The Consequences Of Being A Tyrant Chapter 3
byChapter 3 The Snake! So Ugly! He Must Survive
Only Lin Yu’s expression looked like he had seen a ghost.
How was this any different from a wanted poster? He hadn’t done anything at all.
He wanted to scream that he had been wronged.
Just as Lin Yu was preparing to properly observe the only live photo shoot of his life, a “giant” walked past, blocking his entire field of vision, so completely that not even a sliver of peripheral sight remained.
Lin Yu helplessly maintained his original posture, daring not to move an inch.
At such a close distance, if he messed up, he might directly turn the other party into a bounty hunter.
He might as well take the money himself.
Amidst the scent of food wafting around, Lin Yu suddenly felt that might be a good option.
However, that thought lasted only a moment. He still maintained a shred of rationality and wasn’t keen on becoming a lab rat.
It wasn’t until the moon shifted and the faint light glowed that the big guy in front of him slowly lumbered away.
Lin Yu lowered his head and yawned softly, not intending to rest. He had been watching several people earlier, and the uneaten, relatively intact food was now in the surrounding garbage bins.
He needed to eat.
This was a perfect opportunity.
Only a few people were passing by, and his figure wasn’t conspicuous in the shadows. Lin Yu reached his first destination relatively smoothly.
Although rummaging through garbage bins was quite unpleasant for someone who had been doing reasonably well in modern society, Lin Yu clearly didn’t have much psychological pressure about it.
Because he didn’t know any of these people here.
Most importantly, he needed to survive.
Survival opened up many possibilities.
Perhaps much later, he might even meet old friends he hadn’t seen in a long time somewhere.
Lin Yu always held onto a faint, tiny hope: that his small Pet might have also transmigrated to this world.
He remembered the blue color before he lost consciousness. Judging by the distance, the possibility of Yanyan transmigrating with him wasn’t low.
If death was the ticket to resurrection, then Lin Yu still hoped his Pet was living well.
He was grateful for the phone call he made before he died. This meant his body wouldn’t rot and stink before anyone discovered it. His remains could be identified as quickly as possible by relevant personnel, and then the body disposal procedures would begin—his estate, his assets, his Yanyan.
Everything should be handled properly.
He fed Yanyan a pinky mouse roughly every two days, and he had just finished feeding him before his death. Thinking this way, his Pet probably wouldn’t go hungry.
That’s good.
While lamenting how terrible hunger was, Lin Yu glanced down, scanning the packaged food.
He still couldn’t accept eating things others had already eaten.
Perhaps he would if he became truly destitute later, but for now, he couldn’t cross that hurdle. So, he chose items that were individually packaged, not mixed together, only needing to break off a clean, intact corner to fill his stomach.
Despite this intention, Lin Yu had to visit several food disposal bins before he could barely satisfy his hunger.
The smell of various foods mixed together was truly unpleasant.
Furthermore, he couldn’t open the lids of the bins that weren’t full.
Lin Yu deeply understood the meaning of “dreams are beautiful, but reality is cruel.”
He finally settled on a small loaf of bread someone had placed nearby, breaking off a piece from the unbitten side and slowly stuffing it into his mouth.
At this moment, he was immensely grateful that he was only a tiny person; he didn’t need much clean food to feed himself.
Familiar dryness.
Terrible dryness.
Lin Yu rolled his eyes several times before managing to swallow the bread. He felt like his saliva was becoming a non-renewable resource.
He jumped down from the trash bin and grabbed a candy, which was almost the size of his palm.
He could lick it occasionally to prevent hypoglycemia.
Just as he was about to leave with his hard-won possessions, he suddenly felt a gaze—not malicious, but certainly not friendly either, inexplicably making his hair stand on end.
Lin Yu turned around and saw a small, square-shaped robot he had seen during the day, rolling towards him on its wheels!
“Garbage…, needs clearing.”
Lin Yu: “???”
