Chapter 1: Roast Duck Rice

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The scorching sun blazed overhead, the intense heat baking the earth beneath. Below stood an old city tower, somewhat worn with age, where a few figures moved back and forth. Outside a shop named "Wang’s Roast Duck Rice," tucked in a shadowed corner, a young man slumped against the wall. He inhaled the fragrant aroma wafting from the shop, his stomach growling with hunger, yet he could only watch helplessly.

Zhang Ji was already exhausted, his head heavy and foggy. Anyone walking over ten kilometers in this weather wearing only slippers wouldn’t fare much better. The fact that he had made it this far without heatstroke was a testament to the inexplicable youthfulness and health his body now possessed.

His gaze fixated on the distant shop signs and the passersby. He recognized all of them, none were unfamiliar; even their conversations were comprehensible. Yet this place was entirely different from where he originally belonged.

He had some vague guesses about this place. Before arriving here, he remembered playing a chaotic fighting game at home. It was called a "mash-up" because, although it was a fighting game, its content was richly diverse: dungeons, open worlds, superpowers, martial arts, cultivation, magic, alchemy, cyberpunk, aliens, time travelers, Cthulhu mythology... a real patchwork.

But it was well-crafted, continuously updated with new elements. These patchwork games were common nowadays; nothing particularly special.

The problem was, he seemed to have entered the game itself.

Just because he used a leveling cheat?

The game’s leveling system was so clumsy that playing without cheats was impossible.

But none of that mattered now.

The crucial point was that he appeared to have crossed over into the game, specifically to an early version’s fringe map: Shanli Island.

He had overheard this name from someone passing by. If he recalled correctly, this location was a penal colony in the ancient 1.0 version of the Eastern Extreme Kingdom.

Yes, an island specifically for exiling criminals—a place teeming with millions of evildoers.

According to the backstory, due to social inequality and severe unemployment in the Eastern Extreme Kingdom, along with the capital and officials unwilling to bear the burden of rehabilitating and re-employing criminals, this island was established.

In later updates, as the plot advanced, the island ceased to be a penal colony, was reformed by the kingdom, and became an alternative island city.

But now, it was clearly the original version.

That explained why he had failed to get a single bite of food.

People here were hardly charitable.

In fact, it was a stroke of luck that he hadn’t been robbed or worse since arriving.

Though, given his shabby beach shorts, short sleeves, and sandals, he didn’t have much to steal anyway.

So hungry!

Zhang Ji pressed his lips tightly and took a deep breath.

He wanted to snatch a bite of food, even if it meant getting beaten, or dying.

At least, he wouldn’t starve to death.

At that moment, a group of people walked down the street. At their head was a middle-aged man about 1.9 meters tall, dressed in a black suit, with a lit cigar clenched between his teeth. Everyone who saw them respectfully saluted and stepped aside.

“Master Kui!”

“Greetings, Master Kui!”

Zhang Ji looked at him with curiosity.

The man called Master Kui sharply turned his head and fixed his gaze on Zhang Ji.

Their eyes met, and an inexplicable sense of oppression washed over Zhang Ji, but he didn’t look away. With his worthless life, there was nothing left to fear.

“Interesting,” Master Kui smiled faintly and beckoned to someone beside him, giving some orders.

The man walked into the roast duck rice shop, then emerged carrying a large bowl of roast duck rice. Under Zhang Ji’s burning gaze, he sneered and poured the food into a German Shepherd’s bowl outside the shop.

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Zhang Ji’s eyes filled with disbelief.

Master Kui stared at him, seemingly awaiting his reaction.

But Zhang Ji lowered his head.

He was from a civilized society; he didn’t know how to respond.

This was an insult, beyond doubt.

Fight back?

Could he win?

What else could he do?

He couldn’t very well compete with a dog for food.

Master Kui sized him up for a moment, then turned and prepared to leave.

One step, two steps, three steps...

“Woof woof woof... whimper howl~”

“My dog!!!”

Master Kui turned back, seeing the German Shepherd lying convulsing at the side, dazed from a thrown stone, and Zhang Ji clutching the dog’s bowl, wielding the owner’s stick to eat a few more bites while pinned to the ground.

He might not beat the man, but the dog, he could.

Master Kui took a deep drag of his cigar, a hint of approval shining in his eyes. If this man lacked such a wild streak, he wouldn’t be worth his attention.

“Xiao Wu, wait until he finishes eating, then send him to find Old Cheng,” Master Kui said to a young man in a gray jacket nearby.

“Understood,” Wu Chen nodded.

Master Kui and his group left, while Wu Chen quickly approached the roast duck shop.

The shop owner was still striking Zhang Ji with the stick—not thick, about two fingers wide, like a rolling pin—with no mercy. Zhang Ji only felt pain but no real injury.

