ATIGIBTC Chapter 54

The sky over the city today was somewhat overcast as if rain was on the way. The temperature was mildly cool, and there was a slight breeze.

A man stood among the small potted plants outside the window, his feet pressing into the grass. The wind lifted his golden hair gently before settling back down smoothly. His gaze was fixed on that small research lab, and his deep-set features carried a rare trace of gloom. His eyes were dark and profound as if he were witnessing something before him that would stir immense turmoil within him.

No, perhaps it was not just “as if”. At this moment, his face bore an exceedingly rare expression of chilling coldness—one that inspired fear.

Zhu Yan extended a hand, doing something entirely uncharacteristic of him, almost as if in provocation. He removed his gloves and deliberately reached out to tousle He Fang’s hair at the back of his head. His gaze remained locked onto the man before him, yet his voice was gentle as he spoke to the boy. “As long as you’re happy. Do you want to go see the train? It’s currently at the Weapons Development Facility. If you’re interested, you can take a ride over.”

“I’ll go take a look. If there’s anything that needs improvement, I can offer some suggestions.”

Throughout the conversation, the boy kept his head raised, eyes fixed on Zhu Yan’s. After receiving confirmation, he turned and left the research lab, never once looking back.

The boy’s departure seemed to take all the warmth from the room with him. The young man in the pristine white coat reverted to his usual distant and unapproachable self. He slipped his gloves back on as if he couldn’t bear to touch anything other than the boy.

At that moment, he lifted his eyes once more, setting them upon the golden-haired man who had never left. His crimson lips were strikingly vivid as he uttered a cold, mocking remark: “You’re like a voyeur, Divine Lord.”

A series of indecipherable code symbols began to float around the Divine Lord, appearing one after another. But with just a single glance, Zhu Yan could immediately recognize what they represented. They were his own data.

The Divine Lord’s hand struck the swiftly flickering characters. From that point, a new string of code emerged. The blond man seemed intent on modifying this new sequence.

Zhu Yan, however, remained indifferent. He merely said, “The Creator needs me greatly, and he is very pleased with me.”

To the blond man, those words were like an unbreakable command. In an instant, all his movements ceased. Standing beneath the overcast sky, his god-like, inviolable face, usually flawless, now bore a trace of helplessness. He turned away and vanished from Zhu Yan’s sight.

Zhu Yan could more or less understand the Divine Lord’s impatience. As the Creator interacted more and more with the NPCs in the game, the number of NPCs he remembered also increased. Not to mention, every NPC harbored complex emotions toward the Creator.

Among them, the two brothers of the Chong family had begun to openly show their rejection of the Divine Lord and their growing fondness for the Creator. Watching as the NPCs around the Creator grew in significance and even began to engage in more intimate actions, even someone as composed as the Divine Lord could no longer remain still.

But what did any of this have to do with Zhu Yan?

In the end, even the Divine Lord was just one of the many who followed behind their Creator, wasn’t he?

As He Fang stepped out of Zhu Yan’s research lab, he absentmindedly brushed his fingers through the strands of hair Zhu Yan had just touched, a faintly strange feeling lingering in his heart.

As someone fully aware of his own social anxiety, He Fang would never initiate unnecessary physical contact with others. That sudden hug had been an unexpected surprise—an action entirely out of the ordinary. But it was because he had seen Zhu Yan subtly spreading his arms open as if hinting at it.

After that, Zhu Yan’s actions seemed merely to steady He Fang’s posture without any excessive physical contact.

He Fang was well aware of the power of the sensory simulation pod—it could transmit all five senses with remarkable clarity. However, when he actually touched an NPC and could even feel their body temperature and scent, he couldn’t help but feel a bit strange.

It was almost like he had truly made contact with a real person.

The game’s sensory realism was so advanced that if he didn’t consciously remind himself that this was just a game, his social anxiety might actually kick in.

This was probably a compliment, wasn’t it? He should go back and add some extra praise to his review of “Ruins Without Restart”, highlighting this black-tech marvel.

He Fang had planned to check out the train, but before he could even step out of the door, it suddenly started raining. As a player undeterred by wind and rain, he didn’t even think twice before charging straight into the downpour—only to be yanked back by the collar by someone from the research institute and handed an umbrella.

He Fang: “……”

Did the game really have to be this realistic? If he used an umbrella in the rain, wouldn’t he get struck by lightning?

