Chapter Twelve: The Hollowed Cross Pickaxe

[Throw the Fire Spirit Stone with all your strength, aiming for the far corner of the wall. Once inside, as soon as you see the Corpse Guardian, don't hesitate—just open fire!]
The Eye was a little excited at this moment.
After all, it was only the first day of the game, yet Fang Tang already possessed the ability to kill the dog-headed one. The thought alone was thrilling.
Fang Tang nodded, took out the Fire Spirit Stone, and hurled it forcefully.
He then dashed forward, charging through the black mist.
Catching a glimpse of a towering figure, he raised his gun without a second thought.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Nine shots in quick succession—the freshly recovered arms began to ache and tingle again.
But Fang Tang paid no mind to his limbs; his gaze was fixed unwaveringly on the tall figure a few meters away.
Just as the Eye had described, the creature bore a striking resemblance to the Desert Death God, Nasus.
Except, it lacked any noble jewelry.
In its hand was a massive spiked mace.
This was the first time Fang Tang had seen a weapon wielded by a creature from the catacombs.
Nine bullets, empowered by the Fire Spirit Stone, struck the dog-headed monster, each tearing away large chunks of flesh.
The beast was now riddled with holes, its massive body slumped heavily to the ground, lifeless eyes staring fixedly at Fang Tang.
Seeing that the beast still clung to life,
Fang Tang shakily reloaded his gun, aimed at its head, and pulled the trigger.
Boom!
Flames burst forth.
The enormous head exploded, leaving behind only a vast and lifeless corpse.
[Ah-ha, finally took down a big one. Though it ranks at the bottom among catacomb creatures, it’s still a worthy opponent.]
With the subtitle appearing, Fang Tang finally breathed a sigh of relief.
He had never seen the dog-head’s strength, so he had little opinion on the matter.
However, the Eye’s comments made it clear: the dog-head was stronger than the crocodile.
At least, dealing with the crocodile hadn’t required the flame muzzle.
Taking the dismantling hammer, Fang Tang approached the dog-head and struck it twice; the massive corpse vanished.
All that remained on the ground was a pale red bead and the giant spiked mace.
“Is that all?”
Fang Tang was dumbfounded.
The crocodile had at least left a hide.
The dog-head left nothing?
What a joke.
Thankfully, the pale red bead served as a consolation prize; otherwise, Fang Tang would have felt utterly cheated.
With the danger gone, Fang Tang finally had time to examine the catacomb.
In the corner sat a box of pure silver-white.

“A silver chest?”
Fang Tang licked his lips. The Eye’s words were confirmed: wherever the dog-head lurked, good things were to be found.
This was the first silver chest he had ever seen.
And the resources inside surprised him.
Pork × 5 pounds, apples × 4, corn × 3, fiber × 4, cotton × 4, glass × 2, iron ingot, copper ingot, silver ingot × 2, wood × 6.
A real windfall!
The wealthy man had gained new assets.
Fang Tang grinned foolishly as he stuffed the resources into his newspaper, then pulled out the dismantling hammer for another round, gaining three more silver ingots.
The harvest was bountiful, and Fang Tang’s mood soared.
Sitting on the ground, he muttered to himself, “Now that I have the flame muzzle, maybe I can target catacombs guarded by creatures in the future?”
[If you want to court death, I won’t stop you. It’s only the first day—you’ll encounter far more formidable catacomb creatures later. The choices I offer are always the ones with the richest resources. Don’t doubt my abilities.]
Fang Tang nodded, looking around at the walls.
[Up ahead is a good choice. There’s an iron chest there; the others are wooden. You decide.]
Fang Tang smiled, continued wielding his pickaxe, and dug toward the entrance of Catacomb 29.
The resources in an iron chest couldn’t compare to a silver one.
After all, it was only one step above a wooden chest; its resources would never be spectacular.
However, he noticed that the catacomb to his left held a blueprint.
There were two mongrel dogs inside.
As the weakest among catacomb creatures, mongrels posed no threat to Fang Tang anymore.
After all, he had slain the Corpse Guardian.
He threw the Fire Spirit Stone and strode in, gun in hand, entering Catacomb 30.
Seeing the two ugly beasts illuminated by the fire, Fang Tang calmly raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
Bang! Bang!
The mongrels were predictably blasted into chunks of meat.
Suppressing his disgust, Fang Tang approached the table in the corner.
On it lay a blueprint featuring a wooden barrel.
Large Wooden Barrel: Wood × 30, copper ingot × 4.
“Hey, now that’s a good item!”
Fang Tang’s eyes shone, and he clicked to craft it.
The large barrel could store water and even serve as a bathtub.
Such improvements in living quality were exactly what he desired most.
At that moment, the level-two dwelling was also completed.
A brand new backpack appeared on the table.
It was still fairly small, and thankfully hadn’t gained much weight, which relieved Fang Tang somewhat.

After all, the backpack couldn’t be stored in the newspaper.
If upgrading increased its weight, the days ahead would be miserable.
He slung the backpack over his shoulder and glanced at the walls.
[Heh, rather than looking for new catacombs, why not examine your pickaxe? That fellow has been hollowed out; it won’t recover for another twelve hours.]
“Hm?”
Fang Tang paused, looking at the pickaxe in his hand.
“Didn’t you say it was just an ordinary item?”
[What malice could a pickaxe harbor? Even when hollowed out, it remains silent, suffering its sorrow alone in the corner.
Compared to your newspaper and dwelling, it’s indeed the most ordinary—it merely helps you traverse the catacombs. But, how many products under the rules are truly ordinary?]
“……”
Fang Tang sighed.
He hadn’t known the pickaxe needed rest.
Which meant he’d have to stay in this catacomb for twelve hours.
Fang Tang glanced at the pile of meat nearby, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
He took out a shovel, buried the mongrels properly, then retrieved his tent.
The small backpack unfurled into a travel tent, quite futuristic.
The level-two dwelling had changed not only in appearance, but now even featured a layer of moisture-proof padding inside, soft and far more comfortable than bare earth.
Thinking it over, Fang Tang took out all the fiber and cotton, spreading a careful layer so the ground no longer felt hard and unforgiving.
After tidying up his dwelling, Fang Tang set up two water collectors nearby.
He indulged himself with two bottles of mineral water, performing a simple wash.
Then, using the wood, he built a campfire.
He sliced the pork belly, skewered it on sticks, and placed it beside the fire.
With everything prepared, Fang Tang sat down, quietly awaiting his meal.
On the newspaper, the public channel continued to flicker with messages.
Fang Tang glanced at it now and then, just in case he spotted something useful.
[What a life! It’s only the first day, and you’re already living like this. Too bad the old newspaper can’t share to social media; no one can see your lifestyle, nor their envious expressions.]
Fang Tang: “……”
“Do you want to hear their praise?”
[Crotch on fire—of course! Do you have a way?]
Fang Tang’s lips curled into a smile, and he posted two messages on the public channel.
Fang Tang: “I discovered something—this pickaxe can only be used thirty times at once, then needs twelve hours to refresh. So annoying.”
Fang Tang: “I’ve heard that cola pairs best with grilled meat!”