[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-kryptonian-slacker-in-marvel":3,"chapter-the-kryptonian-slacker-in-marvel-the-kryptonian-slacker-in-marvel-chapter-2":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Marvel's Salted Fish Kryptonian",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":20,"prevChapterSlug":21,"totalChapters":22,"novelImage":23},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":16,"volume":17,"translator":18,"content_hash":19},2231196,4185,"Chapter 2","the-kryptonian-slacker-in-marvel-chapter-2",2,"\u003Cp>Question: Do aliens have human rights?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Answer: When a warship is parked in Earth's orbit with all its cannons aimed at the ground, aliens absolutely have human rights! Why, even discussing imperial power isn't out of the question.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But if one arrives on Earth all alone, forget about human rights; the treatment is basically on par with a laboratory mouse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This is the reason for the current environment of the transmigrator codenamed En-Nyu-No-O-Ding (НЛО_один): a windowless, sealed room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The environment can by no means be called comfortable; there is only a bed, a washbasin, and a sit-down toilet. It is very similar to the atmosphere of a solitary confinement cell in the movies and TV shows one has seen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reason I only say the atmosphere is \"very similar\" is because ordinary prisons wouldn't work so hard to apply white paint, change to white bedsheets, and scrub the steel washbasin and toilet until they shine like mirrors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Furthermore, the size of the room is actually larger than the house I bought with a thirty-year mortgage in my previous life! It’s just that it has no decor or partitions, and the interior is as monotonous as an unfinished apartment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moreover, in this room, En-Nyu-No-O-Ding doesn't even have the right to turn the lights on or off. The light switches are in the hands of those researchers in white coats outside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Our protagonist has only had two states of dress from childhood to adulthood. One is wearing nothing, and the other is wearing a white, straight-cut tunic. Compared to the surgical gowns of hospital patients, the only difference is that one doesn't have to expose one's backside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In infancy, there was personnel to assist with feeding dairy products. But ever since weaning, the food has been an unchanging nutritional meal. It’s neither filling nor tasty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s just that my cell is simply too clean; I can't even catch cockroaches, mice, or geckos to satisfy my hunger. The only thing I could get my hands on is the excrement in the toilet that hasn't been flushed away yet...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Alright, this is really too much of a challenge for me. We great transmigrators haven't starved to that extent yet, so I still press the flush button. This is something I can control; it hasn't been stripped away by the white coats, forcing me to live alongside feces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In short, apart from the three meals and the turning on and off of the lights to indicate that a day has passed, there is nothing else to keep time or count days within my line of sight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The temperature basically doesn't change; the temperature maintained in the room is almost constant, and one cannot feel the changes of spring, summer, autumn, and winter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anyway, relying on that tunic that is no different from wearing nothing, and the thin quilt on the bed, I won't catch a cold or get sick.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Speaking of getting sick, in this time without years, I really haven't caught any illnesses; whether it's a major or minor ailment, it's the same. But it can't be called healthy either; I am almost every day in a sub-healthy state of not being able to die of hunger, yet never being full.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Communication with others is almost non-existent; apart from being dragged out regularly for blood draws and physical examinations, no one has any contact with me. Even when they are in front of me, others are cautious and prudent, trying their best not to reveal any extra information.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the way, the cleaning of the \"cell\" is done by others while I am away for physical examinations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anyway, no matter what marks or items I want to leave behind, including food I haven't finished and deliberately left, they will all be cleaned away at this time. Or perhaps taken away for research?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After experiencing this a few times, the person locked inside no longer does these redundant things.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Regarding this situation, this \"alien\" who transmigrated here was also confused at first: why did no one want to talk to me or try to pry for information?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Later, I understood. The premise of communication is that the other party has information they want to know. For me, who was picked up during infancy, what important information could I have in my brain?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Discussing the feeling of traveling through space in an infant state inside that spacecraft?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or do they want to interrogate me about the technology of my home planet? Would anyone expect to get such things out of the mouth of a creature who only has memories of infancy?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So, the things on me that are truly valuable are actually the spacecraft that carried me to Earth, and this \"alien\" self.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No wonder everyone who comes into contact with me has a cautious attitude, as if facing a formidable enemy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They are almost all wearing airtight protective suits when they have close contact with me. Those who are just wearing white coats can only be seen through large glass windows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It's not that I haven't thought about chatting with them for a couple of sentences, expressing that I was born under the red flag, yearning for great men and a harmonious society...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thinking that I have experienced something as absurd as transmigration, which only appears in novels, it's really hard to say whether this Earth is the Earth I am familiar with.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although what I see is still the standard Slavic race, not some man-apes, gorillas, or baboons; the language spoken also sounds like Russian, not English, nor Japanese or German.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But I really don't dare to gamble on whether their scalpels will fall, if they let them know that I somehow obtained information about Earth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because in this isolated environment, if I still have a way to obtain information from the outside world, anyone would want to find a reason for it, regardless of whether it's right or wrong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If I unfortunately say the wrong situation or mention the wrong person, then it really would be a case of having to be dissected even if they didn't want to.