It was only after speaking with Fourth Uncle that Fang Senyan realized he had slept for at least thirty straight hours. Had Zai Zai not previously mentioned that Brother Yan had been busy with business for three days and nights without closing his eyes, the timid and cautious Fourth Uncle might have worried sick and sent Fang Senyan straight to the hospital.

This time, Fang Senyan’s “hibernation” was somewhat excusable.

First, the inherent difficulty of the 2012 Doomsday World was already staggering. Phenomena like tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, and earthquakes—terrifying disasters untouched in other worlds—were practically routine fare for powerful Contractors. These were instant-kill moves that often ignored health points and defense entirely; mere contact meant instant death.

Secondly, Fang Senyan had to navigate the inescapable net laid by Fubu, a challenge that wrung out nearly all his potential. Even so, after nearly reaching the pinnacle, Mo Gansa’s death still dealt Fang Senyan a crushing blow.

This was immediately followed by the sudden shock of the gold mine's departure. Finally, already utterly exhausted, he was severely drained by the voluptuous, mature Zi. It was only thanks to his digitized body that he didn't end up bedridden with a serious illness, given his mental disorientation and physical weakness.

Fortunately, the combination of ample sleep and the warmth of home slowly began to mend both Fang Senyan's body and spirit. Thus, after slurping down a large bowl of noodle soup with shredded meat, Fang Senyan felt he had recovered about eighty percent of his peak condition, with recovery still ongoing.

Seeing that Fang Senyan was alright, Fourth Uncle relaxed and headed to the docks to play Mahjong. Fang Senyan, chewing on the sweet cuttlefish roe left at the bottom of his bowl, felt another wave of drowsiness wash over him. He yawned, thinking another seven or eight hours of sleep would be a fine idea.

However, just as he settled back into the **, a phone call rang through. Seeing the number, it was Zai Zai, who had already gone to the mainland.

“Brother Yan, Brother Yan! This is bad luck. Hurry and pick me up, I’m being tracked here in Zhonghai City!”

Fang Senyan startled: “Who is it?”

Zai Zai gave a wry smile: “Ordinary people, not Contractors.”

Fang Senyan sighed, wishing he could slap the words "Disgrace of Contractors" onto Zai Zai’s face! A digitized Contractor, reduced to calling for aid because of a group of civilians—Zai Zai was helpless: “No choice. Because the ones tracking me aren't just anyone; I suspect they’re from the National Bureau of Statistics. If I kill anyone, this whole thing blows up.”

“Statistics Bureau? What kind of combat capability do they have?” Fang Senyan’s mind was still groggy, but he quickly understood: checking meters and collecting utility bills—isn’t that what statisticians do? Immediately, he grasped the seriousness of the situation. He said quickly: “Address, I’m coming right now…” Five hours later, Fang Senyan met up with Zai Zai. Their rendezvous point was a double-decker bus in Zhonghai City. Zai Zai looked thoroughly disheveled, his eyes sunken, his face seemingly dusted with grime. He didn't quite look like a petty hoodlum, but more like those tireless netizens who pulled all-nighters without adequate sleep.

As soon as Zai Zai arrived, he grabbed the Dicos Teriyaki Chicken Leg Meal Fang Senyan offered and began devouring it, choking several times in the process. Finally, he scraped up the last few grains of rice and gnawed on the last fried chicken leg, then wiped the grease from his fingers onto the paper bag bearing the smiling face of Show Lo, sighing contentedly before letting out a full burp.

At that moment, the bus stopped, and several people in black jackets boarded. Their movements were sharp and capable as they immediately fanned out to survey the area. Their eyes lit up when they spotted Zai Zai, and they immediately converged: “We are from the Urban Planning Division of the National Bureau of Statistics... We suspect you have been posting illegal advertisements and selling forged documents. Please come with us to assist with the investigation.”

Without waiting for a response, the lead man reached for Zai Zai’s wrist.

Fang Senyan observed the move and felt a jolt of alarm. This man's agility was significantly superior to that of an average person—bluntly put, he had the skill level of someone who had trained rigorously in the military for at least ten years. Moreover, the buttons on their chests were faintly gleaming; they likely carried hidden cameras. No wonder Zai Zai dared not summon his beasts, as being filmed would escalate the situation immensely.

Fang Senyan obviously couldn't stand by and let Zai Zai be taken. Remaining seated, he secretly drove a punch toward the man’s abdomen. This operative was clearly confident in his abilities; he sank his left shoulder, attempting to block Fang Senyan’s punch with his left palm while maintaining his grip with his right hand.

