Live Streaming Food Stall… But in Dog-Blooded Novels – CH154

Chapter 154

Only after confirming that Jian Yunlan would set up shop at the same location the next day did Mu Dongsheng regain some semblance of rationality.

But even as he left the stall, he lingered, turning back repeatedly, and finally stopped at the entrance to clasp Jian Yunlan’s hands for one last confirmation: “Boss, you’ll really be here tomorrow, right? You’re not lying to me? Really? You have to come—we agreed—”

Jian Yunlan: “Uh, yes, yes.”

At last, Mu Dongsheng reluctantly departed.

He pulled his hood up, shrouding his face, and gradually disappeared into the distance.

Jian Yunlan watched his retreating figure, sighing: “That guest was really intense…”

Suddenly, the wind picked up, snowflakes blurring his vision.

Just two or three seconds.

When Jian Yunlan rubbed his eyes and looked again—

Mu Dongsheng’s figure, which had been visible moments ago, had vanished.

Even the footprints on the ground were gone, as if they’d never existed.

Had there really been a guest just now? Or… was it all a hallucination?

Jian Yunlan stiffened slightly.

In this apocalyptic blizzard, a guest who appeared and disappeared so abruptly carried an air of urban legend.

It was kinda terrifying.

But the next second, when Jian Yunlan felt something in his pocket, the eerie feeling instantly dissipated.

“…What’s this?”

He pulled out a small object.

It was a tiny, snowflake-like piece of paper with a faded puppet figure drawn on it, its red and green colors mostly washed away.

Come to think of it, earlier, Mu Dongsheng had frantically dumped all sorts of trinkets from his pockets into Jian Yunlan’s hands in exchange for another bowl of porridge.

Though Jian Yunlan had returned most of them, he’d forgotten about this little slip of paper.

“What now?”

Jian Yunlan frowned at the distance. The guest’s trail had completely vanished—there was no way to find him now.

But the guest had said he’d return tomorrow for more porridge.

So… he could just return it then, right?

That was the only option.

It was just a small matter, and the paper didn’t seem valuable anyway. After a brief hesitation, Jian Yunlan tucked it into a paper bag and set it aside, quickly moving on.

Rather than dwell on this, figuring out where to sleep tonight was more pressing.

Given the situation in Eastern Base, going back wasn’t an option—but he had to find shelter. Sleeping rough in this weather was not happening.

With that in mind, he directed Taotie and Niu Tou to start packing up.

As for the paper slip Mu Dongsheng had left behind? It was casually stuffed into some forgotten corner, waiting to be returned tomorrow.

*

Meanwhile, in the Multiverse Livestream’s “Savior” section—

The entire audience had fallen into stunned silence.

[…]

[My silence is deafening.]

[Just… a single ‘6’.]

[…Wait, what did you just say Mu Dongsheng casually handed over in exchange for porridge??? =?=]

[AH-SHENG, WAKE UP!!! WAS A BOWL OF PORRIDGE WORTH THIS??? HOW COULD YOU JUST HAND THAT OUT??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS??? OH MY GOD—]

[Newbie here, can someone explain? Isn’t that just a scrap of paper? I thought it was trash from his pocket—why is everyone freaking out?]

“Scrap of paper? Trash???” Commentator Old K’s eyes widened as he scanned the screen, his lips twisting into a weary, numb smile. “Heh. If only it were trash.”

“Do you all realize what that was?” Another commentator added woodenly. “That was the [Faded Pinocchio]—a top-tier artifact capable of temporarily sealing high-risk pollutants.”

“The key to saving the world…”

The moment these words were spoken, even the clueless newcomers fell silent.

Old K pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted.

After all this time commentating, his initial enthusiasm had long since been replaced by the bone-deep fatigue of having his worldview shattered repeatedly.

Every time the stream switched to that “Jian Yunlan” guy’s broadcast, the commentators—like most viewers—went through the same emotional rollercoaster:

“It can’t get crazier than this, right?” / “Hah, how much more absurd can it get?” / “…Wait, what kind of plot twist is this? No way???” / “Numb. Just numb.”

From the Eastern Base mercenaries’ uprising, to the villain Li Zhou being beaten into a corner, to the top-tier pollutant Yun Wen visiting the porridge stall, to Mu Dongsheng reclaiming control of his body way ahead of the original timeline…

Yet even after all that, when the [Faded Pinocchio]—the artifact that could determine the fate of the entire dimension—appeared in Jian Yunlan’s hands, the already-numb audience was still shocked anew.