He suddenly recalled another game he had played, where metal weapons would attract lightning during thunderstorms. Thinking about it carefully, “Ruins Without Restart” did indeed have weather-related effects—for example, wind farms would generate less electricity on windless days, causing power shortages in the city.

He Fang went to the Weapons Development Facility not only to check out the new train but also to discuss with the researchers how to construct the tracks. Simply laying down straight tracks was an idealistic approach. According to the map drawn by Guo Miaofeng, there were many areas with significant elevation changes, which He Fang reasonably suspected to be remnants of high-rise buildings. If tracks were laid directly over them, he feared the unstable foundations might lead to accidents.

How could they ensure the tracks were built entirely on solid ground while also preserving the Nightmare Beast Forest? He wasn’t sure if the Weapons Development Facility had conducted measurements regarding this issue.

As He Fang walked toward the weapons depot with an umbrella in hand, he suddenly felt a strong gust of wind. He lowered his umbrella slightly to block it. When he lifted it again, he caught sight of a statue standing alone in the rain, framed by the edge of his umbrella.

The pure-white statue stood motionless in the stormy weather, exuding an air of pride. As the symbolic landmark of this city, it had every right to be proud—so powerful, majestic, and unparalleled. He Fang thought that perhaps this statue was the strongest presence in his city.

Yet today, for some reason, as he gazed up at the towering figure, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it looked incredibly lonely.

Was it just because of the overcast sky? The darkness made the statue’s pure-white surface appear less sacred than usual. Instead, it seemed isolated, standing there all alone. Even the fierce beast at its feet, which was usually full of sharp energy, now appeared subdued, docilely leaning against the monument as if offering comfort or seeking affection.

He Fang suddenly remembered that he hadn’t completed his daily tasks yet. Without hesitation, he pulled up the daily mission list—since he was already passing by, he might as well finish the task while he was at it.

However, today’s daily missions made He Fang blink and raise an eyebrow.

“The Divine Lord, who has been tirelessly working for the Lord of the City, deserves a reward from the City Lord. (0/1)”

“Having successfully become the deity of Hope City and gained Faith Points, initiate a beginner’s guide: Please conduct a large-scale Faith Point expenditure. (0/1)”

“Offer the hardworking Divine Lord a loyal kiss. (0/1)”

“Wipe the hardworking Divine Beast’s teeth. (0/1)”

He Fang: “…”

Why were today’s missions so complicated? Weren’t they usually just about patting or cleaning something and calling it a day? Did that mean today’s available Faith Points would be particularly high?

But then, he suddenly realized a very serious issue.

Because of the landmark’s special status, he had completely forgotten that the landmark also needed to be rewarded—it wasn’t just an object!

A sudden realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. What had he been doing all this time? He had rewarded Chong Xiao, rewarded Zhu Yan, and even cheered up Guo Miaofeng—but he had completely overlooked the needs of the landmark!

Even though the landmark had always operated through command input, in a way, it was still an NPC!

“I… I’m sorry!” The moment He Fang realized his neglect, a deep sense of guilt filled his heart. He almost wanted to drop to his knees and slide in apology—he genuinely hadn’t thought about it at all!

Unlike NPCs, landmarks don’t require money, so He Fang was now caught in a dilemma—how exactly should he reward a landmark? What does a sculpture need?

It needs long-term maintenance!

Although the landmark had already undergone waterproofing and anti-corrosion treatment, dust prevention was impossible. He Fang looked at the continuous rain falling from the sky, then glanced at his daily tasks for today.

He put down his umbrella and pinched the fabric of his clothes. Hmm, it felt like pure cotton—it should be usable.

He took off his shirt and twisted it into a bundle.

He decided to take advantage of the rainy weather and personally give the landmark a dust cleaning!

Unlike last time when he hired someone to do it, this time, as the city lord, he had to reward the landmark for its contributions. He recalled how the cleaners had climbed up before, and now he followed suit.

Since it was summer, He Fang’s upper body was bare after removing his shirt, revealing a slender frame full of youthful energy. To wipe off the dust, he naturally had to start from the top. He exerted all his strength to climb to the highest point, surprisingly finding that it wasn’t as exhausting as expected. The strong friction made it quite easy to climb.

