SALOK Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – 

He Huan’s mentality collapsed.

That drafty, broken straw hut in front of her, along with the endless stream of flickering electronic messages in her vision, all reminded her of one cruel fact—she had transmigrated.

But how could she have transmigrated?

And at such a critical moment, no less?

She was just an ordinary office worker. Wasn’t her greatest wish simply to retire?

Fifteen years of backbreaking work—enduring her boss’s endless gaslighting, her coworkers’ passive-aggressive jabs, and the dangers and drudgery of her job. She had accepted it all without complaint, without resistance, swallowing her grievances whole, all for one reason: to retire peacefully and finally lie flat.

And yet, on her last assignment, thanks to her superior’s idiotic decision, her team was ambushed, bombed, and blown straight to the heavens.

He Huan thought she was dead. Done. Finished.

But when she opened her eyes again—she had transmigrated.

Could there be anything more tragic than this?

Yes.

For example, the sight of a fat-headed brute with a face full of flesh, hoisting her up by the collar like she was a scrawny chick. He gave her a sinister grin.

“Hand over your supplies. Brother Hua will make it quick for you. Otherwise…”

His beady triangular eyes roved up and down her body, the rest of his meaning unspoken—but obvious.

He Huan’s fragile mental state crumbled completely.

And her body crumbled even faster.

Before Brother Hua could even finish his threat, she raised her knee and rammed it viciously into his chest.

This was no half-hearted gesture like slacking at work. She threw her whole weight into it. A sharp crack rang out beneath her knee.

His ribs had broken.

Brother Hua never expected such resistance from this scrawny woman. The pain was blinding, his chest screaming, cold sweat streaming down his temples. He staggered back a few steps and collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.

But He Huan didn’t stop.

The next second she leapt up, crashing down on him, raining blows on his face and neck with both fists like a downpour.

“Otherwise what? Huh? You gonna kill me? Then get up and do it! Get up and kill me! Lying there like this, what kind of man are you?”

“Hurry up and stand up! Can’t stand? Then you’re no man at all!”

In just a few blows, Brother Hua’s face was swollen into a pig’s head, blood streaming from the corners of his eyes, nose, and mouth.

He howled in agony.

He tried to resist, but her grip pinned both his arms and legs, leaving him utterly helpless.

Right then, Brother Hua realized he’d miscalculated. This woman was no easy prey—he’d run into a real demon.

Knowing when to bend, Brother Hua began begging for his life. “I was wrong, sis! I was wrong! I didn’t know my place. Please, spare me, let me live!”

But his pleas only fueled He Huan’s rage. Her fists came down harder, faster, sharper.

“Spare you? Who’s sparing me? I worked fifteen years saving for retirement—who’s sparing my pension?!”

“Why do you get to apologize and walk away, but my retirement fund never comes back?!”

“Big sis, I was wrong! Please! All my supplies, take them! Just let me live!”

The towering Brother Hua was beaten until he had no strength to resist.

Worse still, a primal terror gripped him.

He was going to die.

This crazy woman was going to beat him to death.

His panicked screams echoed through the dark night, shrill and inhuman.

But He Huan didn’t care anymore. She was drowning in her collapse, years of pent-up resentment boiling over.

Her boss’s endless manipulation, her coworkers’ constant digs, customers’ cruelty, the dangers of her work—it all came flooding back. The anger she had buried deep exploded, surging through her in a storm of madness.

And most unbearable of all—she had transmigrated right when she was about to retire. The pension she would never see again, the peaceful life ripped from her hands—that was the final straw that broke her.

Her once-placid mentality shattered completely, giving way to utter frenzy.

She pounded Brother Hua’s vital spots methodically, each strike fueled by instinct, fury, and despair.

She didn’t know how long it lasted. But eventually, his resistance weakened, his voice fading to nothing.

At that moment, a cold electronic chime sounded in her ears:

【Congratulations, you have slain intruding resident Yang Jianhua and successfully defended your shelter.】

In an instant, Brother Hua vanished beneath her.

