Malrik didn't respond to the deliveryman right away. At the moment, he was completely absorbed in the new information he had just received.
Within him—though he couldn't tell exactly where, perhaps in his soul—a vague image of a massive and mysterious beast appeared.
He didn't know what this creature was, but he was certain it was the true form of the Kunpeng.
Moreover, his mind was now filled with detailed knowledge about the method required to break through to One Star.
He hadn't expected it to be so complicated. If he had to stumble upon this method by chance, who knew how many years it would take?
The required materials weren't exactly rare, but there were several crucial steps that he would never have figured out without proper instruction.
"Is that even a question? For a deliveryman, nothing is impossible." Malrik chuckled and finally replied.
Suddenly thinking of something amusing, he glanced at the mysterious deliveryman.
"What do you think—between you and the Kunpeng, who would win in a fight?"
"According to my job requirements, I don't have to answer that." The deliveryman stroked his chin. "But since you're a fellow deliveryman, I suppose a little small talk won't hurt. The answer is: both yes and no."
Malrik was stunned. How could it be both yes and no?
"What do you mean?"
"You're a deliveryman too, so you should know. If we don't accept a job with payment we personally deem fair, our strength diminishes.
Like right now, if I fought the Kunpeng, I'd definitely lose. But if you give me a job, and the pay is something I find reasonable, my strength would instantly increase—enough for me to capture the Kunpeng for you on the spot.
That's the unbeatable potential of deliverymen: as long as there's a job, it can be done." The deliveryman explained.
It was as if a light had been switched on inside Malrik's mind.
He had always vaguely felt that being a deliveryman was the highest-tier profession in the world, but he never fully understood the hidden power behind it.
Now that he was aware of this innate potential, he knew that within the realm of humanity, he would be invincible.
"Do you have a time limit for staying here or a cap on how many mystery boxes you can hand out?" he asked.
"I can't reveal the specifics, but the answer is yes. Once I've handed out all the boxes or time runs out, I'll leave," the deliveryman replied.
"In that case, I won't disturb your work any longer. Goodbye." Malrik nodded and turned to leave without hesitation.
Now that he had the method, he had to break through to One Star as soon as possible.
Having a divine skill in his hands but being unable to use it—it left an unpleasant itch in his heart.
But at the same time, he found himself genuinely liking this divine skill. It was clearly a must-have skill for a deliveryman.
Skyshatter Soar—a speed-type skill.
When activated, a pair of ethereal wings would appear behind him, granting him the ability to fly at extreme speed.
Of course, there were limitations. While flying, his body would be immobilized except for the wings, and after stopping, there was a 10-second cooldown before he could use it again.
It wasn't a powerful offensive move, but this divine skill could make him the fastest deliveryman in the world—and that, to Malrik, was absolutely perfect.
Watching Malrik's figure fade into the distance, the mysterious deliveryman seemed to recall something amusing.
"No matter what world we're in, us deliverymen are always invincible," he muttered to himself, full of pride.
…
In another part of the hospital, a young man was being chased at full speed by a horde of zombies.
He looked extremely familiar. Wasn't this the same guy who gave Malrik $10,000 to stir up trouble not long ago?
"Damn it! I just came to the hospital for a check-up, and now I'm about to die?! If I'd known this would happen, I would've just stayed home! Those zombies would never get into the basement of my house!" he cursed while running for his life.
He felt like he was truly screwed. These zombies were absolutely insane.
Back when he played games or read novels, zombies were always slow. But these bastards? They were almost as fast as he was!
Their movements weren't as smooth or coordinated as humans, but they were definitely not slow.
Just then, from the hallway to the left, Malrik happened to run past and caught sight of the young man being chased by the swarm of zombies.
'Huh? Isn't that my most recent customer?' Malrik thought to himself. 'Maybe I should bring him in. Anyone bold enough to throw around that kind of money definitely has some potential.'
Earlier, Malrik had already started thinking about what kind of force he should establish. He wasn't an idiot—now that all the old delivery platforms had collapsed, if he wanted to continue being the best deliveryman, he'd have to build his own faction.
After some thought, he came up with a name: Cult of the Evil God.
The name had absolutely nothing to do with regular delivery work, but for some reason, Malrik found it quite fitting.
After all, he was willing to take on any kind of job as long as the payment was reasonable—even morally questionable ones. So, naming it something that sounded like a dark and twisted cult felt appropriate.
And besides, beyond just describing their "function," the name also carried a kind of overwhelming presence. Just hearing it made you feel like it meant business.
"Hey, want me to save you?" Malrik called out as he ran alongside him.
The young man spotted the two sharp knives gleaming in Malrik's hands and immediately felt his chances of survival soar.
Weapons like those weren't something just anyone could get their hands on. He himself was currently completely unarmed.
"What do you want?" the young man asked, wary.
Coming from a wealthy family, he understood better than anyone that nothing came for free. The only things that were "free" were the ones you'd already paid for—just without realizing it.
"Join my Cult of the Evil God. Don't be so quick to refuse—I can offer you a real chance to gain power. The kind of power that will let you rise above ordinary people and step onto the path of the extraordinary," Malrik said, his voice smooth and seductive.
A few hours ago, the young man would've scoffed and brushed off those words as lunacy.
But now?
After everything strange that had happened, becoming extraordinary didn't sound so far-fetched anymore.
But the name of this organization made the young man feel deeply uneasy—like agreeing to it would instantly drag him into some doomed, unlucky mess.
"This… this isn't some kind of evil cult, right? If I join, you're not going to do anything weird to me, are you?" he asked, his voice filled with doubt.
"Hmph. The organization I'm creating believes that for a deliveryman, nothing is impossible," Malrik snorted. "I'll explain the details once we're not in immediate danger. But basically, no one's going to force you to do anything. Just remember that you're a member of the organization—that's enough."
The Cult of the Evil God was clearly founded so that Malrik could continue the job he loved most: being a deliveryman.