidden behind the door, thoughts racing.

...

Outside, a thin man with an excited, twisted expression hunched over, pressing his eye to the peephole, desperate to spot his target. He didn’t speak, but his left hand kept tapping lightly on the door, almost unconsciously. After a long while, seeing no response from inside, his face darkened with disappointment and he stepped back.

The next second, a “click” sounded.

The security door swung open a crack.

The man’s face twisted in savage delight. Eyes bloodshot, he yanked the door wide and charged inside.

Whoosh!

The whistle of something slicing the air. The man looked up just in time to see a black blur enlarge before his eyes.

Thud!

The claw hammer, laden with force, smashed into his face.

Blood sprayed. Teeth shattered.

In an instant, the man’s cheekbone broke, his consciousness wavering. He crumpled to his knees, then collapsed.

Zhou Yan, shield forward, quickly retrieved his hammer. Looking down, he saw the man’s right hand clutching a bloodstained hatchet behind his back.

Just as expected…

Zhou Yan exhaled deeply, dragged the barely-breathing man inside, and quickly shut the security door. He spun around and, without hesitation, raised the hammer high—bringing it down hard on the back of the enemy’s skull.

[You have slain an “Armed Assailant” and gained 12 Spirituality.]

[At least “one enemy slain” (1/?)]

[You took the initiative and claimed first blood. The brave are granted an extra reward.]

[You have received “Micro Spiritual Essence ×1.”]

Zhou Yan glanced at the floating misty words before him, but had no time to dwell on them. He slumped against the wall, deliberately turning his gaze away from the unsettling scene. In his mind, he replayed the two hammer strikes again and again.

His breath came in short pants as he tried to calm himself.

No fear, no panic, no nausea.

He simply felt tense, acting this way for the first time.

His thoughts drifted, and he recalled an interview he’d once seen online—an interview with a soldier returning from the battlefield. When asked, “How did you feel when you killed someone?” the soldier didn’t look ashamed or regretful, only a little helpless as he replied, “Honestly... I didn’t feel much of anything... It was like knocking someone over during a basketball game…”

Zhou Yan’s gaze slowly steadied.

That’s right… He had only kicked aside a stumbling block in the way of his survival.

***