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How does that saying go? A dead alien is a good alien.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under a harmonious society, not challenging the iron fist of the authorities is the only way to survive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A beast of burden accustomed to being pushed around, working 996 until it's almost 007, of course won't have the romance of the French who rise in rebellion at the drop of a hat. I worked hard for a lifetime, and in the end, didn't I realize that being kept by an auntie is the true path?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although I am not being kept by an auntie now, and there are no anime to watch, no games to play, no mobile phones for awkward chatting, and no fat-boy happy water or various fried foods and skewers to heal life, there is nothing to complain about either.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I thought this life of isolation, regular physical exams, and blood draws would continue until I died of natural causes. I didn't expect that after my body developed to a bottleneck, things would be different.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The white coats seemed to have lifted some kind of restriction, going all out to torment the alien.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruises, cuts, puncture wounds, burns, all kinds of torture techniques I've heard of but never seen, and even some I've never heard of, were used one by one. The torture instruments were, of course, also bizarre.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The purpose of the white coats was, of course, not to interrogate anything; the torture itself was their goal. Or rather, they wanted to know more detailed physical functions of the alien, such as recovery ability and immune ability.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For example, with electrocution, endurance and the like were not in their considerations. The white coats just wanted to test what level of voltage would electrocute the contact area until it was charred, or electrocute a person into a coma.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At first, the injuries were still in the range of minor injuries, just experimenting on different parts of the limbs and torso separately. Then the severity of the injuries became more and more serious, and they even broke my arm and leg bones, just wanting to see the healing ability of the bones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a veteran beast of burden, the transmigrator had never experienced such things. What I suffered before transmigration was nothing more than the accumulation of various fatigue and mental pressure, as well as anxiety about life, that's all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looking back now, that bit of pressure was really insignificant. At least if I relaxed my mindset and accepted my fate, I could adapt to that kind of life. But direct physical harm is really different!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And judging from the situation where the degree of injury gradually deepened, although at the current stage they are all non-permanent injuries that can heal, it wouldn't be surprising if they removed my hands and feet or dug out some organ at any time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or perhaps they will start treating me as a culture vessel, tormenting me with all kinds of bacteria and viruses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the very end, there are only two choices: being made into a specimen or being made into a sliced specimen. It is very disappointing that the choice will not be in my hands either.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But honestly, compared to the loneliness of isolation during the growth period, it's really hard to say which is more painful: the current non-stop physical torture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Tom Hanks' *Cast Away*, at least there was a volleyball named Wilson for company. I, however, have nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If it weren't for the memories of my previous life in my brain—art or entertainment works like movies, anime, novels, and music that were once regarded as spiritual poison—being cherished and recalled repeatedly, I really don't know how I would have survived that period without going crazy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this kind of physical torture now just makes the transmigrator, whose spirit is already on the verge of collapse, jump from one abyss into another. Feelings of despair begin to brew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So, after studying hard for more than ten years and becoming a veteran beast of burden in society, I am still full of sin. Is that why the King of Hell wants me to pay it back in such a tragic way in this life?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How long exactly I have been in this world, the transmigrator codenamed En-Nyu-No-O-Ding is not clear either.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He only knows that on a certain day, the lights were no longer turned off, and no food was delivered. It was as if I had been abandoned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although the water in the tap is plentiful, the loss of other food sources caused the hunger that made my chest stick to my back to crush this body that has been malnourished and tortured for a long time. My arm is even in a splint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Coupled with the lights that are never turned off, although they are not as bright as those high-wattage lights used for torture, the mental fatigue caused by not being able to rest properly has also pushed me to the limit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At such a time, one actually misses the days when I was tortured to the point of wanting to die not long ago.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If anyone could hear, he would really want to shout in his native language: kill me or carve me up as you please, but give me a last meal first. In this godforsaken place, even if I wanted to dig for roots, gnaw on bark, or eat Guanyin clay, I couldn't.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Actually, at this stage, he remembered that he could eat his own flesh. But not to mention how much meat there is on those skinny hands or feet to gnaw on, I don't even have the strength to bite anymore; I can't even eat myself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The disconnection of thoughts came without warning, and I just fainted abruptly. Whether it was my heartbeat or my breathing frequency, both gradually slowed down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This situation continued to develop, and in the end, my heart stopped beating completely, and I stopped breathing. The only thing to be thankful for is that I had already fainted and didn't have to savor this slow death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was better in my previous life. When I realized it, the next moment, I didn't feel anything at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The last impression of this life was just the words \"so hungry.\"\u003C\u002Fp>",2063,"2026-06-18T01:30:11.245Z","2026-06-18T03:18:02.290Z",1,"Gemini 3.1 Flash Lite","0fdd4f426ef8934a22dbd5ed86fd531eed609fe87dd9381faea17d06d8207198","the-kryptonian-slacker-in-marvel-chapter-3","the-kryptonian-slacker-in-marvel-chapter-1",253,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmarvel-s-salted-fish-kryptonian-cover.jpg"]