Chapter 88

Chapter 88

Rescue teams from across Xia State were deployed to retrieve the reported half-human, half-Weird individuals.

Compared to the Weirds apprehended at the borders, those within Xia State appeared far less menacing. Were it not for their delayed reactions and somewhat ethereal appearances, it would have been difficult to distinguish them from ordinary humans at first glance.

Most of these Weirds were docile and cooperative with the rescue teams. Even the slightly more restless ones were easily lured with food.

Thanks to Xia State’s timely public announcements and the populace’s deep trust in the government, people promptly reported any anomalies, preventing widespread chaos.

“When will my dad recover?” asked a young man who had filed the report, his face etched with concern.

“It depends on the residual Weird energy in the patient’s body. Typically, they can be discharged in a week. If the energy levels are higher, it won’t exceed half a month,” replied a rescue team member, who had been thoroughly briefed and knew precisely how to respond.

Hearing that recovery would take between a week and half a month, the young man breathed a sigh of relief. After asking a few more questions, he watched as the middle-aged man was escorted into a vehicle and called out, “Dad, focus on getting better. I’ll visit you soon.”

The middle-aged man showed no reaction, obediently boarding the vehicle before being transported to a containment room.

The Dawn Bureau’s containment rooms, originally designed to hold Weirds, had a stark, institutional appearance. However, they had since been outfitted with additional amenities—single beds, cabinets, bedding, and other necessities. Aside from the limited space, they were not significantly different from standard single rooms.

Since the human-turned-Weirds appeared quite docile, they could technically be housed elsewhere. However, after careful consideration, the Dawn Bureau decided to repurpose some of the containment rooms.

After all, half-human, half-Weird cases were unique. Beyond the risk of harming others, there was also the danger of them harming themselves.

The Dawn Bureau was well aware that Weirds could devour other Weirds. If these human-Weird hybrids were placed in ordinary facilities without separation, they might end up cannibalizing each other—a scenario no one wanted.

Imagine a patient going in for treatment, only to be partially consumed by another patient. Even a minor injury would be unacceptable to any family member.

The victim would be traumatized, and the perpetrator, upon regaining consciousness, would likely be horrified by their actions. This could lead to protracted ethical dilemmas. Keeping them completely separated was the safer choice.

As rescue teams collected the human-turned-Weirds across Xia State, some regions featured detailed media coverage to alleviate public concerns.

Footage of the intake procedures, patient retrieval, single-room accommodations, and even structured regimens was broadcast, further reassuring the public.

Many felt that entrusting the Dawn Bureau with the care of these Weirds was far better than handling it themselves.

Honestly, given the inherent danger of Weirds, most people’s initial worry for their affected loved ones quickly turned to fear.

It wasn’t that they doubted their loved ones’ humanity—it was the volatile nature of the Weirds they had become. If something went wrong, the consequences could be lethal, leaving the afflicted person devastated upon regaining consciousness.

Thus, the idea of letting the Dawn Bureau take over the treatment of these Weirds quickly gained broad consensus—for everyone’s safety and future well-being.

Some criticized the containment rooms for being too small and spartan, suggesting improvements. However, these complaints were swiftly dismissed by others.

After all, building better facilities would be costly and time-consuming. Given that patients would stay for no more than half a month, coping with existing facilities was seen as efficient rather than extravagant.

…

While Xia State adjusted smoothly to the news of humans transforming into Weirds, the same could not be said for other countries.

Almost immediately after the announcement, many elites and oligarchs worldwide grew anxious. After all, their privileged existences depended on staying human—turning into a Weird, especially the catatonic state shown in Xia State’s reports, was an unacceptable fate.

Fortunately, Xia State had not only identified the potential causes but also claimed to have a cure, offering some relief.

Their greatest fear had been that Xia State would have no solution. When it came to Weird research, Xia State was widely regarded as the most advanced nation accessible to them.

While other organizations might have deeper expertise in certain areas, they were not easily reachable. Since Xia State had a cure, the logical step was to purchase the treatment.

However, this meant trading for Weird-related products—a transaction still barred by many countries’ sanctions. Some began pressuring their governments to lift these restrictions.

Given Xia State’s growing dominance in Weird-related products, many nations had already begun reconsidering their stance. The emergence of human-to-Weird transformations accelerated this shift, prompting urgent negotiations with Xia State to relax trade barriers.

Previous products might have been optional, but the treatment was essential. Without it, their populations would face a rapidly spreading, incurable condition.

