Chapter 32: Reality + Hungry Hell
Tang Mobai obediently followed Gong Wen out of the elevator onto the third floor, where the entire level was filled with state-certified laboratories. Soon, under her guidance, they arrived at an examination room.
Inside, Tang Mobai saw a volunteer lying on the operating table, their entire face covered with gauze, surrounded by several researchers. At the forefront stood a woman in her forties or fifties, her hair already streaked with gray.
“Academician Li, this is Tang Mobai. Mobai, this is Academician Li, the lead researcher of the R-09 drug project. You may have seen her on TV before.”
As Gong Wen spoke, Academician Li turned toward Tang Mobai. She didn’t shake his hand since she was still wearing medical gloves, but gave a polite nod. Tang Mobai immediately returned the gesture. “Hello, Academician Li. I’m Tang Mobai.”
“Hello,” Li smiled faintly. “I’ve heard about you. If it weren’t for the knowledge you brought back, it would probably take Earth another ten years to achieve a breakthrough like this.”
Tang Mobai couldn’t help but glance at the volunteer on the operating table—and at the tray beside it, where a syringe lay, already used.
“That’s…?”
“Yes. The reason we invited you here today is so you could witness this moment yourself,” said Li softly, glancing at the clock. “It should be about time.”
Gong Wen quietly explained, “His name is Yue Jixiang. He volunteered for this clinical trial. He’s a firefighter who was trapped in a blaze during a rescue mission. He suffered severe burns to his face and body—multiple surgeries couldn’t restore his facial muscles, and his condition seriously affected his daily life.”
While she spoke, several researchers carefully began removing the bandages from Yue Jixiang’s face and body. During the process, Tang Mobai noticed that the man’s hands trembled slightly.
When the final bandage came off, Tang Mobai couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath—and the researchers reacted much the same. Yue Jixiang instinctively tried to lift a hand to touch his face, but stopped halfway, almost afraid to move.
Tang Mobai could clearly see that the skin on his face was soft and pink—like that of a newborn. The muscles around his eyes twitched faintly, a good sign indicating that previously necrotic nerves were reawakening.
A nearby scholar handed him a mirror. The moment Yue Jixiang saw his reflection—his appearance nearly 97% restored—the grown man broke down in tears.
In the midst of that emotional chaos and excitement, Tang Mobai left the room, still stunned. He turned to Academician Li, disbelief in his eyes, “Um… the ‘little red potion’ I made before never had results that good, right?”
The potion’s effects were supposed to be limited to minor burns, but Tang Mobai had seen the man’s medical photos—his facial tissue had been completely necrotic. Such recovery shouldn’t have been possible.
Academician Li explained, “That’s because this isn’t purely the effect of the alchemical potion. Do you know about alchemy’s limb-regeneration property? Actually, Earth’s research into human tissue regeneration started long ago. We’ve studied many animals capable of regrowing limbs and discovered a metabolic molecule called uridine. It’s rich in polyamines, pyrimidines, and fatty acid metabolic pathways—enhancing the self-renewal capacity of human mesenchymal stem cells.”
“Of course,” she continued, “we were optimistic about uridine’s potential, but it was still far from being clinically effective in humans—we faced issues with indications, efficacy, and safety. Then, in your ‘little red potion,’ we found a mysterious compound that acted as the missing link between uridine and the human body…”
Tang Mobai only half understood, but he was thoroughly shocked. “So… is this alchemy or science?”
“Hmm…” Academician Li pondered for a moment, then smiled. “It’s probably alchemical science. On the path of biological regeneration, they were far ahead of us—but you brought the answer back. In a sense, this isn’t just a ‘little red potion’ anymore.”
Indeed, judging by its effects, it had already surpassed that category—though it still wasn’t quite on par with the legendary “big red potion.” But for Tang Mobai, the impact was immense.
From Academician Li’s tone, it was clear—they had breached a technological barrier. Further upgrades and public releases were now only a matter of time.
Just imagine—it was a concept once confined to science fiction: bodily regeneration. The field’s leading edge had always been in the West, yet now, unbeknownst to the world, a monumental breakthrough had quietly taken root here.
Such a discovery would shake the entire pharmaceutical industry. Medicine was a field built on accumulation, and C-Nation had long lagged behind the western countries. But with a treatment this effective for trauma, the global hierarchy might soon change.
“Does the new drug… have a name?”
“Actually, that’s one reason we invited you. This was the first successful project made possible by your contribution—it should be you who names it,” Academician Li said.
But Tang Mobai shook his head. “I only completed the final step. The first ninety-nine were built on your team’s work. You and your colleagues should name it.”
Academician Li hesitated, then looked toward Gong Wen, who stepped in smoothly: “How about this—each of you pick one character?”
They both liked the idea. In the lab, a researcher brought out a sheet of paper. They turned their backs and each wrote down a single character. Five minutes later, they faced each other.
Tang Mobai had written “Rao”, while Academician Li had written “Hua”.
Rao—the world of alchemy.
Hua—their nation (C-Nation).