At that moment, an NPC passing by with an umbrella secretly peeked out from underneath, watching their Creator ascend. Their hands clenched nervously, afraid that the Creator might misstep and fall. But after observing closely, they realized their concern was unnecessary. From start to finish, the Divine Lord had been subtly adjusting the Creator’s bodily movements, providing a smoother climbing experience.

Because the Creator’s field of vision was limited, he didn’t notice much change, but everyone else could clearly see the Divine Lord’s little schemes.

Since the Creator had taken off his shirt, it was obvious he intended to use it as a rag to wipe down the Divine Lord’s sculpture. For safety while climbing, his skin was now pressed tightly against the Divine Lord’s body—a position that was clearly intentional.

The Creator’s skin was pale, the kind of fair that comes from rarely seeing sunlight. And because he had climbed so high, almost all the NPCs could see him. If the Divine Lord was taking advantage of the situation, then every NPC was also getting an eyeful. In an instant, none of the passing NPCs could move; they just stood there, staring blankly.

The Divine Lord’s statue was pure white. Logically, it should have been even fairer than the Creator. However, in the eyes of the NPCs, the only thing truly drawing attention was the Creator himself.

The boy’s fair and delicate skin took on a faint pink hue under the pattering rain, a rare sight. His focused and diligent expression mesmerized everyone watching. The Creator was a meticulous person—even when cleaning the Divine Lord’s hair, he carefully wiped every groove between the strands, making sure everything was spotless.

All the NPCs had only one thing in their eyes: their Creator, their Creator, their Creator! In such an open and visible place, every gaze burned with intensity.

Since the statue was so tall, He Fang hadn’t dared to look down after climbing up. He just concentrated on wiping the sculpture with all his effort. Finally satisfied, he prepared to shift his position, only to glance down and see a whole circle of NPCs gathered below. His expression stiffened.

Each NPC was holding an umbrella, cheering him on with enthusiastic gestures. Some were even shouting encouragement. He Fang’s face instantly flushed red.

Ah… He Fang suddenly remembered—there was a setting in “Ruins Without Restart” where players doing certain tasks would attract an audience!

This kind of setting wasn’t uncommon. For example, in some city-based battle games, specific fight scenes had to be confined within a fixed space, so the game would use crowds or objects to create barriers. This led to features like “walls of bystanders”. And now, was he attracting a “wall of bystanders” just because he was doing a task?

Even though He Fang knew these were just NPCs whose faces weren’t even worth remembering, he couldn’t help but feel a little flustered. Not because he found it embarrassing but because their gazes were too intense—it was like they were trying to see right through him. Sitting on the landmark’s shoulder and looking down, all he could see was a horde of wildly enthusiastic NPCs.

It was unsettling.

He Fang had a million complaints running through his mind. Do these NPCs really have to be this dedicated, even in the rain?!

Scratching his head, he decided to focus on the task at hand. Even though he was determined to personally clean the sculpture as a reward, it was just… way too difficult.

Why was the landmark so ridiculously huge?!

By the time He Fang reached the chest area, he was completely exhausted. He simply sprawled out, resting against the massive pectoral muscles to catch his breath. Despite the ongoing rain, he didn’t feel cold at all. On the contrary, he felt warm—the raindrops were warm, the landmark itself seemed to have a comfortable temperature, and even the wind wasn’t chilling.

It seemed “Ruins Without Restart” wasn’t striving for absolute realism. At least it wouldn’t force players to endure harsh weather in-game. Bringing an umbrella was completely unnecessary.

He Fang looked at the chest muscles in front of him, thought for a moment, and, as if possessed by some impulse, leaned in to listen for a heartbeat. But there was nothing.

Realizing what he was doing, He Fang found his own actions quite amusing. What kind of sound did he expect to hear from a statue? The thought itself was rather funny. He Fang couldn’t help but laugh at himself.

“The Divine Lord, who has been tirelessly striving for the City Lord, should receive a reward from the City Lord. (1/1)”

Just as He Fang was laughing, a mission completion notification suddenly popped up. He was momentarily stunned. It was completed just like that? But he hadn’t even finished wiping yet!

However, when he looked up, the sky was still gloomy, and the rain continued to fall. Yet, inexplicably, the once somber statue now seemed to glow with newfound brilliance. It almost looked like it had emotions. Was it just his imagination?

