A Little Monster With A Wife Is Amazing – CH5

Chapter 5: A Happy Retirement

Happiness Court complex.
Building 44, ground floor lobby.

The floor tile stained with the “supernatural entity’s remains” had been cut out. The investigation team members sealed it in a special bag for evidence, and the work here came to a temporary end.

The mission was accomplished, yet the team felt no relief; instead, they were filled with worry. They still had no clue: why did this cruel, cunning supernatural entity die so miserably here?

Could it be that lurking in this area was an even more mysterious and unfathomable supernatural entity, one capable of easily disposing of this “serial killer” that had been giving the investigation bureau headaches for over half a month? While the outcome was positive, having an unknown, powerful enemy lurking in the shadows was hardly good news for humanity.

The group walked out of Building 44 in silence. The team leader sent a message to the property management to let them know the matter was handled. The management, respecting the earlier notice from the higher-ups, dared not delay and immediately replied that they understood.

As they were about to exit the complex gates, they ran into a group of elderly residents. These people had clearly just returned from a nearby morning market, each laden with goods. They were chatting away in local dialects, “chirping and chattering”—the noisy, plain, and rustic atmosphere of street life filling the air.

Such lively and mundane scenes were common in every complex, usually nothing to write home about, but the investigation team’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the group—or rather, follow the person walking at the very end of the line.

It was a young man wearing a mask. He was very tall, his physique sturdy and upright. His black bangs fell slightly messy over his brow bone. Although only his eyes were visible behind the mask, one could still tell he was very handsome and, at the same time, someone not to be messed with.

This kind of uniquely tempered, intimidatingly cool guy—if you put him in a different setting with a different set of clothes, saying he was a special forces soldier hardened by gunfire wouldn’t seem out of place at all.

But right now, the man had a large woven sack slung over his shoulder, stuffed full of crisp, leafy cabbages. Both hands were dragging two separate vegetable shopping carts; one was filled with fresh produce and fruits, the other with rice, flour, oil, and grain. Tied to the side of the cart was a large rooster frantically flapping its wings. The rooster was struggling wildly, its “cock-a-doodle-doo” almost drowning out the chatter of the seniors ahead.

The investigation team’s eyes were glued to the scene: they couldn’t say exactly what was wrong, but they felt everything was wrong. So weird, let me look again.

“Is he a retired soldier?” someone muttered softly.
“Doesn’t look like regular army. Could be a mercenary.”
“Why not just say he’s an overseas assassin? The kind that kills once and eats for three years.”
“Haha, you guys read too many novels.”

Their gossiping voices were barely above a whisper, but the cool guy seemed to hear them anyway. He suddenly turned his head to look in their direction, his smoke-gray eyes sweeping lightly over them.

The group collectively shivered: “…”
Why did it suddenly feel like this man was even more terrifying than the most dangerous supernatural monster?
…It, it must be an illusion, right?
Right? Right?

—

“Retirement?”
Jian Tang repeated, surprised by what his partner had just said. “The Bloody Butcher retired? Is that true?”

“Absolutely certain,” Little Zombie nodded. “It’s the headline story in today’s Monster News; it’s on the front page. It can’t be fake.”

“Taskers actually have a concept of ‘retirement’, huh,” Jian Tang couldn’t help but sigh, feeling like he’d learned something new. “What a rare sight. I actually thought they could only ‘die their way out’.”

Unlike the supernatural monsters who were forced to work and make a living in the supernatural world from the moment they were born, most human Taskers competed and scrambled for a chance to enter. Jian Tang heard that the existence of the “Supernatural World” was an urban legend among humans. The most seductive part of this legend was that it could be used as a wish-granting machine: as long as you entered the supernatural world and won in the cruel dungeon slaughter, you could exchange your victory credits for anything you wanted.

Money, fame, status, beauty, emotions, or even youth, health, and lifespan—as long as your credits were sufficient, you could trade with the System. Even if you “died” in a dungeon, you were merely kicked out of the supernatural world and returned to a normal human life.

