From He Huan’s experience, you couldn’t truly understand any environment just by hearing people talk about it. You had to step into it yourself, feel it on your skin.
Experience? What experience?
Naturally, her experience as a mercenary.
Before transmigrating into this damned hellhole of a world, He Huan had been a mercenary.
If someone asked, “How can a mercenary count as a mere wage slave?” He Huan would’ve snapped right back: “Why not? We’re all in the service industry, living at the mercy of whichever client’s face we’re serving, constantly dealing with endless streams of ridiculous, deadly problems. How is that not just another ordinary job?”
The only difference was that her job paid well, had low frequency, and lasted only a short number of years. By all metrics, it had been the perfect job.
And if someone said mercenary work was too dangerous? He Huan’s answer would’ve been simple: “If you think it’s dangerous, that only proves you’re too weak.”
Weakness was your problem—not the job’s.
So when she sensed people coveting the spoils she had just fought for, she didn’t hesitate a second before charging out of her so-called “shelter.”
The icy night wind hit her skin, and at last she understood what the game’s introduction meant by “beware the night.”
First was the cold.
Bitter, biting cold.
She hadn’t yet seen what daytime was like in this world, but from her observations outside the shelter, it should be autumn at most. Not colder than late fall.
Yet this night wind clawed at her bones—it couldn’t be warmer than five degrees Celsius.
Second was the noise.
In the pitch-black darkness, her sharpened senses picked up countless restless stirrings. Each potential threat announced itself in whispers, rustles, growls—surrounding her in a 360-degree chorus of unease.
A lively little orchestra of danger.
And third—hunger.
For a mercenary, hunger was nothing. A missed meal or even three to five days without food was par for the course.
But the hunger gnawing at her now was something else entirely—an almost lethal, hollow kind of hunger, as if her very body wanted to starve itself dead.
Still, He Huan wasn’t afraid.
Over ten years in the field, she had faced enough brushes with death. Hunger? Hardly worth mentioning.
Compared to losing her hard-earned spoils? Nothing at all.
Aside from those three annoyances, she adapted to this world just fine.
Following her deductions about Yang Jianhua’s behavior, she sprinted toward where she judged his shelter must be.
That’s when the golden text appeared in her vision again.
[ Twelve meters northeast: a Bronze Chest. No guard, but nine field rats are eyeing it. Danger. Location recorded. ]
[ Seventeen meters due north: ancient human remains. Potentially unusual discoveries. Danger. Location recorded. ]
[ Twenty-one meters west: a Night Leopard awakening for its hunt. Danger. Location recorded. ]
[ Nearby trees: older growth. Sustained felling may yield high-density timber. Recommended. Location recorded. ]
…
The more she read, the more she felt like she was cheating with some kind of godlike system.
Could this be a built-in feature of the world?
But with this, wouldn’t finding supplies be child’s play? That didn’t seem likely.
She hesitated briefly, then tested her theory by typing into the zone chat:
“Where’s everyone finding supplies? Wouldn’t it be great if the system just marked them out for us?”
Responses flooded back instantly.
“You’d better go dream, kid—everything shows up there.”
“If that existed, I’d be the richest in the zone already.”
“Ha! Young and ugly but still dreaming big.”
…
Mockery, all of it.
But that was enough for He Huan to confirm: she was the only one seeing these golden prompts.
Which meant—she really did have a cheat.
Thirty years of plain, unlucky life. She’d never even won a consolation prize in the lottery. And now she finally had her own golden finger?
For the first time since losing her pension, she felt faintly consoled.
Her mood lighter, her pace quickened as she closed in on Yang Jianhua’s shelter.
She might have been new to this world, but finding a stranger’s hideout? For a seasoned mercenary, that was child’s play.
Keeping track of each prompt while moving, she soon found herself in the depths of a dense forest.
She paused to take stock of her surroundings—
—and froze at the sound of hushed voices to her left.
She slipped a hand into the brush and carefully parted the leaves.
What she saw:
No moon, only faint starlight painting the clearing.
In the glow stood a wooden cabin, neatly built on unnaturally flat land. The boundary between that land and the surrounding forest was sharp and unmistakable.
A shelter plot.
She knew from the rules: each shelter had its own protected zone. As long as the shelter stood, the lurking dangers of the night couldn’t easily invade it.
Her gaze locked on the cabin itself, and she couldn’t look away.
A tidy log cabin, perhaps twelve or thirteen square meters, with door, windows, even a chimney.
And a roof—an actual roof! Slate-gray shingles, layered tight, sturdy against wind and rain.
Compared to her pathetic hut with no roof at all… there was no comparison.
Why did people’s shelters have to differ so much?
No. Wait.
There was no difference.
This wasn’t someone else’s shelter.
This was her inheritance.
Which meant—it was her cabin. Her shelter.
Hers!
The sight of such a solid, pretty home filled her with giddy delight. The more she looked, the more she loved it.
Another golden prompt flickered:
[ Shelter of deceased resident “Yang Jianhua.” Integrity 87%. You may seize 60% of its assets by raiding, or claim 100% with the resident’s access card. ]
Her eyes lingered on “Integrity 87%.”
Then shifted to the three figures clustered around the cabin.
Armed with axe-like tools, they hacked at the walls, doors, and windows, wearing away its defenses.
Clearly, the drop in integrity was their doing.
The voices she had overheard earlier were theirs.
“This place is tough! We’ve been chopping forever and it still won’t fall!”
“Must be a level two or even level three cabin. Hua was impressive to build it so quickly.”
“Tch, impressive? More like he robbed people for the materials. He’s been looting since day one.”
“Still, Hua was a big name here. Can’t believe he went down so easily.”
“Live by the sword, die by the sword. He’s been murdering and looting since day one. Today’s the bill coming due.”
“Shame, though. If only we had his access card. Smashing a shelter like this loses forty percent of the loot.”
“Shame my ass! Hua was at least level five. Whoever killed him won’t be easy to deal with. We’d better grab what we can before they show up.”
“And if they do show up?”
“Then we kill them! Three of us against one!”
“Yeah! Kill ‘em! Then we might even get Hua’s card.”
“And all their gear too. Whoever could kill Hua must be carrying plenty.”
…
Their voices carried crystal clear through the still night.
Every word. Every scheme.
In the shadows, He Huan’s grin spread wider and wider.
Isn’t this just perfect?
She’d been thinking the exact same thing.
wannaberecluse On SRTT Chapter 98.2