Chapter 71: Double-Edged Sword

Chapter 71 Double-Edged Sword

"If we can't handle world-destroying enemies, can't we at least take out a shrimp?"

"Kids aren’t even scared of shrimp, come on!"

"A kid could kill a shrimp—barehanded or with a rock. Adults? No contest."

Sheng Qingquan had already thought through how to deal with enemies after turning them into ingredients.

"Tianlanxing folks aren’t that savage—they wouldn’t think of eating them, even if they looked like food."

"But lab animals—mice, monkeys—still need chow. They work hard for science and deserve proper nutrition. I think these things would make great feed."

"Talk about a budget cut!"

Sheng Qingquan puffed up so much that the staff couldn’t help but smile when they heard him.

Though deep down, everyone knew a single grain of rice or a shrimp wouldn’t even cover snack time for a lab mouse, let alone a larger, hungrier monkey. Even if the enemy turned into something slightly more substantial, like beef or chicken, it’d barely cover snack time for a few mice.

Not saving a dime or boosting nutrients.

But hey—the mental image alone is priceless!

Imagine those arrogant, overbearing beings who lash out over some random crap, targeting Tianlanxing and humanity—just picture their punchable faces.

Who wouldn’t throw a party seeing them end up like this?

Who wouldn’t cheer at the sight of them meeting such a fate?

Screw around and find out.

Every Tianlanxing local would be grinning like a fool, baring their front teeth in delight.

But after the initial joy, Sheng Qingquan quickly realized the drawbacks.

"This trick only works if the enemy’s favorite snack is weak."

"If the enemy’s favorite food is, say, a T-Rex, Tianlanxing wouldn’t have such an easy time. Or worse—what if they’re into magic beasts, exotic plants, or highly radioactive minerals?"

"The trouble they’d bring might be even greater than before."

A staffer audibly gulped.

Originally, they could at least glean some information about the enemy—what they were like, their abilities, their next moves—from the plot. They had some idea, maybe even a chance to strike first.

But if this transformation spell turned the enemy into some new nightmare, not only would they be powerful, but everyone would be clueless about what makes them tick.

That’s basically handing them a free meal.

Not just failing—but shooting themselves in the foot.

Especially if the transformed thing was obviously dangerous, like a fierce animal or plant—that’d be one thing. But what if it appeared as an ordinary-looking piece of metal? Everyone drops their guard, only to realize too late that it’s hotter than a reactor core, emitting a type of radiation nobody’s got a playbook for.

Tianlanxing would’ve dodged a bullet just to eat a grenade.

All that work just to pick their poison.

"Total double-edged sword!"

"When used well, it's a godly maneuver; if not, it's pure suicide."

"Not nearly as useful as I thought."

Moreover, Sheng Qingquan realized the skill's limitations went beyond just that.

"It only works on living beings."

This didn’t surprise Sheng Qingquan.

Because in the plot, that trash character had explicitly stated that humans would turn into their favorite food. If it were inanimate objects, they wouldn’t need to eat—so how could they have a favorite food?

There'd be nothing to change into.

But what Sheng Qingquan never expected was:

"Beings stronger than me are actually immune to the skill?!"

"I was all ready to cut down gods and crush buddhas if they stood in my way. Then you spring this on me."

Already in a bad mood, Sheng Qingquan’s shoulders slumped instantly.

In his heart, he knew that such a skill would inevitably have restrictions.

"But this is way too restrictive!"

"Even if the immunity wasn’t absolute, and there was just a 1% chance for beings stronger than me to be affected..."

"What’s the difference between 1% and 0%?"

"If it were even 10%, I wouldn’t be complaining this much, okay?!"

"I'm at a loss for words..."

Still, it was a freebie skill after all—who knew when a miracle might happen? Despite his frustration, Sheng Qingquan continued practicing the skill.

Transforming those mosquitoes, each into a drop of blood.

Before long, the ground was stained with blood—anyone unaware might’ve thought someone was injured.

"Even if it can’t deal with powerful enemies... if the big boss is off-limits, small fries are still fair game."

"And at least it’s actually useful in real life."

"At the very least, it saves on household insect repellent sprays and mosquito coils."

Sheng Qingquan managed to cheer himself up.

Even if he wasn’t afraid of mosquito bites (since they couldn’t penetrate his protective suit), who doesn't want a spotless home?

No swarming flies or mosquitoes, no cockroaches or spiders, no centipedes or moth flies—none of those annoying critters. That was the ideal home in the mind of every Sky Blue Planet resident living in the south!