Low risk, high return—countless humans volunteered to become Taskers, pouring into the supernatural world one after another. In this gamble, once they got a taste of the sweetness, Taskers never wanted to leave. Even after they “died their way out,” they would use every means possible to fight and grab an admission ticket, even paying an extremely high price, just to sit back down at the gambling table.

“…That’s true.”
Little Mushroom nodded. He had never heard of a Tasker voluntarily retiring. Usually, the higher their credit ranking, the less willing they were to abandon the achievements they had worked so hard for, and the less willing they were to leave the supernatural world. “But that Butcher hasn’t completely left, either. His ranking on the Tasker board hasn’t been erased yet.”

If someone “died their way out” and cut their ties with the supernatural world, their ranking and credits would be cleared with one click. Since the guy still occupied the number one spot, he was naturally still staying in some plane of the supernatural world.

“Because even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t, right?” Little Mud said bluntly. “He’s a ‘Remnant,’ after all. Once a Remnant Tasker dies, without a native world to catch them, the outcome is being pulverized into dust, completely wiped out of existence…”

Little Mud was halfway through speaking when Little Zombie and Little Mushroom reached out and covered its mouth simultaneously. Both little monsters glared at it, then turned in unison to look at Jian Tang.

The fact that the “Bloody Butcher” was a Remnant was known to all residents of the supernatural world. Others heard it and treated it as conversational fodder, but for Jian Tang, who was also a Remnant, such a topic might stir up bad memories.

At this moment, the youth seemed dazed and lost in thought. After a long while, he exhaled a long breath, murmuring in a dreamlike tone: “That’s really nice…”

The other three little monsters: “?”

“It’s nice to be able to retire,” Jian Tang sighed, his emerald eyes brimming with longing. “I want to retire too. Sigh, I’m so envious.”

Although possessing a wife could lead to a lifetime of happiness, working continuously for 999 years was really exhausting. He really wanted to take a long vacation… QAQ.

Little Zombie was just about to feel relieved that Jian Tang had a big heart and wasn’t affected by the topic of Remnants, but when he turned his head and saw the endless dungeon waste on the conveyor belt—wondering how much longer this miserable working life would last—he couldn’t help but feel a surge of sadness too.

Little Zombie: “I’m so envious too. I want to earn enough money quickly and then happily retire QAQ.”
Little Mushroom: “Me too, I want that so much QAQ.”
Little Mud: “Wuwu, me too, me too QAQ.”

The Hundred-Eyed Spider Matriarch, hanging upside down from the ceiling to supervise, cast a severe look in their direction. The four little monsters immediately clamped their mouths shut in terror, working with their heads down while crying internally.

Wuwuwu, we want to go live a happy retirement life too!

—

The person currently enjoying that “happy retirement life” carried and dragged bags of fresh ingredients into Building 44.

The workers sent by the property management were in the midst of replacing the floor tiles. Feng Xun only glanced at them when entering the lobby, then walked past without looking sideways—he completely lacked the gross habit of some perverted serial killers who insisted on running back to the crime scene to show off or gawk.

He took the elevator to the fourth floor, used his fingerprint to unlock the door, and entered his Safe House—Apartment 404.

Compared to when he left earlier this morning, the Safe House had visible changes: the plain white walls were covered with warm-colored wallpaper, the curtains now had cute patterns, every room had locks, and the ceiling lights had been replaced with more exquisite models.

A beautiful rug was laid out in the center of the living room, the sofa had been replaced with a more comfortable home-style modular set, and there was now a rattan rocking chair and several green plants. A projection device and audio system had even been installed on the TV wall. It finally didn’t look so shabby anymore.

But these changes alone didn’t count as having “the warmth of daily living”—the man frowned almost imperceptibly—at least not by a long shot compared to the 100-million-credit transaction price.