Faced with this survival crisis, nations approached Xia State with softened attitudes, offering various concessions in hopes of securing a deal.

Meanwhile, some individuals, upon learning that newly transformed Weirds were relatively harmless, began capturing them.

Many foreign research institutions desperately needed Weirds for study, but capturing them was notoriously dangerous. Now, with docile Weirds available, it was like stumbling upon manna from heaven—why not take advantage?

The fact that these Weirds were once human, and supposedly curable according to Xia State, mattered little to them. Some even wished for more people to turn into Weirds, seeing it as a rare research opportunity.

Larger, more stable governments managed to curb such practices—at least publicly. But in smaller, struggling nations, authorities sometimes participated directly.

This was the final indignity for many.

Some resisted, others fled—especially those near Xia State’s borders. Many gathered their meager possessions and ran toward Xia State, if only to distance themselves from their own governments and militaries.

After observing Xia State’s response, Salvation Game hesitated. It wanted to see how humanity as a whole would react. It didn’t expect other nations to match Xia State’s performance—just to meet a minimum threshold.

But as it watched, Salvation Game grew increasingly disappointed. Aside from Xia State, only a handful of countries performed decently. While their domestic policies remained dubious, they at least maintained some international dignity and governance.

The rest? Some were powerless, while others were complicit in oppression.

Such nations were nothing but blights upon the world, offering no value.

Salvation Game adjusted the Weird coin exchange rates on the JoyBuy app based on each country’s performance.

Xia State occupied the highest tier alone. Aside from those who had turned into Weirds from excessive Weird coin exchanges, its citizens faced no limits on emotional exchange for Weird coins. Other nations were assigned quotas according to their behavior.

Before the JoyBuy app, Weird coins were already a valuable commodity. Now, they had become a measure of national stability.

Salvation Game’s adjustments were immediately noticed.

“Daily Weird coin exchange limit reached. Please try again tomorrow.”

This message instantly became global news.

Those who hadn’t yet exchanged Weird coins rushed to do so, only to find their daily cap reduced to twenty coins—insufficient for daily needs, let alone leisure.

Soon, it became clear that twenty coins were a luxury. Some regions were limited to just ten coins per day—even lower than the recommended minimum Xia State had published.

The Hegemony was among the most severely restricted, with a mere ten-coin allowance per person. Many citizens broke down in tears—ten coins were inadequate for subsistence.

Salvation Game watched their responses dispassionately. Before the JoyBuy app, these people had survived without Weird coins. Ten coins a day, if used wisely, could still improve their lives—it was their choice how to spend them.

It provided the bare minimum for survival, and the JoyBuy app-equipped phones kept them informed. If they still refused to change, Salvation Game saw no reason to intervene further.

It had made up its mind: it favored those who fought to survive. Those who chose submission, who resisted enlightenment—their demise was inconsequential.

Whether killed by Weirds or by their fellow humans, the difference was immaterial.

…

Zhao Changyan soon received this news. He had already developed some wariness toward the Salvation Game, but after confirming what the Salvation Game had done, he hesitated again.

If he wasn’t mistaken, the Salvation Game was fixing things.

According to Ying Yuanxing’s explanation and their research, exchanging large amounts of Weird coins was indeed one of the main causes of people turning into Weirds.

If the Salvation Game was the mastermind behind this, even if it made some changes, it wouldn’t go to this extent.

With the limits the Salvation Game had now set, it could be said that the number of people turning into Weirds in those countries would essentially stop increasing. The Salvation Game had cut off the transformation at its source.

Of course, there was no guarantee that some wouldn’t resort to other methods to turn people into Weirds, but the cost of doing so would be extremely high. Moreover, if exposed, they would become global outcasts.

At the very least, the crisis of mass Weird appearances had been resolved.

Zhao Changyan let out a long sigh. He was well aware of the situation in Xia State. Once someone turned into a Weird, they would almost always be discovered.

Especially since they had implemented a new detection method—encouraging Xia people to exchange at least one Weird coin daily. This way, they could confirm the person was still human, as Weirds lacked the cognitive ability to exchange coins.

With this set of measures in place, it was nearly impossible for someone to remain undetected for days after turning into a Weird.

But the situation abroad was more uncertain. Some countries, motivated by the profits from Weirds, were even forcing people to transform. While the lethality of these newly turned Weirds wasn’t yet apparent, could Weirds truly be so harmless?

Zhao Changyan suspected that the apparent harmlessness might only be because the transformation was recent. Given time, things might change.