Gong Wen smiled. “Then let’s name it Hua-Rao.”
And so, the Hua-Rao Regeneration Drug—a medicine that would one day shake the world—was quietly born on an ordinary afternoon.
Though it would still take time to go from clinical trials to commercial release, that was no longer Tang Mobai’s concern.
He soon returned to his grueling training routine, as if what he’d witnessed was just a fleeting episode. But only he knew the awe and pride it left behind—fueling him to train harder and with sharper focus.
“—Tss!”
A strike from a three-section staff hit his hand bone directly. Su Mo-han drew in a sharp breath, then waved off Tang Mobai’s next move. “You win.”
“Hehe, that’s five times now, right?” Tang Mobai’s eyes sparkled. Over the past week, he’d won five matches and lost fifteen.
That might not sound great, but compared to losing every time at the start, it was incredible progress—especially since he wasn’t even using his Original Sin enhancement. His real combat ability had clearly improved.
“Another round, Coach?”
“No. You should rest today,” Su Mohan shook his head.
Tang Mobai blinked, realizing, “Oh—right, time’s almost up.”
Now that he was an official “Demon” his stay between Lost Paradise and reality was extended to three weeks. However, if he remained in reality for more than a week—consecutively or cumulatively—he was required to return to Hungry Hell for at least three days.
Originally, Tang Mobai had planned to stay two weeks in reality, then jump straight into the next dungeon to avoid the Jade Society’s trouble—but that rule ruined his plan. He’d have to face reality head-on.
He exhaled, surprisingly calm. His mindset had changed completely since before the revival Game.
Hungry Hell’s situation might still be dire, but he was no longer a powerless novice. He had an expert team behind him—and a nation advancing every day.
The Hua-Rao drug was only the beginning, a foundation stone for future progress. Before any greater crisis arrived, his country would become stronger still.
After resting and recovering his energy, Tang Mobai was escorted to another room, where the makeup artist was waiting.
When he saw the shiny bald cap and muscle suit on the table, his expression froze. “I… have to wear that?”
The makeup artist could barely suppress her laughter. “Don’t worry—it’s specially made. A little stuffy, maybe, but very flexible. You’ll manage.”
According to Yan Wuzhen’s intel, when players returned from Lost Paradise to reality, their inventory was locked—even handheld items were pulled into it. The Ouroboros tattoo bypassed this only because it was part of Tang Mobai’s being. Likewise, when returning from reality to Lost Paradise, only what was inside one’s body or worn directly could be brought along.
Hence—the invention of the “muscle suit.”
(As for the “fat suit,” it had been tested and rejected. Tang Mobai furiously accused Lost Paradise of fat discrimination. [Not really.])
The suit was packed full of Hua-Rao vials and other custom emergency tools—Tang Mobai was armed to the teeth.
Since the livestream system couldn’t offer real-time assistance inside Lost Paradise, the experts would’ve stuffed actual weapons in there if space allowed.
Gong Wen fussed beside him: “Stay calm during these three days. If anything seems wrong, survival comes first. Don’t fight head-on. If you have to, retreat to reality and we’ll plan a response.”
“Mm.”
“If you can, look for Seth or Yan Wuzhen—but be cautious.”
“Mm.”
“And even though your Ouroboros tattoo counters the Jade Society, don’t provoke them unless absolutely necessary.”
“Mm.”
“You’ve survived worse. A mere guild is nothing.”
Tang Mobai smiled. “Got it. I’ll bring back good news.”
He waved goodbye to Gong Wen, Wang Yuanzhi, and the instructor team, then stepped into the designated zone. His figure vanished.
[Welcome back to Lost Paradise! Detected entry location: Hungry Hell]
Light flickered—then the familiar darkness receded. Tang Mobai opened his eyes to the bustling streamer hall.
Yan Wuzhen had once explained: without a fixed base, players usually respawned in the streamer hall—hence, it was the liveliest place in all of Lost Paradise.
Immediately upon arrival, Tang Mobai sensed eyes on him. Before he could even identify who, a flash of blinding light hit him—So shiny. Way too shiny.
The Jade Society scouts, who were keeping watch in the hall, were caught completely off guard by the glare off his bald head. When they finally saw who it was, their eyes widened—and then quickly averted.
Tang Mobai’s new appearance: a 1.8-meter-tall, bald, muscular hunk—completely unrecognizable.
Broad. Gleaming. Overwhelming.
His presence alone seemed to make the air tighter around him.
As the saying goes: moderate fitness attracts women—excessive fitness attracts men.
Now disguised as the latter, Tang Mobai watched with mild amusement as everyone instinctively gave him space.
He didn’t mind at all—in fact, he looked around the streamer hall with genuine curiosity.
The interior design was clean and bright, with even a small dining area. Countless screens flickered on one wall — it looked civilized, well-lit, and at first glance completely at odds with the hellish aesthetic the name “Hungry Hell” suggested.
But Tang Mobai hadn’t wandered long before he saw several people in the lounge booing at a streamer’s failed escape attempt. Ah, there you are, the ones stirring up trouble in the chat! he thought, leaving in annoyance.
