Chapter 6: Rescued

What does it feel like to be woken up by hunger?

It is like having your stomach clamped by a pair of pliers, then rotated 360 degrees, 720 degrees, over and over again—that kind of pain.

It is the kind of intensity that makes one grit their teeth, clutch their belly, and curl their whole body into the shape of a cooked shrimp.

The person who woke up certainly did not think that being woken up by hunger was such a lucky thing.

He merely sensed the difference in his surroundings intuitively, lying on a different mattress, looking at a different room scene. But he did not think much of it; he just saw and felt.

"You're awake, stranger."

The hoarse voice came from a frail old man with white hair; the only part of him that seemed carefully groomed was that handlebar mustache. The rest, while not exactly sloppy, showed little care.

He sat beside an unlit fireplace, holding a transparent glass cup filled with cheap amber whiskey.

So, was he the one who just spoke?

The reactivated thoughts brought only a sharp pain to his head, almost making him forget the cramping in his stomach.

However, the brain, now with its management areas reorganized, was no longer chaotic. The person who woke up did not know if he had adapted or if those super abilities were temporarily shut down; in any case, he seemed to have returned to normal and began observing his surroundings carefully.

So, the old man had stopped speaking "Maozi" and switched to "Eagle" language?

As someone who came through the exam-oriented education system, he had studied "Eagle" language. Unfortunately, his grades were poor; even normal conversations were full of dropped words, and he couldn't understand nine out of ten sentences.

Just now, the old man was asking him if he had woken up. Right.

Huh, why did he understand this time?

Because his thoughts suddenly took a turn, his head was struck by another bout of severe pain, making him grind his teeth.

Although the old man's greeting received no response, he had just enjoyed a facial expression performance comparable to face-changing opera.

First, a foolish look, then a face crumpled into a chrysanthemum shape from the pain. Next, a look of utter confusion as he gazed around, filled with various doubts and surprises. Finally, another face twisted into a "poop" expression from the pain.

The old man began to suspect he might have picked up some mental patient. In this day and age, aside from those obvious non-humans, the most dangerous thing to mess with was a mental patient.

Thinking thus, his hand involuntarily reached for the shotgun hidden in the dead corner of the chair, ready to fire at any patient who lunged at him in a fit.

Finally, the person who woke up remembered he was so hungry his chest was touching his back. He saw round bread and cold fried fries placed by the bed; without thinking, he grabbed handfuls and stuffed them into his mouth.

If it were an ordinary person's stomach, after a long period of starvation, it would only be suitable for liquid food; otherwise, it would vomit due to indigestion.

But now, with his steel stomach, even if real iron were eaten in, he could digest it right before others' eyes, let alone mere bread and fries.

The amount on the plate was not much; a few mouthfuls finished it. However, the process of eating was not particularly pleasant.

Starting from the mouth, the organs and cells of the entire digestive system upgraded once again under the guidance of super senses. Because if they didn't, the cells would collapse under the stimulation.

At the same time, the process of cell upgrading, the taste stimulation brought by the food, and all changes during the eating process, all this information flooded into the brain.

Fortunately, the reactivated and cooperating brain did not cause the body to lose total control due to such stimulation and changes. It was just that the influx of chaotic information caused a momentary confusion in his thoughts.

The person who woke up spent some effort sorting through his thoughts and adapting to all this stimulation.

That feeling was like, after food entered the mouth, the entire process was like a film turned into pictures, playing frame by frame.

And every single picture added detailed annotations to everything. Whether the information was needed or not, it was all shoved into his brain in one go.

This massive amount of information seemed redundant, but in fact, there were still quite a few blind spots.

Just like after the fries entered the mouth, one could know the largest component was starch; but there were many distinguishable flavors and components whose content was unknown.

It was not that this world lacked such component analysis; it was just that he didn't know. Neither the "him" of this world nor the "him" of the previous world had any related memories.

It was like a puzzle that should have a complete picture, but was missing many pieces, resulting in large areas of blank space.

This situation naturally brought confusion, and even some minor annoyance.

But for some reason, this "emotion" acted like a stabilizer, allowing the chaotic thoughts to find a thread; thus, peeling back the layers, it cleared out a set of mental rules. Instead of letting the thoughts run out of control.

In reality, all of this probably took less than a single breath in the old man's eyes; he saw the man on the bed return to calmness.

Then that person realized he was actually wearing no clothes at all! Instantly terrified like a little girl, he pulled up the bedsheet and covered his chest.

Regarding such an action, the old man was speechless. He couldn't say nothing, so he had to explain:

"When I found you yesterday, you were lying face down on the beach with your bare butt being washed by the seawater.

"I figured no normal person would bathe like that, so I struggled to drag you onto my car and brought you back.

"Drying your body which was on the verge of hypothermia and then tossing you onto my only bed already exhausted most of my strength.

"You can't expect a dying old man to help you put on clothes, can you? —"

While speaking, the old man threw a set of clothes onto the bed.

"—I saw you had no other luggage, so just make do with this set of clothes."

Clearly, in his past life, even watching free American dramas, he had to find the trashy versions with subtitles. Yet just now, with that old man's speech, he seemed to understand it perfectly.

Without a second thought, he grabbed the shirt first to put it on. But this damn strength wasn't adapted yet; one loss of control, and while pulling the shirt down over his head, he tore it to shreds.

Seeing the strips of cloth hanging on his body, even the most basic function of covering was problematic. The person on the bed and the old man looked at each other, an awkward silence falling between them.

The old man didn't think much, and from a pile of clothes he didn't know if they were washed or not, he casually grabbed one and threw it over.

Judging by the smell, the clothes were washed, just not folded properly.

This time, the person putting on the clothes knew how to control his strength; he carefully put the shirt on. Then he pulled the pants under the bedsheet, stepped into them, and put them on. Although there were no underwear to wear, there was no time to worry about that.

The clothes belonged to the old man, so for the person on the bed, they were actually a size too small. But because the person who just woke up was emaciated, he could wear them; it was just that a small section of the cuffs and pant legs was exposed.

New book seeking follows, collections, and recommendations, thank you~~

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(End of this chapter)