Dream Delivery System: My Delivery Jobs Keep Changing History – CH115

Chapter 115

The thrilling task was over, yet only five minutes had passed in the real world.

“System, does the professor know me?” It seemed incredible that a human in the task world would recognize him.

“Changyang, master of Shana Star, a world-renowned researcher and protector of magical beasts,” the system replied.

“Huh? Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

The professor was middle-aged now, showing little trace of his youthful years. Yet recalling him now, Jiang Jitang could sense a bit of that stubborn, tragic beauty.

No wonder he said the magical beasts were his eyes, ears, and throat. He must have meant Shana Star, though which one exactly was unclear.

“Has it really been so long in the magical beast world?” He wondered. Others he knew there must be older as well. Shadows of the past—wishers and acquaintances—floated in Jiang Jitang’s mind, stirring unexpected feelings.

“The time flow between the task world and the wisher world differs. Before binding, deep contact between taskers and the task world’s inhabitants is not recommended,” the system said, also answering a previous question.

Taskers needed objective judgment to evaluate whether a task world had binding value. Excessive contact with wishers could lead to emotional interference and poor decisions. Decisions made in high emotion often ended in tragedy.

“Do I seem like the kind of person who entangles relationships everywhere? You underestimate me too much.”

Jiang Jitang let the matter go and headed to the kindergarten.

A batch of ingredients had arrived at the kindergarten kitchen today, which was also his treatment day—he handled treatments for Middle Eastern tycoons as well as official personnel near Jin City.

After the East Capital incident, his monthly treatment load expanded to a thousand people, with flexible timing.

In fact, treating a thousand people a day wouldn’t be a problem—but that would discourage other healers.

“Ten days treating a thousand people drew attention. One day treating a thousand people… the trouble is endless.” Worse, it could affect people close to him—his mother, Parsons, even ordinary people he had contact with.

Just thinking about it was terrifying.

On the other side of Jin City, Parsons was preparing for his next dungeon.

He was about to challenge the Tenth Tier Cube World dungeon.

On the floor were neatly arranged items: protective suits, food containers for freshness, three days’ worth of rations, and a box of game items.

A displeased magical sword perched on his shoulder, upset after failed attempts to calm him.

He was about to enter the most dangerous dungeon with the highest death rate. Yet he had no way of knowing what the next dungeon held—no one had ever completed the Tenth Tier game and walked away unscathed.

Thus, he couldn’t judge the difficulty or necessary resources.

This was the greatest challenge any top player faced.

Why had hundreds of Ninth Tier players appeared only a month after Parsons completed his dungeon? Because predecessors had “tested the waters,” knowing river depth and hidden whirlpools. Not entirely avoidable, but it provided guidance.

“Why the rush? Is someone trying to challenge your spot?” the magical sword asked.

“I’m too strong; I can’t find a worthy challenge.” Parsons didn’t care about forum challengers—his only rival was himself.

Most of the items in the box couldn’t enter the dungeon; maybe none could.

But food, the magical sword, and the bracelet on his wrist could. Magic items seemed exempt from dungeon restrictions—one reason he felt confident tackling the Tenth Tier dungeon now.

“It’s too dangerous. You’ve only done four Ninth Tier dungeons, and were injured twice.”

“Only minor injuries,” Parsons said. “I’m confident.”

Previously, gaming was simply a way to vent a voided life, plus a knightly task to protect humans and the weak.

Now, his path was clear, and he had a goal to pursue.

Jiang Jitang’s abilities were like an iceberg in the sea—visible power drew attention, and if anyone discovered his submerged strength, even more would take notice.

Jiang Jitang was proud and would never bow. Sooner or later, he’d reveal himself to the world. Parsons had to maintain his lead position—only then could he walk alongside Jiang Jitang.

There was another motivation Parsons barely realized: he wanted to demonstrate his power.

Like a peacock fanning its feathers, showing his greatest advantage.

The magical sword knew it was useless to advise him—the only person who might stop him wasn’t here and had no idea.

“Lord Illman will be angry.”

Parsons froze, then admitted, “He’s even crazier than I am.”

“…Damn, impossible to argue with these two lunatics.”

Parsons checked the time; the second hand ticked: “It’s starting.” A flash of white light appeared.

Collecting ingredients, converting them to food, watching tycoons enter the dungeon, then treating them in the clinic—Jiang Jitang only learned at noon that the Cube World forum was abuzz: the Tenth Tier dungeon had been completed.

“Parsons?” he said without thinking.

“The deputy minister has great confidence in Parsons… and indeed it’s him,” Sister Xia said with a smile. This victory belonged to all players, and thus, to the world itself.

From the Eighth to the Ninth Tier Rubik’s Cube game, humans took almost a year.

No one had expected that only a month later, someone could enter the Tenth Tier. Their most optimistic guess had been one and a half years.

The Cube World allowed humans seven years.

But only Parsons had done it; other Ninth Tier players weren’t confident enough.

They planned to spend more time in the Ninth Tier dungeon to gather items. Yet many subtly bought clearance info from the secretive organization, preparing in advance.

“I just remembered I left the air conditioning on at home. I’ll step out.” Jiang Jitang looked calm, dropping his phone twice before pocketing it.

Sister Xia didn’t stop him. Emerging from a Tenth Tier dungeon, even Parsons had faced life-or-death odds—his concern was natural. Now Parsons needed him. Over a hundred seriously injured had already been treated in the morning.

