Author Archives: sandy

Ch 104: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

At the Shen family home.

All five members of the Shen family, including Shen Mingjiang, who was still so weak that he needed help just to stand, gathered blankly in front of the television.

The official press conference livestream had already ended, followed immediately by news coverage on Huaguo’s national channel, still focused on the suddenly emerging virus.

“So… what exactly is going on outside? What virus? I don’t understand any of it,” Zang Lijun said uneasily. “This isn’t just the flu, right?”

The Shen family’s village was extremely remote, with only a few people coming and going each day. The virus had not reached there at all. Even though the outside world had already descended into chaos, they felt little sense of urgency.

The official briefing had used restrained and formal language. To avoid panic, its focus, beyond stating facts, remained on reassuring and encouraging the public to face the disaster together. Naturally, it never mentioned anything like a “zombie” virus. After listening to a stream of technical terminology, the Shen family remained thoroughly confused.

They only sensed, from footage of the military being deployed, that something unusual must be happening outside.

Although online platforms had briefly been flooded with real videos filmed by netizens earlier, once the authorities spoke, departments responsible for monitoring public opinion intervened. Those bloody videos were gradually removed, and people spreading rumors or deliberately inciting fear were warned or banned.

From a broader perspective, this approach was not wrong. Limiting uncontrolled information ensured the authority and unity of official messaging and helped maintain social stability. At least this time, society would not descend into chaos so quickly.

But on the other hand, people living in remote areas like the Shen family lost access to understanding the true horror of the zombies.

Grandma Shen said, “They said infected people bite others… that sounds like some kind of severe rabies, doesn’t it?”

In the village, rabies was basically synonymous with madness. To her, the situation seemed similar.

Grandpa Shen waved it off. “I’ve seen people get sick after being bitten by rabid dogs. It wasn’t that scary. They couldn’t stand light or water, and they died after a few days.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Zang Lijun sighed in relief, then frowned again. “But they mentioned restricting movement. Does that mean planes and high-speed trains won’t run now? Qingqing, what about your school?”

Leaning back in his chair, Shen Mingjiang fell silent for a moment. If not for driving him to the hospital earlier, Shen Qingqing would not have stayed home. Now that things were delayed, no one knew when she could return to school.

“I’m already much better now and don’t need anyone watching me,” Shen Mingjiang said. “How about I ask Uncle Zhao to help drive you into the city? We can check whether buses are still running. If they are, you should leave quickly while things haven’t gotten chaotic yet.”

Although Shen Qingqing could drive, she had a lot of luggage, and someone would still need to return the car afterward, so she needed someone to take her.

Shen Mingjiang continued persuading her. “Maybe buses haven’t stopped yet. No matter what, it’s better to go check.”

Hearing this, Shen Qingqing could not help sighing inwardly.

Just watching the broadcast, without witnessing zombies attacking people firsthand, really made it impossible to imagine how serious the situation truly was.

In her family’s minds, even if things were chaotic, that was something happening in big cities, far removed from them.

Dealing with a sudden virus outbreak was the nation’s responsibility. Children still had to attend school as usual.

Missing classes simply would not do.

That was the genuine thinking of many people, including the Shen family.

Even workers were worrying about losing their jobs if they could not go out, never imagining that stepping outside might cost them not just employment but their lives.

Then again, Shen Qingqing admitted to herself that without prior warning, she probably would not have grasped the severity either, nor realized that almost no place in the world was truly safe anymore.

She understood their thinking. Though helpless inside, she deliberately put on a stern expression, even slightly angry.

“Didn’t you hear what the official spokesperson said? There are infected people on the streets now. When they go mad, they can bite people to death!”

“Which is more important, school or your life?”

Shen Mingjiang froze. He truly had not imagined things were that serious.

Zang Lijun, cautious and timid by nature, had already felt uneasy just seeing the government hold a special briefing about the virus. Translated on Hololo novels. Hearing this, she quickly agreed. “Qingqing’s right. Contact your school and see what they say. In this situation, you probably don’t need to go back, right?”

Shen Qingqing’s wrist device had been lighting up constantly. Song Rushuang and Zhang Han knew her home was remote and that she might not receive information promptly, so since the outbreak began they had been regularly sending her updates.

She was the only member of Dorm 1111 who had not yet returned to campus. The three of them knew they worried about one another, so exchanging messages also served as reassurance.

There was also the student forum, where someone had opened an information thread compiling updates since the outbreak began. It had already grown to thousands of posts.

So although Shen Qingqing appeared to be simply watching television with her family, she actually understood everything happening outside.

After being scolded, Shen Mingjiang stopped persuading her, saying awkwardly, “Then forget it. Uncle Zhao should be back soon anyway. Maybe he’ll know what’s happening in the city. We can just ask him.”

Shen Qingqing’s heart skipped a beat.

She suddenly thought of several men in the village who often went to the county city for temporary work.

Uncle Zhao, and his son Zhao Hailin, were among them. Before Shen Mingjiang fell ill, he had gone with them as well.

Sometimes they stayed overnight in the city, sometimes they drove back the same day. It varied, but Shen Mingjiang likely knew their schedule.

He had said they would return today. Judging by the sky, the timing was about right.

Shen Qingqing stood up and headed outside. Passing the doorway, she picked up a firewood machete she had sharpened earlier and tucked it into her waistband.

“Qingqing, where are you going?” Zang Lijun called in confusion.

Before she could answer, someone came running into the courtyard entrance, panting heavily. Seeing them, he hurriedly said, “Everyone from the Shen family is here, right? Did you see the news broadcast just now?”

“The village chief is calling a meeting. Everyone has to attend. Things are chaotic outside, and the government has issued policies. We need to discuss what to do next.”

Zang Lijun came out as well and quickly agreed, returning inside with Grandma Shen to help Shen Mingjiang up.

But Shen Mingjiang waved them off and pushed himself upright using the table. “I’ve rested for days already. I’m fine. Stop making a fuss. Let’s go.”

The family of five hurried to the village center, a cement-paved square where children usually played and villagers sometimes dried crops. Whenever something important happened, everyone gathered there for meetings.

Many villagers were already present. Some looked nervous, but more, like Shen Mingjiang, seemed unconcerned.

There was no helping it. Their village was simply too small. Development rarely reached them, and likewise, whatever viruses were spreading outside rarely made their way here. Even when higher authorities issued policies, they were seldom effectively enforced in this place.

This time was no different. No one believed their village would be drawn into the crisis. Toward the aggressive virus spreading elsewhere, most people treated it as distant news, something to watch rather than fear.

Some villagers shared short videos they had seen a few hours earlier, describing scenes of people being attacked. Listeners clicked their tongues and shrank their necks uneasily, but the overall atmosphere still could not be called tense.

The village chief stood at the front, counting heads. “Are Zhao Yongxiang and the others still not back?”

People below answered all at once.

“They should be on their way.”

“Yeah, judging by the time, they usually come back around now.”

Someone also noticed that Zhao Hailin was standing among the crowd instead of going out to work with his father.

Several middle-aged women exchanged looks and nudged one another, smirks appearing on their faces.

Every summer, Zhao Hailin made excuses about feeling unwell to avoid work. His jobs were temporary labor that required arriving early to compete for positions, but he could never wake up in time. By the time it was his turn, the easier or better-paying work was already taken, giving him another excuse to claim illness or fatigue and stay home. After working a few days, he would always return to rest again.

Yet his parents doted on him, allowing him to stay home while they themselves worked tirelessly from dawn to dusk.

Even after getting married this year, Zhao Hailin had not become more responsible. Instead, he grew lazier. Recently, under Shen Qingqing’s influence, villagers had begun tending vegetable plots again. When his wife wanted to join, Zhao Hailin had actually yelled at her.

After that incident spread through the village, many people began looking down on him.

Since the wild boar incident earlier in the year, Aunt Li and the others felt they could finally see Zhao Hailin’s true nature clearly.

Looking back, they even wondered whether they had once been blinded by foolishness. Otherwise, how could they ever have thought such a lazy, slick-tongued man reliable?

The village chief said, “Then we won’t wait for them. Each family can pass the message along later…”

Before he finished speaking, someone suddenly pointed toward the road in the distance. “Is that them?”

“Well, speak of the devil. Perfect timing.”

The square connected to the village’s so-called “main road,” the only properly paved path. A minivan was driving straight toward them along it.

Everyone craned their necks to watch, but soon something felt wrong.

“Why is that car driving like that?”

“Why isn’t it slowing down…?”

“Hey! Stop the car or you’ll crash!”

The minivan swerved wildly as it approached, nearly veering into a ditch several times. When it finally neared the square, instead of slowing, it suddenly surged forward as if someone had slammed down the accelerator.

The villagers scattered in panic, clearing a wide space just as the vehicle lost control and slammed violently into the earthen wall at the edge of the square. Dust exploded into the air, obscuring the view inside.

