10: Chapter 10 Humiliation

Two bottles of synthetic beer and ten skewers of extra-spicy mutated pork.

This was the celebratory feast laid out before two "tycoons" whose combined net worth exceeded 160,000.

The roadside stalls in the West District were heavy with oil smoke, mixed with the scents of low-grade spices and industrial alcohol.

"Brother Fan, cheers!"

Fatty raised a glass bottle that was still fizzing with fine bubbles, his large face flushed red from drinking. Whether it was the alcohol going to his head or the lingering excitement from his C-Rank Talent earlier, his entire body was shaking with exhilaration.

The glass bottles clinked.

The crisp sound was drowned out by the noisy finger-guessing games of the people around them.

Lin Fan tilted his head back and took a large gulp.

The ice-cold liquid exploded down his throat, carrying a distinct taste of saccharin and metal. This was synthetic beer, rumored to be blended from fermentation waste. At five yuan a bottle, it was a rare 'happy water' for those at the bottom of society.

"Refreshing!"

Fatty grabbed a skewer of charred meat—hind leg meat from a Mutated Giant Boar. Though the fibers were as coarse as unchewable rubber, under the cover of heavy oil and spice, it had a unique, chewy texture.

As he tore into the meat, he mumbled indistinctly, "Brother Fan, you have no idea... that bald guy earlier... haha, his face turned green! Spending eighty thousand on a piece of junk dagger, I bet he's regretting it so much his guts are turning blue!"

Lin Fan shelled a salted peanut and tossed it into his mouth.

"That's because he was greedy."

"Right, exactly, greedy!" Fatty nodded vigorously, his mouth glistening with oil. "You're still the man, Brother Fan. Turning ten thousand into a hundred and sixty thousand—this speed of making money is practically faster than robbing a bank!"

Lin Fan listened quietly to Fatty's drunken talk, occasionally offering a word or two of agreement.

However, his gaze passed through the swirling smoke and landed on the light blue system panel on his retina.

[Current Assets: 161,200 alliance coins]

The numbers looked beautiful.

For an ordinary family, this might be two years' worth of income.

But for Lin Xiaoya, who was lying in a life-support pod, this was just a drop in the bucket.

A single dose of targeted medicine for Genetic Collapse Syndrome cost fifty thousand, and a full course required three doses. Combined with the high daily maintenance fees for the life-support pod, this 160,000 would at most allow Xiaoya to hold on for another half month.

It wasn't enough.

Far from enough.

He had to expand his scale as quickly as possible and grow the blind box business.

"Boss, two more skewers of kidneys! Grill them over a high flame!"

Fatty's loud voice pulled Lin Fan's thoughts back.

Lin Fan looked at his best friend, who was currently haggling with the grill owner, and sighed inwardly.

Fatty only saw the money, but he didn't see the hidden dangers behind it.

Tonight's events had completely offended the Wang family to the core.

Wang Teng was a man whose pettiness was smaller than the point of a needle. Having lost so much face today, he would definitely not let the matter rest.

[Detected low-level metallic construct (Barbecue Grill).]

[Material: Spliced scrap alloy.]

[Evaluation: Greasy trash, extremely low recycling value.]

The system's prompt rang out abruptly.

An occupational hazard.

Ever since awakening this system, Lin Fan saw everything as raw materials.

He shook his head and forcibly closed the system's automatic scanning function. If he kept looking, he feared he wouldn't be able to finish his meal.

Buzz, buzz—

The phone on the table suddenly began to vibrate.

It wasn't a call, but a notification from a WeChat group. It was a continuous vibration, as if someone was frantically spamming the chat.

Lin Fan glanced at the screen.

"Jianghai No. 3 Middle School, Grade 12, Class 2 Exchange Group."

At this hour, the group was usually chatting about games or gossip. But right now, the messages were jumping across the screen at an alarming speed.

Fatty also heard the commotion, took out his phone to look, and his face instantly darkened.

"Damn it, this grandson still has the nerve to shout in the group?"

Fatty slammed his phone onto the table; the screen showed a high-definition selfie.

The background of the photo was a VIP ward in Jianghai City's most high-end private hospital.

Wang Teng was wearing a patient gown, half his face wrapped in gauze, holding a glass of red wine. The caption was filled with as much posturing as possible:

[Wang Teng: It's just a few superficial wounds, but the doctor insisted I stay in a VIP room. I can't help it; my family is too worried about me. Some people shouldn't think they can turn their lives around using underhanded tricks; trash will always be trash. Just you wait.]

Between the lines, it was full of threats.

And below the photo was a string of replies.

[Li Kai: Teng-ge is mighty! Some people are just jumping clowns; they won't be bouncing around for long.]

[Zhao Min: My heart aches for Teng-ge~ Take care of yourself, don't lower yourself to the level of those low-lifes.]

[Zhang Wei: Exactly. I heard those two were scamming people for money at the night market today? They're really a disgrace to our No. 3 Middle School.]

