Chapter 3: The Mysterious Gift Box

Forget it. Since it’s unavoidable, I must learn to accept fate. The key now is to keep gathering information.

Abandoning all illusions, Lu Ming opened the general functions and began browsing them one by one.

[Collection]: A general function that allows rapid disassembly of biological corpses to extract essential substances. Usage method: select the collection target and silently recite the command. Effective range is one meter.

It can only be used on biological corpses. The restriction was clear. Still, harboring a glimmer of hope, he tried it once on a repair counter and some phone accessories. As expected, a prompt appeared saying it cannot be used on non-collection types. No exceptions here. Reluctantly, he gave up and moved on to the next function.

[World Channel]: A general communication function that opens a channel to communicate with all survivors. To activate, silently recite the command.

This large-scale communication platform, once activated by Lu Ming’s silent command, displayed a blue chat box beside the attribute panel, listing four sections: [World], [Country], [Region], and [Private Chat].

Information in the World section streamed rapidly, with intense exchanges in countless languages.

Although he couldn’t grasp everything, he caught snippets of individual words. Strangely, no matter the language, he could understand their meanings in a very native, intuitive way—likely the effect of a unified language system.

The interface kindly prompted that clicking the message box would pause the automatic scrolling, allowing manual browsing.

To familiarize himself, Lu Ming paused the scrolling as instructed.

That’s when he noticed an intriguing detail: every sender was verified with real-name authentication. Both avatars and names belonged to the actual person.

This had many advantages but also drawbacks. Fortunately, everyone was barefoot, showing no fear of information exposure.

If uneasy, one could simply choose not to reveal oneself—after all, many just read novels without commenting. Watching silently is no problem.

As for the channel’s content, Lu Ming glanced over it and quickly lost interest.

It was either nationalistic boasting or denigrating other countries, a senseless barrage of map-based insults.

Perhaps someone had deliberately stirred conflict to incite chaos.

Honestly, it was boring. Normal life aside, it’s remarkable people could maintain their troll nature in such a situation. But it did confirm that many started with shelters, proving humanity’s survival instinct is tenacious when facing crisis.

He switched to the next tab.

Jumping to the Country module, the interface instantly felt more orderly—not because of civility, but due to language uniformity.

He didn’t scrutinize the chat content; it was mostly people venting negative emotions in a chaotic free-for-all, offering no useful information.

Moving to the Region tab, the message flow slowed considerably.

Though still streaming upward one by one, at least the reading pace was manageable.

[Chen Hai: How is everyone doing?]

[Wang Yang: In the last ten seconds, I found a real estate agency. There’s not much supplies or tools, but it’s relatively safe. The monster sounds outside are creepy, making me scared. Not sure what to do next.]

[Bao Zhengcheng: Pretty much the same for me. I wanted to find a bakery or restaurant, but all were infested by monsters. Ended up in a barbershop. Luckily, the owner seems to live here. Found a box of unfinished instant noodles and several unopened bottles of mineral water in the storage room. If anyone needs them later, just say so—I’m willing to contribute.]

[Fang Peng: Seriously? Uncle is awesome! How about giving me two packs now? I eat big portions.]

[Qin Qi: Me too! Uncle, give me some too!]

[Me too!]

[Uncle, look at me!]

[Uncle!]

...

[Chen Hai: Everyone’s backpack has a 500ml bottle of purified water and two compressed biscuits. At maximum, that can sustain you for three days. Including urine and other means of staving off hunger, five days is barely survivable. After that, it’s reasonable to ask for help.]

[Fang Peng: Who are you? My dad? My dad doesn’t even care about me, why should I listen to you?]

[Exactly, everyone can talk big. What’s wrong with stockpiling supplies?]

[Mind your own business!]

[Got it, understood.]

[Chen Hai: This is the end of the world, not a natural disaster. No rescue teams will come. Everyone wants to survive. Not relying on yourself but counting on others’ kindness to fill your greed—what kind of values is that? That’s exploitation! Uncle Bao shouldn’t be so honest either. In these times, who knows what rotten fish and shrimp are on the other side? If you give to them, what happens to you? Don’t flaunt your wealth.]

[Fang Peng: Who are you calling rotten fish and shrimp? If things were normal, I’d come over and beat you up.]

[Qin Qi: Calling our values into question? Probably just scared Uncle Bao will give everything away and they’ll get nothing. Pretending to be the good guy to gain favor, then asking individually—I've seen people like that, all schemers.]

[If that’s true, it’s disgusting to the extreme.]

[Chen Hai: I’m different. I have my limits.]

[Limits? Can that fill your stomach? More like you can’t swallow your pride and hate to see others do well. What a joke.]

[Bao Zhengcheng: Hey, it’s my fault. Stop arguing. Chen’s got a point. Besides, I can’t give to everyone. How about this: five days is too long. If anyone can’t hold on after three days, let me know. I’ll help if I can.]

[Hmph, three days? Do you think you’ll have anything left after that? You’ll be eating three meals a day, not caring if we live or die.]

[I suspect he’s just showing off, trying to sound nice to avoid angering everyone. His real goal is to enjoy it quietly. Bao Zhengcheng? More like harboring hidden malice!]

[Indeed. It’s the apocalypse; who shares when they have stuff? Don’t kid yourself.]

Bao Zhengcheng didn’t reply further, probably upset. The tone below grew even harsher due to his silence.

[See? His intentions are exposed. He’s too scared to speak. People like him are worse than “Got it.”]

Looking at these cutting words, Lu Ming felt deeply moved. He knew the environment would alter survival concepts and twist human nature, but not this rapidly.

He checked the avatars of Chen Hai and Bao Zhengcheng. The former had a resolute face, a square jaw with a crew cut—not exactly sharp-featured but undeniably masculine and upright. Judging by his words, he was likely a man of integrity.

Bao Zhengcheng was a man in his forties, dressed plainly with glasses, thin and friendly-looking. Though uncertain if his words were true, his showy luck claim didn’t hold up. Teenagers might flaunt such things, but how many hardworking middle-aged office workers hadn’t been worn down by society? They usually avoid such commotion.

In the past, people wouldn’t be this bitter. It seemed that in apocalyptic times, one must restrain excess kindness. Self-love is the only truth. Helping others depends on capability and the recipient.

Finding no more useful information, Lu Ming closed the World Channel and turned to the third general function.

[Trading Post]: A general function that opens a platform for buying and selling items—very convenient. To open, silently recite the command.

Simple and easy to use, but currently, no one was selling anything.

Makes sense; for this to work, it would take time to accumulate. Everyone was still gripped by unknown fear—there was no time for trade.

That left only one general function: the Space Backpack.

This was a concept somewhat familiar to Chinese people—storage rings, dimensional pockets, Doraemon’s four-dimensional pocket—all variations of the same idea.

[Space Backpack]: A general function for storing items, except living things. Time inside the space is frozen. Identical items can be stacked infinitely. Upon death, the backpack drops and becomes ownerless. To open, silently recite the command.

Dropping into an ownerless state after death meant future conflicts would arise not only with other species but also among humans competing for resources.

This further solidified his philosophy of self-preservation.

“Space Backpack.”

He silently activated it, and a backpack panel appeared before his eyes.

Two rows, ten columns—twenty slots in total.

The first two slots matched Chen Hai’s description: a 500ml bottle of purified water and two compressed biscuits. The third slot… hmm?

The third slot contained a golden gift box—an item Chen Hai had never mentioned.

Holding his breath, Lu Ming clicked on the gift box. Four gilded characters with a description appeared before him.

[Mysterious Gift Box]: In recognition of your number matching the survival guide batch, you are specially awarded a lucky gift.

…