In Xia State, however, almost no one remained a Weird for long. Once discovered, they were sent to treatment rooms for treatment and quickly returned to being human.

Other countries had cases too, but information about these Weirds was closely guarded and hard to investigate.

Given the situation abroad, if large numbers of dangerous Weirds emerged, Xia State would inevitably feel the effects to some extent.

Yet, from the Salvation Game’s actions, Zhao Changyan could sense a change in its approach.

Previously, the Salvation Game had treated all people on Earth equally and rarely intervened. But now, it seemed different.

Netizens, however, didn’t read too much into it. They simply thought the Salvation Game’s actions were a good thing.

"Foreign countries exploit their people too harshly. Sure, some foreigners have rude attitudes, but seeing them forced into becoming Weirds is tragic. With this change, at least no one will turn into Weirds anymore—that’s good."

"We think it’s good, but foreigners don’t. I’ve seen so many complaining loudly about not having enough to spend, saying the Salvation Game is trying to kill them."

"I don’t get it. Didn’t they live like this before the JoyBuy app existed? And it’s not like they can’t exchange coins at all anymore. Their reaction is wildly exaggerated."

"It’s hard to go from luxury to frugality. Weird coins have strong purchasing power—it’s like having your salary cut to the bone. Of course they’d complain loudly."

"Okay, I kinda get it now. But the Salvation Game is looking out for them, right? Spending less is better than actually turning into a Weird. From what I’ve seen, foreign countries don’t really care about Weirds—some even get captured for research. Compared to that, living frugally doesn’t seem so bad."

"Maybe they just want to live for today without worrying about tomorrow."

"But how much has our Weird coin exchange limit dropped? Does anyone know?"

"I only dare exchange a dozen or so coins a day now. Who’d risk testing the limit?"

"Unless the research institute deliberately tests the limit, I doubt anyone would dare."

"The institute didn’t test the limit—they just asked the Salvation Game directly. Xia State has no exchange limit. Well, not entirely—those who’ve turned into Weirds have limits, but others don’t."

"The moment I saw the news, I checked foreign forums. They’re all full of envy. Even if we don’t hit the limit, it feels oddly satisfying."

"Checked the exchange limits across countries. Ours is the only unlimited one. Every other country has restrictions. Feels like our country is the Salvation Game’s most valued and trusted. So happy."

"This is the Salvation Game’s official recognition. Wonder what foreign governments’ faces look like now."

"Who cares about their faces? As long as we’re smiling."

The expressions of foreign governments were indeed dark. The Salvation Game’s move meant their national Weird coin reserves would shrink, making future purchases from the Weird world much harder.

More importantly, the Salvation Game’s apparent preferential treatment toward Xia State gave them a sense of crisis.

Though the Salvation Game rarely interfered in Earth’s affairs, it was no ordinary entity. What if it truly sided with Xia State? What would they do?

After all, this was essentially apocalyptic. Some countries had already vanished, and others were barely holding on.

Due to the Weird threat, controlling more territory wasn’t particularly advantageous for nations now. Those lands were left untouched—for the time being. But if the Weird crisis were resolved, how would the unclaimed territories be divided?

Every country had suffered losses during the crisis, but some were hit harder than others. Once the war against Weirds ended, it was hard to say another conflict wouldn’t erupt.

Though Xia State had never shown territorial ambitions and had consistently maintained peace, other nations couldn’t help but suspect that its stability masked concealed intentions on their lands.

They were wrong to think so. Unlike them, Xia State put its people first and would never abandon them.

If Xia State truly sought to expand its territory and population as they feared, the additional responsibility might outweigh any benefits.

…

When Ying Yuanxing received the good news from the Dawn Bureau, he breathed a sigh of relief. His solution had worked.

Still, as he read the bureau’s message, he frowned. While this was ultimately the result of other countries’ greed, something seemed amiss.

It wasn’t that he doubted the Salvation Game—it had responded quickly upon identifying the problem. But...

Ying Yuanxing stared at the message, deep in thought, until he realized what bothered him.

The reason it felt both unsettling and acceptable was that no severe consequences had emerged—yet. But if he removed himself from the equation, the problem became serious.

Without a solution for humans turning into Weirds, the only options were execution or imprisonment.

And if newly turned Weirds appeared passive, many would hide them to avoid government intervention. If something went wrong, the consequences could be disastrous.

If this was the case in Xia State, the problem abroad would likely be worse.

Even with the Salvation Game’s restrictions, resolving these issues wouldn’t be easy.