Before coming to Hungry Hell, Tang Mobai had undergone corresponding training — a state-level actor had even been invited to coach him on posture, gait, and tone of speech. From any angle, he looked like a completely different person from the Tang Mobai who had fought in the revival Match.
A few people loitered near the hall entrance, scanning newcomers with red-tinted glasses that looked like some kind of equipment. Every so often, they would grab a newly arrived demon.
“Hey, you! Take off your disguise!”
“Wh–why?”
“Not gonna? Fine then—” several others quickly closed in.
“Pfft, the Jade Society sure is domineering,” someone muttered nearby.
Tang Mobai caught snippets of whispers and finger-pointing, but no one dared to intervene. In the end, the unlucky man removed his disguise with a look of humiliation.
Keeping a low profile, Tang Mobai headed toward the exit. The young man by the door glanced at him but got no alert from his glasses, so he turned away with a bored yawn.
In Hungry Hell, disguises could be bought with points to hide one’s identity — common knowledge. Which meant, under the cover of that same “common knowledge,” people often overlooked what didn’t fit their assumptions. Wearing only his muscle suit and a layer of prosthetic makeup, Tang Mobai had strutted right through the hall, even pausing boldly in front of his own wanted poster.
“Hey, who’s that guy? The bounty’s huge,” he said, feigning surprise — and it wasn’t entirely fake. The reward was ten thousand points. He’d risked his life blowing up the entire arena, and Lost Paradise had only coughed up five hundred!
The man in sunglasses tilted his head lazily. “That’s the one who just cleared the Revival Match — pissed off our Jade Society. If you ever spot him, tell me. There’s a reward!”
“Can I just report his location instead of catching him myself?” the bald muscleman asked, scratching his head.
“Of course. Ten thousand if you catch him, two thousand for a tip-off.”
“Wow, no wonder you Jade Society guys are loaded,” Tang Mobai said with a simple grin, patting the man’s shoulder. “If I see him, I’ll let you know.”
The tattoo on Tang Mobai’s back remained still.
So — even if they were from the Jade Society, those uninvolved in the invasion didn’t trigger his mark. That was fine by him; he wasn’t eager to kill the innocent.
The man in sunglasses had no idea how close he’d come to death. “Good man. Hope you get rich,” he said lazily.
Tang Mobai walked calmly out of the main hall.
Outside, for a moment, he thought he’d stepped into a modern metropolis — maybe even more cyberpunk. Neon lights flashed all around, drones zipped through the air, and blue holograms projected ads.
[Sentinel Guild’s new product line — 10% off for early buyers!]
[Auction starting soon — participants please proceed to the venue!]
Before he could even marvel at it all, a massive screen ahead flashed — with his own face.
[WANTED: Tang Mobai]
[Target: Capture alive]
[Bounty: 10,000 points]
“Great,” Tang Mobai muttered. “They’re even advertising it now.” Just as the experts had predicted — he was the most eye-catching man in Hungry Hell, though not in a flattering way.
Then he remembered something and opened his communicator. Only two contacts were listed, and one had sent an unread message:
[Come to this address when you see this. — Yan Wuzhen]
Hungry Hell’s structure was honeycomb-like: at the center lay the Streamer Hall, surrounded by the auction house, trade guilds, shopping streets, flea markets, residential blocks, and the Demon Casino. Its total size rivaled that of a small city.
Following the address, Tang Mobai made his way toward the residential district. The deeper he went, the older and gloomier the buildings became — and the more people he saw lying on the streets.
He suddenly met a pair of eyes — hollow, hungry, and numb — and for a moment thought he’d entered the wrong place. This didn’t feel like the so-called “Paradise of the Lost,” but like a real-world slum in some rich nation.
And strangely enough, after walking less than an hour, his stomach began to rumble with hunger — even though he’d eaten just before arriving.
Enduring the greedy and suspicious stares that followed him, Tang Mobai finally reached a small, run-down house. He knocked once. The door slid open automatically.
He hesitated, peering inside — it was too dark to see clearly. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, several piano wires shot out from the shadows, dragging him violently inside. The door slammed shut behind him.
The room was pitch-black. Before he could react, the wires tightened around his limbs, immobilizing him. A voice spoke from just behind his ear:
“Don’t move.”
A beat later:
“Didn’t think you’d actually come. Naive as ever — but thanks to that, I’m about to earn ten thousand points.”
Tang Mobai’s eyes widened. “You can still recognize me like this?”
Yan Wuzhen’s voice was flat. “Of course. Who else would be this bad at keeping their guard up?”
“Okay, fair,” Tang Mobai muttered awkwardly, trying to turn his head away. “So what’s this about?”
“Still don’t get it?” Yan Wuzhen chuckled softly. “Or just don’t want to believe it? Fine — I’ll tell you. I’ve made contact with the Secret Forest Guild. They’re willing to wipe my record clean… in exchange for you. Now do you understand?”
Thank you for reading 🙂 I hope you all liked my translations. If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi 😉
