| WRIAWW | Joshua Blocks the Way | 107
The night was pitch black, so dark you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face.
Zong Le's figure darted between abandoned streetlights, each leap landing precisely on the rusted lamp shades. The distance of more than ten meters seemed nonexistent to him, his movements as light as a night heron skimming across water.
When he landed on the last streetlight, he finally stopped, the heavy plastic bag in his hand hanging motionless. The heavy bottles of alcohol inside swayed with the abrupt halt, clinking together crisply.
"Ah..." The black-haired young man rubbed his head, his expression tinged with frustration.
He hadn’t expected that a simple trip to buy alcohol would lead him to stumble upon yet another mission in progress.
Thinking that he had nothing better to do and that returning now might mean being dragged into lengthy discussions by those leaders, he decided to stop and observe for a while with his exceptional long-distance vision.
If the survivors handling the mission could manage on their own, Zong Le would have quietly watched for a bit before slipping away. But the survivor assigned to this task seemed to be in serious trouble and completely overwhelmed from start to finish.
How could someone as life-loving and helpful as him stand by and do nothing?
Crouching on the streetlight wasn’t the most dignified pose, but from this angle, he had a clear view of the brightly lit factory not far away.
The factory’s sign bore the words "Ansheng Factory" in bold characters. It was a food processing factory, specializing in canned goods like meat products. Every once in a while, large trucks would deliver loads of unidentified meat, swarming with flies and mosquitoes, to the processing workshop.
Workers would then sort through the rotting, spoiled meat before feeding it into industrial grinders. Along the way, they’d add a mix of artificial flavors, colorings, and seasonings, transforming the dubious ingredients into "premium" products like "salmon cans" and "arctic surf clam cans."
It was nearly midnight, a time when most residents of Guiyi City would be resting.
But this factory showed no signs of slowing down. High-powered xenon lights illuminated every corner, leaving no shadow untouched, while the roar of machinery continued ceaselessly.
The harsh lighting left no room for rest, forcing workers to continue working overtime.
The workers are wrapped tightly in uniforms and stood in assembled lines, while mechanically and numbly carrying out their tasks. To cut costs and boost productivity, the factory not only turned off air conditioning, forcing employees to work in sweltering conditions, but had also recently laid off a portion of the workforce.
The remaining employees now shouldered double the workload. In addition, the tasks at each assembled line position are not easy and are quite grueling. If they don't pay close attention, they could easily make mistakes.
And this was already the twentieth consecutive hour of nonstop overtime for the entire staff.
Finally, one of the workers who was working in front swayed on his feet, his eyelids seemed to be filled with lead, and he finally couldn't support it. The whole person fell heavily on the conveyor belt
The conveyor belt wasn’t equipped with sensors to detect abnormal weight and halt automatically. After all, compared to the losses caused by each stop, human lives in Guiyi City were far cheaper.
The machine continued operating at full speed, dutifully transporting piles of meat and the unfortunate unconscious worker into the sealed cutting chamber.
There, the sharp serrated blades were spinning at three hundred revolutions per minute, awaiting the next batch of raw materials.
"Ah—"
The soundproof workshop sealed off all the agonized screams.
The only evidence left from this tragedy was a partially severed, bloodstained human finger mixed into the roughly processed meat pile.
Wang Wu, who had been working continuously for twenty hours and was responsible for picking bones from the meat pile, numbly pinched the unusual object.
When he realized what it was, his bloodshot eyes widened abruptly, and he let out an inhuman shriek before staggering and collapsing to the ground.
"What the hell are you screaming for?!"
The supervisor in a red rubber work suit arrived upon hearing the commotion and kicked Wang Wu squarely in the back.
The kick was merciless and nearly taking half the life out of Wang Wu. He was sent flying several meters away and lay on the ground, breathing heavily, his ear were ringing. He was unable to come back to senses right away.
"The factory keeps you around so you can work, not laze about. Get up! I’ll count to ten, if you’re not up by then, tonight’s work hours won’t count."
"Hey, do you even have a shred of humanity left?!"
Liu Ling, Wang Wu’s teammate and fellow survivor, couldn’t take it anymore. She yanked the mangled, bloodied finger from the meat pile and held it up high. "He was clearly startled by this! He didn’t break a single rule in the factory worker regulations, so why are you deducting his working hours?!"
"Why? Because I’m the supervisor. As long as you’re working in Ansheng Factory’s Workshop, my word is law." The supervisor remained unmoved by the workers’ suffering, instead he smiled with a hideous expression. "Besides, you did break the rules. Article Fifteen: No worker is allowed to stop their task for any reason for more than ten seconds, or their hours for that period will not count."