The villagers had never witnessed anything like this. They stood frozen in shock until Aunt Zhao suddenly realized her husband was inside and screamed, “Old Zhao!” before rushing forward.

But someone moved faster.

Shen Qingqing reached the driver’s side first. After only a quick glance inside, her brows tightened, and she turned sharply toward Aunt Zhao.

“Don’t come over!”

Startled, Aunt Zhao halted mid-step. The next moment, Shen Qingqing clenched her fist and smashed her elbow into the side window of the driver’s seat, shattering the glass in one decisive blow.

The onlookers were stunned by her decisiveness. Some covered their mouths; others checked anxiously whether her arm had been cut, only to realize that despite the heat, she was wearing a jacket.

The door was locked from inside. Avoiding the broken glass, Shen Qingqing reached in, unlocked it, opened the door, and unfastened the seatbelt.

Then, before everyone’s eyes, she dragged a middle-aged man covered in blood and already unconscious out of the driver’s seat.

An uproar broke out. Those nearby gasped loudly. Before Aunt Zhao even saw the man’s face clearly, her legs gave out and she collapsed, caught just in time by her daughter-in-law.

The young woman glanced over and recognized Zhao Yongxiang. Panic immediately overtook her, and she did not know what to do.

“He must’ve hit his head when the car crashed. Call an ambulance!”

“It’ll take too long for an ambulance! There’s too much blood. He won’t make it if we wait. Where’s Hailin? Have him drive his father to the hospital!”

Zhao Hailin, who had been panicking nearby, finally reacted when urged forward and hurried closer, only to be stopped cold by a single look from Shen Qingqing.

That look sent a chill through him, reminding him of the winter night when they hunted the wild boar.

For a fleeting moment, he felt the same pressure radiating from her again, though back then he had thought it an illusion.

Shen Qingqing checked Uncle Zhao’s pulse, then shook her head and said quietly, “It’s too late.”

An uproar followed.

Zhao Yongxiang had driven these village roads hundreds of times. Who could have imagined he would lose control and die by crashing into a dirt wall in his own village?

What kind of death was that?

Aunt Zhao fainted instantly. The young daughter-in-law’s eyes reddened, while Zhao Hailin stood stunned as if struck over the head. Translated on Hololo novels. Several elderly villagers finally organized people to carry Zhao Yongxiang’s body away from the vehicle to an open space nearby.

Shen Qingqing let them move the body. She glanced once more at Zhao Yongxiang. She had already confirmed he was dead, not merely unconscious or entering a latent stage that might turn him into a zombie.

After witnessing so much death over the past year, she did not dwell on his body. Instead, her attention quickly shifted to the seemingly quiet minivan before her.

But to the onlookers, her behavior inevitably seemed cold and heartless. The way they looked at Shen Qingqing began to change.

Previously, their impression of her had always been that she kept to herself and rarely interacted with villagers. Most had assumed she was simply shy, and besides, they thought it normal for a girl to be somewhat introverted.

Some people had noticed the pride hidden beneath her quietness, yet even they now felt she was being excessively indifferent.

After all, a human life had just been lost.

Shen Qingqing knew nothing of their thoughts and did not care.

Her entire focus was fixed on the minivan, her body subtly shifting into a combat stance.

The windows were covered with privacy film, but she could still make out several silhouettes inside.

The sudden acceleration earlier had likely happened because Uncle Zhao’s corpse had collapsed onto the accelerator. He had already died before that moment.

Although the crash had created new wounds, with fresh blood covering the older injuries, Shen Qingqing could still see at a glance that his neck bore a torn wound. That was probably the fatal injury.

Uncle Zhao and the others always traveled together for work. There should have been at least three or four people in the vehicle.

Others realized this as well, especially those whose family members had gone out to work with them. Driven by worry, someone hurried forward to open the door. Just as her hand neared the handle, the vehicle suddenly shook, and a deep, beast-like growl sounded from inside.

The woman froze, unease creeping into her expression.

Shen Qingqing glanced at her. “I’ll open it.”

Keeping the door closed was pointless. Only by seeing the zombies with their own eyes would they understand the terror.

From her earlier glance, the zombies in the back seat had been moving, meaning they were still active, yet unable to make large movements. Most likely they were restrained by seatbelts. Opening the door would not pose immediate danger.

When driving in mountainous areas, even drivers sometimes neglected seatbelts, yet everyone in this vehicle had fastened theirs. Shen Qingqing strongly suspected they had encountered zombies in the county town. Someone in the car was probably already injured. In their rush to escape and return home to treat the wounded, they had driven too fast and buckled up as a precaution.

Unfortunately, that injured person had likely transformed along the way, attacked the others, and caused Uncle Zhao, who was driving, to have his throat slashed by zombie claws.

In barely two seconds, Shen Qingqing reconstructed the sequence of events. Without pausing, she pulled the door open.

The sight inside made everyone gasp.

Four men with grayish-blue complexions were strapped neatly into the rear seats.

Sensing the living humans gathered outside, their bloodthirsty instincts surged. They struggled violently, but the seatbelts held them firmly in place. As they kicked and thrashed, some struck the windows hard enough to fracture their own bones. Others clawed at nearby bodies, tearing off nails while strips of fresh flesh hung from their fingertips, flailing through the air.

Blood smeared everything. The windows, seats, interior walls, even the floor and ceiling were coated in thick, splattered crimson. When the door opened, a heavy stench of blood rushed outward.

No one could imagine how they had driven all the way back like this, nor what they had endured before dying.

The horrifying scene made everyone’s scalp prickle.

From the mutilated faces, some villagers recognized their own relatives and immediately screamed in terror.

Even the village chief turned pale. Standing atop a waist-high platform built by villagers, he had a clear view of everything. Watching the chaos among his people, the van full of zombies, and Zhao Yongxiang’s corpse lying on the ground, he found himself completely at a loss.

The sun was nearing sunset, its light no longer harsh, yet his head felt heavy and dizzy.

What were they supposed to do next?

And what should they do about the infected inside the vehicle?

Unlike many villagers who had dismissed the situation earlier, the village chief had taken the government’s warnings seriously. He had called everyone together precisely to warn them about the virus and advise them not to travel to the county town for the time being.

Because of that, recalling phrases like high aggressiveness and extreme infectivity only made him more uncertain.

Should they ask someone to deal with the zombies? But the zombies were currently restrained. If someone were bitten while trying to eliminate them, it would only create more freely moving infected.

Yet if they did nothing, could they simply leave them like this?

And even if they wanted someone to kill the zombies, who would do it? Everyone in the village knew one another. Asking someone to kill familiar elders or peers was not something anyone could easily do.

If someone actually carried it out, how would they continue living in the village afterward?

The village chief’s thoughts tangled into knots. When he spoke again, his throat was dry.

“Everyone, don’t panic. Stay calm, stay calm…”

No one listened.

His breathing grew heavier. Already advanced in age, he struck his chest lightly, trying to continue shouting.

At that moment, someone stepped into his peripheral vision.

A figure approached the platform, placed one hand on its edge, and vaulted up with effortless agility.

She brushed dust from her hands, took two steps forward, and stood beside him.

“Grandpa Village Chief, do you need help?” she asked.

“I’m not afraid of zombies, and I don’t mind being resented by their families. I can take responsibility for killing all the infected.”

Shen Qingqing spoke calmly, almost casually.

“You only need to agree to one condition. If you do, I can start right now.”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 103: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Fu Qing had not actually expected to return to Fangzhou so quickly.

She had assumed the other side would at least keep her there, under strict watch for a period of time, until her words were fully proven true before allowing her to move about and act.

But higher leadership chose instead to have Tian Xuejun bring people to station themselves near Fangzhou, rather than directly taking control of Fu Qing. Clearly, it was meant to signal a more moderate, cooperative posture.

Fu Qing accepted their goodwill.

Inside her mind, the system said: 【Host, the cameras at the south gate, the east gate, and along the perimeter wall have captured quite a few people passing not far from campus.】

It watched a few seconds longer: 【…They have taken over some of the nearby civilian houses. The original residents in those houses are now packing and evacuating in an orderly fashion with their assistance.】

The system’s cameras were not the same as ordinary surveillance cameras. They were more like countless eyes belonging to the system itself.

Traditional cameras might miss details due to limited resolution or the observer’s lack of attention, but here at Fangzhou, as long as something fell within a camera’s range, the system could observe exactly what was happening.

This also ensured that any zombies approaching the school could be discovered immediately.

As for the organization’s patrols and sentries, their role was more about identifying zombie types at once after discovery and dealing with them in time.

The system had intelligence, but it relied entirely on its host. All intelligence had to be passed to Fu Qing for her to judge and handle. Fu Qing had established campus patrols, sentry posts, and other positions largely to share the workload.

Fu Qing listened to the system’s report and gave a brief “Mm.” “Don’t worry about it.”

They had chosen the least intrusive approach, and she did not intend to harm that trust.