In his place lay two items: a small burlap pouch and a card resembling an ID.

He Huan blinked in confusion.

Exhaustion slammed into her all at once. She slumped to the ground, panting heavily. Her gaze fell on the card, and she picked it up without thinking.

A blinding white light exploded before her eyes, dizziness swallowing her whole.

Memories—foreign yet familiar—poured into her head.

This body was also named He Huan. A timid, withdrawn, utterly unremarkable woman. Three days ago, along with everyone on Blue Star, she had been dragged into this bizarre survival world.

The rules were simple: survive.

The first seven days were called the “novice period.” Everyone had only one task—upgrade their shelter once. Fail, and you’d be erased.

The task sounded easy. The materials required weren’t much.

But this world was filled with unpredictable dangers. One slip meant death.

The original He Huan had scavenged diligently, but bad luck dogged her. Whatever she scraped together was stolen.

Not by Yang Jianhua—he was only the second raider to target her shelter.

The first raid had already crushed her will to survive. Exhausted and hopeless, she was killed when Yang Jianhua broke in.

And so, when the “other” He Huan died in an explosion, this He Huan had transmigrated here—taking over a life at rock bottom.

Digesting the flood of memories, He Huan sprawled flat on the floor.

Grass. (A curse, not a plant.)

Why transmigrate? She’d have preferred to die—at least that would’ve left her closer to her pension.

Her fingers too tired to twitch, she stared blankly at the open sky above.

Right, this so-called “shelter” didn’t even have a roof—it had been blown away yesterday.

[ Shelter integrity at 28%. Estimated to last 14 hours. Please repair immediately. ]

A golden system prompt flashed across her vision.

What was that?

The original He Huan had never seen such a message in her memories.

Was she hallucinating from exhaustion?

No, she remembered seeing the same golden text earlier, when she was fighting Brother Hua.

Before she could think further, her glowing wristband caught her eye. With a flick, a holographic screen appeared, messages scrolling across it.

“Another one just died in our zone.”

“Just now?”

“Yeah. Ever since Hua said he was raiding someone’s shelter, I kept watch on the count. It just dropped by one.”

“So Hua succeeded?”

“Of course. Hua never fails.”

“Haha, congrats Brother Hua! When you eat meat, don’t forget to give us broth!”

“Congrats, congrats! Brother Hua, say the word and we’ll follow your lead next hunt!”

…

Scrolling through the chatter, He Huan soon found the survival panel.

Survivors in this region: 8,377.

She knew from the inherited memories that this world—called The Dark Night—divided everyone into zones. Each zone started with ten thousand people.

Three days in, her zone had already lost nearly 1,700. The death rate was terrifying.

But He Huan, mourning her lost pension, barely cared. She almost wished to die again—maybe she’d wake up back home. Maybe her pension could still be saved.

Suddenly, amidst the congratulations, a new message appeared:

“How do you know it was Yang Jianhua who succeeded? I checked—two minutes ago his avatar went gray.”

The message was quickly buried, but plenty noticed.

“No way! His avatar’s gray!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He’s dead!”

“Brother Hua is dead!”

…

As the realization spread, He Huan noticed something unsettling.

None of his so-called “brothers” mourned. Instead, the chat erupted into excitement.

“Wow! What luck! His shelter’s inheritance is up for grabs! Anyone know the location? I’ll trade 100ml of water!”

“His stash! Amazing! First come, first served—I’ll give a slice of bread for the coordinates!”

…

The messages grew chaotic, but the meaning was clear.

They wanted to ransack Yang Jianhua’s shelter before midnight fell, scavenging his supplies.

After all, it was “unclaimed.”

Sitting there, He Huan let out a cold laugh.

Unclaimed inheritance?

Utter bullshit.

She killed him. His loot was hers.

Her things were hers—no one would touch a single crumb.

No one. Would. Dare.