C1 Unharmonious

In a suburban villa on the outskirts of a city in the future, Chen Cheng found himself in a bewildering situation.

"Damn, wasn't I just at home eating watermelon? Where the heck am I? Did I just travel through time?" he exclaimed.

Chen Cheng's mind was a whirlwind of questions as he stood there, lost in thought.

Peering through the blood-smeared glass window, he observed the once-thriving city now in ruins, with collapsed buildings strewn about—a clear testament to the wars and nuclear devastation it had endured.

The sky was choked with thick clouds of radiation that shifted continuously, occasionally parting to reveal a bleak, gray expanse. Intense ultraviolet rays scorched down mercilessly upon the city.

Not a hint of greenery was in sight; the land was severely desertified.

The air carried a foul stench, mixed with an indefinable odor, making it slightly more bearable to stay indoors than to be fully exposed to the harsh environment outside, where even breathing was a struggle and the skin felt painfully parched.

Inside the room lay several decayed skeletons that would crumble under the slightest pressure.

Dressed in a tank top, shorts, and slippers, Chen Cheng stood out starkly in this desolate world, a watermelon knife in hand.

Suddenly, a massive explosion erupted from the east, snapping Chen Cheng out of his reverie.

He quickly turned to locate the source of the blast, but it was too distant to discern anything.

With no other option, Chen Cheng began to scour the vicinity for any clues about this strange new world.

His meticulous search led him to some metal plates with barely legible Chinese characters.

On a table lay three objects resembling watches, along with an assortment of odd trinkets, all retrieved from the skeletal hands.

One skeleton, in particular, was pinned under a stone, its details obscured unless examined closely.

Among the debris, he found items resembling armor, scavenged from the skeletal remains.

Despite his efforts, Chen Cheng couldn't make heads or tails of his findings.

Nevertheless, he managed to piece together the armor and don it.

"I feel like I'm part of some punk gang from a movie," he mused, questioning the lightweight material and the level of protection the armor offered.

Now, Chen Cheng sported a ragged helmet and dust-covered goggles that obscured his vision unless wiped clean. In his hand, he still clutched the watermelon knife from his own world.

After spending several hours reinforcing his room to gain a sense of security, Chen Cheng replayed the events leading up to his fainting spell. With the unknown world around him, he was on high alert.

"I remember it was raining, with lightning and thunder. The power went out after a loud clap of thunder, and I was about to leave to confront the property management when..."

A sudden realization hit him. "Electrocution! That's it, I think I was shocked just before I passed out. Could that be the cause?"

"Beep... The life form has adapted to the environment. System activation in progress."

A voice echoed in Chen Cheng's mind, startling him.

"Who's there? Who's speaking?"

He frantically searched his surroundings for the source but found nothing. The experience sent chills down his spine.

"Am I hallucinating?"

"No, that can't be," Chen Cheng whispered to himself. "I'm fully alert, and yet the voice sounded so vivid!"

"The system is currently updating. Please wait patiently."

Once again, the voice intruded upon his thoughts.

"I wasn't mistaken! It's real!"

Convinced he wasn't experiencing delusions, Chen Cheng grew more curious.

"Who's there? Who's speaking to me? A system? Have I, like the protagonists in novels, traveled to another world?"

"System update complete. You have been awarded an optimized gene liquid and a system control bracelet. Please confirm receipt."

The scenery around him abruptly shifted, and he found himself in a small, four-square-meter room. A robot with only an upper body and no hands stood before him, its head connected to the metal wall by an array of wires of different thicknesses.

"Confirm receipt," Chen Cheng ventured.

No sooner had he spoken than two items materialized and hovered before him. The instruction manual indicated that the optimized gene liquid could significantly enhance his physical condition.

Upon injecting the serum, a surge of strength filled his body, accompanied by a black, viscous substance oozing from his skin. Under normal circumstances, his first instinct would have been to shower, but the perilous environment dictated otherwise.

He nonchalantly picked up the system control bracelet and slipped it onto his wrist. It clicked, binding automatically and transforming into a tattoo.

A projection materialized before Chen Cheng, displaying the time, environmental indices, and his personal status.

Chen Cheng was just an average human.

Abilities: None. Physical condition: Normal. Wealth: Zero. Overall muscle strength: 40. Bone strength: 62. Reflexes: 30. Cellular activity: 10. Brain development: 10. System integrity: 0.1%.

Chen Cheng then accessed another interface, its icons uniformly grayed out: Logistics Factory, Laboratory, Equipment Workshop, Arsenal, Shipyard, Tank Factory, Aircraft Hangar, Starport. He tapped an icon, but nothing happened.