It was just that…

She had arranged work for the next few days before leaving, never expecting to be back just a few hours later.

Standing on campus again, Fu Qing felt, for once, a moment of faint disorientation.

She opened the system and sent a message, preparing for the time being to gather the teachers together and relay the outside situation and the decisions made at the top.

Just after 5:30 p.m., television stations at every level across the country and major online platforms suddenly began simulcasting the central news livestream. Several representatives and spokespersons from different sectors appeared on screen in formal attire, their expressions grave. They first reported intelligence about the suddenly emerging virus and announced that the highest level emergency response had been activated. Immediately after, leaders from various departments took turns, laying out in detail the actions about to be taken.

The authorities’ public appearance temporarily halted the chaos that had continued all afternoon, but information about the virus’s extreme lethality and infectiousness soon ignited a new wave of fear among the public.

Only when a medical academician explained that teams were already accelerating serum and vaccine development, and a military representative emphasized that emergency reserves would be mobilized and supplies safeguarded as much as possible, did that panic subside somewhat.

…

Before the broadcast began, Fu Qing had already turned on the projection equipment installed in classrooms across the campus and issued a general notice instructing students and parents staying at Fangzhou to go to the nearest classroom to watch.

Some classrooms had already become living spaces. The occupants did not mind. They simply moved their bedding to the side and generously let everyone in.

Every classroom was packed wall to wall. Translated on Hololo novels. People looked up at the screen, their emotions rising and falling like a roller coaster as the broadcast progressed.

When they finally saw armored vehicles rolling into the streets and soldiers working together to move supplies, some of the more emotional viewers could not help their eyes turning wet.

Fu Qing and the teachers watched all of this from the administrative building’s conference room.

Xu Mingyue could not help letting out a long breath. “This time the response is so much faster than last time.”

In truth, the teachers all understood. Given the special nature of the zombie virus and the existence of the believers, even with swift official action, the chaos caused by the virus was unavoidable.

Whether humanity could be prevented from going extinct was still an unknown.

But what people needed was that sliver of hope provided by the authorities.

In the face of vast, irresistible disaster, human beings were both fragile and resilient.

People might collapse into despair over small things, yet they might also cling to that sliver of hope and stubbornly live on.

This broadcast was, in effect, a shot of reassurance injected into the frightened, unsettled public at the very beginning of the outbreak.

After the official statements, a press conference followed. Experts came forward to explain the subsequent measures in detail, such as sealing doors and windows, preparing supplies, and so on.

This broadcast not only dominated television and online platforms, it was also pushed nationwide through emergency radio and SMS alerts, doing everything possible to reach even the most isolated, out-of-the-way corners.

Even after the broadcast ended, screens that still functioned on the streets continued looping the footage. At the same time, experts, scholars, authoritative institutions, and even prominent media influencers began calming the public through their own channels.

A similar scene had unfolded in the previous life, but because early measures had not been taken quickly enough, the number of infected had been too great. Many basic facilities were destroyed, people lost internet and power, communications stopped, television stations fell and could no longer operate normally, and those hard-won voices never reached many people at all.

For people like Xu Mingyue, Lu Yan, and Bai Tang who had made it through from the previous life, the difference at this moment was vivid and overwhelming.

The butterfly’s wings had already begun to beat, and the wind was sweeping across broader ground.

…It made one want to pray in silence that it would blow harder, until it swept across all of Huaguo, across the entire Blue Star.

At the same time, in other countries.

Whether it was day or deep night locally, in the heavily guarded buildings in every nation’s capital, the lights were bright.

People of different skin colors, genders, and identities sat in conference rooms of varying styles, watching the video China had sent.

Hearing the translated words, someone’s face twisted. He slammed the table and stood up. “Rebirth? Humanity is going extinct? This is ridiculous!”

“What is the Chinese government doing? Do they think sending us a video like this will make us believe them? What is their purpose?!”

His country was vast and sparsely populated. The virus did not yet seem severe there. Even the underreported deaths were only a handful, so he refused to believe such claims, feeling it sounded more like a vicious curse.

A scheme to drag all nations down together.

He never even considered that this vicious virus was spreading rapidly in the shadows, and that in countless buildings that should have been responsible for reporting, everyone had already vanished, leaving only zombies wandering.

Under such conditions, how could real data possibly be obtained?

But after receiving the video, he was far from the only one harboring doubts. Especially in countries with opposing political stances, minds were already galloping headlong toward conspiracy theories.

In one mansion’s conference room, several people were arguing fiercely.

One shouted, “I strongly suspect this strange virus that appeared out of nowhere was released by China! Otherwise, how could they respond so quickly?”

“According to the latest reports, they’ve already closed their land border crossings and issued warnings to their citizens. With that speed, they must know something we don’t, and they didn’t tell us.”

“We can’t trust them. I propose we immediately dispatch intelligence personnel and uncover their information source at any cost.”

A small number objected. “But as I understand it, the same virus is also appearing within China at the same time. If they released it themselves, they could have targeted only key nations’ capitals. Why would they affect the entire world, including all their friendly countries and themselves? That makes no sense.”

“Put yourselves in their position. If it were you, would you do that?”

“Then what?” someone cut in sharply. “Then what are they doing?”

“You don’t seriously think they’re acting out of goodwill, do you?” he sneered. The next moment, his voice sharpened with accusation. “According to their recommendations, we would immediately halt all social and economic activity and suspend foreign trade. Have you calculated how enormous the losses would be?”

The one who had spoken in opposition earlier was a medical expert. Hearing this, he fell silent for a moment.

His chest rose and fell repeatedly, both angry and helpless.

What he did not say was that, due to China’s large and densely concentrated population, the casualties there were already more severe than in their own country.

Recalling the shocking numbers of deaths and infections reported by his subordinates on the way here, then looking at the politicians in the room who were still blinded by their positions, his heart had already turned cold.

Could they see only disputes and interests, yet fail to hear the desperate cries of suffering people?

Struggling to restrain his anger and urgency, the expert said with a trembling voice, “Open your eyes and look. This virus has already spread across the world. Calling it a disaster for all humanity would not be an exaggeration. If ‘people’ are gone, how will society exist? How will the economy develop?”

“I strongly recommend immediately referencing Huaguo’s measures: close public venues, restrict movement, deploy the military to protect hospitals, clear infected individuals from the streets, and gather homeless people who are still uninfected into centralized shelters. They are the most vulnerable during a disaster. Then establish emergency shelters and distribute emergency supplies to the public.”

His proposal was immediately met with overwhelming opposition.

“Our citizens have guns. If danger comes, they can protect themselves.”

“Are you suggesting we restrict our citizens’ personal freedom?”

Amid the uproar of objections, the expert cast a desperate look toward the elderly man in a suit seated at the head of the table.

After a long silence, the man finally made a decision.

In summary, they would maintain normal social operations while issuing public safety warnings, urging citizens to protect themselves when going out. Translated on Hololo novels. Armed forces would be dispatched to gather homeless individuals from the streets into shelters for centralized isolation.

The expert’s throat had grown hoarse as he shouted repeatedly, “We have already discovered a small number of highly mobile infected individuals. At their speed, ordinary people cannot eliminate them even with firearms! Expecting civilians to protect themselves is unrealistic!”

But his voice stopped abruptly when the elder raised a hand.

“Professor, as you said, those are only very rare cases.”

“The situation is still controllable for now. There is no need to prematurely halt economic activity.”

“We will continue observing. If conditions worsen, we can take further steps then. With our nation’s military strength, suppressing unarmed infected individuals will not be difficult.”

“You are making recommendations from a medical perspective, but we must also consider social, economic, and political factors. Please understand.”

Sentence after sentence, firmly stated, pressed the expert back into his seat in defeat.

In another conference room, however, the debate had already ended.

That country had maintained diplomatic ties with China for many years. Although its highest leader also harbored doubts about China’s information source, after hearing about the measures China had taken, he inexplicably sensed an approaching storm.

After swift discussion, they quickly adopted similar policies.

…

Reactions across countries varied. Some dismissed China’s warnings outright. Others sensed something in China’s cautious urgency and took precautionary measures just in case. Major powers, relying on their strength, responded differently. Some chose to suppress and eliminate zombies through force, others remained calm and continued observing. Many smaller nations, lacking capability, aligned themselves with stronger powers, taking the opportunity to declare their stance. Some even joined together in attempts to shift blame for the outbreak onto Huaguo.

Not to mention that, beyond public view, countless intelligence agents already operating within China had received orders and quietly begun moving into action.

These various reactions were soon reposted onto domestic internet platforms, naturally sparking another wave of fierce online debate.

Yet seeing the calm and unmoving response from above, as though everything had been anticipated from the moment the video was released, netizens gradually shifted from outrage back to concern over their own situation.

After all, their own problems remained unresolved. Who had the energy to worry about foreign disputes and political maneuvering? Only people like Grandma Zhang and Zhao Ya, who had relatives or friends overseas, could not help feeling anxious as they watched the news.