Jiang Jitang left at above-normal speed; only then did Sister Xia tidy the cabin.

Jiang Jitang was a one-of-a-kind healer; Parsons, a one-of-a-kind challenger—there was no room for anyone to surpass them.

Privately and professionally, she hoped both would live long and progress together.

Jiang Jitang sprinted at city maximum speed to Parsons’ hotel. The front desk couldn’t stop him; in a blink, he was in the stairwell (the elevator required a key card).

By the time he reached Parsons’ presidential suite, he was exhausted. He caught his breath and knocked, sending a message: [Open the door!]

With a sticker: If you can enter a dungeon, you can open a door!

“Master, Lord Illman is here. Have you decided what to explain?” The magical sword crossed its arms. Though the dungeon ended safely, Parsons had been reckless—if luck had been worse, they’d never leave.

Parsons, already treated but still healing: …

Regardless of his explanation, leaving someone outside would only make Jiang Jitang angrier.

So he opened the door and saw Jiang Jitang leaning on the frame, panting. Jiang Jitang extended a finger, inhaled twice, then spoke: “Next time you enter a dungeon, I’ll be present. I’m the healer.”

“Fine.”

Jiang Jitang didn’t question why Parsons entered—their judgment and skill were enough. But dungeon conditions were unpredictable; even the confident could struggle.

With Jiang Jitang at his side as healer, injuries could be treated. If accidents occurred… Jiang Jitang would suit up as External Aid.

The nation’s top healer had arrived. Parsons unbuttoned his silk shirt, revealing bloodied bandages. By conventional knowledge, healers assess wounds before treatment.

Jiang Jitang ignored the bandages, distracted by half-hidden muscles.

Silk had never looked so revealing… wow, chest, waist…

The bandages were a minor distraction.

Foreigners were said to be hairy, but Parsons’ skin was smooth. Blood dripped like red gemstones.

Jiang Jitang’s envy led him to blame the system: I could’ve trained this body too, but the system fixed my time! This is injustice!

System: …

“Alright.” He snapped his fingers.

“Just like that?” In the East Capital, a magic circle was needed. Now, just a snap sufficed. Parsons understood why Jiang Jitang might be a gap-filler healer. Limited-use items and a high-level priest—no comparison.

But… weren’t Jiang Jitang supposed to dislike priests? Why is he healing magically…

“No questions.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You wanted to ask,” Jiang Jitang crossed his arms.

“…Fine, no questions.”

Parsons recovered, removed the bloodied bandages, and Jiang Jitang handed him a bowl of red date lotus seed tea, freshly delivered.

Not as effective as his special foods, but Parsons drank it willingly.

“What’s the Tenth Tier dungeon like?”

“Deceptive,” Parsons replied.

“How so?” Jiang Jitang was curious.

Parsons took a long strip of paper, writing “Day One,” “Day Two,” “Day Three”…

“The time we experience is continuous. But this dungeon’s time is restructured.” He cut the paper into blocks, shuffled them, then glued them back together.

Though it looked like one long strip, the order was completely mixed.

“At first, I didn’t notice the temporal disorder. Days passed without calendar markers, so I drew completely wrong conclusions.”

Parsons was the first challenger; alone, collecting info and judging. Mistakes were inevitable. The dungeon exploited this, almost trapping him forever.

“How did you realize?”

“The potted plant at the entrance.” Parsons recalled details overlooked during the dungeon.

“I remember you planted mint, noting that potted mint isn’t stronger than ground-grown, wilting after two days without water. Though it wasn’t mint, its daily state varied.” Observing the plant, Parsons correctly sorted the days and found the key to escape.

Higher-level dungeons tested broader knowledge. Parsons decided he wouldn’t attempt another Tenth Tier dungeon for at least six months—better to refine skills in Ninth Tier, gathering items.

This time was too dangerous. Three high-grade items were lost, leaving him empty-handed.

After talking with Jiang Jitang, Parsons returned to his usual state.

He still concealed some things, like an NPC resembling “Illman” based on his memory.

But… that was the dungeon’s worst design.

Compared to Illman’s ruthless strike to his chest, the NPC’s backstabs were slow, clumsy, and tried to justify themselves.

In reality, a true friend had no guilt or regret, striking decisively and without tears. No lesson could teach that essence.

The audaciously villainous Jiang Jitang sneezed, blaming the damned J-Nation, yet remained magnanimous.

“Is it this late? What should we eat tonight?” Time had flown—it was already three o’clock.

Parsons was stumped, humbly asking: “What do you suggest?”

“You’ve lost so much blood; let’s have duck-blood vermicelli soup! There used to be a good crossing-the-bridge noodle place, but they closed for a celebration. The duck-blood soup across the street is good. Afterward, we can have red sugar jelly shrimp—it replenishes blood too.”

Parsons hadn’t heard of it but was eager: “I’ve heard of it. Honored to try.”

“‘I’ve heard of it. Honored to try’ is formal. Normally, one would say, ‘Really? Great! Let’s go!’” Jiang Jitang instructed, teaching the C-Nation language to a foreigner, like a foreigner learning Chinese—formal yet awkward.

“Really? Great! Let’s go!” Parsons applied it immediately.

“Good.” A high five. “Let’s walk there.”