5: Chapter 5 The Fat Man's Troubles

Lin Fan took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the churning anxiety in his heart. Since the system wouldn't let him lower the price, he could only wait.

Wait for a turning point.

Perhaps the heavens had finally heard his roar, or perhaps the gears of fate had finally turned to the point of engagement.

Just as Lin Fan was about to stand up and stretch his stiff limbs, a familiar figure, like a lost penguin, waddled into his field of vision.

Fatty.

Zhang Hao.

The best friend who had been hanging out with him since they wore split-seat pants.

Only today, Fatty looked exceptionally wretched.

The school uniform that usually fit him tightly was now hanging loosely on his body. He held a half-finished bottle of cheap beer in his hand, his face flushed red and his eyes unfocused; he had clearly just drunk a lot.

He drifted aimlessly through the crowd, nearly bumping into others' stalls several times. When scolded, he only nodded and apologized blankly, completely lacking the spirit of the former 'Number One Trash Talker of Jianghai No. 3 Middle School.'

It seemed like everyone was having a hard time.

Looking at Fatty's soulless state, Lin Fan didn't feel the comfort of 'brothers in misery'; instead, it stung even more.

In this damned world, is it really that hard for those at the bottom to live a little happily?

“Fatty.”

Lin Fan called out.

Zhang Hao's whole body jolted. He turned his head somewhat sluggishly, squinting his drunken eyes to search the crowd for a long time before finally spotting Lin Fan in the corner.

In that instant.

The confusion in Fatty's eyes dissipated slightly, replaced by the surprise and grievance of seeing a close relative.

“Fan... Brother Fan?”

He stumbled over, bringing a waft of alcohol with him. “Holy crap, why are you here? I just went to your house to find you, and the neighbors said you haven't been back all day and your phone wouldn't go through... I thought you couldn't take the blow and had ended it all!”

By the end, Fatty's voice carried a hint of a sob.

He was genuinely worried.

The events at yesterday's Awakening Ceremony had spread throughout the school. The former genius of theoretical studies had awakened an F-rank trash talent and was publicly humiliated by Wang Teng. Anyone's mental state would have collapsed.

“I'm not dead yet.”

Lin Fan felt a warmth in his heart and tossed him a bottle of mineral water. “But you, who are you putting on this ghost-like act for? What, were you so happy about awakening an S-Rank Talent that you drank too much?”

“S-rank my ass.”

Fatty twisted open the water and took a huge gulp, plopping down on the ground next to Lin Fan with a bitter smile. “D-rank, Earth Affinity. A bit better than you, but it's just the life of a meat shield. My parents... sigh, don't even mention it. They were hoping I'd bring honor to the family, but now they're discussing sending me to a construction site to learn how to move bricks, saying an Earth talent makes moving bricks less tiring.”

He said it lightly, but Lin Fan could hear the bitterness in his tone.

In this era where everything was determined by talent, there wasn't much difference between D-rank and F-rank. They were both at the bottom, both cannon fodder, both just consumables in the eyes of the big shots.

“Then what are you doing here?” Lin Fan asked.

“What else, just clearing my head. And seeing if I can scavenge some cheap equipment, even a second-hand blade would be fine.”

Fatty sighed, his gaze finally landing on the cardboard in front of Lin Fan. “Enough about me. Brother Fan, you're... setting up a stall? What the hell is this god and demon blind box? Where'd you get the stock?”

Even though he was drunk, his brain still functioned.

He knew Lin Fan's family situation best; they were so poor that a mouse would leave a grain of rice in tears upon entering. Where would he get the capital to do business?

And this advertising slogan... it was way too chuunibyou, wasn't it?

“It's not stock.”

Lin Fan looked into Fatty's eyes, his voice suddenly becoming very serious. “I got these from the Wasteland Zone.”

“The Wasteland Zone?!”

Fatty was startled half-sober, his bead-like eyes widening. “Are you crazy? You, an F-rank Prospective Martial Apprentice, dared to go to the Wasteland Zone? Is that a place for humans?”