That evening at nine o’clock, Zhao Ya finally received a message from Zhao Liang.

Zhao Liang happily reported that the local embassy had issued an announcement advising overseas nationals to stay home as much as possible. Those facing genuine difficulties could request assistance from the embassy.

After strict checks confirming no wounds anywhere on their bodies, the embassy would provide temporary protection and accommodation.

“I heard there might be evacuation flights in the future,” Zhao Liang said. “But before boarding, people will need at least three weeks of quarantine to confirm they aren’t infected… There are too many overseas Chinese in Country A. If everyone gathers together, infected individuals might appear. Everyone still has food at home, so people in our group chat are saying they’ll wait a bit longer and only seek embassy help if they really can’t hold out.”

Zhao Liang was still hiding in a storage room, too afraid to go outside, but hope had returned to his face.

Hearing this, Zhao Ya and Grandma Zhang were naturally relieved as well. The anxiety they had been carrying finally eased.

…

All these developments also reached the ears of China’s leadership.

Not everyone among them had supported fully believing Fu Qing’s words. The final decision that overruled opposition had been something of a desperate gamble.

But as time passed minute by minute, more and more death reports came in, more injured people suddenly mutated, and Fu Qing’s statements about incubation periods and other details were increasingly confirmed. Even those who had initially opposed the decision wiped cold sweat from their brows.

There were simply too many infected on the streets. Even with rapid action, the situation was still sliding toward the abyss of losing control.

At last, everyone realized that if the decision had been delayed even a few more hours, it might truly have been too late.

In the end, countless thoughts condensed into a single sentiment.

Fortunately.

Fortunately, they had chosen to believe her.

——————————

In a women’s dormitory at a university in D City, China.

Zhao Yun and her roommate had wrapped every inch of exposed skin in layers of clothing. Like two frightened little animals, they huddled together on a bed pressed against the wall. Tear tracks had long dried on their faces, and though they were sweating heavily from the heat, neither dared to move.

The dormitory door was a thin wooden panel. To prevent zombies from breaking in, they had already shoved every chair in the room against it. Suitcases filled with belongings were stacked on top as weights, firmly barricading the entrance.

Outside the door came constant rustling footsteps, dragging slowly along, as if someone were shuffling about unhurriedly.

Zhao Yun knew that was probably a girl from the neighboring dorm.

She usually wore round black-rimmed glasses and pajamas matching those from Crayon Shin-chan, and she and Zhao Yun had even chosen the same class.

But when Zhao Yun closed her eyes now, the only image that appeared in her mind was that girl covered in blood, pinned beneath a zombie, crying and reaching out toward her for help.

Zhao Yun shuddered again, covering her mouth as a sob escaped.

Her roommate, clinging tightly beside her, pulled her closer and then typed on her phone: Don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault.

Neither of them dared make a sound. They could only communicate through their phones.

Earlier that afternoon, Zhao Yun and her roommate had gone to the supermarket to buy snacks so they could participate in @DormitoryEscape’s livestream interaction event. After returning, they sat waiting eagerly for the broadcast to begin.

They were the first back in the dorm. Some roommates were locals who were in no hurry to return, while others were still on their way. With the room to themselves, they turned on the livestream speakers and ordered a pile of takeout, planning to eat while watching.

Unfortunately, too many people joined the event, and they were never selected during the livestream. They could only photograph the supplies they had prepared and post them online with the event hashtag, hoping to be chosen in a later giveaway.

Around two in the afternoon, Zhao Yun could not hold it any longer and went out to the hallway restroom. Before she even finished, someone suddenly began pounding violently on the stall door.

When she stumbled out in panic, her roommate grabbed her hand and dragged her into a sprint down the corridor, shouting something about zombies appearing.

Zhao Yun still did not understand what was happening. She thought her roommate had become too immersed in the livestream and was about to laugh and tease her when they suddenly saw, at the stairwell entrance, the girl from the neighboring dorm scream as another person lunged at her.

That person crouched over her, doing something unseen. The girl cried out, kicking and struggling desperately, but soon fell silent.

They were frozen in shock.

When they finally reacted, they bolted back to their dorm, locked the door behind them, and never dared move again.

The content from @DormitoryEscape’s videos suddenly seemed to have crossed dimensions and become reality.

Fortunately, because they had been watching the livestream, they had not fully separated themselves from its fictional setting. Translated on Hololo novels. Zhao Yun almost immediately recalled the descriptions of zombies mentioned in the videos.

For example, their eyesight deteriorated, and they relied mainly on hearing and heightened perception to locate prey.

Though she could not believe zombies truly existed, Zhao Yun remembered the attacker’s frenzied behavior and hurriedly called her roommate to help move everything in the dorm to block the door.

During the process, the noise they made caused heavy pounding against the wooden door. Terrified, they rushed to finish barricading it completely before retreating to the bed farthest from the entrance.

Afraid of making noise, they did not even dare turn on the fan.

The livestream continued playing. They had already lost the will to watch, but just as they were about to close it, the mysterious sixth person appeared.

They watched her drag a corpse onto the roof of a truck.

They watched her lift a “person” identical to the attacker they had just encountered, firmly identify it as a zombie, and teach viewers how to kill it.

In the end, she even asked, “Did you learn it?”

Each of them curled up on the bed wearing headphones, staring in stunned disbelief.

Normally, the two never missed an episode of TaoTao’s videos. Sometimes they even envied how interesting life at that campus seemed. But now that everything was happening to them for real, they realized they did not even have the courage to face a zombie.

Whether they wanted to believe it or not, whether they dared face it or not, it was real.

The zombie outside lingered near their door for a while, then finally left when no further sounds came from inside. The two hurriedly sent warnings in their dorm group chat and repeatedly reminded their roommates, but not long after, another scream echoed through the corridor.

They trembled, wanting to cover their ears, yet unable to block out the terrified cries of their classmates. They could only bury their own sobs deep into the blankets.

Fear mixed with hatred toward their own helplessness.

So the videos had been false after all. People like TaoTao’s group, who could stand up and save others, were one in ten thousand.

And they were not those brave protagonists.

Not until after five in the afternoon did they finish watching the national news broadcast with red, swollen eyes and headphones still on.

The experts on screen used many technical terms they could not understand to describe the sudden virus, as if scientific language could lessen people’s fear.

But Zhao Yun and her roommate knew.

This was the zombie virus.

They even strongly suspected TaoTao knew something. The mysterious sixth person’s actions were the clearest proof.

The more they listened, comparing the experts’ explanations with details mentioned in TaoTao’s earlier videos, the more certain they became.

However, the experts only described transmission routes and infected symptoms. Many things TaoTao had mentioned, such as zombies’ sense of smell and hearing, were not discussed.

Zhao Yun and her roommate believed that was because this was an official nationwide broadcast. Unverified information could not be casually announced to the public.

But they could.

@DormitoryEscape was already quite popular as a self-media content creator, but far from universally known. Some people might have come across one or two of their trending videos, yet few followed them as faithfully as Zhao Yun and her roommate, who never missed a single episode.

An idea began to form in their minds.

After hesitating for a moment, Zhao Yun opened the small pink video site where @DormitoryEscape had first uploaded their videos.

What she saw was almost unbelievable.

At nearly the exact moment the official news broadcast ended, multiple @DormitoryEscape videos simultaneously surged onto the platform’s trending page, even occupying half of the homepage.

Most other platforms were flooded with real-time footage of zombie attacks, but this site, due to its nature, mainly featured carefully produced long videos by creators. Few people uploaded real-time short clips there, so after the outbreak began, traffic had sharply declined, and the homepage still displayed older dance videos, edits, and prank content.

Until the moment the livestream ended.

Then, at astonishing speed, @DormitoryEscape’s videos replaced those unrelated clips one after another, claiming half the front page.

The other half, naturally, was filled with the news broadcast.

The homepage now looked sharply divided.

Zhao Yun quickly clicked into one video and checked the scrolling comments. It showed over one million people watching simultaneously. Many were discussing how @DormitoryEscape must know something, saying that after watching the news they had rushed back to rewatch the videos. One particular comment caught Zhao Yun’s attention.

[There’s no way so many videos hit the homepage at once just because viewers happened to watch them. This was probably an official platform push.]

[But I don’t think the platform staff would be promoting apocalypse-themed videos during a real disaster just to run the site. That’s too absurd. So I suspect this move came from higher instructions.]

[If higher authorities deliberately boosted a comedy creator onto the homepage, that says enough. @DormitoryEscape definitely knows something. Has anyone compiled their “worldbuilding settings”? I’m starting to think those might not just be fictional settings anymore…]

The disaster had not yet reached everyone directly. Many viewers of @DormitoryEscape had stayed home specifically to watch the livestream and, by coincidence, ended up in the safest possible place.

