Chapter 38: Reality + The Hunger Games
The scene shifted back to the Hunger Hell. Tang Mobai and his group had earned two hundred thousand points, so the Jade Society’s pursuit was no longer a problem. After purchasing some basic experimental equipment and locking himself in his room for two days of tinkering, Tang Mobai finally returned to the real world.
The large amount of information he brought back was quickly received by the base’s research team. When they learned about what had happened with the Jade Society and the Demon Casino, Wang Yuanzhi’s expression grew grave.
They had already anticipated that the Jade Society would target them, so they knew Tang Mobai’s trip into Hunger Hell wouldn’t be easy—but the level of difficulty still far exceeded everyone’s expectations. Especially regarding the Demon Casino—if things hadn’t gone well, the fledgling team they had just formed might have collapsed overnight.
“I understand. It looks like we’ll need to move up our Market Launch plan,”
Wang Yuanzhi said, quickly drafting ideas in his head on how to use the Watchtower Guild to distribute their healing potion—how much profit they’d have to sacrifice to persuade its boss…
Tang Mobai hesitated for a moment before saying,
“Please wait a moment.”
He stood up and went straight to the bathroom. Wang Yuanzhi and the other experts exchanged puzzled looks.
A few minutes later, Tang Mobai came back out holding a sealed capsule that the research team had sterilized.
“What’s this…?”
“Food from the Hunger Game,” Tang Mobai said. “It’s definitely edible, but it doesn’t satisfy hunger. That made me think of the very mechanism of Hunger Hell itself. So I spent the next two days there studying its properties—seeing if there was a way to reverse it.”
Wang Yuanzhi raised his head.
“You mean…?”
“Based on my three days of experiments in Hunger Hell, I figured out part of its mechanism,” Tang Mobai explained, taking a piece of draft paper and jotting down data.
“It’s not that Hunger Hell increases energy consumption—it affects the mind. The hunger comes from a psychological interference. I measured blood sugar levels and gastric residue after eating… and this is the data I got.”
“Then I studied the food provided in the Hunger Game itself—it proved my theory. The calories are sufficient, but the food contains a trace substance that affects brain secretion.”
As Tang Mobai wrote on the whiteboard, explaining the data he’d collected, Wang Yuanzhi listened quietly before saying,
“You brought that food back not just for analysis, did you?”
Tang Mobai hesitated, then said with determination, “I want to extract that substance—to find the true cause of hunger… and then make food that can actually satisfy it.”
“That would sell out instantly in Hunger Hell,” Wang Yuanzhi said.
“But it would also make you a true enemy of the Merchant Alliance.”
His tone was serious. The usually calm man’s stern face made Tang Mobai pale slightly, but he still replied firmly, “That’s no different from how things already are.”
It was a joke—did he think not doing this would make him any safer? Impossible.
The Jade Society wasn’t the only one after him; other guilds were just as interested—especially in his alchemical knowledge. Breaking the Jade Society’s monopoly was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Every ambitious guild was secretly searching for Tang Mobai’s whereabouts.
Their pursuit just wasn’t as blatant. The underhanded tactics never stopped.
Tang Mobai had considered ways to deal with this. His first idea had been to release an improved version of the Healing Potion, derived from the Hua’ao formula, as a superior replacement for the common red potion—something that would definitely hurt the Jade Society’s market.
But that approach wasn’t ideal. Not because of doubts about sales—he trusted Academician Li’s research—but because it would cement Tang Mobai’s identity as an alchemist, increasing his value and making every guild see him as a target to kidnap or control.
The Jade Society was huge, with vast products and resources—they could even afford a price war. It wouldn’t shake them much.
So Tang Mobai’s gaze turned toward the freelancers of Hunger Hell.
They had no guilds, no organization—but there were a lot of them. And most importantly, they were victims of the Merchant Alliance’s inflated food prices. They were also the “milk cows” who fueled the guilds’ income with their constant need to buy overpriced food.
Cutting them off meant cutting off the Jade Society’s—perhaps even the entire Alliance’s—point economy.
Wang Yuanzhi didn’t speak. Neither did anyone else. The air in the meeting room was thick enough to freeze.
Just as Tang Mobai was about to withdraw his suggestion awkwardly, Wang Yuanzhi’s cold expression suddenly melted into a smile.
