Beside the rose fields.
Several hundred kilograms of requisitioned roses had already piled into a small mountain beside the flower fields. Standing in front of it, Qi Yifang pulled out a weather vane swaying gently in the wind, pointed it toward the mountain of roses, and raised it high.
Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“...Relative humidity: 78%. Temperature: 26 degrees Celsius. Cloudy turning overcast. No sustained wind shifting into a light northerly breeze. Wind force: North Wind Level 1...”
Qi Yifang abruptly opened his eyes.
With a flick of his thumb, he spun the wooden weather vane and spoke steadily:
“Commencing daytime weather broadcast.”
[System Notification: Player Qi Yifang has activated skill (Weather Broadcast)]
[Skill Range: Circular localized area with a ten-meter radius]
[Skill Effect: Predicts weather conditions within a localized area. Within a limited range, can perform micro-adjustments to wind direction, wind intensity, sunlight, rainfall, and other weather phenomena.]
[Friendly Reminder: Activating this skill will continuously reduce the player’s Stamina °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° and Mental Value. Confirm usage?]
[Confirm.]
The moment the system notification ended, the wooden weather vane in Qi Yifang’s hand began spinning violently.
At the same time, both his Stamina and Mental Value bars slowly began to drop.
Qi Yifang exhaled slowly and began his broadcast in a deep voice.
“...During today’s daytime hours, a localized tornado with an approximate rotational force of 2g will occur... followed by twelve continuous hours of sunlight... nighttime conditions: light wind, overcast turning clear...”
As his words fell, the weather vane spun even faster.
A spiraling gust of cold wind suddenly swept through the area beside the flower field. The wind strangely remained confined within a small radius, circling continuously around the mountain of roses.
Rose petals weighing roughly 2 grams were swept upward into the rotating airflow, while lighter debris was blown away entirely. Heavier impurities remained scattered across the ground.
The tiny tornado, adjusted according to weight parameters, resembled a high-precision centrifuge, perfectly separating the roses from all unwanted material.
What would normally have required an entire day and night of manual sorting was completed in barely ten minutes.
The cleaned roses were neatly stacked into organized piles while the miniature tornado gradually dissipated.
Immediately afterward, dazzling sunlight poured down from the sky, illuminating the translucent dew clinging to the petals until they shimmered brilliantly.
Qi Yifang lowered the weather vane and looked at the dried-leaf roses that had already entered the [Air-Drying] phase.
Satisfied, he brushed the grass and leaves blown onto his clothes away and turned toward the other two players with a grin.
“Everything’s fully processed. By tomorrow morning, we can move directly into the second stage.”
——————
Rose Factory — Open-Air Plaza.
A long line had formed beside an automatic mesh-screening machine.
This was one of the rare modern machines inside the Rose Factory. Workers only needed to dump roses into the device for a few minutes before obtaining perfectly sorted dried-leaf roses.
However, because the Rose Factory promoted itself as a handcrafted, anti-industrial luxury perfume brand, there were very few of these machines.
And every single one was monopolized by veteran processing workers as a form of privilege.
Earlier, Qi Yifang and the others had attempted to line up and use one as well, only to be driven away by older workers cursing at them viciously.
“Trying to use machines right after getting promoted?!”
“You newcomers are getting arrogant already!”
“Stop thinking about cheating your way through work all day!”
“Go squat on the ground and sort the dead leaves by hand like everyone else!”
Qi Yifang and the others weren’t afraid of the processors, but unnecessarily antagonizing NPCs in a game was rarely a wise decision. Since Qi Yifang’s ability could solve the issue anyway, he ultimately chose to leave quietly with the others.
After all, in a game where Mental Value did not naturally recover, using a skill that consumed Mental Value just to complete labor tasks was hardly ideal.
But the situation now was clearly different.
The moment Tang Erda stepped into the line, several veteran processors immediately started grumbling again after noticing he was a newly promoted worker.
“What’s wrong with you newcomers?!”
“You insist on stealing our machines?!”
“Go back and do your proper work!”
“Exactly! Fresh recruits already trying to slack off with machinery. If you don’t suffer properly first, you’ll never learn anything. We’re teaching you for your own good!”
Tang Erda swept a cold glance over the processors surrounding him.
He still didn’t say anything.
But Tang Erda’s physique alone was enough to make people nervous.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with long, powerful limbs, the loose protective suit looked more like athletic wear stretched tightly across his body. Combined with the oppressive downward pressure of his gaze from above, he radiated a suffocating sense of intimidation.
The noisy processors instantly quieted.
No one dared raise their voice anymore. They could only mutter complaints under their breath.
Yet just as Tang Erda was about to reach the machine, one of the veteran workers deliberately cut in front of him.