Hearing this, all the survivors in the workshop couldn’t help but glare at him, eyes burning with fury.
In contrast, the NPC workers remained utterly numb, showing no reaction whatsoever.
"Forget it, it’s fine."
Wang Wu didn’t want to cause trouble at such a critical moment. Gritting his teeth, he staggered to his feet and barely managed to return to his workstation.
Seeing him rise within ten seconds, the supervisor reluctantly lowered his hand and watched him for a while longer. Finding no further fault, he snorted coldly before finally turning away.
Only after the supervisor left did Wang Wu dare to pause briefly, leaning against the workbench to catch his breath. Even so, the dizziness from the blow and the dull pain in his chest were so intense that his fingers trembled, nearly causing him to make mistakes several times as he worked.
"Brother Wang, take a rest. I’ll cover for you."
Wang Wu said gratefully, "Thank you, brother."
His gaze drifted toward the blinding overhead lights, his pupils momentarily unfocused.
The root of this incident lay in the new mission format, a ?-level mission where a single survivor's success meant victory for all, without resetting the survivors’ mission time.
As a C-level survivor barely scraping by, Wang Wu always waited until the last possible moment to accept missions, and this time was no exception.
Except his luck was particularly bad this time.
The three refreshed missions were all high-level ones. With no other choice, Wang Wu had to select what seemed like the least difficult A-level mission. He hoped he might encounter a kind-hearted veteran who'd help him out by taking a cut of his survival points.
Most high-level survivors, though arrogant, would usually agree to carry their peers if approached with sufficient humility, flattery, and the right amount of survival points.
Some benevolent veterans, like those from the Templar Army, might even voluntarily reduce their commission under the 1st order.
Unfortunately, his misfortune continued.
All S-level survivors had been summoned by the Watchtower's' Guild for a secret operation, leaving them none available for other missions.
The remaining high-level survivors were either resting after exhausting themselves on the ?-level mission or celebrating their second successful completion, or choosing not to immediately take on new missions.
When everyone finally arrived at the mission location, they were all stunned.
An A-level mission, yet all participants were uniformly B and C-level survivors!
Everyone knew the power disparity between weirds and survivors was already unfair, but this situation was practically suicidal.
Left with no alternative, the group ruled out brute force as an option and decided to follow the side mission's instructions instead.
Fortunately, the side mission seemed simple enough, just work in the factory and accumulate 24 work hours. Initially, everyone felt relieved, thinking this condition wasn't too harsh.
After all, it was just manual labor, and it could be completed after working for enough hours.
But no one could have anticipated how ruthlessly this factory calculated work hours.
Ten seconds away from your station? Deducted hours. One bathroom break? An entire hour's work is not counted. Miss three items on the conveyor belt? Lose an hour. Caught sleeping once? Another hour gone.
Not to mention the supervisor who scrutinized their every move, finding fault in everything.
Working here, you could actually end up owing the factory hours, now that was truly laughable.
What a capitalist paradise.
"Just hang in there, Brother Wang. We've already got twenty hours, we only need four more to go. Victory's in sight," a teammate whispered to comfort him.
At this point, there really were no better options. Compared to missions that could kill you instantly, at least Ansheng Factory only exploited survivors without taking their lives outright.
Yet as fate would have it, just when they thought things couldn't get worse, the unexpected happened.
That severed human finger Liu Ling had thrown on the ground? Everyone was too busy with their tasks and too creeped out to pick it up.
When the workshop director came by for inspection, he spotted it immediately, picked it up from the ground, and narrowed his eyes: "Which worker dropped this?"
The supervisor immediately pointed at Liu Ling and Wang Wu: "Reporting to the director, it was these two."
"Deduct ten work hours each."
The director tossed the finger back onto the conveyor belt: "How can you throw away premium meat like this? Do you think factory ingredients grow on trees?"
"Especially human meat, many of our canned goods' loyal customers specifically crave this flavor... If I remember correctly, you are all outsiders who entered the factory together, right? For failing to remind each other, everyone gets one hour deducted."
Watching all his efforts go down the drain due to absurd reasons, Wang Wu, who endured the humiliation, finally snapped. His hand groped for the knife handle on the table, grabbing it before charging at the supervisor in a desperate fight.
But no matter how furious he was, he was merely a C-level. However, none of the survivors present were cowards either. Seeing their comrade take the lead, those brimming with pent-up resentment quickly followed suit.
"Rebellion! This is outright rebellion!" the workshop director shouted hastily. "Supervisor, deal with them now!"