Everyone was giving Sheng Qingquan props. Totally jealous of his setup. The nightmare of a roach flying at your face was a torment no southerner wanted to endure.

The cleanup crew had it handled, so after returning home, Sheng Qingquan wasn't fixated on bug zapping. His home was kept clean, and the property management regularly disinfected the neighborhood, so bugs weren't really a problem anyway.

Aside from a few light-seeking bugs drawn to the balcony lights at night, there wasn’t much else.

Rather than messing around with insects, Sheng Qingquan preferred finding better ways to kill time.

For example, eating good food, enjoying fun activities...

That day, Sheng Qingquan was holding a plate of duck tongues while browsing the news and snacking on them when he suddenly heard an angry yell outside.

"What's wrong with losing hair? Do I enjoy losing hair? It’s not like I want to—I can't sleep from all the stress, work pressure, life pressure, disobedient kids, and you always acting like this!"

A woman yelled.

The sudden outburst made Sheng Qingquan's hand jerk, almost dumping the whole plate onto the sofa. He quickly steadied the plate, put down his phone, and scrambled up from the couch to lean over the balcony, listening intently toward the source of the noise.

Using plants to snoop would’ve been unethical, but eavesdropping like this was harmless.

After rushing out, Sheng Qingquan felt something was off. He looked up, then down, only to find neighbors poking their heads out one after another.

Well, people are naturally curious—who doesn’t love some juicy gossip?

Everyone maintained a silent, collective curiosity.

With no one interrupting, the woman’s voice became even clearer.

"As a woman, losing hair is already painful enough. Who wants to go bald if they can have thick, beautiful hair?"

"Before marrying you, I never had this problem. You don’t even care about me—it’s just that work’s been busy lately, and I haven’t had time to clean. So what if there’s a little extra hair on the floor? Just sweep it up. Why keep harping on it?"

"Do you think I don’t care about looking good or keeping things clean? Before having a kid, wasn’t I the one who cared the most about tidiness and looks?"

"If you think it’s dirty, then sweep it yourself. If you won’t, hire a maid. I don’t have the time, and the baby can’t handle the noise of the robot vacuum. Plus, you claim it doesn’t clean well enough. Otherwise, the robot would’ve handled it, and we wouldn’t be in this mess."

"And by the way, I bought that robot vacuum with my own money."

"Not a dime of yours went into it. Yet when it sat unused, you whined about it for months. Only after I sold it secondhand did you shut up. Now you’re starting again?"

"Besides, you really gonna claim all this hair is mine?"

Others could only faintly hear the man mutter some retort, but Sheng Qingquan’s sharp senses caught it clearly.

This only further enraged the woman.

"None of it’s yours? So these short strands mean I brought home a male lover who’s also balding?"

"If I were cheating, why would I pick a bald guy? Blind once, blind twice, huh?"

"Take a look in the mirror—your hairline’s retreating faster than a tide—you could farm that forehead! And you still have the nerve to say you don’t lose hair? Bold-faced lie!"

"Fine, even if these obviously male short hairs are from my supposed lover, then what about the orange peels on the table, the drink bottles on the sofa, the cigarette butts and ash on the balcony, the dirty socks on the floor—are those the lover’s too?"

The woman sneered, "Since when do you turn a blind eye? Even if I cheated, your biggest concern is still the house being messy."

"I’m the one doing all the housework. I’m your wife, not your maid."

"Divorce!" The woman snapped as if she’d had enough.

Only then did the man start speaking—something about how all wives handle these things, how they need to save for a house, how she likes this neighborhood, how renting forever isn’t an option, how they must buy a place. The housing prices here are so high, how could they afford a maid if they don’t cut costs?

"I work hard for this family too. After a long day, I just want a clean house to come home to. Is that too much to ask?"

"I’m not accusing you of cheating—I know you’re a good woman. Stop throwing around words like ‘divorce’ so easily."

"You think I like this neighborhood’s houses? You’re the one putting on airs, pretending to live here so your coworkers won’t look down on you. I only cared about buying a place after having the kid—for the school district!" The woman’s furious rant faded, her voice growing weary by the end.

"You’re tired from work?" Do you think I don’t work? Who isn’t tired after work and wants to come home to a messy house? We just don’t have the means right now. Every day, I go out of my way to get the kids from my mom’s—you think that’s not exhausting?"

"You call me a good woman, but have you ever really appreciated me?"

"Let’s just stop talking. Let’s get a divorce. The child stays with me—after all, it’s always been my parents taking care of them. This house runs fine without you..."

The woman’s voice gradually faded, returning to a normal volume.