!!
Sensing that the robot had no intention of stopping, Lin Yu took off running again.
He really didn’t dare use himself to check if the robot’s programming was malfunctioning.
Perhaps robots also had performance metrics. In any case, Lin Yu fled for his life.
He didn’t even spare a moment to look back. In the whistling wind, every breath Lin Yu took reminded him of the white smoke that had curled up in front of him during the day.
He firmly believed that if he slowed down, his ashes would also become airborne particulates.
That kind of thing.
He strongly refused.
He couldn’t stop, absolutely couldn’t stop.
He didn’t know how long he ran. Ahead, the moonlight remained unchanged. Only after the monotonous, rigid sound of wheels and the robot faded away did Lin Yu finally gasp for breath, leaning on his knees. The candy in his hand had been discarded for weight reduction at some point. Lin Yu could only swallow his saliva, having no way to replenish his energy.
However, he felt that the deep forest he had stumbled into by accident seemed like a pretty good place.
The towering trees, dark against the sky, stood straight like silent knights. Their branches twisted into dark shapes under the moon halo, resembling two chaotic worlds.
It was sufficiently hidden, and sufficiently quiet.
Of course, it was also sufficiently eerie.
Lin Yu didn’t plan on going inside. His feet couldn’t handle any more stress; just standing on the ground caused a burning, stinging pain.
Like the little mermaid walking on the tips of knives.
Lin Yu was amused by his own thought and self-mocked, “How can you be a mermaid? At most, you’re an insignificant bubble.”
His existence was dispensable, so his birth and death were like a bubble.
Sleeping on the ground wasn’t safe. Lin Yu endured the pain and climbed onto a tree branch. The increased height allowed him to see a pure white Palace through the leaves of the trees.
It turned out that the light shining in front of him wasn’t moonlight, but a corner of the Palace.
It was mysteriously bright and unbelievably pure.
But Lin Yu knew that going there might not be a good choice. Buildings meant people.
And what he feared most right now was encountering those strange giants.
He gazed at the Palace, which looked like a sheet of moonlight spread out, and curled up in the fork of the branches, falling into a restless sleep.
In his dream, he seemed to see the small, thin bamboo viper, as slender as a noodle, once again.
Its pale gray eyes were half-lidded, conveying a sense of apathy—living was fine, dying was fine too.
That was the first night he brought the little bamboo viper back from his friend.
Lin Yu hadn’t initially planned on keeping it long-term.
Perhaps it was the creature’s excessive calmness, or perhaps the moonlight that night was as clear as this.
Lin Yu, for the first time, commented to the small snake, which was less than a month old, “So ugly.”
Yet, his gaze never left that pool of color.
Inside the pristine Palace, a pair of lead-colored eyes, like a nebula, quietly opened.
The bright moonlight shone upon the colossal creature curled up on the dome, as if shining into a deep sea. Flashing light points shimmered against the sky, like a fallen river of stars.
A scarlet tongue flickered in the air. Yanyan (The King) tilted his head and looked. In the dense, dark shadows of the trees, a small, pale face was sleeping peacefully nestled among the branches.
Yanyan had never seen a creature that could sleep within the boundaries of his territory.
The main thing was, this scene felt somewhat familiar to him.
Throughout the long river of all his conscious memories, Yanyan was certain he didn’t know this small Pet that had secretly entered his territory.
But he also had no intention of driving it away.
This familiar yet strange feeling of coexistence made him generously overlook this bold, delicate little person.
He gently closed his eyes, actively cutting off his Mental Power to avoid perceiving the other party’s dream again.
The voice from earlier surfaced in his mind once more.
“So ugly.”
As if possessed, Yanyan looked at his own tail—scarlet connecting to azure, ice clashing with fire, like the horizon where the sea meets the sunset. Not to mention the perfectly aligned scales and the powerfully undulating muscles, all signifying immense and formidable strength.
