Lu Qingyuan opened the sleek black case and pulled out two liquid-filled injectors. He administered the first shot to Chu Yian, then injected the second one into himself.
Just minutes after the injection, a mechanical game notification chimed in her ears.
[Detection complete. Player has successfully received the cure.]
[Congratulations to Player Chu Yian for becoming the 21st player to receive the cure. You must now survive the final 5 days. If you die during this period, your score will be invalidated. If any of the previous 20 players die, your rank will advance accordingly.]
It's real.
The cure Lu Qingyuan obtained... was real!
Chu Yian looked at him like he was some kind of god. Who would've thought she'd end up being carried to the top—by an NPC, no less—and become the 21st player to receive the cure?
"Teacher Lu, you're incredible!"
Lu Qingyuan didn't quite understand the sudden shift in her attitude. He simply handed her the used injectors and box.
"Take these out and toss them."
"Yes, sir!"
Chu Yian took the items eagerly with both hands. He got her the cure—she'd happily work for him like a loyal henchman.
Now that the shot was done, she felt like the giant boulder hanging over her head had finally dropped. Relief flooded through her body. For the next few days, her plan was simple: lie on the couch, scroll through her phone, play some games, and maybe figure out how to make life a little more comfortable.
But her phone's group chats were growing more chaotic by the hour.
More and more people were trying to sell the cure.
Prices had dropped from five or six million to around two or three million, but the demand remained sky-high. At the same time, the number of people claiming they'd been scammed or sold fake meds was growing.
[Don't fall for it—it's fake!]
[These sellers are monsters. So many fake cures... they're going to hell for this.]
[Was that helicopter today really dropping the cure? Did anyone see it?]
[When are we going to get it? I'm stuck here with no supplies, no hope, and infected people everywhere. I can't take it anymore.]
The internet was a wailing pit.
Day 26 of the Game. The situation was still dire. But a new message spread like wildfire:
The production numbers for the cure had skyrocketed.
On Day 1, there were only 200,000 doses. By Day 2, that number had jumped to 1 million, and now, production was at 5 million per day.
But the cure was so valuable, so profitable, that the handful of nations controlling the World Disease Control Organization had no interest in releasing it.
When this information was leaked, the public—already teetering on the edge of collapse—exploded with rage.
Chu Yian didn't leave the house, but her phone lit up with messages from people cursing out the families of those nations' leaders across eighteen generations.
Day 27.
A resistance group emerged out of nowhere. Their message was blunt, a direct challenge to the global authorities and the World Disease Control Organization:
Release the cure to the people, or face armed retaliation.
At first, no one paid attention. It had only existed for two hours.
But the moment they spoke, support flooded in. Their numbers exploded—from hundreds, to thousands, to millions, to billions, all within hours.
The group attracted people from every corner of society. They even acquired weapons in record time. If they mobilized, they could wipe out any regime on Earth.
At 4:44 PM, the resistance released a second, even more aggressive message:
Release all existing doses of the cure and distribute them worldwide.
Publicly share the formula for the cure so that it can be manufactured globally.
Release at least 40 million doses daily, with global distribution guaranteed.
"The lives of the rich aren't the only ones that matter. Our lives matter too. If we're not seen as human, we won't hesitate to storm every nuclear arsenal on Earth. Let's all die together."
"Mutual destruction!"
"Screw it. We're already dead men walking. Might as well take them down with us!"
What began as fear of death quickly morphed into death-fueled euphoria.
And they didn't just talk—they acted. They bombed real places. Even in Chu Yian's city, there were whispers of impending riots.
Reading the increasingly fanatical messages in her group chats, Chu Yian began to feel uneasy. She didn't doubt that these people would follow through. When desperation hits, humans are capable of anything.
Eventually, the pressure became too much.
The World Disease Control Organization—and the nations backing it—caved.
They agreed to release their entire stockpile of the cure, along with the formulation.
Suddenly, every country sent planes to retrieve it. Domestic pharmaceutical companies began hiring at full speed, scrambling to restart production lines.
The first official announcement came soon after:
One million doses would be distributed in major cities and population centers.
Day 28.
China's first five million domestically produced doses were released nationwide.
Day 29.
Production was fully operational. Forty million doses were now being manufactured and distributed daily.
Still, compared to a population of over a billion, it wasn't enough—especially for players. The cure had become their only chance to win. A fierce war broke out across the country.
The government deployed extra forces to guard pharmaceutical plants, but they couldn't be everywhere at once.
Day 30: The Final Day.
Even players who had survived the full 30 days without the cure would be marked as failed.
Which meant… everyone was going crazy.
They were willing to die if it meant grabbing just one dose.
The two main delivery methods were:
High-speed trains and military cargo planes using parachute drops.
No one could hijack the planes.
So they went for the trains.
These final four days were the most chaotic of Chu Yian's life.
And just when she thought it was finally over—just hours away from the end—she suddenly heard the roar of aircraft overhead.
She stepped outside and saw something drifting down from the sky.
Her heart seized with terror.
"Teacher Lu! Airdrop—it's the cure!"
To most, this would be a blessing.
To them, already vaccinated, it was a death sentence.
They'd become targets.
The parachute hadn't even touched the ground yet, but she could already hear vehicles racing toward them.
"Teacher Lu, we've got to go!"
If they didn't flee now, they'd be swept up in the chaos.
Chu Yian turned to run for the car—only for Lu Qingyuan to rush out and grab her, yanking her back into the villa.
He held a sleek tablet in one hand. With a few taps of his finger, thick metal shutters dropped over every window.
The bright, open villa became a fortress in seconds.
"The defense level of this villa is extremely high," he said calmly.
Just like that, Chu Yian's panic eased.
Lu Qingyuan tapped the screen again. The massive wall monitor split into eight panels, showing live feeds of the surroundings from every angle.
And sure enough—they were here.
Dozens of desperate people were swarming toward the parachute.