Wasteland Hunger
A gust of cold wind blew, and Tang Wen, standing at the door, shivered.
October already?
Is winter coming soon?
He didn't delay any further. Walking into the room, he quickly shut the door tightly behind him.
He placed the rice jar back where it belonged.
His older sister was already starting a fire to cook. The pot began to gurgle as the water boiled. She carefully took a handful of golden-yellow millet, paused for a moment, then pinched a small portion and returned it to the jar.
Tang Wen, who had cooked rice and porridge a few times, estimated in his mind that this amount was about what they both usually ate.
She rinsed the millet carefully and put it into the pot.
Tang Wen sat cross-legged on the hay, quietly calling out, [Panel] in his mind.
[Name: Tang Wen]
[Age: 14 years and 9 months]
[Body: 0.3]
[Spirit: 0.7]
[Skill: Farming Mastery (719/1000)]
With these stats, Tang Wen thought, In a TV show, I'd probably be dead in the first episode.
I need to exercise.
Goo goo goo…
Uh, but first, I need to eat my fill.
The millet cooked, releasing a faint fragrance.
Tang Wen grabbed his bowl; the millet barely covered the bottom.
Looking at his sister's bowl, the grains were distinct—each one visible at a glance.
A heaviness filled his heart. He lowered his head and, while eating, said, "I'll find food as soon as possible. Stay here."
His sister looked surprised. Her beautiful face stared at him for a few seconds, then she nodded. Her voice was soft, barely audible. "Be careful."
The siblings shared a deep bond, but the original Tang Wen wasn't one for words like these.
His sister, being frail and without a stamp, couldn't leave the camp. It would be too dangerous—scavengers would target her.
After eating, Tang Wen took his only weapon, a crude small knife with a handle wrapped in linen, and walked out of the room.
He glanced back at the dilapidated huts, sighed, and headed toward the west gate, following the path embedded in his memory.
No acquaintances. No neighbors. No social interaction. No emotional ties... All of these were luxuries in the wasteland. Survival came first, and after eating, there was little time to worry about anything else.
At least, it spared him from worrying about people noticing something was wrong with him.
Outside the west gate, a field of crops stretched all the way to the horizon and beyond, meeting the distant hillside.
This was a millet field. The wasteland environment had affected plant life, and millet had become the most suitable crop after natural selection.
It could be harvested three times a year, except in winter. The growing seasons—spring, summer, and autumn—were quick, and millet thrived.
Survivors in the wasteland relied on it.
Tang Wen's parents had been farmers here, renting land to cultivate. The Flame Queen, kindhearted as she was, only required 70% of the harvest, leaving the rest to the farmers.
The original Tang Wen's parents had saved up enough grain from past harvests to pay three years' rent in advance before their untimely deaths. That payment kept the siblings sheltered up until now.
As for their death, it was a grim reality in the wasteland—like students failing to find a job in another time and place.
"Kid!"
A black-faced man like an iron tower approached him, his voice low. "I told you, winter is coming. We don't need you here anymore."
Winter was nearing. The millet fields required little work now—no weeding, no watering.
As for scaring birds or catching insects, those tasks were only necessary when the millet was ripe.
Tang Wen forced a smile. "I can do any work. I don't need food, just let me have a bite."
"Get lost." The man pointed to the distance, his voice flat, as though this had become routine for him.
Tang Wen didn't dare persist and backed away, still smiling.
The camp wasn't large. By the time he reached the east gate, his stomach growled loudly.
The little bit of food he ate that morning had already been used up.
Taking a deep breath, Tang Wen stepped out into the wilderness.
The guards on the wall gave him a brief glance but returned to their chat, ignoring him.
The original Tang Wen had once dreamed of becoming a guard. Now, Tang Wen just wanted to eat and survive.
And maybe, just maybe, become transcendent.
Grumble...
His stomach growled again, almost as if reminding him.
Walking out of the camp gate, Tang Wen was immediately struck by the sight before him.
The earth was desolate. The land cracked, save for a kind of black grass growing in patches. It almost looked like the earth was dead.
Black dead grass—poisonous roots and stems, with only the leaves barely edible. But the leaves had already been picked clean.
Winter was coming.
For the past two years, the siblings had been selling their parents' belongings to trade for food to survive through the harsh winters.
But this year? There was nothing left to sell.
Nothing.
They had even moved from their original spot near the farm to the worst area near the camp wall.
Shaking his head, Tang Wen picked up a straight tree branch and walked toward the Blackwater River.
The Blackwater River, aptly named, was known for its black water. It flowed into a swamp, nourishing a forest and supporting fish.
Approaching the river, Tang Wen slowed his pace.
He saw people everywhere, wearing sackcloth and cloaks. They were emaciated—like walking corpses.
Tang Wen didn't dare to get too close. He considered leaving, but this was the only place where he might find food.
Carefully, he moved, picking up small stones along the way.
If someone got close, he could throw them first.
Wasteland scavengers feared injury. A wound meant weakness, and the strong preyed on the weak.
Splash, splash, splash!
Someone started running in the water, and more people followed.
Fish!
The man at the front grabbed a black fish with both hands, biting it desperately, blood staining his mouth.
He continued to swallow the fish, only to be knocked down by others behind him.
It became a chaotic frenzy.
"Guard! Guard!" someone shouted.
Tang Wen was stunned. Would the guards care about this?
To his surprise, a team of guards emerged from the jungle, one of them holding a crossbow and firing an arrow into the sky.
The sharp sound of the arrow sliced through the air.
Whistle!
The people fighting for the fish scattered in all directions.
Only those closest to the core of the fight continued to struggle, trying to grab the fish.
Splash, splash, splash!
Several guards in leather armor cursed as they waded into the water.
They dragged out the fighting scavengers with ease, hauling them away.
Tang Wen's face turned pale as he recalled what he had learned.
The guards only cared because these fights would lead to death—and that meant cannibalism, which would attract real danger.
Mutated beasts.
The scavengers were taken away not for their own safety, but to be used as bait.
As if possessed, Tang Wen followed from afar.
After a while, the guards brought the scavengers to stone pits in the wilderness.
These pits had been artificially dug, with stone walls on three sides and an open entrance.
The guards stripped the scavengers of their clothes, chopped them up like winter melons, and hung them on the highest point of the stone walls. The bloody stench carried with the wind, calling out to nearby mutated beasts.
The guards, and those within the camp, referred to this grim ritual as "hunting."