He scrutinized the second interface, its color scheme a dull gray.

"Could this 'interface' actually take me back to my world?" Chen Cheng posed the question to the robot before him, his tone laced with uncertainty.

As the system remained silent, Chen Cheng was about to voice his frustration when a voice echoed in his mind.

"Di... Mission initiated: Eliminate ten ordinary zombies.

Complete the mission to unlock the interface shuttle function and the lottery feature. Failure results in death."

"Death for mission failure? Really? And is there any kind of reward? I can't be expected to fight with just a watermelon knife!" Chen Cheng's complaints spilled out, the latter part of the system's message instilling a hint of fear in him.

"Ding! Insufficient permissions..."

"Clear, no zombies in sight!"

Chen Cheng crouched low, cautiously surveying his surroundings.

The area was dotted with villas, each either in ruins or swallowed by the encroaching desert.

He had just entered a relatively intact villa, where a large sectional sofa loomed before him, the air heavy with the stench of decay. A thick layer of dust blanketed the furniture and floors, while the walls were patchy with discolored wallpaper, now a dingy yellow with ominous black and red handprints that added to the eerie atmosphere.

Gripping his sole weapon, a watermelon knife, Chen Cheng tiptoed towards the kitchen—the only room with a closed door.

Dark bloodstains on the kitchen's threshold hinted at trouble within.

With a grave expression, Chen Cheng approached the door on tiptoes, gently easing it open.

Peering through the crack, he spotted a decaying corpse sprawled on the floor, its ghastly visage all too clear.

"Is it dead or alive?"

Chen Cheng hesitated involuntarily.

Then, he caught the corpse's beads twitching, its gaze locking onto him.

Eyes met. "Damn, just a zombie. Watch me blow your head off."

With that, Chen Cheng burst through the door.

The zombie let out a roar and lunged at him. As it did, its body jerked to a halt—it only had one leg.

Bang! Strike while the iron's hot. Chen grabbed a watermelon knife and hacked at the zombie's head with all his might. The head burst open, spilling milky brain matter everywhere.

Suddenly, Chen's throat tightened. He spun around, ripped off his mask, and retched. With no dinner in his stomach, all he could bring up was bitter bile.

He had thought he'd be just like the heroes in the novels—chop the zombie and be done with it. But the reality left him pale and shaking. He slumped against the wall, sitting on the ground, truly frightened and at a loss for what to do next.

Shakily, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, drew one, and fumbled for his lighter. After sparking it to life, he inhaled deeply, his gaze drifting towards the kitchen, lost in thought.

After several deep drags and a few cigarettes, his nerves seemed to settle, and the shaking subsided.

He crushed the cigarette butt on the floor, stood up with resolve, and declared, "To hell with it, if I'm going to die, I'll go out swinging. To rise above, I've got to take a chance."

Time was running out. Other than the gear on his person, Chen Cheng had nothing—especially with the gnawing hunger setting in. He needed to complete his mission before his strength waned and return to the present.

"Right, the novels say there's a crystal nucleus inside the zombie's brain..."

With that thought, Chen Cheng steeled himself and went back into the kitchen to rummage through the zombie's head.

A white crystal nucleus was extracted from the milky brain matter.

"Beep... Crystal nucleus detected..."

An icy voice echoed in his mind, and then the crystal nucleus vanished.

Chen Cheng glanced at his wristband, which now displayed "White Crystal Nucleus: 1." He pondered its potential uses.

He rummaged through the kitchen, finding not a morsel of food, not even a kitchen knife.

Zombies! The ones he faced were much like those in games and movies, with one exception: the on-screen zombies were toned down. Reality was harsh. Without the enhanced gene fluid he'd injected, killing zombies—twice as strong and fast as a regular person and only vulnerable in the brain—would be a fool's errand.

The old Chen Cheng would have been dead beyond doubt.

Ordinary zombies lacked agility and intelligence, their vision limited to roughly ten meters. Their hearing was average; one zombie's ears were so decayed it couldn't hear at all.

Yet, they feared light. Their sense of smell, however, was incredibly sharp, dozens of times stronger than a human's, about a quarter as powerful as a dog's.

Knowing their weaknesses, Chen Cheng devised numerous strategies. He laid traps that would conserve his energy should the zombies stumble into them.

"Fortunate for me, these zombies aren't swarming. If they were as thick as in the movies, this watermelon knife wouldn't stand a chance."

Chen Cheng examined the now half-sized watermelon knife in his hand, his brow furrowed in concern.