Even though the mission was completed, He Fang wasn’t the type to leave things half-finished, so he intended to see it through. But then, he suddenly noticed the last task in his daily missions.

Offer a loyal kiss.

He Fang recalled that in many cultures, a kiss could serve as a form of etiquette—such as a hand kiss or a greeting kiss. Given the statue’s deep and well-defined features, plus the fact that the game’s developers were originally foreigners, He Fang figured this must be a way to express loyalty and respect.

But where exactly should he kiss to complete the mission? The hand? The cheek? Unfortunately, both were just out of his reach.

Looking at the landmark’s chest, now so close at hand, He Fang tentatively leaned in and placed a kiss on what should be the spot where a human heart would be.

Suddenly, a notification sound rang in his ears—his mission was complete.

“Please offer a loyal kiss to the hardworking Divine Lord (1/1).”

He Fang blinked. Did that mean kissing anywhere counted toward completing the mission?

Meanwhile, under the iconic structure, the gathered NPCs were practically grinding their teeth in rage. The Creator might not know, but they had seen everything with crystal-clear clarity. That damn Divine Lord—his usually expressionless, sculpted face was practically blooming with joy! There was no doubt about it—he must have used some trickery to make the Creator this affectionate toward him!

Shameless Divine Lord!

Damn, Divine Lord!

They were dying of jealousy!

Even as they cheered, chanting “Keep going!”, their twisted expressions made it seem as if they wanted nothing more than to sink their teeth into the Divine Lord’s thick-skinned face and bite off a chunk of stone!

But clearly, the Divine Lord didn’t care in the slightest. In fact, he was extremely pleased—so much so that the tail of his symbiotic Holy Beast was practically wagging up to the sky!

Infuriating!

Just break it off already!

At this moment, the NPCs all harbored the same sinister thought.

Meanwhile, He Fang was utterly exhausted. The landmark was simply too massive. Sitting on the raised stone platform of the sculpture, he was cleaning the Holy Beast’s teeth. They were incredibly sharp. While wiping them down, his clothes accidentally got caught on the tip of a fang, tearing open a huge gash.

“So sharp.” He Fang, curious, leaned in to take a closer look. To his surprise, his entire head could fit inside the Holy Beast’s mouth. Reaching out, he pressed down on its tongue—rock-hard. Upon closer inspection, he even noticed that the sculptor had meticulously carved tiny barbs into the surface. If this tongue were to move, He Fang felt like it could lick him down to the bone.

The thought that this Holy Beast could actually move sent a shiver down his spine. He immediately wriggled his way out of its mouth, terrified that the landmark might suddenly activate and snap his head off.

“Please wipe the hardworking Holy Beast’s teeth (1/1).”

Hearing the system notification, He Fang breathed a sigh of relief. The sharpest fang was the last one he had cleaned. Still filled with curiosity, he gently ran his fingertip across its edge.

At first, his finger seemed unscathed. But suddenly, a thin line of red welled up where he had just touched the tooth.

He Fang was stunned, staring in disbelief as more and more blood seeped out. Only then did he finally register the sharp, stinging pain from his finger.

“Oh my god…” He Fang was shocked. A… tooth? Such a thick tooth?

The rain had already stopped. He Fang stared at the wound on his finger, completely at a loss.

Ever since he had entered the online version of “Ruins Without Restart”, he had never been injured. He knew his character could die, but he had never imagined that his character could actually get hurt?!

He Fang was utterly astonished.

His expression turned strange.

His mind was filled with complaints. “Ruins Without Restart’s” developers—some things, if made too realistic, could actually be unappealing!

His fingertip continued to sting, and blood kept welling up from the wound, showing no signs of stopping. A single drop of blood fell into the beast’s mouth. He Fang immediately wiped it away with his clothes.

He pressed down hard on the wound, but aside from the pain, there was no sense of the bleeding stopping. Even though he knew it wasn’t real, he still felt a bit panicked.

At that moment, the NPC at his feet, which had been watching him, seemed to have noticed something. It stopped cheering and simply looked up at him. For some reason, He Fang felt an eerie chill run down his spine.

He Fang glanced at his wound, thinking that he should get it treated at a hospital. He had just wiped off the dust—better not let it get infected. But just as he was about to climb down, a thought struck him. He lifted his head and looked at the snow-white statue.

The entire statue now appeared to be in poor condition. He Fang pondered for a moment—this sculpture, said to be the almighty Divine Lord, was it truly almighty?