—WHAT???

That [Faded Pinocchio]? The key item that appears during the apocalypse? The legendary artifact other streamers have scoured the entire base for but still haven’t found???

And Mu Dongsheng just casually handed it over for a bowl of porridge????

HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE?!

The commentators and viewers numbly glanced between Jian Yunlan’s livestream and the others’.

The other streams were still solemn, even bleak—the color palette dominated by the apocalypse’s gloomy grays, the expressions of NPCs numb and hopeless, the streets cold and desolate. With Mu Dongsheng gone and Li Zhou running rampant, smiles were rare.

The other streamers were giving it their all: some infiltrated the base’s upper echelons for intel, others used cheats to recruit mercenary squads and explore outside, searching for the legendary [Faded Pinocchio]…

Meanwhile, in Jian Yunlan’s stream—

Warm lanterns, crackling charcoal, steaming porridge, a napping dog, and the original protagonist personally delivering the legendary artifact.

[IS THIS EVEN THE SAME WORLD??? HOW CAN THIS BE THE SAME WORLD????]

[Do you believe this…]

[I DON’T BELIEVE IT!!!!]

The audience’s wails of despair echoed through the heavens.

*

Mu Dongsheng pulled his hood low, trudging through the snow, step by heavy step.

…Just moments ago, he had been sitting on a warm, soft seat, savoring smooth, fragrant porridge, his entire body suffused with cozy comfort. But now, all that warmth felt like a distant dream.

The wind in the Death Desert was sharp as a blade, slicing at his cheeks. His boots, soon soaked through from the snow, left every inch of him freezing, his lips numb and cracked.

Mu Dongsheng pressed his lips together.

Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to leave that porridge stall.

Even though he’d drunk every last drop, he would’ve gladly stayed in that warm space—even if it meant sleeping on the floor behind the curtain. It would’ve been a thousand times better than braving the storm outside.

But… a voice in his heart urged him to leave, and quickly.

If he didn’t, “It” would return.

Who was “It”?

Mu Dongsheng didn’t know. But something in his subconscious told him it was a dangerous presence.

As much as he loved the Simple Porridge Stall—the warmth of the stove, the hot porridge—he couldn’t selfishly stay and risk endangering that kind, generous boss.

Now, his only wish was for time to hurry up, to reach tomorrow so he could return to that cozy little stall and drink another bowl… no, ten bowls of steaming porridge.

Just the thought of it made his steps a little firmer.

He needed to find shelter.

A cave, or somewhere else to warm up—at least to survive the coldest hours of midnight. The Death Desert’s climate was unpredictable: snow one day, scorching drought the next.

As he walked, a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him.

His heart pounded wildly.

Mu Dongsheng found a rock in the wasteland and slumped against it, but the moment he sat, a searing pain flared across the left half of his face.

“What—?”

Alarmed, he reached up—

And touched a gaping mouth.

Slimy, cold, with tentacles writhing out from its depths.

…The memories he’d suppressed when reclaiming his body came flooding back.

His core, ripped out alive. The pollutant coiling around him. The slick, suffocating embrace of those tentacles.

Before, his ears had always been filled with indistinct murmurs—repetitive chants of “Ah-Sheng, Ah-Sheng, Ah-Sheng,” “Mine, mine, mine,” and “Eat, eat, eat.”

Now, in the snowy wilderness, those whispers returned.

The murmurs slithered into his bones like tiny teeth gnawing at the cracks. As more mouths split open across his left cheek, the whispers grew louder, clearer.

In the final second before losing consciousness, Mu Dongsheng finally deciphered the obsessive, pathological mutterings of the high-risk pollutant:

“Mine… mine, mine, mine, mine…”

The corner of his lips twitched in bitter amusement.

Of course.

As always, Yun Wen only repeated the same phrases. Mu Dongsheng had never understood why it was so fixated on him. If it just wanted his body, it already had it—so why—

But then, his eyes widened slightly.

Because… the whispers had new content.

“Porridge—porridge, porridge, porridge! Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, MINE!!!”

Mu Dongsheng: “…”

Mu Dongsheng: “Uh, about that…”