Little Ford suggested, “Can we restock some goods? This is a client request.”

　　The system replied, “No.”

　　Little Ford said, “Rat poison.”

　　System: “……” May I ask if that rat weighs 130 jin and is surnamed Yang.

　　The system couldn’t hold back: “Mr. Ford, is there a less violent solution?”

　　“There is.” Little Ford slowly wiped the clean dishes dry with a cloth and placed them on the rack, finally saying something normal, “Tomorrow I plan to meet Evan Clark’s big brother.”

Chapter 5: The Genius Cannon Fodder’s Counterattack (Part Five)

　　After washing the dishes, Little Ford didn’t leave the kitchen and continued to summon the system: “System, system.”

　　The system said, “We don’t sell rat poison.”

　　Little Ford: “……”

　　The system added, “Nor do we sell sleeping pills or paraquat.”

　　Little Ford reassured it, “Don’t worry, I just want to ask about hypnosis cards.”

　　System: “...How long do you need, and what effect?”

　　Little Ford: “What durations and effects do you have?”

　　The system said, “Like other cards, hypnosis cards come in low, medium, and high tiers. The difference is in the duration. Low tier lasts 60 minutes, medium tier lasts 90 minutes, and high tier can be customized, but the maximum is 6 hours.”

　　“That’s enough.” Little Ford said, “Two cards, one high tier, one low tier.”

　　“14 points.”

　　Little Ford didn’t hesitate: “Redeem.”

　　But the system didn’t redeem immediately: “What do you need hypnosis cards for?”

　　Little Ford was straightforward: “I’m worried the one surnamed Yang will go into heat.”

　　The system understood.

　　Little Ford was its eleventh host. In the first world, almost everyone had raised similar concerns to Eric System.

　　After all, in every worldline, the original host was usually involved with the mission target, and “public grain” still had to be handed in.

　　The previous ten executors the system had guided all revolved around the mission target, basically never deviating from the original plot, only avoiding bad outcomes within the script, treating the mission target with utmost kindness, and faking their death to escape the world once the target’s favorability reached 100.

　　Usually, at such times, the mission target’s regret value would peak.

　　Among so many executors, Little Ford was the only one bold enough to go off-script and act independently in the very first world.

　　But when it came to the “public grain” issue, his attitude was extremely firm, stubborn to an astonishing degree.

　　The system said, “We offer a free extraction service.” That is, during intercourse, the host’s consciousness and senses would be extracted from the body, minimizing the executor’s discomfort.

　　Leaning against the fridge, Little Ford gently pinched the bridge of his nose: “That’s not the problem.”

　　The system thought of another possibility: “…You have requirements for positions?”

　　Little Ford snorted: “I have requirements for people.”

　　System: “Brian Young…”

　　Little Ford tilted his head: “Don’t force me to insult him.”

　　The system understood and said, “Okay. So tonight, use the low-tier hypnosis card on Brian Young?”

　　“Use both.” Little Ford said, “Use the low-tier one to put him to sleep first. It’s night anyway, so unless something unexpected happens, he’ll sleep through.”

　　The system asked, “And the other one?”

　　Little Ford replied, “For me.”

　　The system paused.

　　Little Ford closed his eyes, using Evan Clark’s face to show Little Ford’s smile—flippant, casual, with a hint of self-mockery: “…Or do you have sleeping pills for sale?”

　　The system, as requested by Little Ford, redeemed two hypnosis cards and successfully used them.

　　After sending Brian Young to sleep, Little Ford set a six-hour timer for himself and soon drifted off as well.

　　After he fell asleep, the system sent a request signal to the main system: “ID 61-101, requesting login to the main system.”

　　A few seconds later, a mechanical voice sounded: “ID 61-101 has login privileges. Request approved.”

　　Immediately, the previously stable data began to surge chaotically, like a waterfall, like starlight.

　　The waterfall-like starlight gradually lost its brilliance, forming a solid shape.

　　Beneath the flowing light screen, a man in a white shirt and black pants appeared, barefoot, standing in a high-domed hall, surrounded by people dressed just like him coming and going.

　　A few people recognized him and greeted him familiarly: “Eric, you’re here. Still guiding a new host?”

　　Eric replied, “Yeah.”

　　“Didn’t you just finish with the last one? It’s only been two cosmic days. Aren’t you going to take a ten-day or half-month vacation to reward yourself?”

　　“No time,” Eric answered.

　　The one asking, Noah, was a newcomer. Hearing this, he was puzzled: “‘No time’? What’s the rush?”

　　Eric didn’t answer.

　　He stared at the ground in confusion, as if struggling to recall something.

　　Nearby, another young man with a high nose and deep-set eyes seemed to realize something, frowned slightly, signaled to Noah, and turned to ask Eric, “What brings you here?”

　　Eric said, “I’m here to see Adam.”

　　“He moved offices recently. Head southwest, look for Room 1008.”

　　Eric smiled.

　　With a physical form, Eric was a gentle and refined young man, with a straight posture and starry eyes. When he smiled, it was like the morning sun shining on snow, very approachable: “Thanks.”