Facing the Divine Lord’s statue, he issued a command: “Heal the wound on my finger.”

The instant He Fang entered the command, a brilliant light suddenly erupted before his eyes. Once again, he witnessed the immense and divine statue begin to move.

He Fang rarely gave commands to the Divine Lord. Whenever he did, the statue would never make any significant movements. Yet now, it lowered its head.

It was a statue—a real stone statue. But at this moment, He Fang saw it lower its head. Its long hair seemed to be bound behind it, unmoving, without the slightest trace of flowing motion. The pure white color exuded a sacred aura, bringing to He Fang’s mind the holiness of angelic sculptures.

From the overcast, rain-filled sky, a single ray of light suddenly pierced through the clouds, illuminating both the Divine Lord’s statue and He Fang himself.

The statue, impossibly perfect and breathtakingly beautiful, moved. It crouched down. The massive holy beast entwined around the lower half of the Divine Lord’s body, acting as a pedestal that kept him steady atop the narrow and elevated platform. He Fang watched, eyes wide, as the holy beast—its white eye sockets devoid of pupils—turned its head toward him as if staring directly at him.

A strange tension gripped He Fang at the sudden gaze of the holy beast. But what unsettled him even more was the Divine Lord’s statue—it had actually crouched down right before him.

The Divine Lord wore no clothing—or rather, what resembled his garments was an intricate sculpture formed from the fur and tail scales of the holy beast, covering every detail of his body.

As he crouched down, his long yet powerful legs tensed, revealing an incredibly graceful arc of muscle. One of his hands was now placed behind He Fang. The sheer size of the statue almost entirely enveloped him.

At this moment, the Divine Lord was looking at him.

The Divine Lord was simply too massive. Compared to his statue, He Fang was minuscule. As he lifted his head to look up, an unshakable fear crept into him. It wasn’t just awe—it was terror. The Divine Lord’s expression never changed, eternally frozen in a single sculpted look. Though he moved, every action he took seemed as if it could be carved into stone, rigid and unnatural.

When that enormous face drew so close, He Fang’s hair practically stood on end. But despite the instinctive urge to flee, the fear and reverence within him held him still, forcing him to meet the Divine Lord’s gaze.

The Divine Lord’s face was overwhelmingly handsome—so perfect that it surpassed even the finest female statues once displayed in storefronts when landmarks first appeared. But up close, that beauty was overshadowed by an overbearing presence, a forceful and inescapable pressure that left no room for resistance.

Then, the Divine Lord’s statue parted its lips.

Unlike humans, there was no subtle shift in his expression, no natural movement—only the distinct, deliberate act of opening his mouth.

His lips were not like those of humans, lacking warmth, softness, or any defining lines. He Fang could not see his teeth or tongue. There was only a stark white abyss shrouded in shadow.

He Fang could hear his own overly tense heartbeat, but it seemed like he understood the Divine Lord’s intention.

Even though the other party hadn’t spoken a single word, He Fang felt as if he could comprehend his meaning—like an understanding that pierced directly into his soul.

He Fang swallowed a mouthful of saliva to ease his nervousness, then slowly placed his still-bleeding fingertip into the slightly parted lips.

The inside of the Divine Lord’s sculpted mouth was warm, yet it lacked any sensation a human mouth should have. Touching it felt like pressing against a heated stone—warm yet unexpectedly comfortable.

The wound on his finger no longer hurt. Instead, there was a faintly slick sensation.

He Fang watched as the blood he had just dripped seemed to dissipate into the air, vanishing completely.

Although his action carried a certain intimacy, the nature of the sculpture made He Fang appear more like a clueless child poking at it out of curiosity. There was nothing suggestive about it at all.

At that moment, the Divine Lord opened his mouth.

He slowly rose to his feet, his movements unhurried. As he stood, the blank, eyeless face remained turned in He Fang’s direction the entire time. And in the end, he stood once more—returning to the timeless posture of an eternal sculpture.

He Fang stared expectantly, but before the sacred beast—who had inflicted the wound on his finger—coiled back around the Divine Lord’s body, it suddenly leaned in close, rubbing against He Fang’s finger. Its soft fur brushed repeatedly over his skin, bringing an unexpectedly gentle and comforting sensation.