The man even turned back and shot Tang Erda a provocative look before waving others forward to cut the line as well.
It was an obvious display of authority meant to suppress a newcomer’s confidence and prevent Tang Erda from using the machine.
If newcomers were allowed access to the equipment, their efficiency would naturally rise—
And with the already brutal elimination rate among processing workers, veteran workers would find promotion even harder.
Using unspoken rules to crush newcomers, limit their survival space, and exploit them for one’s own advancement was practically standard operating procedure among old processors.
Whether that behavior ruined other people’s livelihoods or drove them to death was irrelevant to them.
In fact, many of them hoped more newcomers would die.
That way nobody could compete for their positions.
Qi Yifang had chosen to retreat earlier because they still didn’t fully understand the mechanics of this Level 3 game.
Tang Erda, however, did not care about offending NPCs.
His strength gave him enough confidence to act however he pleased in a Level 3 game.
Even if every processor in the entire Rose Factory transformed into monsters and targeted him because of this, Tang Erda was certain of one thing—
The ones dying in the end would not be him.
Without changing expression, Tang Erda shifted the sack of roses into his left hand.
Then, with a smooth motion of his right hand, a silver handgun appeared in his palm.
The heavy firearm spun once around his finger before he gripped it firmly and raised the muzzle toward the back of the old processor’s head.
“I don’t mind killing someone before work,” Tang Erda said calmly.
“My previous job involved killing people who turned bad.”
He cocked the gun.
“So tell me. Are you bad enough yet?”
The veteran processor who had been acting smug moments ago immediately went pale.
His entire body trembled violently.
Grinding his teeth, he stumbled aside without another word.
Tang Erda walked forward as though nothing had happened, dumped the roses into the screening machine, collected the sorted roses back into the sack, and holstered the gun behind his waist.
Then he slung the sack over one shoulder with one hand and walked away.
Every processor who had blocked him earlier silently moved aside with sickly expressions.
Only after Tang Erda’s figure completely disappeared did the old processor finally begin cursing furiously.
“What the hell is wrong with this batch of newcomers?!”
“They either steal our machines or somehow finish work instantly with weird tricks!”
“And there are still two people who haven’t even started sorting yet!”
“It’s almost noon already. If they don’t hurry and start air-drying, there’s no way they’ll meet tomorrow’s weighing quota.”
His expression turned maliciously gleeful.
“Those two are definitely getting demoted back to flower pickers.”
——————
Inside an abandoned factory.
Bai Liu stood atop a rusted shipping container, surrounded by refugees who had regained their sanity.
The refugees sat obediently on the filthy ground below him, staring upward with blazing eyes filled with desperate hope, as though looking at a savior.
Standing half a step behind Bai Liu atop the container was the refugee who had led the group the previous night.
His eyes shone with excitement as he addressed the crowd.
“I believe everyone here already knows Mr. Bai Liu!”
“The Rose Perfume everyone received today was earned personally by Mr. Bai Liu while working inside the factory—and then distributed to us entirely for free!”
A ripple of commotion spread through the crowd.
The refugee quickly motioned for silence before respectfully stepping aside.
“Please remain calm. Mr. Bai Liu has even better news to share with everyone.”
“Now then—Mr. Bai Liu.”
Bai Liu stepped forward.
His voice was not loud, but the refugees below were so quiet that every word echoed clearly throughout the hollow, ruined factory.
“I genuinely want to help all of you.”
He withdrew another bottle of perfume from his pocket.
His expression remained calm and sincere.
“But one person’s strength is limited. I’m only a low-level processor in the factory. At most, I can earn three bottles of low-grade perfume per day.”
“One bottle only lasts four hours.”
“If I divide this amount among all of you, then even keeping a small number of people awake for long becomes impossible.”
“If this continues, I won’t be able to help you for very long.”
The light in the refugees’ eyes dimmed.
Yet none of them spoke to blame Bai Liu.
After suffering for so long, even temporary salvation from someone like Bai Liu felt miraculous enough to earn their gratitude.
At the very least, they had briefly regained human consciousness instead of remaining trapped beneath the control of Rose Perfume, enduring the endless numb itch of tentacles growing from their bones.
They had spent so long unable to maintain human form that many no longer knew whether they were human or monster anymore.
Even now, while sitting upright on the ground, they still fought the instinctive urge to crawl on all fours.
“But if you’re willing to help me,” Bai Liu continued, “then my help can continue indefinitely.”
The refugees immediately looked up again.
Tension and desperate longing filled their eyes.
“One person’s power is limited,” Bai Liu said steadily. “But if you help me complete more factory work, I can obtain more perfume.”
“And if I obtain more perfume, I can awaken more refugees.”
“Every bottle of perfume produced through your labor will be used to help more people until eventually we build enough strength together for me to become Factory Manager.”