A few people in the comments quickly coordinated and volunteered to compile a full summary of the series’ “setting,” promising to share it as soon as they finished.

Their comment was rapidly pushed to the top by upvotes, gaining hundreds of thousands of likes, followed by rows of replies saying “waiting here.”

Zhao Yun and her roommate finally made up their minds.

Waiting for someone else’s compilation would take too long. They would spread whatever important information they themselves could remember first.

Of course, they could not guarantee the information was entirely accurate. But in desperate situations, even one more possible method might save a life.

Just then, someone in the university’s large group chat sent a plea for help, saying she was trapped in the cafeteria. She had found a hiding place, but it was unsafe and could be breached by zombies at any moment.

She typed shakily:

[Can someone call campus security for me? Please, I’m really scared.]

Soon another person replied sadly and carefully, saying they had seen the security guards dragged into a swarm of zombies.

The girl said nothing more. The thousand-member group chat fell silent.

A chat normally filled with nonstop messages suddenly had no one speaking. Zhao Yun first felt a pang of melancholy, then realized the truth: everyone was staying quiet so they would not bury the girl’s plea for help beneath chatter.

The realization made her nose sting. Exchanging a glance with her roommate, Zhao Yun checked the cafeteria location the girl had shared and quickly typed a reply, tagging her at the end.

SkyCloud: [@IfICantPassLevel4IWon’tChangeMyName If you’re in the second cafeteria, I remember there’s a garbage station behind it? It’s usually dirty because of kitchen waste. You can try hiding there tonight.]

SkyCloud: [As far as I know, zombies mainly rely on smell and hearing. The garbage odor might mask your scent. Staying where you are is too risky. But to be safe, before moving, see if there’s strong-smelling trash nearby. Throw some out the window first and observe whether it attracts the zombies.]

The method was unverified, so she did not dare tell the girl to try it immediately.

About ten minutes later, the girl reappeared in the group chat, her tone noticeably more excited.

IfICantPassLevel4IWon’tChangeMyName: [It really works! We threw a plate far away just now. The sound of it shattering drew the nearby zombies away. We’ve moved into another room now. If we move slowly, we should reach the garbage station before dark.]

IfICantPassLevel4IWon’tChangeMyName: [There are two other classmates trapped with me. One guy kept getting noticed by zombies wherever he went. After you said that, we realized it might be because he was sweating a lot and smelled. We poured a bowl of leftover luosifen broth on him, and afterward the zombies didn’t pay special attention to him anymore.]

IfICantPassLevel4IWon’tChangeMyName: [We can’t charge our phones and the battery’s almost dead, so we have to save power. I won’t say more, but thank you, truly, thank you so much!!]

Zhao Yun stared at the message in a daze.

Luosifen broth…

Rationally she knew survival mattered more than cleanliness at a time like this, but the mental image was overwhelmingly pungent.

SkyCloud: [That’s good. Stay safe.]

The classmates who had been quietly holding back from speaking finally burst into activity once the conversation ended, tagging Zhao Yun repeatedly to ask how she knew the zombies’ weaknesses.

[Do you have more information you can share?]

[Please tell us more!]

Zhao Yun and her roommate exchanged another look, both seeing a faint spark of excitement in the other’s eyes.

Even if they did not have the strength to stand up and fight zombies, there were still things within their power that could help others.

And that felt… incredibly good.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 102: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Having already come this far, Fu Qing understood that in order to convince them, she had to explain everything clearly.

No matter how absurd the truth sounded, it was still the truth.

If she chose to lie or fabricate a story, then once any logical flaw was exposed, it could affect all subsequent plans and the pace of their actions.

“Teacher Zhao Yunxiao, who is seated beside me, and I both returned through rebirth. In our previous life, we personally witnessed how the virus destroyed human society, until the entire Blue Star was ultimately occupied by the zombie species.”

“After returning, I received a mission: to establish a university called Fangzhou and lead more than two thousand students to prepare together for the coming apocalypse over the next year.”

“But the premise was that we had to strictly guard the secret of the impending outbreak. Any active or passive disclosure of information would be obstructed…”

She laid out everything related to the system and Fangzhou without reservation.

Zhao Yunxiao supplemented her explanation at appropriate moments, taking out the materials from his backpack and presenting part of his research findings on the zombie species.

Xue Ran also briefly described, from a student’s perspective, what life and study at Fangzhou had been like over the past year.

The conference room fell into absolute silence.

Every participant present was widely experienced, yet something like this was beyond anything they had ever heard in their lives.

Was this not the plot of some novel or television drama?

It was too… too absurd.

They felt as though, with disaster looming, they had spent precious time listening to a science fiction story.

And yet, upon careful thought, Fu Qing’s actions aligned perfectly with everything she had previously said and done. There was not a single logical inconsistency.

Director Liu interrupted midway, cautiously asking whether she would agree to undergo a lie-detection test. Fu Qing shrugged. “Go ahead.”

With the verification of the equipment during the latter half of her explanation, there was even less room for doubt.

Everything she said was true.

Facts that had previously been concealed within the system’s blind spot were now laid bare in the light.

For example, a university like Fangzhou, which had never been officially registered, had somehow appeared out of nowhere. It could even directly select suitable students from the national application system for admission, all without attracting anyone’s attention. That alone was already unbelievable.

More terrifying still was that everyone, including Director Liu, deputy chief of the local S City Public Security Bureau, had never found it strange that a school had suddenly appeared on the wasteland outside the city.

It was as though it had always belonged there, entirely reasonable.

Only after Fu Qing revealed the truth did the fog surrounding everyone finally disperse.

Only through firsthand experience could one understand how terrifying the capabilities of a higher-dimensional creation like the system truly were.

Even as she spoke, Fu Qing’s hands never stopped moving. One moment a simulated zombie appeared beside her, the next a box of instant noodles, then a massive capsule chamber whose landing even made the projector and cameras tremble.

Everyone witnessed the screen shaking on the other end. “…”

In the next instant, all the items she had taken from the system backpack, which had filled the entire conference room, vanished completely with a light wave of her hand.

The internal meeting software employed strict monitoring and verification of data streams. The video they were seeing could not have been altered. Faced with layers of evidence, no matter how much it defied common sense, they had no choice but to believe Fu Qing’s words.

In the previous life, or rather in a parallel world more than ninety-five percent identical to this one, humanity had already gone extinct.

And the starting point of that catastrophe was today.

Fu Qing’s mention of world consciousness and the existence of the Zombie King further explained how the virus could erupt worldwide simultaneously.

Everything sounded outrageous, yet the logic was strangely airtight.

And deeply chilling.

For a long time, humanity had regarded itself as the ruler of this planet. They had surpassed every other species, achieved the most advanced evolution, and controlled the world. When looking at other lifeforms, humans often did so from a position of superiority, of overlooking, of pity.

But at this moment, they suddenly realized that they themselves were merely ants in the eyes of other beings.

The billions of humans living on Blue Star were nothing more than expendable pieces in a game played by higher-dimensional entities, sacrifices that could be discarded at any time.

Their struggles and suffering meant nothing to the system or the Zombie King.

“Why?”

Someone could no longer endure it and forced out a grief-stricken question through clenched teeth.

Why?!

“I can’t accept this…”

These were people of immense authority who had fought their way through decades to reach their current positions. Translated on Hololo novels. Yet now, those standing at the pinnacle of their respective fields could barely form coherent words, expressing themselves only in the simplest, almost childlike sentences.

I can’t accept it.

I refuse this outcome.

The deaths of more than a hundred thousand people were already horrifying and painful. Now they had suddenly learned that all humanity might perish within a few short years.

Everything that had ever existed on this land, everything they had cherished, despised, or struggled for, would lose its meaning.

Personal death was not frightening. In fact, no one present feared death.

They were always prepared for sacrifice.

But the disappearance of an entire nation, an entire race, an entire species could truly shatter one’s spiritual foundation.

The man seated at the head of the meeting shifted his gaze, about to speak and break the heavy, oppressive atmosphere, when Fu Qing, who had just finished speaking, suddenly spoke again.

“I can’t accept it either.”

The same words, yet spoken without despair.

“I can’t accept it, which is why I’m standing here now.”

“My students couldn’t accept it either. That’s why they endured and persevered through this past year.”

“And all the teachers at my school couldn’t accept it either. Even in death, they could not close their eyes.”

Xue Ran suddenly felt her vision blur. She fought back the lump in her throat, doing her best not to think too much.

The principal’s words carried her usual calmness, unshaken even if mountains collapsed before her eyes. Yet at this moment, that calmness only made Xue Ran’s heart ache.

Zhao Yunxiao lowered his head, then raised it again a moment later.

Because they could not accept it, they had to seize every possible chance to resist.

“The system told me that as long as there are still people unwilling to accept fate, it will continue to appear in this world, and in every world,” Fu Qing said, blinking lightly, her tone firm. “Even if we fail again this time, it doesn’t matter. Even if I don’t exist in the next life, it doesn’t matter. Someone else will still appear.”

