Chapter 4: Fruit Not Meant for Humans

It seemed that this stone door was likely the true culprit.

“But how did it get here?” Mo Jiang pondered for a moment, then set the thought aside. He knew he would never figure it out, so there was no use wasting energy on such questions.

Compared to the stone door, what occupied Mo Jiang’s mind more was that third-level Wish Fruit.

“Where is it?” he wondered, when suddenly he sensed a strange connection. Then he saw a small space, and within it, a tiny fruit, entirely golden, resembling a loquat, yet somewhat like a lychee, looking deliciously appetizing.

As Mo Jiang fixed his gaze upon it, information about the fruit appeared in his mind.

“Third-level Wish Fruit: Make a wish before eating, then swallow the fruit in one bite. There is a 1% to 100% chance of the wish coming true. However, the wish must not exceed the fruit’s limits; the probability of success varies depending on the difficulty of the wish.”

Mo Jiang blinked. “So this is the Wish Fruit... Wait, there’s more information about the fruit’s levels—first-level is lowest, eighth-level is highest, and the higher the level, the greater the wish’s upper limit. This third-level Wish Fruit can only fulfill a minor wish. And as for the probability...”

Mo Jiang gradually understood how to use the Wish Fruit: the wish had to be realistic. For instance, if he wished to have dinner with his fiancée tonight, the chance of success might be seventy to eighty percent—after all, she might have plans and refuse. But if he wished for a pleasant evening together, the probability would drop to just five percent.

And because of Mo Qingqing, the chance was even lower, only one percent.

“This is a storage space; I can freely take and store things, but only Wish Fruits,” Mo Jiang realized, and then saw an object appear before him.

It looked exactly like the Wish Fruit he’d seen in the storage space, except it was the size of a basin—much larger than the tiny fruit from before, even bigger than a human head.

“Swallow the fruit in one bite...” Mo Jiang recalled the wish’s requirement, and fell silent.

After a long moment, he returned the third-level Wish Fruit to the storage space, muttering, “I seem to have forgotten about my son. Let me see, where is he... Oh, still here.”

Mo Jiang went to retrieve the Manlong Grass Fruit. It had a peculiar origin, and since he’d brought it out, it must have a special effect.

Just then, Mo Jiang received a piece of information.

“My son can be exchanged for a first-level Wish Fruit? Well, do it quickly then!” Mo Jiang said, and at once, the Manlong Grass Fruit in his hand vanished. The storage space appeared before his eyes again, this time containing two normally sized Wish Fruits.

But Mo Jiang knew the real size of Wish Fruits shouldn’t be judged by what he saw now.

“A first-level Wish Fruit should be smaller than a third-level one, right?” he muttered, watching as a fruit rolled into his hand.

It resembled a loquat, looked like a lychee, was entirely golden, and about the size of a small apple.

“This one can be swallowed in a single bite!” Mo Jiang finally breathed a sigh of relief. Had the first-level Wish Fruit been as large as the third-level one, he would have despaired. The problem would no longer be whether the wish came true, but whether he could breathe at all after swallowing it.

Most likely, he would suffocate.

“Make a wish, make a wish...” But after repeating this excitedly twice, Mo Jiang froze.

He had no wish to make.

The Mo family was one of the most prominent in Heman Province, with deep ties in politics, the military, and business. Its influence was incredible—beyond imagination for those who had merely struck it rich.

As the eldest son and only heir of the Mo family, Mo Jiang lacked nothing and faced no real threats.

Even those so-called “superhumans” one only ever saw in movies—Mo Jiang found memories of such people in his mind, albeit superficial ones. He knew they called themselves “Strangers,” and the most powerful among them were called “Transcendentals.”

The only thing he lacked was perhaps friendship. Since childhood, the only person he could truly enjoy time with was his sister, Mo Qingqing. Mo Jiang believed this was why his predecessor loved Mo Qingqing.

“So after all this, I got excited for nothing?” Mo Jiang was stunned. He could have wished to become a “Stranger,” but a single first-level Wish Fruit could never fulfill such a wish.

Because “Strangers” depended on bloodlines.

Not the blood ties of father and son, father and daughter, mother and son, or mother and daughter, but the blood of the land itself!

Take Heman Province, for example. Throughout history, it had been rife with legends—strange tales of spirits, foxes, swords, mythic Buddhas, and the like. Yet these stories weren’t unique to Heman Province; other places had them too.

But in neighboring Xiangjiang Province, since some unknown dynasty, there had been tales of corpse herding—unique only to Xiangjiang Province.

But in truth, it wasn’t corpse herding; it was the “Flying Ghoul Strangers.”

And south of the Long River, ending at the Suqin Ridge—the border between old Gui Province and the new city of Qing—there had long been legends of the Elixir of Immortality, passed down through generations, believed by countless people.

And indeed, there existed there a kind of medicine that could extend human life.

It was called Corpse Rest Herb.

This herb grew from the bodies of local “Longevity Strangers.” But not just any “Longevity Stranger”—only those who had lived over a century. Only corpses of centenarian “Longevity Strangers” could produce Corpse Rest Herb.

Mo Jiang could only put the first-level Wish Fruit back for now; he didn’t need it yet, but perhaps he would someday.

“It seems the higher the Wish Fruit’s level, the larger its size... I’d better start considering how to eat myself into at least a half-ton fat man first,” Mo Jiang said as he lay down on his bed.

He’d spent quite some time in that bizarre, nightmarish world, yet upon returning, found that scarcely a few minutes had passed.

It was still dark outside.

The ordeal had left him utterly exhausted—he hardly had the mental energy to think about Mo Qingqing.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately.

The next morning, he was awakened by someone calling his name. It was the mother of his predecessor—now his own mother as well.

Her eyes were red, her face haggard.

She had clearly not recovered from the blow of Mo Qingqing’s death.

But her first words left Mo Jiang stunned.

“The murderer who killed Qingqing has been found.”

Mo Jiang couldn’t help but recall what Mo Qingqing’s body had looked like—no wounds at all, as if she had died a natural death.

Even the autopsy had found no trace of poison in her body.