Once the sacred beast returned to its original position, it opened its mouth again, exposing its sharp teeth to the air. It seemed to be issuing a warning, a wild and ferocious deterrent against any threats to the city—untamed, ruthless, and inviolable.

He Fang unconsciously curled his fingers. Lowering his head for a closer look, he realized—where was the wound? Not even the faintest trace remained. His expression was filled with disbelief.

He pinched the spot where the wound had been. Not only did it not hurt, but he couldn’t even remember the sensation of pain from before. It was as if the injury had never existed in the first place.

“Having successfully become the deity of Hope City, you have gained Faith Points. City Lord, please proceed with a major Faith Point expenditure (1/1).”

He Fang’s head snapped up, his gaze flickering with shock. A tiny wound like that actually counted as a major Faith Point expenditure?!

He clenched and unclenched his hand. A sudden thought struck him—perhaps this wasn’t just a simple healing of a minor wound. This was practically a power akin to turning back time.

In any game, players could revive. Some games allowed revival at the place of death, some at a save point, and others in locations like the “Temple of Light”, “Revival Spring”, or “Land of Immortality”. If that was the case, then didn’t “Ruins Without Restart” also have designated resurrection points?

This resurrection point is actually a landmark building?!

He Fang stared at his own finger in shock. If it took a massive amount of Faith Points just to heal such a tiny wound, then wouldn’t reviving someone require an astronomical amount? But on the flip side, didn’t that mean that as long as there were enough Faith Points, players could even be resurrected unconditionally?

Taking it a step further… could NPCs be revived, too?

He Fang felt like he had just uncovered a massive secret in “Ruins Without Restart”. This was another perfect topic to milk for video content!

But the more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. A single-player city-building game introducing resurrection mechanics? Was this game shifting into full-on adventure mode? With this kind of setup, the game felt less like a proper city-builder and more like an MMORPG with a built-in home base. The priorities were completely reversed.

That said, He Fang was beginning to realize just how valuable Faith Points were. He’d have to start earning them regularly. If possible, he should also invest in expanding the Divine Lord’s influence. The only thing that puzzled him was why the NPCs in his city didn’t seem to worship the Divine Lord. Had they simply gotten used to it?

Maybe he should build a church or something in the future?

He Fang seriously considered the idea.

Shifting his attention, he went to inspect the train. Its design was indistinguishable from the trains in reality—at least in terms of appearance. But that was where the similarities ended. Its speed and weight far surpassed any real-world counterpart. He Fang was astonished by its flawless craftsmanship and fully automated intelligence. The level of detail was beyond exquisite, making it nothing short of perfection.

In short, he loved it.

After finalizing the railway construction, He Fang and the researchers from the Weapons Development Facility mapped out the general route for the tracks. The finer details, however, would be left to Guo Miaofeng and the Weapons Development Facility for further refinement.

As He Fang had mentioned before, he sought out Yuan Zhiran and requested him to station a portion of his troops in Hope City. Although Hope City’s location was incredibly advantageous—being close to the Nightmare Beast Forest and having been inhabited for a long time, allowing life to flourish—these conditions might prevent other mobile cities from encroaching, but they didn’t guarantee absolute safety. There was always the risk of a resource-starved mobile city attempting to seize an opportunity.

If another mobile city discovered Hope City’s reconstruction, no one could predict how they might react. To prevent any unforeseen threats, He Fang decided to station the now well-established military force in Hope City—both for defense and for maintaining internal stability. He wanted to suppress any restless thoughts stirring within the city before they could take shape.

Next came the issue of children who couldn’t immediately contribute to the city’s construction. They were still young and had a long way to go. To address this, He Fang arranged for volunteer teachers from the school, planning to set up a temporary educational facility. However, upon reviewing the statistics page, he was stunned—the number of children in need of education in Hope City was massive, surpassing even the total student population of He Fang’s entire school system, from elementary to university. With such an overwhelming number, a handful of teachers simply wouldn’t be enough.

As a result, He Fang expanded his recruitment efforts, openly hiring teachers citywide. He directly posted the positions on the talent exchange market, waiting for willing candidates to apply.

But looking at the situation now, the urgency of Hope City’s construction was more pressing than ever. Not only did he need to provide housing for ten thousand people, but food and water were also critical issues. On top of that, integrating the city’s existing framework into the expansion plans made He Fang feel like his head was about to explode. Completing everything in such a short timeframe seemed almost impossible.