“That person will continue to grasp an even slimmer hope, move forward, and search for a way to break the deadlock.”

“The farther we go, the more hope humanity in another world we will never know will have.”

“So what is there to fear?” she asked.

The system said that in the next life humanity would no longer be able to resist the Zombie King. Did that make it absolute truth? The world consciousness wanted them dead, yet had they not struggled their way into this life anyway?

There would always be a world in which humanity defeated the zombies, where civilization endured and the species survived.

Even if they themselves could not witness it, what did that matter?

The man in the Zhongshan jacket tapped lightly on the table, drawing everyone’s attention, and said in a deep voice, “It is still too early to dwell on these thoughts. If humanity’s chance of survival is one in ten thousand, then we must fight for that one chance.”

“Everyone, the crisis of life and death is right before us. This is the moment when our country and our people… no, when humanity itself needs us most. From this moment on, I ask each of you to use everything you have learned and give your utmost effort to protect this nation and this planet.”

After speaking, he paused, already seeing the answer he wanted in the expressions around him.

The meeting was temporarily adjourned. The man left the room, likely to report to higher authorities and convene a joint conference. At this stage, not only Director Liu but even his superior, the provincial public security chief who had attended earlier, was no longer qualified to participate. Yet less than half an hour later, news arrived that China had activated a Level One National Biosecurity Emergency Response.

Fu Qing was politely invited into another round of meetings. Aside from Director Liu, the bureau chief who had just rushed back to the station at high speed, and Zhao Yunxiao, everyone else was temporarily asked to leave the conference room.

Higher authorities established an emergency command headquarters to coordinate all departments, dividing responsibilities into several specialized groups handling virus prevention and control, vaccine research, maintenance of social stability, and supply logistics.

As the meeting progressed, directives were discussed by numerous senior officials and rapidly issued to departments nationwide.

Because of the urgency, all cumbersome procedures were reduced to the bare minimum. Tasks were pushed forward with maximum efficiency and speed.

The simulated zombie donated by Fu Qing, along with Zhao Yunxiao, who possessed experience in serum and vaccine research, would be escorted immediately by the military to the capital’s research institute. The white-haired elderly woman who had spoken earlier would personally lead a team composed of the nation’s top experts and professors to devote themselves fully to vaccine development.

Across the country, shelters and quarantine centers would begin construction. The former would receive displaced civilians with nowhere else to go. The latter, under the name of medical isolation, would gather infected individuals still in the incubation period as well as those already mutated, isolating them in batches. Unless absolutely necessary, lives would not be taken, but once someone entered a quarantine center, the chances of leaving again would be slim.

The military, armed police, and other security forces were mobilized. Some units would guard major hospitals to protect medical personnel. Others would patrol the streets, locating infected individuals and sending them to shelters while protecting fleeing civilians. Translated on Hololo novels. Additional units would secure facilities such as nuclear power plants, ensuring the continued supply of water, electricity, and gas. National strategic reserves would be deployed, and supplies would be delivered regularly through airdrops and community distribution to residents remaining at home.

All land border crossings would be closed under strict border control. Maritime ports would adopt different management strategies for foreign and domestic cargo ships. All foreign vessels would be required to anchor at designated points outside territorial waters under coast guard supervision, while domestic ships would undergo at least three weeks of maritime quarantine. During this period, the government would provide essential survival supplies to both sides.

In addition, aside from being sent to higher leadership, recordings of this meeting would also be delivered to governments around the world after removing certain key information, such as the existence of Fu Qing and Fangzhou.

They had to protect Fu Qing and the students of Fangzhou. But regarding the virus and zombies themselves, Huaguo would conceal nothing.

All conflicts should cease in the face of humanity’s survival crisis.

What remained was to see how other nations would respond.

Their own governments would be responsible for protecting their people. And the Chinese government had its own citizens it must protect with everything it had.

…

Fu Qing attended almost the entire meeting as an observer.

She had already said everything that needed to be said. Her presence now seemed largely an act of respect. As she listened to directives being issued one after another, a quiet emotion began to grow within her chest.

After a long time, she felt something again.

A feeling called reassurance.

Something stronger and more powerful than herself had appeared.

It felt as though she finally had something she could rely on.

At a meeting of the highest level, one that ordinary people could never participate in during their lifetimes, Fu Qing found herself unexpectedly distracted.

She realized, with surprise, that over this year since her rebirth, more and more people had appeared at her side. The path she had begun alone had, without her noticing, gained countless companions.

Some were silent, some noisy. Some had been weak and insignificant when they first joined the journey, while others had arrived already strong.

But without exception, all of them now walked firmly beside her.

…

What surprised Fu Qing even more was that, despite resources being extremely strained, the leadership still formed a special operations team specifically to travel to S City and coordinate with her.

The team leader was a capable, short-haired woman from the military district, over fifty years old, named Tian Xuejun. Fu Qing glanced at the medals on her uniform through the video feed and felt immediate respect.

Unbeknownst to her, after hearing the full story, Tian Xuejun held the same respect toward Fu Qing, as well as toward Xue Ran and Zhao Yunxiao.

She was already on her way to S City and briefly reported the team’s responsibilities via video call. “Simply put, our job is to fully support your actions and protect you and the teachers and students of Fangzhou.”

“The threat of national and species extinction is too serious. We cannot expect all humanity to truly unite. If the system and your identity were exposed, not only the believers you mentioned, but other countries would certainly try everything to find you. Our primary duty is to protect you from foreign agents. Additionally, any information you need conveyed can be passed to me directly. I have clearance to report straight to the highest level.”

Fu Qing was skilled at killing zombies, but when she thought about the surveillance methods of foreign intelligence agents she had heard about or seen in films, she felt a headache coming on.

She truly was not good at dealing with such matters, nor did she have Tian Xuejun’s experience.

Professional matters should be handled by professionals.

Fu Qing did not pretend otherwise. “Thank you for the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all. How could it be?” Tian Xuejun sighed softly on the other end of the call. “You don’t know. When I first heard all this, I could hardly believe my ears. Many people competed for this assignment. The organization entrusted it to me, and I feel deeply honored and very happy.”

“I want so badly to do something,” she said, her tone carrying a trace of shame. “If a group of eighteen- or nineteen-year-old students were truly left to bear the burden of saving the world alone, how could we adults face ourselves?”

“These responsibilities have rested on your shoulders for far too long. From here on, please allow us to carry them together with you.”

Seated in the car, Tian Xuejun continued speaking with Fu Qing for a while longer, discussing future arrangements.

Whether it was her personal attitude or instructions from above, she showed Fu Qing complete respect.

“If you have any requests, you can raise them as well. We will certainly give your opinions full consideration,” she said sincerely.

Since she had said so, Fu Qing did not stand on ceremony.

She truly did have two urgent requests.

“First, I hope the authorities will not intervene in Fangzhou’s internal management, including the premises, personnel, and future operational arrangements,” Fu Qing explained. “Fangzhou was built by the system and is bound to me. Only I can alter all buildings and facilities, and all teachers and students have already finished adapting and coordinating with me. Outside involvement would instead reduce our operational efficiency.”

“On the other hand, building the school was a mission the system gave me. Even after the apocalypse arrives and the main mission is completed, I can still earn a certain amount of Teaching Points through small tasks afterward, such as maintaining the campus. You can think of it as a kind of points system used to exchange for supplies in the system shop. The simulated zombie, for example, was purchased with Teaching Points.”

“Through the system shop, we have a chance to obtain tools far beyond humanity’s current technological level. Some of them may even play a key role in the process of fighting the believers and the Zombie King. I cannot lose the channel for earning Teaching Points. If Zhao Yunxiao needs to go to the capital to assist with research, every day he spends outside consumes 24 Teaching Points. I need a continuous income.”

Tian Xuejun nodded as she listened, then, after a moment of thought, said, “That request is very reasonable. The Teaching Points you mentioned are an important strategic resource, and the means of obtaining them is singular, so we will definitely ensure you can continue to acquire them normally. But I also want to raise one request, and I hope you’ll consider it.”

Fu Qing said, “Go ahead.”

Tian Xuejun said, “May I assign a team to follow you into Fangzhou? I can guarantee the team will not exceed twelve people, and we will bring our own supplies.”

Fu Qing was not surprised by this request. Translated on Hololo novels. A school as large as Fangzhou having existed for a full year while deceiving everyone’s eyes meant that the methods involved were something humans could not possibly see through.

Who knew whether, once Fu Qing returned to Fangzhou, Tian Xuejun and her people would still be able to find her?

Asking to have people accompany her was perfectly normal.

“No problem,” Fu Qing said.