[Sun Hao: I heard about that too. Apparently, they used some kind of optical illusion to fake a C-Rank Talent? Hilarious, who would believe that nowadays?]

When a wall is about to fall, everyone gives it a push.

In the eyes of these students who had yet to enter society, Wang Teng represented power and the future. Lin Fan and Fatty, on the other hand, were merely two jokes seeking attention.

Even though Fatty had truly awakened a C-Rank Talent tonight, under Wang Teng's deliberate slandering and the inertial thinking of these people, it had become an "illusion" and a "scam."

"I'll fuck his ancestors!"

Fatty was so angry that his fat was trembling. He grabbed his phone, about to send a voice message. "My C-Rank Talent is fake? I'll go to the hospital right now and crush his head!"

A hand pressed down on Fatty's wrist.

It was very steady.

"What's the rush?" Lin Fan's voice was flat, like a glass of beer that had gone flat.

"Brother Fan, how can we endure this? They're spreading rumors!" Fatty's eyes were bloodshot. "We clearly..."

"Is explaining useful?"

Lin Fan took Fatty's phone and casually scrolled through the screen, looking at the comments that were as mocking as possible.

"In their eyes, the truth isn't important; picking a side is."

This was exactly the effect Wang Teng wanted.

To regain face in the class group and maintain his crumbling prestige.

If Fatty rushed into the group now to argue or explain, he would be playing right into his hands. The more exasperated they were, the more guilty they would seem.

"Then what do we do? Just let him be this disgusting?" Fatty felt so stifled he wanted to flip the table.

"To deal with this kind of person, you don't need words."

The corner of Lin Fan's mouth twitched slightly. He pulled his own phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and clicked on the group chat marked with a red dot.

His fingers tapped a few times on the screen.

The operation was simple.

Red envelope.

Send.

The stream of messages that had been flying through the group suddenly lagged for a moment.

A bright red envelope appeared abruptly in the middle of all that sycophantic text.

[Lin Fan] sent a red envelope.

Memo: [Medical Expenses].

The group went silent.

About three seconds passed.

[Lin Fan's red envelope has been claimed by Wang Teng.]

A system prompt popped up.

Immediately after, another prompt followed.

[Wang Teng claimed 0.01 yuan.]

Dead silence.

Even through the screen, Lin Fan could sense Wang Teng's expression freezing on the other end, as well as the suffocating awkwardness of everyone else in the group.

Just a moment ago, they were spamming messages calling Lin Fan a pauper and a scammer.

As it turned out, Wang Teng's hand speed and physical instinct had directly slapped his own face swollen.

He snatched it.

And he only got one cent.

Coupled with the "Medical Expenses" memo, the level of insult was practically off the charts.

"Pfft..."

Fatty stared at the screen for two seconds, then suddenly spat out a mouthful of beer, laughing so hard he slammed the table.

"Holy shit, Hahahaha! One cent! Brother Fan, you're too wicked! One cent for medical expenses? You can't even buy a damn band-aid with that!"

"Who says you can't?"

Lin Fan slowly put away his phone. "Based on his face, I'd say that's exactly what it's worth."

The group completely exploded.

Wang Teng didn't send another message.

But three minutes later, a system prompt showed: [Group Administrator has enabled Mute All].

Impotent rage.

He had completely broken down.

"Let's go."

Lin Fan stood up and finished the last of his beer. "We've eaten and drunk our fill; time to get to business."

He didn't look at his phone again.

Because he knew that the real contest was only just beginning. Wang Teng's loss of composure in the group would only make his offline retaliation more violent and more insidious.

The two of them walked out of the barbecue stall.

In the late night of Jianghai City, the wind was a bit cold.

Half of the streetlights on both sides of the road were broken, and the other half flickered due to unstable voltage.

Massive holographic billboards floated in mid-air, playing advertisements for the latest gene serums. The models on them had smooth skin and perfect smiles, forming a jarring irony with the dilapidated and filthy streets below.

"Brother Fan, I'm going to that pharmacy up ahead to buy some digestive tablets. I ate a bit too much meat just now and feel stuffed."

Fatty rubbed his round belly and pointed to the pharmacy at the corner that was still lit.

"Yeah, go ahead," Lin Fan said casually.

Fatty didn't think much of it and trotted over.

Lin Fan stood in the shadow of a streetlight and lit a low-grade cigarette. He didn't usually smoke; he only had one when he was thinking or frustrated.

Amidst the swirling smoke, his eyes narrowed slightly.

That feeling was back.

The feeling of being watched.

It wasn't the curious glance of a passerby, but a malicious, greasy stare.

Ever since they left the night market, this gaze had been intermittently sticking to his back.

Lin Fan didn't turn around. He just seemingly casually lowered his head to adjust his shoelaces. Using this movement, he swept his peripheral vision across a dark alley entrance fifty meters behind him.