Monsters Are Coming

Chapter 1379 - 359: Test Operation, Brainstorming (Part 2)

After all, in this city, goodwill has always been the most expensive deception.The Iron Hand Gang once set up "free porridge" stalls in the city, but those who drank the porridge were all caught the next day and taken to the energy mine outside the city, with shackles nailed to their ankles, forced into slavery until death.

With such tricks happening repeatedly, the Eight Great Gangs have long lost their credibility.

However, as the broadcast repeated over and over, some people who had long fallen into despair began to waver.

At this moment, near the Nightmare Trial Arena, an old man with a hunched back quietly squeezed out from the crowd, taking stumbling steps towards the building.

"Grandpa!"

The little girl behind him cried out, wanting to catch up, but was tightly held back by a neighbor.

The old man turned back at this time.

His face, emaciated from severe hunger, had high cheekbones protruding and deep-set eyes. A trace of gentleness flashed in his eyes as he looked at his granddaughter.

His cracked lips moved but made no sound, he only raised his hand and waved to the girl.

His hand was covered with frostbite and cracks, and the dirt from digging through ruins was still lodged under his nails.

When he turned back around, the gentleness in his eyes was completely replaced by determination.

He looked at the building with its flowing purple light patterns in the distance, as if seeing a last straw of salvation.

His Adam’s apple moved with difficulty, and the cramping pain in his stomach reminded him that his body was at its limit.

The last half piece of compressed biscuit at home had been given to his granddaughter yesterday, and now even dirty water was scarcely available.

In this city, overwritten by villains, there were only two outcomes awaiting them.

Either shot dead by stray bullets from faction shootouts, or slowly rot away amidst hunger and disease.

His clouded eyes scanned the faces along the way, faces filled with either fear or hesitation, knowing these people were doing the same calculation he was.

Is starving to death more painful, or is the despair possibly brought by walking into that eerie building more painful.

But for him, an old man with one foot already in the grave, there was really no choice, the answer was under his feet.

He took a deep breath, his flat chest heaving slightly, then step by step, he resolutely walked towards the Nightmare Trial Arena.

His shoes stepped into the puddles, splashing small droplets, causing surrounding onlookers to tense up.

When the old man reached the front of the building, he glanced at the armed guards at the entrance, his gaze swept to the tables laden with water and food behind them.

Without further hesitation, he gritted his teeth, lifted his foot, and stepped inside.

Under the watchful eyes of the onlookers, the old man’s figure gradually vanished into the entrance shrouded in purple mist.

The residents who were watching held their breath, staring intently at the strange building.

Time passed during this period, the crowd did not disperse, still waiting for the elder’s return.

A minute, two minutes... an hour.

The elder had not returned.

Restlessness began to brew among the crowd, with whispers spreading like tides.

A man with a lame leg spat hard on the ground:

"I knew it, that old guy’s probably been taken apart piece by piece, what good deeds could those bastards possibly do."

On the other side, the little girl stared blankly, her small hand unconsciously clutching her neighbor’s tattered clothes, quietly asking:

"Will Grandpa come back?"

The air was thick with oppression.

Some began to back away silently, the purple building in their eyes akin to a life-devouring monster.

A few young people, red-eyed, picked up rocks from the ground, wanting to hurl them at the building in anger, but eventually restrained themselves.

Such an act could very likely bring about a fate worse than death for them.

"Let’s go, everyone, in this world, there’s no such thing as a free meal." A middle-aged woman shook her head regretfully.

Just as the crowd was about to disperse, a ripple appeared across the building’s surface.

The purple mist surged violently, forming a vortex-like passage.

The onlookers retreated in fear, yet a hunched figure emerged from the building.

It was the old man who had entered earlier.

He stood trembling at the entrance, his face frozen in extreme terror, as if he had experienced unspeakable horrors inside.

His cracked lips trembled incessantly but could not utter any sound.

When he attempted to take a step, his legs suddenly convulsed unnaturally, nearly bringing him to his knees.

At that moment, a guard standing outside the building approached, glanced at the glowing numbers slowly fading on the old man’s arm.

Then from the table behind him, he picked up a sealed bottle of purified water and two foil-wrapped bags of food.

"First Rank challenge completed, rewards delivered in full." Saying this, the guard with an overbearing expression handed the rewards to the old man.

The old man’s pupils contracted sharply, staring at the bottle of water so clear it reflected his image, a rasping sound escaping his throat.

He reached out with a trembling hand, then clutched the water and food tightly to his chest.

The rustling sound of the foil against his chest was starkly audible in the deathly silence.

The old man’s hunched back seemed to straighten a little from the weight in his arms, the residual terror on his face gradually replaced by an indescribable joy.

"Is... is it still possible." The old man squeezed out a hoarse voice, trembling as he pointed to the inside of the building behind him.

The guard nodded:

"If you wish to continue challenging, you may do so at any time."

Upon hearing this, joy first flashed across the old man’s face, then he vigorously shook his head, hugging the water and the biscuit, and turned to leave.

His steps were still faltering, yet carried a sense of urgency, as if afraid the guard behind him would go back on his word.

As he passed the crowd, the water bottle in his arms reflected faces in the street nearby, faces filled with shock or greed.

Some instinctively reached out to snatch it, but the old man staggered away to avoid them.