Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Panda

The two newcomers who appeared so suddenly were none other than Baozi and Ninth Sister. They had been traversing the globe, slaying dogs in pursuit of enlightenment, hoping their next canine incarnation would lead them directly to a blissful realm. After more than five hundred consecutive killings, the pair continued to circle the Earth, occasionally visiting enclaves of wealth, but more often appearing in ruins, wastelands, garbage dumps, or even slums. They cared not for consequences; each arrival set off chaos and pandemonium. Since death meant rebirth, they held no fears.

This time, however, as they were about to fight, they noticed a strange silence—there was no familiar scream nearby. After so long aboard the mysterious train, their vigilance had grown keen; sensing something amiss, they reached a tacit agreement at once.

Grandma Liu was pitiful. She had merely come out to walk her dog, only to end up decapitated. Her own plans had not even begun before a sudden adversary dispatched her. Fate is fickle!

As her head rolled across the lawn, Baozi and Ninth Sister heard a mechanical voice in their ears. "Killed a member of the opposing group. Number: one." "Acquired a 30-day stay card!" Both faces brightened with joy. "An unexpected gain!" "We shouldn’t linger—let’s go!" The blade flashed again, the dog’s head fell, and Ninth Sister vanished in an instant.

At the same time, Gao Ning, Fortune Teller Zhou, and Liang Bing heard the same mechanical voice. "One member of your group has been killed. Number: one." "Your current group points are negative." "Upon return, if points are not restored, the opposing group will receive double time currency."

Gao Ning was stunned. "Someone died?" Fortune Teller Zhou’s mouth fell open. "Killed? Can people die here? Good heavens." Shivering, Zhou pulled a turtle shell from his coat, placed it respectfully on the table, then took out three copper coins, clasped them in his palm, and bowed three times to the shell. This peculiar ritual drew the attention of everyone else in the living room.

Lisa, her face full of curiosity, asked, "What are you doing?" Gao Ning waved her off, telling her not to speak just yet.

He signaled to Second Brother. Second Brother, cigarette dangling from his lips, squinted and pulled out his phone to make a call.

Fortune Teller Zhou stuffed the coins into the turtle shell, shook it gently, and cast them sideways onto the table. He glanced at the result, then repeated the process, six times in total. With the final throw, Zhou’s face flushed with color.

"What’s the verdict?" Gao Ning asked.

Fortune Teller Zhou nodded and explained, "Mountain Wind Curse: wind rises and falls, passes over the mountain and avoids coming out; rot breeds worms, qi stagnates, success turns to failure. Travel is fruitless, travelers don’t return, lost and unseen, annotation at the end. It means the one who died is truly gone, but it has nothing to do with us!"

Second Brother walked over. "Got a reply. But the fastest it’ll be is two days—something unexpected happened. The signature is only Liang Bing’s." Gao Ning raised an eyebrow. Does this refer to the old woman? Though this world is dangerous, with her skills, it shouldn’t have been an easy stumble.

Gao Ning felt confusion and doubt, but not sorrow. They weren’t kin, just acquaintances; there was little attachment. Perhaps the divination gave him comfort, for Fortune Teller Zhou grew cheerful again, grabbing a bottle of brandy and pouring himself half a glass. He insisted Second Brother join him in a drink.

Gao Ning glanced at the soldiers guarding the perimeter, shook his head, and returned to the dining table. There was nothing he could do; no point in worrying. They would wait for Liang Bing to arrive.

Baozi and Ninth Sister were thrilled with their unexpected gain.

Gao Ning’s side was more confused than worried. He knew little about the mysterious train, but he had confidence in the Red Alert warriors, especially with Second Brother at his side. Gao Ning didn’t believe anyone could take him out silently.

Meanwhile, in the slums surrounding the resort, someone else was feeling uncertain.

"A 30-day stay card? A kill? Could the dog have been telling the truth? No matter which mission space, there’s always an opposing group." Although dressed in loose casual clothes, his face was youthful and round, squatting like a panda. Compared to the locals, his skin was different—a clear sign of a life once pampered, untouched by hardship.

He leaned against the wall, eating from a lunchbox with deliberate slowness.

"It must have been the dog and the ghost woman who acted. Should I make a move too?"

As he pondered, a palm landed on his shoulder. "Panda, why are you still sitting here? Get to work!" Panda looked up at the familiar face and grinned, "I’m coming, Marx!"

"No rush, finish your meal. There’s always more work!" Marx sat beside Panda and sighed, "Before I got out of prison, I wondered what my life would be like. Would factory wages be enough to support me? I never imagined I’d come back to such opportunity. Just collect some reusable resources, and you can trade them for cash—unthinkable before. Even the environment seems to be improving; everyone’s more orderly!"

Panda nodded vigorously, shoveling rice into his mouth. If you weren’t the protagonist, I’d have gone off to enjoy life long ago! Though he thought it, Panda knew that as a newcomer with no skills, even if he fought bravely in that post-apocalyptic dump, he’d be useless. So, from his first meeting with Marx, Panda resolved to stick by him.

Following the protagonist’s story was foolish, but it let him control the pace!

He had even considered entering the blissful realm with Marx. But before Marx could start work at the factory, the factory declared bankruptcy—because the entire production line had vanished. Panda cursed furiously; was that any way to behave? It had ruined his plan for an easy win.

When he heard the mechanical voice again, a new idea formed in his mind. Since the plot had changed, why not steer it back on track?

He hadn’t caught radiation sickness—what about poisoning? Mixing heavy metal drinks was easy enough!

He recalled the greenish faces of his dorm mates that afternoon, and his smile grew even more innocent.

"Marx, you’ve helped me so much these days. I can’t repay you, so tonight let me treat you to dinner. I heard a new tavern opened in the next block—the hamburgers are authentic. Shall we try it?"

Marx was delighted. "Panda, you’re too polite—no need!" "I insist!" "Since you insist, I’ll accept! Ha ha ha."

Panda grinned, tossed aside his lunchbox, and together they walked arm-in-arm toward the worksite, as close as brothers.