The supervisor of Ansheng Factory was a genuine A-level weird. The moment he made his move, the oppressive aura of his weird power made the survivors feel as though they had fallen into an icy abyss.
The disparity in strength was undeniable, and coupled with their dulled reflexes from endless, sleepless labor, they soon found themselves at a disadvantage.
In no time, Wang Wu was plunged into despair.
He muttered under his breath, "Brothers, take this chance to grab that work-hour manual from the supervisor's station. Just black out four squares on it to complete the side mission. I'll hold off this supervisor to buy you time. Since this mess started because of me, I'm ready to die here if I have to."
Just as the survivors' defense was about to be torn apart, the rolling shutter door of the workshop suddenly opened.
From the dark doorway emerged another supervisor, also clad in a red rubber protective suit.
Strangely enough, because many workers frequently try to escape or slack off, Ansheng Factory's supervisors were all selected for their violent tendencies. They were all strong men about two meters and five meters tall, with the A-level weird from Workshop No. 1 being the prime example.
Yet this new supervisor appeared to be of normal stature, his loose work uniform flapping around him as he carried an oddly out-of-place plastic bag, its contents bulging mysteriously.
The workshop director was still engrossed in watching the supervisor beating up the survivors, and occasionally cheering him on. He was completely oblivious to the new supervisor who had nonchalantly walked over to the power switch.
The next second, the entire assembly line stopped to a halt, the harsh fluorescent lights replaced by the warm glow of night lamps.
"It's time to go off work!"
At the signal, the workers reacted as if granted amnesty. Some collapsed on the spot, dead asleep, while others stood dazed for a long moment before dragging their exhausted bodies toward the dormitory.
"Shift's over? No, it's not! Get up, all of you! Get back to work! Can't you hear me?!"
This scene infuriated the workshop director, who immediately turned his wrath on the one who had pulled the switch. "Which workshop are you from? It's only noon, what do you mean work is over? Who gave you permission to cut the power?!"
Every power outage caused visible financial losses to the factory.
Everyone knew the factory owner was a penny-pincher who scrutinized the accounts daily, deducting every missing cent from his subordinates' wages to make up the difference.
Unfortunately, the factory owner is not in the factory now. He followed the district boss to Ankang Community to get revenge.
The workshop director was left to shoulder full responsibility for the production halt. He wished he could slice the imposter supervisor into a thousand pieces.
"Supervisor! Where are you?!"
Seeing this, the supervisor quickly tied up the survivors with a rope, grinning viciously as he picked up a nearby machete and swung it at the new supervisor.
"Watch out, senior!"
Witnessing this scene, the immobilized Liu Ling let out a sharp cry, her heart leaping into her throat.
Although the thick protective suit obscured the face behind it, the piercing black-and-white pupils clearly revealed the person's identity.
Without a doubt, this was another survivor.
At this moment, the group had no time to ponder where this savior had come from. The hope of escaping certain death made their hearts pound like drums, and they silently cheered for their mysterious ally.
And this helper did not disappoint, and displayed astonishing combat prowess.
In a swift movement, he dodged the supervisor's massive blade. The blade grazing the protective suit but missing by a mere centimeter in a bizarre twist. Before the supervisor could recover, the stranger delivered a swift spinning kick, his heavy protective boot striking the wrist holding the machete with pinpoint accuracy.
Crack!
The sound of bone breaking was unmistakable. Before the supervisor could even scream in pain, the heavy weapon slipped from his grip. Then, with a light push midair, the blade flipped and struck the supervisor's neck with accurate precision.
The sheer force of the blow silenced the director instantly.
From start to finish, the fight lasted no more than ten seconds. The hulking figure collapsed with a thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.
As the dust settled, the survivors' stunned faces came into view.
"Holy shit, it's over just like that?"
"Am I seeing things? How did that weird go down in one hit?"
"Wait, no way, they took down an A-level weird so effortlessly? They have to be a S-level, no doubt!"
"It's not just any S-level, they are definitely an S-level strength-type. That weird didn’t even last a single round against them. My god, it's an absolute carry, and someone who could do solo missions. They might even one of the top ten ranking S-levels... What kind of insane luck did we stumble into?"
Amid their excited chatter, the mysterious figure strode forward, one hand holding a plastic bag and the other dragging the workshop director by the collar.
A muffled voice came from behind the visor: "How many work hours do you still need?"
"B-Big Boss!"
Overwhelmed with relief, the survivors nearly burst into tears. "We are still four hours short!"
"I need five more!"
"I owe three, damn it!"
"You hear that?"
At the stranger’s calm words, the workshop director was scared to death: "Understand, I understand!"
