Dream Delivery System: My Delivery Jobs Keep Changing History – CH109

Chapter 109

After putting down his phone, the men escorting Jiang Jitang approached again. Seeing the confusion and suspicion on his face, a wave of suppressed grief surged from all directions. His eyes reddened, and with hatred in his tone, he spoke in broken C-Nation language: “It seems your country has chosen to abandon you.”

Jiang Jitang froze, first with panic, then anger. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

“You don’t believe me? Your phone exploded. They probably feared you’d defect, so they decided to deal with you decisively.” Blood tinged his words, his tone increasingly sarcastic. “You think you’re irreplaceable, but in reality, you’re just a pawn that can be discarded anytime.”

Jiang Jitang seemed struck but only grew angrier.

“You say all this just to tell me my path is cut off, that I have no choice but to stay here. Hah, don’t try that trick—I’m not buying it.”

Although he said this, his expression betrayed fear, and he even added a shaky threat: “Anyway, you think this will sway me? In your dreams.”

Seeing Jiang Jitang’s disbelief, the man fell silent, only sneering: “I hope you remain this naive forever.”

Jiang Jitang clenched his fists. “You have no sincerity. From now on, I won’t say a word.”

His performance perfectly embodied the ‘tsundere young master’ act. Others around them exchanged glances, noting every detail.

Although the atmosphere was tense, they still had to move forward.

They walked across a long, slightly damaged aerial walkway, then entered a staircase that twisted and turned so much it was easy to lose direction. Finally, they reached the underground.

The dim underground corridor glowed with faint yellow light. Strange marks remained on the walls, and the ceiling had cracks from which water dripped into stagnant pools on the floor.

“Really shabby,” Jiang Jitang snorted, looking unimpressed.

“Not talking?” someone mocked.

Jiang Jitang immediately shut his mouth tight.

The corridor had solid concrete walls and no vents, so normally no sounds should carry, but Jiang Jitang’s sharp ears picked up noisy chatter inside.

It seemed to be the players, complaining about today’s meeting and discussing experiences from the game’s dungeons.

Unlike C-Nation, where joining the official system was voluntary, East J-Nation’s players were forced to join and be controlled by the authorities. This was the District 10 player base. All players had to enter dungeons here and undergo collective training every half-month to unify their mindset.

Today was one of those biweekly training days.

East J-Nation always had strict rules; disobedience resulted in harsh punishment.

But there were benefits: players could learn new skills, gain dungeon information, and receive immediate checks and treatment upon exiting.

Of course, these benefits came at a cost. Any items players acquired were confiscated immediately, compensated later with special funds. The money could buy slightly inferior items or improve living conditions.

Elite players also served as bodyguards for ‘noble’ or ‘aristocratic’ players.

Because suicides couldn’t enter the Cube World, and East J-Nation was relatively safe, player numbers were low, but many were heirs to wealth and power.

Players from powerful backgrounds and commoners followed different paths. As East J-Nation media shows, serving nobles is ingrained in their culture—even with personal grudges.

The Celestial Dragons weren’t joking.

While East J-Nation adapted well and learned social hierarchies from childhood, ordinary people occasionally murmured dissent after sacrificing so much for nobles. Combined with traditions of rebellion from below, strong common players resented serving weaker nobles.

For now, they merely complained, not enough to rise in revolt.

In short, hierarchy was severe.

To deflect rising internal conflicts, the government stoked hatred toward C-Nation, convincing citizens that their hardships were due to a powerful overseas neighbor occupying resources and controlling them.

As a result, 90% of people smiled politely to C-Nation citizens while harboring hatred. Among commoners, hostility was even higher for players brainwashed at the base.

After walking barely a hundred meters, Jiang Jitang already heard players boasting about deceiving and sacrificing unsuspecting C-Nation players to complete dungeons. Most ‘sacrificed’ C-Nation players were friendly; unfriendly ones were harder to exploit. East J-Nation players accepted this because it was part of their education.

So when Jiang acted, he would have no qualms.

He turned the Golden Eye on his wrist, thinking quietly, silent. A massive eye appeared behind him, drawing on the power of heaven and earth, the wind flowing through the enclosed space.

His mana was insufficient, spells improvised. Each Elf natural spell had a long incantation, but channeling celestial forces could elevate a mid-level spell to forbidden spell effects.

“Little Eye, I’ve protected my mind. If anything happens and someone tries to force me to speak, trigger the mutual-destruction contingency. Don’t worry—I won’t die.”

“Yes, master.”

Others in the corridor noticed: “Where’s the wind coming from?”

They couldn’t see the massive golden eye hovering overhead.

Jiang’s eyelids drooped as he silently recited the arcane spell. The three-and-a-half-hour-long preparation began.

C-Nation had received Jiang’s message. After hesitation, Mr. Tao chose to trust Jiang’s judgment. Though they had met only once, he sensed that Jiang was decisive and level-headed.