For someone practicing Iron Shirt Qigong, even if an adult struck him hard with a steel pipe, he could easily catch and disarm it with his left hand; an ordinary person's punch was nothing.

However, how could Fang Senyan be described by the term "ordinary person"?

The power contained within that punch exploded upon contact. In that instant, the operative was horrified to realize that not one, but ten palms would have been insufficient to stop the enemy’s fist!

He felt as if he were facing not a man, but a sixty-ton heavy truck barreling along at full speed—a power simply unattainable by human strength!

Thus, although his fingers had grazed Zai Zai’s wrist, his own stomach was struck violently by a punch. His face immediately turned ashen, and though he tried to speak, no sound emerged. He staggered back several steps, clutching his stomach, and collapsed limply to the ground.

Once Fang Senyan struck, Zai Zai immediately shrieked: “Robbery! Robbery!”

Chaos erupted on the bus. Having landed his first blow, Fang Senyan wasted no time. He thrust both hands out, grabbing the other two men whose faces had contorted in alarm as they tried to draw something from under their armpits. He slammed them together face-to-face, and both men immediately slumped to the floor, dizzy as if drunk.

The last remaining man saw this and tried to flee, but on such a crowded and chaotic bus, where could he run? Fang Senyan approached him with deceptive slowness, closing the distance step by step. Another punch rendered him unconscious. Fang Senyan and Zai Zai then quickly disembarked the bus and vanished.

“Hmm, there were three groups tracking me,” Zai Zai said as Fang Senyan pulled him along into a bustling mall. “There should only be two groups left now. Brother Yan, I’m really thirsty. Buy me a Strawberry Sundae first.”

What else could Fang Senyan do but comply? He sighed, deeply helpless: “What did you do to stir up such a hornet’s nest?”

Zai Zai rubbed his head, looking genuinely regretful: “I figured you were planning to master SARS, so I tried to get the strain for you ahead of time. Turns out, the mainland has extremely tight regulations on this. Even bribing them didn’t work, and I ended up being reported.”

Fang Senyan frowned: “Where do I have the spare Merit Points to upgrade SARS right now? Unless I postpone my rank increase, but my Blood-Soaked Major General Armor should be ready, and that offers a better boost than SARS currently.”

Zai Zai countered: “But Brother Yan, you can just hold out for now, wait until you save up enough, and then add SARS. That way, SARS remains a hidden card in your hand until you accumulate enough Merit Points to use it.”

Fang Senyan had to admit Zai Zai’s suggestion made a lot of sense.

After all, infecting and replicating the SARS virus had to be done in the real world. Overcoming that hurdle would certainly simplify things. Thirty Merit Points sounded terrifying—earning two or three points in a single world was common—but once a massive melee broke out, the rate of accumulation through killing became astonishingly high.

So, he nodded thoughtfully: “Your idea isn’t bad. But right now, getting the SARS virus seems difficult.”

Zai Zai laughed excitedly: “I wasn't completely useless, Brother Yan! Although mainland China’s controls are strict, I got another piece of intelligence: it might still be possible to obtain this thing overseas.”

Fang Senyan’s eyes brightened: “How?… Watch out!”

The moment he finished speaking, he immediately slammed Zai Zai forward, diving ahead of him. A faint hiss sounded nearby, penetrating a small hole in the glass counter. A saleswoman, who had been charmingly soliciting customers with a sweet smile, suddenly felt a prick in her leg. She reached down to touch it, feeling something like a needle prick, then let out an ungraceful yawn, leaning against the counter and immediately falling into a deep sleep.

Zai Zai was stunned by the sight: “This… they used a tranquilizer dart? Are they treating us like wild animals?”

Fang Senyan narrowed his eyes: “It seems you really did stir up quite the hornet’s nest.”

This was, in fact, the absolute truth. News that someone was looking to acquire the SARS virus would instantly attract the attention of the Statistics Bureau. What is a virus? It can’t be eaten, worn, or admired. Its only use to a nation is scientific research, but to ordinary people or organizations, it’s a tool to infect others, spread chaos, and incite social panic—who would welcome such a situation? In the end, they’d be classified as terrorists, warranting extreme vigilance.

“There are three people targeting us,” Fang Senyan sighed. “And if we don’t deal with them quickly, in five minutes there will be thirty, and then three hundred. Zai Zai, I notice there are quite a few pets in this mall, and it wouldn’t be unusual for a pet to go rabid and attack someone.”

Zai Zai raised an eyebrow: “I don’t like bloodshed, but if we can pin the problem on the pets, it’s worth a try.”