Chapter 812: Trash Can King

The pedestrians passing by nearby began to look at Xing with an extremely complicated gaze.

A middle‑aged woman carrying a basket of vegetables stopped, opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and finally chose to walk away quickly.

But Xing didn't notice at all.

In Xing's world, there was only this trash can.

She bent down, pressed her face close to the lid of the trash can, the distance between her eyes and the lid so near that she could almost count every speck of dust on the metal surface.

Her nose tip was only two fingers away from the sealing rubber ring, and the warm breath she exhaled spread a small patch of translucent mist across the metal.

She lifted her right hand, and her index finger slowly slid along the seam between the lid and the can body, the fingertip tracing every groove of the sealing rubber ring, the motion as light as if outlining a work of art.

"This seam,"

Xing whispered, her tone carrying the awe of a connoisseur discovering a treasure, "Flawlessly crafted. Seamlessly sealed, airtight, not even a ray of light can pass through. Do you know what this level of airtightness means? It means you have never truly been opened. You have been waiting for someone worthy of you."

The fingertip paused at the exact center of the seam, the pad of the finger gently pressing down, feeling the subtle rebound of the sealing rubber ring under pressure, "And that person is standing right in front of you now."

As her face drew ever nearer to the trash can lid, close enough that her nose tip was about to touch the metal surface,

the lid suddenly moved.

It wasn't lifted by Xing.

It was the lid itself pushing open a crack from the inside.

The crack was extremely narrow, just wide enough for two fingers to slip through.

And then two fingers indeed shot out swiftly through that gap.

Xing had no time to react.

The two fingers mercilessly jabbed into Xing's eyes.

"Ah—!"

Xing's whole body was flung backward.

She covered her eyes with both hands, lost her balance and rolled twice on the ground, rolling from beside the trash can all the way to the stone steps at the roadside.

Her two legs kicked twice in mid‑air, the heels of her boots scraping two white marks on the stone pavement, then she came to a halt in an extremely contorted posture, back flat on the ground, head tilted to one side, her gray hair fanned out on the floor in a radiating circle, her golden eyes tightly shut, a tear of saline from the sting hanging at the corner of her eye.

Rolling and kicking wildly, she let out a string of wails completely at odds with her previously dominant‑CEO persona: "My eyes! My eyes! The eyes I used to appreciate the trash can! The eyes I used to appraise the lid's craftsmanship! The eyes I used to observe the sealing rubber ring's texture—!"

When she finally caught her breath and crawled up from the ground, one eye still covered, she saw a sight that made her brain freeze on the spot.

The trash can had sprouted legs.

Two legs, slender and long, emerged from beneath the can's base.

The two legs were moving alternately at a rapid pace, propelling the whole trash can to run down the street.

The lid remained tightly sealed, the metal body reflecting regular glints of sunlight, and from a distance it looked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, fleeing.

Xing's mouth opened.

She stayed half‑kneeling on the ground, one hand covering an eye, the other hand hovering in the air, fingers trembling slightly as they pointed at the trash can that was gradually running away.

The trash can's legs clattered "dadada‑dadada" on Changletian's stone pavement, growing farther until, finally, the perfect metal body vanished around the street corner.

Xing stared in that direction, the corners of their mouth twitching twice.

"Ah?"

They blinked the eye that hadn't been jabbed, then blinked the eye that had been jabbed.

They lowered the hand that had been covering an eye, planted both hands on their knees and rose slowly, eyes still fixed on the corner where the trash can disappeared. They glanced down at their hand—the same hand that had just touched the trash can's sealing rubber ring. Then they looked back up at the corner.

A trash can with long legs.

The trash can that jabbed their eye and then ran away.

A trash can whose lid cannot be opened no matter how hard they try.

"Could it be…"

Xing's golden pupils flashed with a sudden insight, "Is this a special‑edition trash can? A rare variant that exists only in Xianzhou Luofu? The legendary Trash Can King, the Emperor of Bins, a high‑tier anomalous entity with built‑in defense mechanisms and a fleeing instinct?"

They took a deep breath.

All the trash cans Xing had seen before, whether Beloberg's iron cans or Black Tower Space Station's alloy cans, were merely ordinary containers.

They had no consciousness, no defense mechanisms, and their lids could be lifted at will.

But the one before Xing now completely exceeded their Cognition.

It refuses to be opened, attacks proactively, and can even grow legs to flee.

What does that mean?

It means the species of trash cans is evolving.

And today, at a street corner of Xianzhou Luofu Changletian, Xing witnessed this historic moment with their own eyes.

Xing was profoundly shocked.

They stood in place, gray shoulder‑length hair gently ruffled by the wind, golden pupils reflecting the everyday bustle of Changletian's streets.

The expression was serious and earnest, as if contemplating an extremely profound philosophical proposition.

Then Xing suddenly smiled, the corners of their mouth lifting slightly, carrying the excitement of discovering a new continent.

"Trash Can King,"

Xing muttered to themselves, savoring the title on their tongue, "I must meet you again. The next time we meet, I'll be ready with more professional appraisal tools. Your lid, I will eventually open."

Then Xing heard a familiar voice.

"Xing—!"

A familiar voice came from afar, steady yet slightly urgent, cutting through the clamor of the onlookers.

Xing turned their head and saw Walther walking toward them.

His brown hair bore white highlights, black‑rimmed glasses reflected the sunlight, and the hem of his long gray coat swayed lightly with each step.

He moved through the crowd with steady, swift steps, holding a Starrail train communication terminal in his hand.

"How did you end up here?"

Walther walked up to Xing, sized her up from head to toe, his gaze lingering half a second on her still reddening eye, and said, "Just now at the Shen Ce Fu you said you wanted to go out for a breath of fresh air, and then you vanished. Dan Heng sent a message over. He encountered—"

"Yang Shu."

Xing stood there, the light in her golden pupils unusually earnest.

She inhaled deeply and began speaking in a seriousness she had never shown before.

"I just ran into a long‑legged trash can. It poked my eye and then ran away. I think it's the king of trash cans. It's perfect. I'll find it again."

Walther fell silent for a moment.

His lips moved once, then closed, then moved again.

Finally he just nudged his black‑rimmed glasses, the lenses reflecting two white glints.

"... Fine."