And then...

Ying Yuanxing didn't have all the information, but others on Earth had already anticipated this. Some research institutes began developing emotion-blocking drugs again.

Previously, these drugs helped avoid attracting Weirds. Now, they had an added benefit—preventing humans from turning into Weirds. Even if it meant losing the ability to exchange Weird coins, at least some risks were mitigated.

Unable to reach a conclusion, Ying Yuanxing put the matter aside and turned to his tasks in the farming game.

After the bound Weirds linked their domains to the farm, the Supermarket Weirds found it increasingly difficult to locate the Weird corn vendors.

In fact, their heavy-handed approach had unintentionally enhanced the corn sellers’ reputation. Initially, some Weirds were suspicious of the corn's authenticity or quality. But following the disturbance, the corn became a highly sought-after commodity.

Whenever these sellers appeared, their inventory moved quickly. Some Weirds didn’t report them at all—some customers even deliberately gave misleading information to throw the Supermarket Weirds off their trail.

But there was more.

In places unnoticed by the Supermarket Weirds, flowerpot trades were booming.

"Is this really that kind of flowerpot?" one of the Weirds muttered.

The seller grinned and nodded, pulling out a corn kernel from his pocket—not the corn seed from Ying Yuanxing's farm, but a second-generation kernel, plump and clearly premium.

The Weird took the kernel, sniffed it carefully, and confirmed it was the same corn he had eaten before. Then he inspected the flowerpots being sold.

Despite the steep price, he bit the bullet and bought them—even purchasing ten at once.

"Here’s a corn planting guide. Don’t lose this," the seller said, handing over a small booklet with a corn illustration printed on it. It contained tips from seasoned players.

Though the second-generation corn hadn’t been harvested yet, they figured the growing process was basically the same.

Of course, the main reason was that they had tested this method with a Great Weird skilled in illusions. It cost them a fortune, but it worked—they successfully grew second-generation corn in the illusion, confirming the method’s effectiveness. Otherwise, they wouldn’t dare sell it.

The Weird carefully stored the flowerpots, then booked it outta there with the seeds.

After snagging the Weird coins, the Weird immediately deposited them into the farming game, bought a stack of bombs, and stealthily ducked around to the back alley of a supermarket, scoping the place out.

The supermarket staff seemed to have received some kind of heads-up. Soon, the manager led a team of employees out.

The Weird smirked. They’d probably gotten tipped off and were off to catch some Weirds.

Eyeing the barren shelves, the Weird knew this was a result of their corn sales—otherwise, the joint wouldn’t be a ghost town.

But it was precisely because of the lack of customers that the manager dared to take so many employees out, leaving only a few behind.

Not the smartest play. With fewer staff, if some maniac came in swinging, they might not be able to stop it. Yet the manager did it anyway.

Here, no Weird would risk vandalizing a supermarket. All supermarkets had each other’s backs—unless you never ate Weird Food, crossing them meant getting blacklisted by every store in town.

Not only would you be cut off from Weird Food, but so would your friends and family. Under such long-term suppression, the manager naturally assumed the supermarket was safe even with minimal staff. What he forgot was that some Weirds could now grow Weird Plants themselves—and held grudges against them.

Leaving under these circumstances was risky. And soon, they’d learn that lesson.

Palming the bombs, the Weird rushed into the empty store and tossed one like a grenade.

An employee noticed but, unfamiliar with bombs, just stood there like an idiot.

As the employee approached, the Weird turned and ran, mouthing ‘three…two…one…’—until an explosion roared behind him.

Ordinary vandalism couldn’t do much damage to Weird Food—some items were too sturdy, and even if dirtied, they could be washed and resold.

As for theft, stealing Weird Food wasn’t easy—it took time. By the time a Weird tried, the supermarket’s Weirds would likely return.

But bombs were different. When one exploded, everything nearby got wiped clean off the map. That was the real pain.

At first, the Weirds hadn’t realized this, treating bombs merely as weapons. Some even complained about their underwhelming power and high cost—until one detonated a bomb in their own field and wanted to die right then and there.

From then on, no Weird dared bring bombs near farmland. Even bomb-like objects gave ‘em PTSD.

But after being hunted by Supermarket Weirds, some genius Weird had a lightbulb moment: if bombs could obliterate crops in their own fields, what about supermarket goods?

This was his first supermarket bombing. And the result?

The Weird glanced back and saw a gaping void where packed shelves had been. The damage? Absolutely brutal.