“No wonder you’re our top student—you’ve got guts.”
Tang Mobai blinked in surprise.
“You mean…?”
Wang Yuanzhi chuckled.
“We’ve considered that route before, but shelved it. It could make a lot of money fast—but the risk is enormous.”
Indeed. The Merchant Alliance wasn’t just in Hunger Hell—it spanned from the 6th to the 3rd layer of Hell, a mega-organization of multiple guilds. Food pricing affected too many vested interests; any disruption would trigger a massive backlash.
But hearing the idea again, from Tang Mobai’s mouth, reignited something in Wang Yuanzhi.
Was it risky? Absolutely.
Did they want to do it? Absolutely.
Hunger Hell’s current situation was nearly set in stone. If they took the conventional route, Tang Mobai might be stuck there forever—and with the Jade Society watching, they’d never grow. Ascending to the next level of Hell would strip away their numerical advantage and force them into the elite’s narrow path.
Wang Yuanzhi’s eyes deepened.
“We’ll make a detailed plan for this. For now, get some rest.”
Tang Mobai nodded and left without insisting.
After a night’s rest, he was dragged into the lab the next morning right after breakfast to study the food remains he had brought back.
Or rather—what was left of them. Yesterday’s intact food was now reduced to scraps, showing the team had already run basic analyses.
“Mobai.”
“Professor Huang,” he greeted, quickly putting on his lab coat and gloves. “How did it go?”
“That brain-affecting substance doesn’t exist on Earth,” she said, sighing. “And you’re right—it shows signs of alchemical creation. Likely the work of an alchemist.”
Tang Mobai’s heart sank. If normal science couldn’t analyze it, that meant it could take years. And time was the one thing he didn’t have.
He sighed. Maybe he’d been lucky before. When Academician Li found the healing potion formula, it was because it happened to contain the exact compound her research lacked. Progress like that wouldn’t happen twice.
Without a core material that could alter Hunger Hell’s mechanics, their plan to topple the Jade Society and the Merchant Alliance was meaningless.
“I see…” he murmured.
“But it doesn’t mean reversing the effect is impossible.”
“Huh?” Tang Mobai looked up sharply.
Professor Huang smiled.
“We can’t analyze it yet, but we noticed its structure is… strange. I called you here so you can try using alchemy—see if you can reverse it.”
Though Earth could understand alchemical principles and use finished alchemical products, Tang Mobai was the only true alchemist capable of practicing it—everyone else was stuck at the stage of “spiritual power symbol tracing.” After all, what normal scientist could grasp something like mental energy projection?
Tang Mobai nodded, stepped forward, and performed the alchemical process. A faint light shimmered—the mysterious substance transformed in his hand.
…It worked?
He stared in disbelief. Professor Huang immediately brought over a hungry lab mouse and fed it a small piece of the reversed sample.
Normally, the mouse would eat at least 30 grams of food. After consuming only 5 grams of the residue, it completely lost interest in other food.
Success?!
Tang Mobai looked up at Professor Huang, both of them wide-eyed.
“But… the manager told me this was a failed product…” Tang Mobai muttered.
Professor Huang was silent for a moment, then said quietly:
“No. This probably wasn’t a failure. He had already succeeded.”
“Then why would he…” Tang Mobai trailed off—and slowly realized the truth.
It wasn’t that real, satisfying food couldn’t be made. It was that it mustn’t be made.
Because the entire economic structure depended on hunger itself.
In the Lost Paradise, no one farmed. All food came from dungeon worlds. The Evil Dragon Mall didn’t even operate there. Freelancers barely survived, guilds gathered the resources, and the Merchant Alliance—made up of those guilds—controlled food prices.
Overpriced food created massive profit chains. And the miserable freelancers filled the casinos.
“So that’s why it was called a failure…” Tang Mobai whispered.
“Do we continue?” Professor Huang asked.
Tang Mobai took a deep breath.
“Yes. Let’s make a sample batch first—and then present the results.”
*
In the meeting room.
After reading the report, Wang Yuanzhi was silent for a long time. Then he looked up.
This time, the room wasn’t just filled with scientists—there were new faces: an economics professor, a successful entrepreneur, a product manager known for a hit release, a top salesperson, a marketing strategist, a negotiation expert, and more.