He was just an ordinary person, not an weird, and had no backbone, whoever had the bigger fists called the shots. With the supervisor down, he didn’t dare defy the stranger.
He scrambled to the supervisor's station and hastily filled in the remaining hours on their timesheets. Not only did everyone now have the full twenty-four hours, but they also received an "Outstanding Worker" bonus, along with system notifications confirming their completion of both the main and side mission.
Only after ensuring the director had finished, did the stranger bend down to untie the survivors.
"Double perfect rating! Boss, we can’t thank you enough!"
"Yeah, seriously, we don’t even know how to repay you. We talked it over and decided to each transfer half our mission’s survival points to you. Please accept it."
"Right, right! We know these points might be nothing to you, but it’s the least we can do. Please don’t refuse. Without you, our fates would’ve been unimaginable."
Although the survivors present were low-level, they were all sentimental people who were not stingy to part with this small amount of points, and immediately pulled out their phones to transfer money.
Yet precisely because of this, they quickly noticed something amiss.
"Hey, boss, why don't I see your ID in the mission list?"
"Yeah, me neither. The system shouldn't have lag issues, right?"
All eight survivors in this mission shared a lot misery together and had gotten familiar with each other during the mission and knew each other. Upon closer inspection of the system's mission details, there were clearly only their eight IDs, there no trace of this stranger before them.
If he wasn't in the mission list, how had he intervened in their mission? How could he do this in the ultimate dungeon?!
Several people realized something was wrong.
Wang Wu, the quickest thinker among them, immediately took a step back and asked warily, "Wait, who are you?!"
The earlier atmosphere of gratitude vanished, replaced by distrust and wariness.
Seeing this, Liu Ling grew anxious: "Wang Wu, what are you doing! Don't you remember the Guiyi City pass notice the Central Court issued to all survivors after completing that question-mark level mission a few days ago? What if this S-level just wanted to test his new privileges and take an after-dinner stroll through the ultimate dungeon, and saved us by chance? What are you thinking?"
This explanation effectively eased the tension.
Wang Wu responded sheepishly: "I just suddenly remembered that recent uproar about the ultimate dungeon NPC infiltrating our ranks. It was just my paranoia... Sorry sorry, my bad."
"Oh yeah, boss, everyone knows about that incident. You must've heard it as well."
"Wang Wu's got PTSD from it, he used to idolize that talented newcomer and even called him his role model. He never expected things to turn out like this."
"Honestly, Zong Le is downright vicious, now survivors can't even trust each other anymore."
"Yeah yeah, please don't blame Brother Wang. He's just overly cautious, it's perfectly understandable."
Fearing the stranger might take offense at having his goodwill questioned, everyone rushed to defend Wang Wu.
Yet the mysterious figure didn't respond. After a long silence, he simply shook his head lightly, indicating he didn't mind.
"It's great you don't mind!"
"You are worthy of being called a boss, with such a generous and broad mind!"
"How about adding us as friends? We'll transfer the points right now!"
But before they could finish, a white light beam descended from above.
When the light dissipated, the chattering survivors had vanished.
The mysterious man was enveloped by the light but did not teleport to the infinite space, stood motionless for a long while before slowly raising his hands to unseal the hazmat suit's helmet, revealing the handsome face survivors had denounced as "vicious" and "scheming."
"Phew—" Zong Le exhaled: "I was suffocating in there."
"Y-you're from Ankang Community, ah—"
The workshop director who witnessed this promptly fainted from terror.
He would have never imagined that despite the factory owner's repeated invitations being refused, an act that made them feel insulted, and despite their painstaking efforts to fan the flames and provide various "contributions" that successfully convinced the district boss to believe their lies and come to settle scores.
But this very target had now nonchalantly infiltrated their own stronghold as if strolling through unguarded territory.
Zong Le paid no attention to this minor episode.
Stepping over the unconscious workers on the ground, he pulled out his phone and photographed all evidence of food safety violations and labor exploitation, so that he can use to round them up one by one for judgment when he had the time to deal with them.
Given Ansheng Factory's long-established scale, its shutdown was inevitable, and all responsible parties would surely end up behind bars.
Such an unscrupulous black-hearted company had no right to exist under the skies of Guiyi City, Zong Le would never allow it.
After finishing his task, he casually pulled the power switches of several other workshops before heading toward the factory entrance.
But he had only taken a few steps when he stopped abruptly.
Zong Le sharply raised his gaze, his eyes piercing like blades toward a shadowed corner nearby.
A silver-haired man leaned silently against the wall, watching him with a faint smile.
It was impossible to tell how long he had been waiting at the door or how much he had seen.
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