Meanwhile, the East J-Nation remained poised to act, ready to sacrifice themselves if necessary.

To C-Nation at this moment, Jiang Jitang was invaluable.

In Jin City, Tao Fengxian looked at the sky and noticed the clouds seemed strange. He called to his assistant: “Xiao Guo, do these clouds look off to you?”

Xiao Guo shook his head. “Sir, I don’t see anything.” Tao frowned; he couldn’t explain why it felt wrong, only that it did.

“Check with the meteorological station.”

No need—the weather anomaly was soon noticed: the wind stopped, the rain ceased, and the sky cleared visibly.

Having lived in the capital for years, Tao was surprised. “Typhoon weather is always this unpredictable?”

Jiang Xingzhou and others: “This is the first time we’ve seen this.” Jin City was affected, but such a drastic change from storm to clear skies was rare.

The meteorological station reported in a baffled tone:

“The ‘Medusa’ typhoon, already in C-Nation’s southeast sea, is moving rapidly toward East J-Nation’s main island. The cyclone is strengthening, exceeding previous forecasts of level eight, reaching level ten. Satellite cloud data shows continued intensification.”

Tao couldn’t fully understand, concluding: “The typhoon… truly loves East J-Nation.”

C-Nation observed the changes with curiosity, while East J-Nation panicked. Though they experienced typhoons annually, it didn’t mean they were prepared.

“Damn it!” East J-Nation cursed. They envied C-Nation’s vast land, resources, and livable environment. That country almost became theirs.

Meanwhile, Jiang Jitang had been taken to the deepest part of the underground defenses, filled with players in dungeons. Every few minutes, staff checked survivors and cremated the dead.

Dead players appeared intact initially, then died in strange ways within minutes, leaving messages or going mad.

Jiang would not interact with other players. He was brought to the innermost room, where two people on hospital beds, wearing breathing masks, hovered between life and death.

“Save them,” said a man whose brother had died, looking at Jiang.

Jiang didn’t speak or move, only gave a mocking smile, a blend of anger and non-cooperation.

The man nearly acted but, remembering instructions from above, restrained himself: “A healer who cannot heal is worthless; only a dead end awaits.”

Jiang tilted his head, as if saying: Then do it yourself.

They dared not act—Jiang’s value was too high. Killing him would be indefensible.

After a tense few minutes, they called Ito Saiji and reported the minor conflict.

Soon, Ito arrived, his smile false. “Mr. Jiang, though we don’t wish to harm you, your lack of cooperation may not benefit you.”

Jiang remained silent, cold, determined to rebel.

“Don’t you wish to wait for your C-Nation team? No matter the answer you want, you must survive to get it.”

Jiang seemed slightly moved and, after two minutes, chose to heal the two injured players.

The player with a sliced-open abdomen, missing two organs and poisoned, and the cursed one beside him, were fully restored in just one minute under Jiang’s treatment.

It was unprecedented.

Even the East J-Nation, previously filled with resentment, were stunned, their eyes no longer showing rejection.

“Check,” Ito’s breathing quickened. “Tell me the results.”

He understood completely why such effort was spent capturing this healer. Even with heavy injuries, other countries’ healers could barely cope, yet Jiang handled it effortlessly. Such a healer was a life guarantee.

A healing device like this, in C-Nation’s hands… how infuriating.

Ito’s gaze toward Jiang had completely changed. For the empire or his own future, he needed this person’s abilities.

The report soon confirmed both patients fully recovered, ready for the next dungeon. Ito’s once-handsome face twisted with greed.

He slapped the previous guard: “Apologize to Mr. Jiang.”

The guard froze but bowed instinctively: “I am very sorry.”

“Our guard was rude. The phone explosion—cause unknown—but his certainty hurt you.”

Ito still thought healers were too delicate, like arrogant princesses, yet now he understood: real healers were meant to pull people back from death effortlessly.

Given this power, he could indulge this ‘princess’ captured from C-Nation—until she lost value.

Jiang Jitang remained silent, though his hostility slightly lessened.

As for not speaking, Ito understood: wounded pride, passive resistance. Being forcibly captured to East J-Nation, he refused to cooperate actively.

Ito smiled outwardly, cursing inwardly. These healers were harder to manage than princesses.

“Anyway, please stay here, Mr. Jiang…”

Before he could finish, the space shattered like glass. Each fragment gleamed like a blade, breaking concrete walls into spiderweb cracks, though anyone touching the shards remained unharmed.

They looked toward the explosion source.

A man at least 1.9 meters tall, long-haired, emerged from the rubble. He wore a dark fitted uniform, holding a two-meter-long greatsword with flowing purple light, emanating overwhelming strength.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

Jiang Jitang stared blankly at him, nearly halting his spell.