“Is this…
‘Pretty Girl Instant Noodles’?”
She was all too familiar with this item.
It was one of the best-selling instant food brands in the universe.
But what left a deep impression on March 7th was not its popularity, but rather—this was Sister Selene’s favorite brand of instant noodles.
Nine times out of ten, Sister Selene’s midnight snack was a steaming cup of “Pretty Girl Instant Noodles.”
March 7th often ran over to Sister Selene’s room to chat and play, and had joined her in eating it many times; as time went by, she had surprisingly grown to like the taste herself.
But…
this was Jarilo-VI, a planet that had been almost completely cut off from the outside world for hundreds of years.
A place where resources in both the Upper and Underworlds were extremely scarce.
“Where did she manage to get this universe-bestselling instant noodles?”
March 7th was filled with confusion, and she noticed with a sharp eye that the production date and style on the packaging were even the latest version, “…and it’s the newest model too?”
“Here, hot water.” Sirin’s voice interrupted her train of thought.
Sirin pulled a small thermos with excellent heat insulation from some unknown corner and efficiently poured boiling water into the two cups of instant noodles.
“Ah, thanks!” March 7th and Stelle quickly thanked her, using the attached forks to secure the noodle lids.
“Let’s go, I’ll take you two to find that Cold-faced Little Azure Dragon.”
Sirin put away the thermos and said, “The noodles will be ready by the time we walk there; you can eat while walking.
If you’re lucky, you might even get to see him compete.”
Thus, led by Sirin, the two held their cups of instant noodles, which were beginning to emit an enticing aroma, in one hand and their forks in the other.
They carefully blew on the noodles while following Sirin through the complex, intersecting alleys of Boulder Town.
Inside the Fight Club.
The rugged ring was illuminated by simple lights, and the surrounding area was packed with excited residents of the Underworld.
The host shouted with a thick accent and an incredibly inflammatory voice:
“The Boulder Town Super League, the most anticipated match of the day is here!”
“Our new dark horse—Cold-faced Little Azure Dragon—versus—”
“The Invincible Three-in-One Robot!” (Actually, it’s just three traffic lights stacked together; the author is lazy and didn’t want to think of a monster.)
“The match—begins!”
On the ring, Dan Heng’s figure was as fast as a ghost.
Facing the “Three-in-One Robot’s” seemingly intimidating charges and swings, his footsteps were light, and his dodges were effortless.
Seeing his opportunity, he struck suddenly! Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Three precise, swift, and powerful straight punches hit the protective shields of the three machines respectively.
The sturdy defensive shells were rendered useless in the face of absolute skill and strength.
Clatter—!
The “Three-in-One Robot,” which had been aggressive just a moment ago, instantly fell apart, turning back into three piles of scrap metal sparking with electricity, collapsing onto the ring.
The whole process was clean and efficient, taking less than ten seconds.
After a brief silence, the audience erupted into even louder cheers and whistles.
“Incredible!
Even our strongest defensive Three-in-One Robot couldn’t last ten moves against the new dark horse, ‘Cold-faced Little Azure Dragon’!
Let us congratulate—Cold-faced Little Azure Dragon!
He wins this match!”
Dan Heng took the “reward” handed over by the host, wrapped in rough oil paper, with an expressionless face—a few pieces of hard rye bread and a small stack of Shield tokens.
He weighed them in his hand and calculated silently: (With these, if I’m careful, they should last a few days.
Food and basic expenses are temporarily covered.)
(I should head back to see if March and Stelle have woken up…)
He put away the reward and turned to jump off the ring.
His gaze swept across the crowded audience below.
Then, he saw it.
In a corner near the edge of the ring that was relatively less crowded, his two companions—Stelle and March 7th—were each holding a cup of instant noodles, eating happily.
The steam rising from the noodles blurred their faces, but that rich aroma of food, which was completely out of place with the smell of sweat and machine oil in the Fight Club, drifted over clearly.
“Dan Heng!
Over here, over here!”
March 7th still had a noodle hanging from her mouth; seeing him look over, she immediately waved at him happily and shouted indistinctly.
Dan Heng: “…”
He silently jumped off the ring and walked up to the two of them, his gaze moving back and forth between the exquisitely packaged instant noodle cups in their hands, which clearly didn’t belong on this planet, and the dry, hard rye bread in his own arms.
Dan Heng’s voice sounded a few degrees colder than usual, carrying a hint of incredulous confusion, “Where did you get instant noodles?”
He had worked hard on the ring for half the day just to earn this meager amount of food to fill his stomach.
Yet, when he turned around, his own teammates were actually slurping up delicious instant noodles in this frozen world where resources were extremely scarce?
The contrast was just too sharp.
“Ah, this?”
March 7th swallowed the noodle in her mouth and pointed to the side with her fork, her tone light, “It was given by Sister Sirin!
She’s really nice!”
As she spoke, she subconsciously turned her head, only to find that the space beside her was empty.
“Hm?”
March 7th was stunned for a moment, holding her noodle cup and looking around, “Where’s Sister Sirin?
She was just here…
Stelle, did you see Sister Sirin?”
Stelle, who was focused on slurping her noodles and had even drank a few sips of the broth, looked up blankly upon hearing this, with a bit of oil on the corner of her mouth, and shook her head: “Nope.”
“Sister Sirin…?”
Dan Heng repeated the title, his eyes instantly sharpening.
That Stellaron Hunter, that puppet named Sirin, her name contained “Lin.” Could it be her?
His heart tightened.
He was just about to warn his two clearly unvigilant companions about the suspicious nature of that mysterious Stellaron Hunter and the potential risks of this “food of unknown origin”…
But looking at March 7th and Stelle eating with such satisfaction and showing no signs of anything wrong, their cheeks even flushing with a healthy glow from the hot soup, they didn’t look like they were poisoned or unwell at all.
(Forget it…)
Dan Heng suppressed the words that had come to his lips for the moment, (Since they are fine, exposing it now might just alert the enemy.
That person gave them food; she must have some ulterior motive.)
(However, as long as she dares to show any malice toward March and Stelle, or attempts to use them…
I will never let her off.)
“You few, outsiders?”
A steady male voice interrupted Dan Heng’s thoughts.
The three turned to look and saw a middle-aged man wearing a thick fur coat, with graying hair, a thick beard, and eyes that were weathered yet sharp, having walked over at some point.
He wore an ostensibly kind smile on his face, his gaze sweeping over the bread in Dan Heng’s hand, the instant noodle cups held by Stelle and March 7th, and their attire, which was clearly different from that of the Underworld residents.
“I am Oleg,” the middle-aged man introduced himself, his tone carrying the unhurried composure typical of a prominent figure in the underground world, “I would like to…
get to know you all.”