Wu Chen was quick and grabbed the stick just before it could strike again, calmly saying, “Master Kui wants this man.”

The shop owner paused, then forced a smile and turned away, not even bothering about his dog’s well-being.

Zhang Ji paid no mind; he was starving. He kept eating from the dog’s bowl, biting even the roast duck bones into pieces and swallowing them.

Wu Chen said nothing, simply leaning against the wall, watching Zhang Ji eat.

Over the years, many had been exiled to this island, but few were like this.

In that moment, Wu Chen clearly saw the hysterical, wild determination in the man’s lowered gaze—it surprised even him.

This was a man with obsession, or perhaps resentment.

Unwilling to accept the status quo, he had a goal to achieve and would stop at nothing to reach it.

Such a man, if he survived, could accomplish something.

Soon, the large bowl of food was finished. Zhang Ji even picked up the few grains of rice left in the dog’s bowl and ate them.

“Are you full?” Wu Chen asked.

“Seventy percent,” Zhang Ji answered honestly.

Before, he might have barely eaten a third of that bowl, but now, for some reason, his appetite had increased greatly.

Was it because his body had changed since crossing over?

“Want another bowl?” Wu Chen offered, then added, “My treat.”

“No, thanks,” Zhang Ji shook his head. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Though he had abandoned his dignity to eat, he didn’t see this as a fair trade.

At least, the other party’s attitude didn’t suggest so.

“This place is different from the outside world, but generally, some worldly rules still apply,” Wu Chen said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering one to Zhang Ji. “If you want to survive here, you need a job to earn a living.”

“Thanks, but I don’t smoke,” Zhang Ji declined.

“Follow me,” Wu Chen lit a cigarette, took a puff, then started walking as if he didn’t care whether Zhang Ji followed.

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Zhang Ji hesitated but chose to follow.

He wanted to ask questions. “This is Shanli Island?”

“Didn’t whoever dumped you here tell you?” Wu Chen retorted.

Zhang Ji gave up hope, no longer holding onto any illusions.

“Is Master Kui the boss here?” Zhang Ji asked.

“The entire Kui District answers to Master Kui,” Wu Chen said with a deep gaze. “Even our lives belong to him.”

Zhang Ji roughly understood the scope of Kui District—it was roughly the entire city tower area, comprising a few thousand people.

Shanli Island lacked any unified major power, and it couldn’t have one; the Eastern Extreme Kingdom wouldn’t allow it.

Instead, power was scattered everywhere.

Some places were settlements, some villages, some city tower districts like this.

Each area had a local boss.

They cooperated at times, but also fought for resources and interests.

It was like a miniature feudal state divided among warlords.

Zhang Ji observed the scenes around him.

Some things here displayed a fairly high level of technology.

For example, a man wearing a simple exoskeleton was carrying heavy loads.

He effortlessly lifted what looked like over a hundred pounds with one hand.

But most others carried loads manually, indicating such devices were not common here.

After all, this was an island for exiled criminals, and this was only one small faction; resources were limited.

Wu Chen led Zhang Ji to a warehouse where several people were unloading items from an old truck, while an elderly man was keeping records nearby.

“Uncle Cheng,” Wu Chen greeted respectfully.

“Get to the point,” Cheng said without looking up, writing as he spoke.

“Introduced by Master Kui,” Wu Chen indicated Zhang Ji.

Cheng glanced at Zhang Ji, then said, “Help out.”

Zhang Ji hesitated briefly, then stepped forward to join the loaders.

They seemed to be unloading food supplies packed in crates.

Mimicking the others, Zhang Ji entered the truck, grabbed a wooden crate with one arm, and quickly carried it out to stack on pallets.

Each crate weighed about fifty to sixty pounds, but he lifted it without much effort.

Watching Zhang Ji work, Cheng told Wu Chen, “Let’s go, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Wu Chen nodded slightly, departed without saying goodbye.

Zhang Ji and the others finished unloading the truck. He stared absentmindedly at the markings on the crates.

One man spoke to him: “Not bad. What’s your name?”

“Zhang Ji,” he replied.

“I’m Gu Ming,” the man said, extending his hand.

Zhang Ji shook it, a gesture of goodwill.

Soon, another truck arrived with fresh cargo, and they resumed work.

They toiled until nightfall before Zhang Ji got a chance to rest.

Meals were provided—not as good as roast duck rice, but decent, with meat and vegetables, oily dishes included, and enough to fill the stomach.

While eating, Uncle Cheng approached and handed Zhang Ji a key.

“Follow me,” he said.

Holding his bowl, Zhang Ji followed.

After some distance, Cheng pointed to a shipping container.

“This will be your quarters. Wake up at the sound of the flute in the morning, then eat. Pay is settled every ten days, twenty a day. Someone will distribute your wages. There’s a set of work clothes on the bed—wear those tomorrow.”