Chapter Eighteen: Every Reader is a True Hero

“I knew it.”

Staring at the sign for Building 3A, Liu Zheng rolled his eyes.

He had no idea where this annoying habit came from—writing Building 4 as 3A, or turning Building 18 into 17A, or simply skipping numbers altogether.

He took the elevator to the sixth floor and found room 606 in the northeast corner.

“Hello, your delivery has arrived,” Liu Zheng knocked on the door.

No response.

He knocked a few more times with greater force before finally hearing some movement inside.

“Leave it at the door. I’ll get it myself later,” came a weak but irritable voice.

Leave it at the door? That hardly counted as a proper delivery.

“Sorry, the restaurant requires the recipient to sign for the delivery in person. Could you please open the door to receive it?” Liu Zheng said cautiously.

“No time! Don’t bother me!” The voice inside grew more agitated.

“Are you sure you won’t open it?”

He was beginning to lose patience.

“No! If you keep bothering me, I’ll call the police!” the voice shouted.

So there really were police in this world?

Even if that were true, Liu Zheng wasn’t afraid. Last time, he had killed all the security guards at Yipin Mansion, and no one came after him. This time, he was just knocking on the door.

Still, he tried calling Niuma.

“The number you have dialed is out of service,” the automated voice said.

Fine, playing hard to get, huh?

Looks like asking Niuma for help wasn’t going to work this time.

As Liu Zheng stared at his phone screen, a string of numbers suddenly popped into his mind.

Si Xue probably knew even more than Niuma.

“You only get into trouble if you ask for it,” he shook his head sharply, dismissing the reckless thought.

“Open the door, and I’ll toss the delivery inside and leave immediately—won’t waste even a second,” Liu Zheng called out.

“No! Please, stop bothering me,” the person inside whimpered.

“What a lunatic...” Liu Zheng muttered.

None of these delivery customers seemed normal. Couldn't the restaurant screen their clients better?

Muttering complaints, Liu Zheng raised his tentacles.

No door opening meant getting hit. Who wasn’t a little crazy these days?

His tentacles drummed on the security door in all directions, strangely feeling like he was playing the drums.

Liu Zheng was enjoying himself, but the person inside was losing their patience.

“Stop banging!”

The security door suddenly swung open outward, revealing a pale-faced figure glaring at him.

“Oh, it’s a girl,” Liu Zheng said in surprise.

She was petite, wearing an oversized T-shirt that hung down to her knees, slipping off one shoulder in a crooked fashion.

Her facial features and face shape were very youthful, looking like a middle schooler.

However, other parts were surprisingly mature.

“I’m not signing for it. Just go away, or I really will call the police,” the girl threatened, her voice quite androgynous—no wonder he hadn’t recognized her gender before.

“Sorry, I’ll leave right away,” Liu Zheng bowed apologetically, his tone sincere.

The girl’s expression softened slightly and she was about to close the door when suddenly, a shadow zipped past her ear.

“Goodbye,” Liu Zheng said with a smile, kindly helping to close the door for her.

“Ahhh!”

A moment later, a delayed scream echoed from inside.

He perked up his ears, savoring it like exquisite music.

Bullying a girl was a different kind of pleasure from smashing the heads of those burly men.

Still, although the sneak attack had succeeded, Liu Zheng remained alert.

From his first delivery experience, he knew the recipients could still refuse orders if the time wasn't right.

He extended four tentacles, leaning forward to firmly brace the door.

Sure enough, sounds of pounding on the door came from inside.

One knock, two knocks, three knocks...

The violent banging made Liu Zheng’s head buzz.

Having heightened senses wasn’t always a blessing—it made it hard to stay rational and tortured his five senses.

“They’ve got some strength,” he muttered.

The security door kept cracking open, then he forced it shut each time.

He could vaguely see the girl’s face twisted with rage.

Without the added benefits of his flesh regeneration and legendary deliveryman’s vest, he probably would have been thrown out on the first strike.

“Ahhhhhh!”

The girl, unable to break the door open, finally lost all restraint.

Jagged bone spikes emerged from her pale arms, transforming into mantis-like forelimbs.

“Damn,” Liu Zheng reacted swiftly, leaping aside.

The next second, accompanied by a teeth-grinding metallic slicing sound, the heavy security door shattered into pieces.

“Take your delivery and get lost, or I’ll kill you!” the girl snarled, hooking the delivery bag with her bare foot.

“Can you take me on?” Liu Zheng’s gaze didn’t fall on the delivery bag or her translucent little foot, but on those ferocious saw-like limbs.

If he had to block that strike head-on, it wouldn’t be impossible.

His physical strength had leveled up again, and such cutting wounds posed little threat to his “flesh regeneration.”

But who knew what other tricks she had?

“Let’s make a deal,” Liu Zheng suddenly proposed.

“What kind of deal?” the girl hesitated.

“Don’t you all want flesh? I probably have plenty of it,” he offered.

“Who cares about your fat?” she said disdainfully.

“Only you grunt workers need that stuff.”

“Oh,” Liu Zheng nodded.

He’d hit the right note—the woman was clearly no ordinary sultry vixen.

She didn’t even want “flesh,” which meant she was on a higher level than the enemies he’d faced before.

If possible, it was better to outwit than to outfight.

“Then how about this: I’ll teach you how to write novels, and you sign for the delivery,” he thought aloud.

“Teach me to write novels? You?” The girl giggled, sounding like a little hen ready to peck.

“Where do you publish your novels? Print, paper, or online serialization?” Liu Zheng asked.

“Uh, online serialization,” she replied.

“Free platform or paid subscription?”

“Paid subscription,” her expression grew serious.

“Male or female audience? What genre?”

“Male audience, rebirth career stories,” she answered honestly.

“What’s your average subscription count?”

“Not signed yet... my new book submission was rejected,” she said shyly.

“Hmph.” Liu Zheng scoffed.

“I’ve also written rebirth career stories, with over 3,000 average subscriptions.”

Then I kept failing and switched careers to become a reporter.

“Sounds fake. Then why are you delivering food?” she doubted.

“Collecting material,” he said calmly.

“Is that so?” She wasn’t a fool; her eyes remained suspicious.

“Enough talk—show me your manuscript,” Liu Zheng checked his phone—twenty minutes left, enough to read the beginning.

“Fine,” she said reluctantly, eyeing his four tentacles.

She pulled out an electronic notebook from her pocket and handed it over.

In just three minutes, he finished scanning the first seven thousand words.

“What kind of crap is this?” Liu Zheng bluntly criticized.

“That’s too harsh,” the girl protested.

“The protagonist is a gloomy, average-looking guy. Toxic,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Readers are all handsome guys—how can they relate if you write like that?” Liu Zheng lectured sternly.