“If I didn't go, Xiaoya would die.”

Lin Fan interrupted his exclamation.

Fatty opened his mouth and fell silent. He knew Lin Xiaoya's situation and knew what that one million surgery fee meant.

“These three boxes, I traded my life for them.”

Lin Fan pointed to the wooden boxes on the ground, not mentioning the system or the eerie manufacturing process. “There's good stuff inside. But I have bad luck, and my life is already like this. I want to take a gamble and sell my luck to others.”

“Brother Fan...”

Fatty looked at Lin Fan's bloodshot yet frighteningly bright eyes, and his heart trembled inexplicably.

He was all too familiar with this look.

Once when they were kids, Lin Fan had that same look when helping him get back an Ultraman toy stolen by a hoodlum. In the end, that hoodlum, who was two heads taller than them, had a piece of flesh bitten off by Lin Fan and returned the toy while crying.

This was the look of a gambler.

And the look of a lone wolf.

“This thing... can it really change one's fate against the heavens?” Fatty pointed at the crude wooden box and swallowed hard.

“It can.”

Lin Fan answered decisively.

If it were anyone else asking, he might have used a few lines of business jargon. But facing Fatty, he didn't need to.

Because he truly believed it.

That hundredfold return system was his confidence to change his fate. And these blind boxes were the keys to that door.

“How much?” Fatty asked.

“Ten thousand.”

“Cough, cough, cough!”

Fatty nearly choked on his own spit, his eyes bulging. “How much? Ten thousand? Brother Fan, did the radiation in the Wasteland Zone fry your brain? Selling this crappy box for ten thousand? This is robbery!”

“Too expensive?”

Lin Fan raised an eyebrow. “Can ten thousand yuan buy a chance to stop moving bricks at a construction site and stop disappointing your parents?”

Fatty froze.

Could it?

Through official channels, ten thousand yuan couldn't even buy a decent Combat Technique.

But if it's a gamble...

He looked at the pitch-black wooden box; the ferocious wolf-head totem on it seemed to possess some kind of magic, slowly stirring the deepest desires and frustrations in his heart.

D-rank talent.

Meat shield.

Moving bricks.

Was this to be Zhang Hao's entire life?

He wasn't resigned to it!

“Brother Fan.”

Fatty suddenly pulled a crumpled envelope from his chest and slammed it onto the tattered cloth in front of Lin Fan.

The movement carried a sense of burning his bridges.

“This is the tuition money my parents gave me, plus the New Year's money I've saved for three years—twelve thousand in total.”

With reddened eyes, he stared intensely at Lin Fan. “Originally, I wanted to buy a decent weapon and take a shot in the Rift Zone. But since you say this thing can change my fate...”

“Then I'll trust you this once!”

“I don't want to move bricks! I want to be a martial artist! Even if I die, I want to die on the path of a charge, not in a pile of cement!”

Fatty's roar was a bit loud, causing surrounding passersby to look over.

“Is this fatty crazy?”

“Ten thousand for a crappy wooden box? Isn't this just a pure sucker?”

“He must be a shill, right? The acting is too over-the-top.”

The sounds of mockery rose again.

But this time, neither Lin Fan nor Fatty paid them any mind.

Lin Fan looked at the thick envelope, then at Fatty's round face filled with trust and madness. He didn't say anything sentimental; he just silently put away the envelope and solemnly pushed the middle wooden box toward Fatty.

“Choose this one.”

Lin Fan's voice was slightly hoarse. “It's calling to you.”

This wasn't a lie.

In the vision of the system panel, the moment Fatty pulled out the money, the blind box in the middle suddenly emitted a faint layer of earthy yellow halo.

That was a sign of attribute compatibility.

“Whew...”

Fatty took a deep breath and reached out his trembling hands to pick up the heavy wooden box.

At this moment, the bustle of the night market seemed to fade away.

In his world, only the box in his hands remained, carrying all his wealth and hope.

Would it be one strike for poverty, one strike for wealth?

Or one strike... to wear sackcloth?