The neighbors couldn’t make out the rest, but after suddenly overhearing this argument, no one felt like going back inside just yet.

It wasn’t their place to speculate about the couple divorcing, so people couldn’t help but start talking about the root of their quarrel.

"You know, ever since I started working, my hair’s been shedding like crazy. Before, it was just a little during shampooing, but now, every time I comb it, handfuls come out."

"Mine’s even worse. When I wake up, there’s hair all over my pillow. I heard silk pillowcases reduce hair loss, so I switched to silk bedding—didn’t do squat. Still losing hair like mad."

"I’m not too bad—my hair loss isn’t severe. But my kid, still in school, is already balding. What’s gonna happen later?"

As the neighbors chatted, they realized everyone’s dealing with this. Even if they weren’t, their family members were. It just goes to show how bad hair loss is these days.

From old folks to kids in school, everyone’s affected.

"If I don’t clean the drain right after washing my hair, it clogs every time," someone complained. Sheng Qingquan, who wasn’t dealing with that, quietly ducked back inside.

Perhaps after bonding over it, they found common ground. Realizing everyone was losing hair, the neighbors began recommending so-called miracle products to each other in the group chat.

Every now and then, someone would post pictures of products supposedly working wonders, asking if anyone had tried them and if they really worked. Most turned out to be scams, but the questions kept coming.

Sheng Qingquan wasn’t sure if it was because he’d been paying more attention lately, or if it was just the algorithm feeding him content, but ever since that incident, he kept seeing more and more about the hair loss epidemic.

It wasn’t just in the group chat—online, out on the streets, everywhere. Once he started noticing, he realized just how many people had shiny domes.

Out of ten people, two were bald, four or five had thinning hair, and the rest were the lucky ones with healthy locks.

It was creepy. He couldn’t help but feel a chill on his own scalp.

Sheng Qingquan would often pat his head to reassure himself that his hair was still thick. Over time, though, he got used to it.

Then, after a while, he noticed something odd—there seemed to be fewer bald people on the streets. Those with receding hairlines had tiny new fuzz growing on their foreheads, and the partings in people’s hair weren’t as wide anymore.

Just as Sheng Qingquan was wondering if some local hospital was running a hair transplant promotion, the neighborhood group chat exploded with notifications. He opened it to find someone ecstatically spamming messages.

[Photo.jpg, photo.jpg, photo.jpg… I’ve grown new hair HAHAHAHAHA!]

[I’m thrilled! Check out the difference! Look at these adorable little baby hairs—my new growth! Aren’t they cute?]

[Didn’t use any special products. Tried everything before—exhausting treatments, even a hair transplant—nothing worked. But lately, not only has my hair stopped falling out, but when I checked the mirror closely, even the bald spots had new growth. Still fine and thin, but it’s real hair, not fake!]

[No more desert up top!]

Then, they started sending out red envelopes—one after another, each bigger than the last.

[Red envelope: Celebrating my end to hair loss!]

[Red envelope: Celebrating new hair on my right temple!]

[Red envelope: Celebrating the new hair growth on my left temple!]

[Red envelope: Celebrating my part wide enough to race horses through now becoming finer!]

[Red envelope…]

While Sheng Qingquan spammed the screen at lightning speed to grab the red envelopes and check his luck, he noticed that aside from the first sender, others had also started dishing out red envelopes.

["You know what? I’ve stopped losing hair recently. I was still trying to figure out which product actually worked, but before I could figure it out, since someone’s giving out red envelopes, I’ll join in too."]

["After all, this is truly worth celebrating."]

With that, another flood of red envelopes poured into the chat.

A bunch of people jumped in—many were grabbing the envelopes, but upon counting, a surprising number were also sending them.

Most homeowners in the neighborhood weren’t exactly broke, but outside of holidays or special occasions, it was rare to see so many handing out large red envelopes.

So, they must’ve all had something to celebrate.

Had that many people really regrown hair?

The idea crossed Sheng Qingquan’s mind. Seeing himself keep winning "best luck" every time, his mood soared.

It wasn’t about the money—he had plenty. But who wouldn’t be pleased with a lucky streak?

Especially since Sheng Qingquan could bet his left arm—he absolutely hadn’t cheated with the Imperial Seal!

It was just dumb luck.

Too busy riding the high, Sheng Qingquan forgot one thing: luck has a way of evening out.

A new apocalyptic novel materialized out of nowhere.

Sheng Qingquan’s smile froze instantly.

"You’ve gotta be kidding me! This sucks!"

"An apocalypse now? Did I really blow all my luck on red envelopes?"