Sobrevivendo na Estrada: Virei o Número Um Sendo Preguiçoso
【Sobrevivência na estrada + elenco diversificado + vida relaxada + sorte de quem tem a alma de peixe + humor leve + referências abstratas】 Su Ya abriu os olhos e se viu transportada para um jogo de sobrevivência na estrada, começando do zero sem nada em mãos. Diante dessa realidade, Su Ya levou apenas três segundos para aceitar e decidiu simplesmente deixar tudo de lado! Não existe dificuldade no mundo, basta saber desistir. Como resultado, ela imediatamente adquiriu a identidade de "peixe morto", ficando cada vez mais sortuda quanto menos se esforçava. Recebia recompensas sem merecer, aproveitava sem trabalhar; sem esforço, chegava ao topo! Enquanto outros jogadores lutavam arduamente para coletar materiais, ela tomava sol. Os escolhidos do destino corriam freneticamente para acumular quilômetros, ela dormia. Os fanáticos por missões matavam monstros nos desafios, ela vivia tranquilamente plantando e arrancando ervas daninhas. No fim do mês, ao olhar para o ranking. Su Ya: "Ei, como é que eu sou a primeira de novo? Que chato."
Sobrevivendo na Estrada: Virei o Número Um Sendo Preguiçoso
“Youth has no price; giving up is right now!”
“Instead of forcing yourself, why not cut yourself some slack?”
Suya said this just after completing today’s travel distance.
After speaking, she lay down on the spot to rest. Her eyes showed no trace of desire for ranking or supplies, only the purest, most fundamental state of giving up.
The story actually began this morning.
She had purposely gotten up early today to attend the 8 a.m. class, but as soon as she stepped out of the dormitory, her vision went black, and when she opened her eyes, she found herself on this endless highway.
Thick mist shrouded both sides of the road, from which eerie howls, sounds of animals chewing, and the slithering of elongated creatures could be heard.
From years of never uninstalling her novel-reading app, Suya quickly deduced that she had traveled into a novel—specifically, a highway survival genre.
A game where you drive, move forward, open boxes, seemingly simple but actually extremely deadly. And it had chosen her—a college student with poor physical fitness, intelligence, and luck; someone who had failed the driving test seven times and crashed into trees; someone who dreaded the early classes more than any ghost.
Suya: “If melancholy is a talent...”
She wasn’t joking about her gloominess.
Others entered highway survival with supermarkets to roam, moving houses, or stockpiles to check—in short, they had a bunch of supplies on hand. She, however, had nothing but a hammer cobbled together from hardware scraps, no original s
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