In no way did it relate to ugliness.
He faintly withdrew his gaze, wondering why he had such a vain thought.
Yet, strangely, it eased his anxiety somewhat.
Lin Yu was completely unaware of all this. The scene in his dream shifted, becoming more hazy, as if a floating soul was observing everything.
He saw his body lying on the ground, saw the pain on the familiar face, and seemed to sense the tearing pain from that day, like a puppet growing flesh and blood.
Then, a slender blue figure suddenly appeared in his line of sight.
His small Pet had somehow escaped from the glass Terrarium, slithering and crawling onto his neck. Its scarlet tongue constantly brushed against his cheek. Lin Yu felt that if he had opened his eyes then, he probably would have been scared to death.
But at this moment, his heart softened.
He watched the creature quietly settle down. So, the blue color he saw before losing consciousness wasn’t an illusion.
“Yanyan,” he whispered softly.
The next moment, he felt as if he truly fell into a sea, submerged by the icy water.
Lin Yu hadn’t recovered from the dream yet. He opened his eyes blankly and found his hands and feet were freezing cold. The leaves rustled loudly in the night wind, rapidly drawing away his body heat. Lin Yu felt like he was shaking like a massage gun, yet he couldn’t generate any warmth from movement.
To prevent himself from dying again from hypothermia in his sleep, Lin Yu had to climb down from the large tree he had carefully chosen. He didn’t know how long he had slept. The sky was dark and heavy, with no sign of dawn.
The small scrapes on his feet had healed after some time, but stepping on the grass still caused a stinging sensation, compounded by the damp moisture. The tips of the grass brushing against his ankles brought a tickling sensation. The pain and itchiness intertwined, no less severe than torture during an interrogation.
Lin Yu twisted his face and simply used the moonlight to weave himself a pair of grass sandals.
Although they looked mismatched, they were infinitely better than going barefoot.
Lin Yu exhaled in relief and followed his memory toward the bright Palace. To avoid getting lost, Lin Yu would occasionally climb a tree to check his position.
He didn’t know how much time passed. When his calves started to feel numb and the soles of his feet ached noticeably, Lin Yu finally saw the light belonging to the pristine Palace through the gaps in the tree trunks.
The light was bright and clear, like a shining pearl.
Yet the light wasn’t harsh; it carried a faint glow, as if condensed from the light veil of the moon. Massive jade-white pillars supported a glass-like dome.
Lin Yu vaguely saw a patch of blue. He blinked.
When he focused again, only the bright clarity remained; there was no blue anywhere.
Lin Yu curved his lips, his smile somewhat dim.
“Truly, what you think about during the day, you dream about at night. I must have dreamt myself silly.”
Even if his Yanyan had transmigrated here with him, it couldn’t possibly mutate into such a colossal size.
In his momentary illusion, that blue patch flowed wide like a spilled sea.
Lin Yu stopped overthinking. He quietly walked toward the Palace. The architectural style here seemed out of place with the outside world—classical and simple, as if regressing hundreds of years. There were no people around, leading Lin Yu to guess it might be an abandoned structure or perhaps a preserved historical site.
But he quickly ruled out the first option.
Because he bumped into a transparent barrier. Lin Yu cried out, clutching his forehead, and looked up at the towering stone pillar. He vaguely saw some winding, coiled etchings at the very top, but they were too high and distant, and the upward angle prevented him from clearly discerning their meaning or identifying the language.
He quickly withdrew his gaze, extending his index finger to test the invisible, mysterious barrier again.
Naturally, he didn’t see the lead-colored eyes that flashed across the dome’s skylight.
The next moment, he fell head over heels.
Lin Yu: “This feeling is somewhat familiar.”
He raised his head dizzily, but instead of the round eyes of a white fur ball, he saw a stone statue looking down at him.
The deity, with a human torso and a snake tail, was cold and distant, neither merciful nor cruel.
Author’s Note: