111: Chapter 111 The First "Homegrown" Player

Broad daylight filled the sky.

Newborn City was less a city and more a massive construction site.

The giant craters and ruins left behind by the Final War had become the most shocking foundations of the new era.

The players—those former visitors from beyond and battlefield maniacs—were currently converting their wartime fervor into a passion for construction with startling efficiency.

"You over there! Yes, you! Move that formation foundation stone another three inches to the left. You've plugged it into the 'Kan' position! Do you not want it anymore?!"

"Team Two, you're still halfway through today's 'brick-moving' quota. Do you still want to go to 'Sister Skillful' tonight to exchange for 'Mana Recovery Powder'?"

"Safety first! If anyone else fucking dares to jump straight down from a hundred-meter cliff, all your contribution points for this month will be docked! Don't think you're still immortal!"

Shouts, the sound of hammering, and the roar of grinding earth and stone intertwined into a chaotic yet life-filled symphony.

Little Stone curled up in the shadow of a broken statue base, looking like a real, unremarkable stone.

He was eleven years old this year, or perhaps twelve; he couldn't remember clearly.

The war had taken everything, including his parents, his home, and his perception of time.

He simply existed, like a weed that had been repeatedly crushed but stubbornly refused to be uprooted, breathing numbly.

He watched those tall, energetic "immortal masters" who seemed as if they would never tire, directing survivors like him—both mortals and low-level cultivators—in the grand project.

He didn't understand.

The world had already been destroyed once; why rebuild it?

For what?

Despair is something more terrifying than hunger; it gnaws away at a person's strength from the inside.

Just then, a pale blue light screen that only he could see popped up before his eyes without warning.

Little Stone's whole body stiffened, his pupils constricting suddenly in fear.

It was this... it was this again!

Since dawn, this ghostly frame had been haunting all the surviving "natives."

After the panic and riots, those "immortal masters" had used words he didn't understand, but which seemed to make sense, to soothe the crowd.

They said this was a gift left by the "Ancestors," a "fated opportunity," a "system."

Little Stone didn't know what a system was; he only knew that the unknown meant danger.

He instinctively closed his eyes, wanting to treat it as a hallucination.

But that light screen stubbornly hovered on his retina, cold and clear.

[Daily Quest: Assist in Repairing the City Wall (0/10)]

[Quest Description: Transport qualified city bricks scattered in the West District to Repair Point No. 1. Each completed transport counts as 1 time.]

[Quest Reward: Contribution Points +1]

"Hey, you over there, don't just sit there like an idiot." Another scrawny youth nudged him with an elbow.

The youth was named A-Mu, two years older than him. His eyes lacked Little Stone's vacant look, instead revealing a shrewdness and scrutiny unbefitting his age.

"I heard those immortal masters say," A-Mu lowered his voice, pointing at the void in front of him, "this thing is called a 'quest.' If you finish it, you can trade for food. Look over there, that shed is the 'Exchange Point.' I just saw that idiot kid from the Wang family's second house move three loads of stones and trade them for half a piece of black bread."

Food?

Little Stone's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty. The long-dormant hunger in his belly, like an awakened beast, began to roar frantically.

He looked in the direction A-Mu was pointing and saw the crude shed, and behind it, the female immortal master named "Skillful Hands Mending" whom he only dared to look at from a distance.

She was methodically distributing food or small glowing medicine bottles to those who had completed their quests.

"But..." Little Stone's voice was as dry as two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together, "what if... it's a lie?"

"Lie to us about what?" A-Mu sneered with a world-weary, precocious indifference. "Lie to us worms in the mud to get us to move stones for them? If they wanted us to move them, they could make us lose control of our bodies with a single finger. Why would they need to lie?"

After speaking, A-Mu ignored him and walked straight toward the West District where the city bricks were scattered.

His pace was steady, his goal clear.

Little Stone watched his back, then looked at the shed. The hunger in his belly was like a fire, scorching his reason.

Ultimately, the instinct for survival triumphed over the fear of the unknown.

He gritted his teeth, stood up from the shadows, and followed A-Mu's example, walking toward the ruins.

The city bricks were heavier than expected, their edges sharp, making his thin shoulders ache painfully.

Carrying a stone brick almost half his size, he stumbled toward the repair point marked "No. 1" a hundred meters away.

The air was thick with dust, making him cough incessantly.

Sweat soon soaked his ragged clothes, mixing with the dust to leave muddy streaks on his face.

The moment he set the stone brick down, he felt as if his arms were about to break.

But on the light screen before him, that line of cold numbers quietly changed.

[Daily Quest: Assist in Repairing the City Wall (1/10)]

It... really works!

An indescribable, strange feeling rose from the depths of Little Stone's heart.

It wasn't joy, but a deeper sense of being "confirmed."

For the first time, his actions were "seen" and "recorded" by an incomprehensible but absolutely fair rule.

He was no longer an inconsequential lonely soul; every effort of his now had a quantifiable value.

He didn't rest, immediately turning back to start the second transport.

The third time, the fourth time...

His steps grew heavier, his breathing harder, and his vision began to blur.

But he didn't stop.

That (1/10) number was like an invisible whip, driving him forward.

When he heavily placed the tenth stone brick at the designated spot, his entire body was exhausted. He collapsed directly to the ground, gasping for air, his lungs burning painfully.

At that very moment, a crisp "ding" sounded in his mind, as if coming from the depths of his soul.

The sound was incredibly pleasant, like heavenly music.

[Quest Complete!]

[Reward Obtained: Contribution Points +1]

On the light screen, a new icon similar to a package appeared, with a golden "1" marked in one corner.

It worked!

Little Stone almost wanted to cry.

Using his last ounce of strength, he crawled up from the ground and dragged his leaden legs step by step toward the shed.

There weren't many people at the Exchange Point. The person in charge of guidance was a surviving first-generation player. He looked at Little Stone and pointed to a wooden sign nearby.

The wooden sign had an exchange list written in the simplest characters:

[One White Flour Steamed Bun: 1 Contribution Point]

[One Bowl of Meat Soup: 3 Contribution Points]

[One Crude Iron Axe: 10 Contribution Points]

...

Little Stone's gaze was fixed firmly on the first line.

White flour... steamed bun.

He could no longer remember the last time he had seen such a thing.

"Exchange... exchange for one bun." He walked to the shed and spoke in a voice like a mosquito to the gentle-looking female immortal master—Skillful Hands Mending.

Skillful Hands Mending's face showed a trace of fatigue, but her eyes remained gentle.

She didn't show any disgust because of the filth all over Little Stone.

She just took a glance, seemingly confirming he had enough "contribution points," then took out a white, plump steamed bun from a large, steaming basket nearby.

"Take it, be careful, it's hot."

The bun was handed into Little Stone's hands.

In that instant, a scalding heat carrying the pure scent of wheat spread from his palms through his entire body.

His hands, long numb from hunger and cold, felt "warmth" again for the first time.

Little Stone stared blankly at the bun in his hands; it was so white, so soft, so real.

The steam blurred his vision.

He opened his mouth and took a huge bite.

It wasn't some imagined delicacy, just the most honest, purest sweetness of fermented wheat.

But as this warm, solid texture slid down his esophagus into his stomach, an uncontrollable bitterness suddenly rushed into his nose.

Tears burst from his eyes without warning, large drops hitting the bun in his hand, quickly soaking a small patch.

He chewed ravenously while weeping.

This wasn't just a steamed bun.

This was something he had "earned" honorably with his own sweat, the pain in his shoulders, and his ten round trips.

It wasn't charity, it wasn't pity, it wasn't some leftover scraps someone had thrown away.

It was a promise.

In this brand-new, cold world made of "quests" and "contribution points," it was the most solemn and precious promise made to an individual as lowly as dust like him.

—As long as you give, there will be a reward.

The weight of this bun was heavier than ever before.

It carried something called "hope" that had been reignited in an orphan atop the ruins of the apocalypse.

He stuffed the whole bun into his mouth until his cheeks bulged, and with dignity, he forcefully swallowed the last bite.

Then, he used his filthy sleeve to fiercely wipe the tears and snot from his face.

He looked up, and in those eyes that had been dull and lifeless, light burned again for the first time.

It wasn't the innocence of a child, nor a yearning for the immortal path.

It was a more primitive, more resilient light, as stubborn as a rock.

It was the desire for the next bun ignited in a "player" looking at the [Daily Quest: Assist in Repairing the City Wall (0/10)] that had popped up again before his eyes.

He turned around, no longer hesitating, and strode once more toward the sun-drenched ruins.

In the distance, on a high level of an unfinished watchtower, Outlaw Zhang San watched this scene quietly.

Beside him stood Immovable as a Mountain, Infrastructure Maniac, and several other high-level surviving players.

"We lost our way home," Immovable as a Mountain's voice was low, "but it seems... we've paved a path for everyone in this world."

"This isn't a path." Outlaw Zhang San's gaze remained locked on that small figure who had started moving stones again, his expression more complex than ever before.

"These are steps."

"Steps... leading to the future, one by one."

He said slowly.

And they, these survivors, would be the first and eternal watchers of these steps.