“Good. I will lead the rest of the squad to set up camp nearby and establish a temporary command center. We won’t disturb your daily life,” Tian Xuejun said. “Once we arrive, I will give you satellite communications and positioning equipment. I hope you will cooperate and stay in contact at all times. In addition, our team will patrol around Fangzhou twenty-four hours a day. When you need to go out, we will need to provide close protection while minimizing disruption. It may be inconvenient in some ways, but I ask for your understanding. I must ensure your safety.”

Knowing that inside Fangzhou, Fu Qing could almost be considered absolutely safe, Tian Xuejun did not propose assigning a female officer inside the school to provide twenty-four-hour close protection.

In truth, given how the upper leadership now viewed Fu Qing, they would have loved nothing more than to assign an entire military unit to guard her, terrified that any zombie or anyone else might so much as harm a single hair on her head.

“Close protection…”

Fu Qing repeated the phrase, never imagining there would come a day when she was the one being protected. Finding it a little amusing, she let out a soft laugh. “All right. Thank you for the trouble.”

“?” Tian Xuejun sounded momentarily puzzled, but she did not overthink it and continued, “Our people are armed. Zombies absolutely won’t be able to get close.”

These specially selected, highly trained armed soldiers were in a completely different league from ordinary police in terms of shooting accuracy. Even against fast-moving zombies, they were confident they could land headshots.

That stirred something in Fu Qing’s mind.

Guns really were useful. The question was whether she could borrow a few.

In her previous life, when she scavenged supplies everywhere, she had found quite a few.

Although guns were banned domestically, in rural areas you could still find various homemade firearms and hunting rifles. Some lavish villas even kept military-grade weapons locked in basement safes.

Who knew what channels they came from, or what they were meant for.

Fu Qing had tried a few times and her aim was not bad. But in the early stage, guns were handy for fighting large waves of zombies. Later, when zombie numbers kept rising and human numbers kept falling, she no longer dared to use them.

Evolved zombies had such sharp hearing that they could pick up gunfire from far away. At that stage, cold weapons were more practical.

So although there were one or two simulation-chamber scenarios that involved firearms, she had not had the students focus on shooting training, because it simply was not practical.

Not to mention the huge problem of acquiring firearms and ammunition domestically, even if you had them, it would be impossible to find and use them in large quantities. And while firearms could erase gaps in strength and combat skill, they also came with problems: harder to carry, easy to lose, and so on.

If you lost your gun in real combat and could only wait to be slaughtered, then that “useful tool” would instead become a limitation.

Fu Qing and the students did not have much time. They had to make choices.

Marksmanship training took a great deal of time, especially if you wanted to reach the level of reliably hitting a fast-moving target with a single shot at close range.

With that time, it was better to hone cold-weapon techniques. That was the choice they had made.

Her thoughts turned several times, and then she considered that in Tian Xuejun and her team’s eyes, forget the eighteen- and nineteen-year-old students, even she, in her twenties, would still count as a junior.

In the apocalypse, no matter how long she had survived, when facing soldiers she was still an ordinary civilian who needed protection.

There was no way they would let her handle firearms.

Fu Qing could only abandon the idea with regret.

Tian Xuejun had no idea that in those few moments Fu Qing had already set her sights on their weapons. “You said you had two requests. What’s the other one?”

“The other…” Fu Qing came back to herself and finally returned to the main point. “Fangzhou’s students come from all over the country. At this point, many of them still haven’t returned to campus.”

“I promised that their family members could also move into shelters. They have been repeatedly planning and mentally rehearsing this return route since the first half of the year. I believe that with my students’ capabilities, they can bring their families back safely. So I hope you won’t stop them from returning to campus.”

More than two thousand people plus their relatives was not a small number, but on a national scale it was absolutely not much.

After all, there were still at least hundreds of thousands of infected wandering the streets.

Whether to give them a green light would depend entirely on Tian Xuejun and those behind her.

Fu Qing said patiently, “These students have trained. Every one of them is an experienced apocalypse survivor, with physical fitness far beyond the vast majority of ordinary people, not to mention combat techniques honed specifically for zombies and an understanding of zombies. Hunting believers cannot be done without their help.”

“But if we want them to go out and fight with peace of mind, we must ensure their families’ safety. Rather than leaving that to local communities or assigning local police specifically to protect them, it’s better to gather them together. At this point, Fangzhou is absolutely safer than the vast majority of shelters.”

Fu Qing had decided to open shelter slots largely so the students could go out and fight without worries behind them.

That reasoning persuaded Tian Xuejun. “Understood. Later, please organize a list of Fangzhou students and send it to me. I’ll register their identities, then assign personnel to coordinate directly with the local communities and public security.”

Fu Qing understood what that meant: in the future, every movement of Fangzhou’s students would be monitored and protected in the shadows.

Every single one of them was an important force in fighting the zombies.

With Tian Xuejun granting the green light, it would be much easier for them to act going forward.

As Fu Qing let out a breath of relief, she also felt deep gratitude for Tian Xuejun’s full cooperation.

The other party had shown strong goodwill. Though she did not say it outright, every word and every action conveyed: I am on your side.

That allowed Fu Qing to hand over trust without hesitation and cooperate with her.

Fu Qing sat in her own car. Zhao Yunxiao remained at the police station for the time being. Xue Ran sat in the front passenger seat, having listened quietly to the principal’s conversation the entire time without speaking.

Fangzhou’s gate came into view. As the iron gate slowly slid open, Fu Qing saw in the rearview mirror two police cars that had been following at a distance come to a stop, as if seeing her off.

Only after Fu Qing’s car had entered the campus safely did they start their engines, turn around, and head back.

It made Fu Qing’s lips curve slightly.

She said politely to the person on the other end, “I have no further questions. I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

Tian Xuejun paused, and when she spoke again her voice was more relaxed. “Me too.”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 101: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Fu Qing and the other two followed them into a prepared conference room. A technician was busily adjusting the equipment, while several others stood inside the room, two of them still on the phone. When they noticed Fu Qing standing beside Officer Chen and realized her identity, they immediately straightened up and nodded to her with solemn, respectful posture.

A stern-looking middle-aged man stepped forward at once to shake Fu Qing’s hand. Officer Chen introduced him at the side. The man’s surname was Liu, deputy director of the S City Public Security Sub-bureau.

Director Liu had long heard of Fu Qing. During their conversation he showed no airs, speaking politely. When he noticed Xue Ran and Zhao Yunxiao beside her, he also inquired about their identities.

Upon hearing about Xue Ran’s family situation, both Director Liu and Officer Chen’s expressions shifted slightly. A trace of pity and sympathy appeared in their eyes as they looked at the young woman.

At their age, both men already had families and children. Deputy Director Liu even had two daughters, the younger one about the same age as Xue Ran.

Putting himself in Xue Ran’s parents’ position, imagining if they too had left this world and their young child had been left alone to survive… the mere thought made his heart ache.

Xue Ran was no stranger to such looks. Growing up, she had been raised under the care of her parents’ colleagues. Toward the police station, she naturally felt a sense of belonging.

Still, Director Liu was puzzled. “But why are you with Principal Fu? Are you her student?”

“We’ll explain that gradually later,” Fu Qing said, glancing at the time. “Right now, it seems we’re running out of time.”

The technician had already begun the final adjustments. The meeting was about to start, and unrelated personnel would soon be asked to leave the conference room.

Fu Qing could only hurry and continue introducing Zhao Yunxiao. “He is our… researcher specializing in virus-related matters.”

Zhao Yunxiao did not bother correcting how tenuous that title sounded. Only then did he open a shoulder bag he carried with him, revealing a thick stack of documents inside.

They were intelligence materials on zombies compiled over the past half year by him and Lu Yan, based on memories from their previous life, even including sections related to serum research.

But Zhao Yunxiao did not take the documents out immediately.

The information was far too detailed, even touching on future evolutionary directions of the zombies. Translated on Hololo novels. Producing it before Fu Qing had gained the trust of higher authorities would attract too much attention.

Director Liu glanced at it, but before he could clearly see the contents, the bag was closed again. Zhao Yunxiao said seriously, “These materials will be useful during the meeting later. After it concludes, I will hand them over to you.”

The technician on the other side looked up, indicating the meeting could begin at any moment.

Everything proceeded quickly and in orderly fashion. Only about twenty minutes had passed since Fu Qing arrived at the police station.

Everyone quickly took their seats. Director Liu yielded the central main seat to Fu Qing and sat beside her. Zhao Yunxiao sat on her other side, followed by Xue Ran.

The meeting soon began.

The large screen at the front lit up, divided into several sections. Some showed scenes from different conference rooms, others displayed individual experts or scholars. Fu Qing swept her gaze across them. Some wore understated Zhongshan jackets, others military uniforms or police attire, and still others were doctors or researchers in white lab coats.

They had all been urgently summoned from their respective posts, and their gazes, almost in unison, fell through the screen onto Fu Qing.

Some people were still unclear about the situation. Director Liu opened the meeting as host, first introducing Fu Qing’s background, her identity as a university principal, and her act of bravery on the pedestrian street nearly a year ago, then briefly summarized her purpose in coming today.