“You’ve all seen the data,” Wang Yuanzhi said. “No need for long speeches. I want a complete business model for Hunger Hell built within days—and a marketing plan ready for launch.”
This time, Tang Mobai didn’t stay long in the real world. Working against the clock, he used alchemy to successfully reverse and extract the key substance from the food residue—and, combining it with modern high-calorie compression technology, he finally produced—a small pill.
Tang Mobai named it “Fasting Pill” — in a sense, it was his first real alchemy product… Ahem, though most of the credit should probably go to that unknown alchemist!
The function of the Fasting Pill was obvious — once consumed, it provided the body with the energy it needed and suppressed hunger for a short time. Based on Tang Mobai’s repeated tests between the Hunger Hell and reality, the effect lasted about one full day in Hunger Hell.
And don’t underestimate a single day — in Hunger Hell, most people had to eat every two hours. A single bowl of plain noodles cost 5 points, which meant at least 60 points in food expenses per day. But this pill? One per day, costing only 5 points to make. Even if Tang Mobai sold it for 30 points, there would definitely be buyers!
From the day this product was born, the problem was never about sales — it was about whose interests it would threaten. And as for Lost Paradise, whether it would even allow such a product to be sold remained uncertain.
“Looks like this time, we’re really going to shake Hunger Hell to its core,” Tang Mobai murmured.
Yet strangely, even with so many unknown factors, he didn’t feel much unease. Instead, he felt a quiet conviction — the same kind he’d felt when he decided to return to reality last time, even if it meant destroying the revival arena to do so.
Maybe Yan Wuzhen was right — following one’s desire was simply a demon’s instinct.
He opened his personal panel out of habit, but his “Original Sin” buff still showed only one — unchanged. The buff appeared whenever a demon’s next desire became clear, and it always reflected that desire itself. Since nothing new had appeared, did that mean his resolve wasn’t firm enough yet?
Tang Mobai scratched his head and decided not to think about it for now. He focused on making his final adjustments in reality.
Just before he set off, seeing Tang Mobai calm and collected, Gong Wen hesitated before saying softly, “Don’t worry. We’ll always have your back. If you feel things aren’t going well or the cooperation falls apart, you can stop anytime.”
After all, once the Hunger Hell live feed was cut off, they had no way to monitor Tang Mobai’s situation in real time. Even with prepared negotiation scripts and product launch plans, unexpected things always happened.
Tang Mobai nodded.
“Wish me luck.”
“Of course. May everything go smoothly for you.”
Tang Mobai grinned at her and, the next moment, returned to Hunger Hell.
In Hunger Hell, those without a residence were sent straight to the streamer’s lobby. Those with one, like Tang Mobai, could appear directly in their room — convenient for his back-and-forth experiments between worlds.
Taking a deep breath, Tang Mobai straightened up, left his room, and — to his surprise — found Yan Wuzhen and Seth both there, eating. He strode over and sat right between them.
“Hey, my dear friends! Still gnawing on that miserable bread? Tsk tsk, how tragic…”
Yan Wuzhen calmly tore his bread apart.
“Don’t start your nonsense this early in the morning.”
Seth dipped his bread in motor oil.
“Morning. You eaten yet? There’s still some in the fridge.”
“Heh.” Tang Mobai smirked proudly and raised his hand. Between his fingers gleamed two Fasting Pills.
“Of course I’ve eaten. But you two, my friends, are about to witness the birth of a revolutionary product!”
“From today onward, call me — the Celestial Kitchen God, Lord of the Stove!”
Yan Wuzhen and Seth exchanged a glance, then silently each took a pill from his hand and swallowed it without hesitation.
The pill tasted a bit like a sweet sesame ball — chewy, pleasant, and easy to swallow.
At first, Yan Wuzhen didn’t feel anything unusual. But as time passed, a hint of surprise crossed his face.
In Hunger Hell, hunger struck fast and hard — many demons couldn’t stand it and constantly entered dungeons to distract themselves. Even after eating, within minutes they’d feel empty again, and within two hours, starving.
But this time — after eating just one small pill — there was no hunger at all.
No one understood better than the residents of Hunger Hell what that meant.
They had seen Tang Mobai coming and going for days, sometimes grinning, sometimes brooding — both Yan Wuzhen and Seth had sensed something unusual. But now that it was real, even with their suspicions, they were stunned.
Yan Wuzhen stared deeply at Tang Mobai. Seth put down his bowl of oil.
“…So it came from that food you specifically packed back then?” Yan Wuzhen asked.
“Mm. Extracted and reversed from it,” Tang Mobai grinned. “Technically, I didn’t create it — the food used in the Hunger Game was already a successful product. The original inventor just inverted the effect…”
Yan Wuzhen immediately understood why that inventor had hidden it instead of revealing it.
“And you never thought about why they didn’t announce it publicly?”
Tang Mobai was silent for a few seconds.
“I know.”
How much of his excitement was genuine, and how much was to cover his anxiety — even Tang Mobai wasn’t sure.
He already had a solid plan with the experts in reality. Whether Yan Wuzhen and Seth joined or not, he would continue forward. But he knew the risk — too well.
To go against the Merchant Alliance of Hunger Hell — anyone sane would stay far away.
Still… having someone beside you made it completely different from facing it alone.
Before he could speak, Yan Wuzhen lightly punched his shoulder.
“So this is what you’ve been sneaking around with lately? No wonder you’ve been acting weird.”
“Our next phase is selling this, then?” Seth asked thoughtfully, staring at the pill. “But my chip doesn’t include a business module — I don’t really know anything about sales.”
Tang Mobai blinked.
“You guys… are joining?”
“Of course. Aren’t you the captain?” Yan Wuzhen rolled his eyes. “Besides, didn’t we lend you our point cards? You planning to pay us back?”
Tang Mobai blinked again — in truth, he hadn’t even used their points yet. But, for once, he understood Yan Wuzhen’s meaning and instantly replied, “Nope! All used up! Fully invested in this project. If it doesn’t make money, we’ll all have to grind in the dungeons!”
Yan Wuzhen snorted.
“Even if it wasn’t this pill, you’d have tried something else to crash the Jade Society’s market. Though I didn’t expect this kind of nuke. I thought you’d just use that healing potion to steal a bit of their share.”
“Risky, but high return,” he added after a moment’s thought. “Most of Hunger Hell’s population isn’t guild members, but freelancers. If you only sell healing potions, the Jade Society’s size lets them price-war you forever. But this thing? They can’t afford to compete. What’s it called again?”
“Fasting Pill — meaning you don’t need to eat for a while after taking it.”
“Fitting name.” Yan Wuzhen toyed with one between his fingers. “Huge profit also means huge risk.”
The pill rolled across the back of his hand before he flipped it and caught it neatly in his palm.
“You’re not just planning to sell, are you? You’re starting a guild.”
“That’s the plan,” Tang Mobai admitted.
“Didn’t expect it — a real ambitious one, huh.” Yan Wuzhen’s lips curled, eyes lighting up. For someone whose fate was rooted in pride and the urge to dominate, nothing thrilled him more than climbing over the existing powers.
Tang Mobai looked to Seth, who calmly said:
“We’re already wanted by every guild anyway. What difference does it make?”
Tang Mobai laughed, throwing his arms over their shoulders, the gloom in his eyes replaced by blazing youthful defiance.
“Then it’s settled! First goal of the Quack Squad — slap the entire Merchant Alliance in the face! Let’s blow the roof off Hunger Hell’s dirty rules!”
Yan Wuzhen sighed but didn’t push him away. Seth, watching Tang Mobai’s bright grin, quietly snapped a photo with his eye-camera.
“Though seriously — do we have to stick with the name Quack Squad?”
“What’s wrong with it? It was our first teamwork success!”
“Didn’t we fail that time?”
“Hey, details, details! Don’t sweat the small stuff!”
“And the guild’s name? Quack Guild?” Seth asked.
“Wait—you’re just accepting that?!” Yan Wuzhen gawked.
“Uh, let’s decide that when it’s official…”
Though their goal was set, the three of them alone couldn’t possibly launch a product like the Healing Potion or Fasting Pill. They were still wanted criminals — they couldn’t exactly set up a street stall, could they?
That’s when all three thought of the same thing at once — the Watchtower Guild.
Thank you for reading 🙂 I hope you all liked my translations. If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi 😉