He Fang had no choice but to log off and search online for city-building strategies from other players. He was afraid that if he blindly designed Hope City on his own, he might end up dooming it to destruction once again—just the thought of it made him want to cough up blood.

That said, this ruined Hope City was actually the perfect base for He Fang’s external expansion. By using the city’s name as cover, he now had the means to quietly infiltrate various mobile cities. On top of that, with the ongoing decryption of the locator device, he had high hopes for what it could achieve.

——

Guo Miaofeng stood at the base of the mountain, waiting as the cartographic instrument processed data. In the meantime, he nibbled on compressed biscuits to replenish his energy.

The map appeared simple, but the actual landmass was vast. He had been surveying the area for three to four consecutive days, yet he had only managed to map out a small section.

Although it was called a “mountain”, compared to the towering peaks inside the city, this area looked more like a series of stacked mounds. The terrain shaped by the Creator bore clear burn marks, indicating just how intense the fires had been in the past.

What surprised Guo Miaofeng the most was that the boundaries the Creator had outlined for mapping coincided almost exactly with a major divide in the region’s ecological recovery. It seemed the fire had spread only up to this point, and the life flourishing near Hope City now had likely originated from the land beyond.

Before heading out for measurements, Guo Miaofeng had spoken with the Creator. The Creator had specifically instructed him to focus on certain key locations he had marked on the map.

Guo Miaofeng was deeply amazed by the Creator’s “foresight”. It seemed that every location the Creator marked on the map always led to the discovery of something significant—whether it was a water source or a mineral deposit.

Moreover, the Creator mentioned that there was likely something of great importance nearby. Otherwise, the former city lord of Hope City wouldn’t have traveled such an immense distance to bring the entire city here.

But what exactly was hidden in this area? Guo Miaofeng couldn’t even begin to imagine. He focused on inspecting the key locations marked by the Creator, yet he found nothing particularly noteworthy.

Sitting on the ground beneath the scorching sun, he wiped the sweat from his brow. The surrounding trees hadn’t grown tall enough to provide shade, leaving him completely exposed to the heat. But Guo Miaofeng didn’t care.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t figure out what the Creator’s markings were meant to indicate. To be thorough, he even expanded his search, carefully exploring the surrounding areas in detail—but still, he found nothing.

Even so, Guo Miaofeng refused to give up. He had the utmost respect for the Creator, who possessed an almost prophetic ability. If the Creator had marked a location, there had to be a reason for it.

His intelligence might not be the sharpest, but when it came to carrying out assigned tasks, he would do his absolute best.

So what had he overlooked?

Guo Miaofeng gazed up at the vast blue sky, then back down at the land, now teeming with new life. With his limited intellect, he simply couldn’t detect anything unusual.

The instruments showed no anomalies, which left Guo Miaofeng frustrated. His absolute trust in the Creator convinced him that the problem lay with himself—he must have overlooked something.

Standing directly on one of the marked points, he lifted his head to look at the sky, then lowered his gaze to the ground.

Since the Creator couldn’t be wrong, the mistake had to be his. His eyes had deceived him.

The sky stretched endlessly, leaving only one direction left to explore—the ground.

Fixing his eyes on the earth beneath him, Guo Miaofeng decided to stop overthinking and start acting. He raised his powerful arms high and brought them down with full force.

Though he wasn’t the most skilled in combat, his physical attributes were exceptional. Strength and endurance were his greatest assets, and he had trained himself to maximize both.

He couldn’t fly a bicycle into the sky, so his only choice was to go downward.

The Creator’s instructions were unquestionably correct.

Something had to be here!

With his hands clasped together, Guo Miaofeng slammed them into the ground. The impact left a deep indentation in the hardened soil, loosening it. He then clawed at the loosened dirt, digging by hand until he reached a depth where he could no longer dig easily. Then, he raised his fists and struck again.

If only I had brought tools, he thought. I should have listened to the Creator from the start. If I had come by car, I could’ve packed more supplies.

Suddenly, Guo Miaofeng’s movements halted.

He seemed to feel the ground beneath his feet sink slightly.

Was it just his imagination?

Lifting one foot high, he stomped down hard on the ground. But the moment his foot landed, it was as if he had stepped on something hollow—before he could react, the sturdy man plunged straight down into the earth.

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