Bai Liu’s tone became solemn.
“And the day I obtain the perfume formula and become Factory Manager—”
“—every bottle of Rose Perfume produced by this factory will become free.”
“Forever.”
The proposal was overwhelmingly tempting.
Yet the refugees’ expressions became conflicted with fear.
This promise sounded painfully familiar.
Years ago, the people promoting Rose Perfume had used the exact same words.
Back then they had also promised free perfume for everyone.
And now?
Now even a single bottle cost an impossible price.
The refugees stared at Bai Liu with suspicion, fear, desperation, and tears in their eyes.
Like drowning people staring at the final piece of driftwood in a black swamp.
They didn’t know whether Bai Liu was lying—
Or simply leading them into an even deeper pit.
But what choice did they have?
After a long silence, a trembling skeletal hand slowly rose from the crowd.
“...Mr. Bai Liu...”
The speaker was a young woman whose body had already withered beyond recognition. In her arms she held a tiny infant with shriveled feet.
The baby weakly sucked on a thumb already beginning to decay.
Inside the child’s dark eyes bloomed two withered roses utterly out of place in someone so young.
Tears filled the woman’s own rose-filled eyes as she stared at Bai Liu without blinking.
“...If you become Factory Manager... will you really remain a good person willing to help us?”
“No.”
Bai Liu answered immediately.
“Most likely not.”
“I’m saying these things now because I want to convince you to work for me.”
“Just like the previous Factory Manager who promoted Rose Perfume.”
Silence crashed over the crowd.
Then the abandoned factory exploded into noise.
The refugees clenched their fists and rose to their feet, glaring at Bai Liu with furious, despairing eyes.
The faint hope they had just regained collapsed again.
Some people lowered their heads numbly, as though they had expected this outcome all along.
The young mother weakly lowered her arm and quietly cried while calling her child’s name under her breath.
And yet—
Not a single refugee rushed forward to attack Bai Liu.
Because even after openly admitting his selfish motives, he was still their final hope.
As long as they could escape—even briefly—from the agony of their addiction to Rose Perfume, they had no choice but to obey whoever controlled the source.
Even if it meant sinking deeper into hell.
Bai Liu slowly swept his gaze across the refugees below.
Originally, he could have continued deceiving them with beautiful lies.
Even after learning the truth, these people would still willingly work for him in exchange for a fleeting breath of perfume.
As long as Rose Perfume existed, the cycle would never end.
The moment ordinary people began placing all their hopes in the fantasy of “a good person becoming Factory Manager,” it meant nothing remained capable of restraining evil anymore.
If morality becomes the thing used to restrain profit—
Then profit will simply disguise itself as morality.
But Bai Liu had no interest in perfume.
He liked money.
This kind of world held no meaning for him.
Even if controlling the perfume allowed him to stand above others spiritually, Bai Liu felt no interest in that superiority.
He preferred worlds where currency functioned as real value.
Which was why he intended to destroy this one.
“You cannot place your hopes on me being a good person.”
“I’m not.”
“And as long as Rose Perfume continues to exist, nobody who becomes Factory Manager will remain a good person.”
Bai Liu looked down at the refugees with completely emotionless eyes.
“But if I told you that becoming Factory Manager would allow me to eliminate Rose Perfume entirely...”
“...and stop all of you from continuing to wither...”
“Would you help me?”
The refugees slowly raised their heads in disbelief.
Rose-filled eyes reflected Bai Liu’s calm face.
“You help me become Factory Manager,” Bai Liu said evenly, “and I help you end your withering.”
“This isn’t charity.”
“It’s an equal exchange.”
“Will you do it?”
The crying young mother was the first to stand up.
Holding her child tightly, she asked through trembling sobs:
“Is it true?! Mr. Bai Liu, can you really stop the withering for us—for my child?!”
Bai Liu smiled.
The sixth petal bloomed within the rose in his right eye, while cracks along the edge of his eye socket deepened enough to reveal bone beneath the skin.
“If I fail,” he said softly, “then I’ll wither too.”
“I already gave most of my perfume to you. You can keep watching me continue to do so.”
“But if I can’t find a solution, I’ll be the first one to die from it.”
“Do you believe me now?”
A silence so complete it could have swallowed a pin.
Then the young mother clutched her child tightly and broke down completely.
“Thank you... thank you so much...!”
The abandoned factory erupted into excited chaos.
The refugees lifted Bai Liu from the shipping container and threw him into the air repeatedly.
The roses blooming inside their eyes resembled dying flames—
Weak.
Flickering.
Yet still stubbornly burning.
The author’s note explaining Qi Yifang’s weather skill is just meta commentary and not part of the actual chapter narrative, so it should be omitted in a polished edited version.