The entire apartment was very quiet, and it was empty. Feng Xun’s gaze fell on the coffee table in the living room, where he saw the unopened boxed milk and sandwich.

Their positions were slightly different from before, clearly indicating that the “cohabitant” had picked them up to look at them before putting them back down. Whether the other person was out of guard, or simply had no appetite and therefore rejected the breakfast, Feng Xun had no intention of inquiring. He had simply placed the breakfast gift provided by the System there; as for what the other person thought of it, or what they were thinking, he didn’t care and wasn’t concerned.

A new double-door refrigerator had been added to the kitchen. Feng Xun put the ingredients that needed refrigeration inside, keeping only a small portion for lunch.

The rooster, which had been fussing non-stop the entire way, went instantly quiet upon entering the house. Animals have sharp instincts in certain aspects; it seemed to realize it had stepped into the lair of a large beast and was so scared it didn’t dare to move.

Feng Xun found a vegetable washing basket in the cabinet, peeled half a cabbage, and after cleaning the leaves, placed them on the cutting board.

The crisp, fresh cabbage looked very easy to slice. The man raised his hand and slashed lightly; in his otherwise empty palm appeared a short blade shining with a cold light.

Just as the sharp edge was about to touch the cabbage, it hit an abrupt emergency brake.

Hmm.
Normal humans seemed unlikely to be able to “pull a blade out of thin air.”
And they certainly wouldn’t use a murder weapon for killing monsters to slice vegetables.
…This situation called for a professional, home-essential kitchen knife.

Feng Xun circled the kitchen once and didn’t find any matching kitchen knives. He didn’t know if they hadn’t been upgraded or if the System simply hadn’t prepared them for him.

“…”
Never mind, next time.

Then, he continued, with a clear conscience, to “pull a blade out of thin air,” hacking the cabbage on the cutting board into pieces, the whole family meeting their end in neat uniformity.

Afterward, he peeled potatoes, scalded tomatoes, and beat eggs. His technique wasn’t particularly skillful, but it looked decent, no worse than some city dwellers who rarely cooked.

Just as he was busy, the blue light screen suddenly popped up. This time, it wasn’t a System notification, but a pulsating call request. Seeing the name on the screen, Feng Xun raised an eyebrow and tapped the “Answer” button.

“Feng Xun, where are you right now?”

The voice of a young man came through, sounding sunny and brisk, the schadenfreude in his laughter impossible to hide.

“Oh my, I know you’re a workaholic, but you don’t have to play people like this. Why are you playing this ‘sit-ups’ game? How childish.”

Feng Xun didn’t even lift his eyelids as he minced garlic: “Speak human.”

The other party laughed even more happily. The background was noisy, as if he were in some public place: “You really should come see this. The Tasker Hall has already blown up. They all say you’re deliberately playing with people’s heads—you clearly announced your retirement, yet you silently scored another 6,000 credits. That kid Mo Qi is already so mad he’s crying. Everyone says that the eternal ‘number two’ guy shouldn’t count on turning things around, hahaha…”

“I am retired.” Feng Xun divided the chopped vegetables into several plates. “I won’t be going back for a while.”

“Then what was that rise in credits?”

“Ran into an escaped Evil Seed,” Feng Xun said. “It came to my door looking for death, so I killed it in passing.”

“…”

The other side finally stopped laughing.

“No way, right?” The other party clearly didn’t believe it. “Evil Seeds are smart as hell and can tell the difference between ordinary people and Taskers. If it saw you and didn’t run ten miles away, it would be a miracle. It could actively come to provoke you?”

“It violated my precious asset.”

“???”

“I was exercising my right to defend my interests,” his tone was very certain.

Judging by the current upgrades of the Safe House, within the price of 100 million credits, that “cohabiting spouse” accounted for at least 60%.

It was definitely a precious domestic asset.
A mere Evil Seed worth a few thousand credits dared to come and extort his precious asset worth tens of millions of credits?

If it didn’t go to die, who would?

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