The meeting screen split into two halves, and the other half began playing footage from the livestream.

Only then did Fu Qing learn that the livestream had indeed drawn the attention of cybersecurity authorities. Even before Director Liu reported it, they had already begun searching for the video’s uploader. The technicians had not yet found results when Director Liu’s side made contact first.

The two sides’ efforts converged, which led to this meeting.

After Director Liu finished the introduction, one participant spoke in a deep voice. “Before we begin, I would like you to answer one question first. How did you know all of this?”

His tone was far from polite, heavy with suspicion. “Please forgive me, but I truly cannot understand how a university principal whose duty is to educate could so decisively kill a ‘human.’ The combat skills you displayed and the calmness with which you struck make it difficult for me to believe what you claim.”

The meeting had been convened too hastily, and not everyone had watched the livestream beforehand. Seeing the zombie’s death on screen for the first time naturally made some people uncomfortable, even provoking resentment toward Fu Qing.

At present, everyone’s attitude was still to protect and contain those who had mutated while seeking a way to cure them. Yet Fu Qing had killed one outright. How could that not unsettle people?

All eyes turned toward the young person seated at the head position. Faced with open questioning, nearly accused of cruelty outright, Fu Qing’s expression did not change in the slightest. No anger could be seen as she spoke:

“Before answering your question, I need to state several facts first. You may question them afterward, verify them by any means you can think of. But regardless of whether you choose to believe them now, please listen to what I am about to say with these facts in mind.”

“—That will save us a great deal of time,” she said calmly.

A young person who appeared barely in her early twenties, being scrutinized by leaders and authorities across multiple fields, yet still able to respond with such composure and organization, made Officer Chen glance sideways at her, once again revising his impression of Fu Qing.

The other party’s words had indeed been impolite, but Fu Qing’s attitude was not particularly gentle either. Director Liu was momentarily startled, yet upon reflection realized that rather than arrogance, her manner stemmed from a pursuit of efficiency, which made her sound blunt.

Yes… excessively blunt.

Director Liu wanted to remind her to be mindful of the identities of those on the other side, but after reconsidering, he remained silent.

At a time like this, efficiency was the correct priority.

“First: this is not a terr—or attack. It is a virus that has never before appeared on Blue Star. Everything an infected person displays is basically no different from the zombies in film and television. They become driven by an instinctive pursuit of human flesh and blood, highly aggressive. Some individuals will also further evolve at the moment of infection, with one or more abilities enhanced to a level far beyond that of ordinary humans.”

The person who had been somewhat irritated by Fu Qing’s earlier words could not help holding his breath as he listened.

While speaking, Fu Qing flicked her gaze over his expression and realized he did not actually have anything against her personally. His doubts were likely raised purely out of a sense of justice.

That was good. At least it meant the people present truly had the public’s welfare at heart.

Someone else, upon hearing “never before appeared on Blue Star,” could not help opening his mouth to speak, but Fu Qing did not give him the chance.

Without pausing, she continued. “Second: this virus can spread through biting. As long as a wound is created and the blood comes into contact with the other party’s saliva, infection is one hundred percent guaranteed, without exception. It’s just that depending on the individual, some people will mutate immediately, while others will enter an incubation period of varying length.”

“The longest incubation period we know of can even last several weeks, and it is not an isolated case. The intelligence we currently have is that the smaller the body, the faster the onset, but I have also seen a five-year-old child whose incubation period lasted as long as eleven days. Adults’ incubation periods are even harder to predict.”

Officer Chen spoke up at this moment. “I can testify to that.”

He recounted what had happened with the middle-aged man at their bureau, then added, without drawing attention to it, that if Fu Qing had not warned them in time, their young detective would likely already have been infected. Translated on Hololo novels. The others’ expressions grew even more grave as they listened.

Someone else seemed to think of something, and his face had already gone a little pale.

The virus had been erupting for less than two hours. Everyone knew very little about the infected, and every sentence from Fu Qing was overturning their prior understanding and imagination.

They were desperate, and yet afraid, to hear more from her.

“Third.”

A heaviness sank into everyone’s chest.

“Third: at the instant of infection, the infected are already confirmed dead. Their subsequent actions are not under their own control, but are an attack instinct belonging to the zombie species. Since they are already dead, naturally there is no way to cure them.”

As her words fell, an elderly voice came from one of the screens, trembling. “In just the past hour or so, at least a hundred thousand infected have appeared nationwide. Are you saying that none of them can be saved?”

“Are you telling us to abandon those people?”

In the frame, the white-haired elder’s eyes were reddened. She asked stubbornly, “There truly is no way to save them?”

“Not even a one-in-ten-thousand chance? We can’t just sentence them to death. We have outstanding scholars, we can research…”

Fu Qing was silent for two seconds. She met the gaze of that highly respected elder who had appeared in many news reports, and a moment of reluctance flashed through her heart. “No. I will explain the reason later. But I must emphasize: the virus spreads extremely fast. Untrained ordinary people have almost no ability to resist in front of zombies, that is, the infected. I also mentioned earlier that the conditions required to kill a zombie are extremely stringent, and ordinary people will find it very hard to do.”

“There are still more than a billion people nationwide facing the risk of infection at every moment. The first thing we should be thinking about is how to protect them.”

The elder said nothing more, only shook her head, sorrowful and despairing.

This was not something that could be stopped the moment one wanted to stop it. The decisions they made now would not only be abandoning the lives of those hundred thousand people.

She hoped what Fu Qing said was not correct, so that they would still have hope, and yet she also hoped it was absolutely accurate, so that they would have something to rely on.

What a contradiction.

By the time Fu Qing reached her third point, she had already built a picture cruel enough that the others were almost afraid to hear her say more. Fortunately, she seemed to have finished for the moment, but then she immediately added, “This is the basic intelligence regarding zombies and the virus.”

Basic.

Everyone present was smart. They almost instantly caught what she meant.

She had more she had not said aloud.

No one had the bandwidth to care anymore exactly how much she knew, or where she had learned it. They fell silent, turning over the three points again and again.

One: a virus transmitted through biting. Two: one hundred percent infection and the existence of an incubation period. Three: certain death after infection.

On the first point, they were already almost convinced.

Their initial suspicion of a terr—or attack had come from the idea that someone might have dispersed drugs on a massive scale, perhaps with hallucination-inducing effects, producing the victims’ heightened aggression.

But the two facts of a simultaneous global outbreak plus transmissibility had almost reduced the probability of a terr—or attack to zero.

As for the second point, whether the virus truly caused one hundred percent infection would require laboratory verification and weeks of real-world observation. None of that could yield an immediate conclusion.

But Officer Chen’s statement greatly increased the credibility of Fu Qing’s “incubation period theory.”

And the intelligence that kept coming in mid-meeting was also confirming that some people did not mutate immediately after being bitten, only to flare up suddenly afterward.

On this point, believing Fu Qing and raising vigilance brought no harm.

After thinking it through, one of the screens showed a man in a Zhongshan jacket who had been seated in the center of a circle and had not spoken until now. After a moment’s thought, he issued an order. “Immediately send a notice to hospitals, communities, and public security bureaus everywhere. Strictly inspect whether members of the public who come for treatment or assistance have wounds. Separate those with wounds from those without. For those with wounds, isolate them as much as possible in single rooms to prevent mutation from harming ordinary citizens.”

“Also, spread Officer Chen’s method nationwide. Anyone who needs to come into contact with the infected must ensure all exposed skin is fully covered. Mobilize protective supplies and distribute them to every unit. Those who cannot obtain protective supplies for the time being can use thick clothing, fabric, and other items on hand as makeshift protection. Absolutely forbid contact without protection.”

In truth, protecting against saliva was not difficult.

In the background on his side, someone seemed to respond, then hurried away.

Hearing this, Zhao Yunxiao let out a heavy breath of relief deep inside.

In their previous life, during the early stage of the outbreak, hospitals and police stations almost without exception fell early, precisely because they took in huge numbers of people seeking refuge and treatment, yet failed to isolate them properly.

That led to severe losses among medical staff and frontline police, even though they were exactly the most vital force after shelters were established.

One misstep, and every step after went wrong. It all started at this moment.

Zhao Yunxiao could not help feeling a trace of relief in his heart. At the very least, hadn’t they already caused some small change to the future now?

A surge of emotion suddenly welled up within him. He secretly took several deep breaths before suppressing it.

Only after the orders had been issued did Fu Qing speak. “Isolation alone cannot solve the problem. The number of infected is too large. Within three days, every hospital and police station will collapse under the strain.”

The man was not angered by her bluntness. He spoke to her in a completely level tone. “You should understand that we cannot, and it is impossible for us, to immediately order the killing of what you call zombies.”

Of course Fu Qing understood.

They could not even publicly announce the virus’s extreme lethality and infectiousness nationwide, nor could they tell people that all infected individuals were, in fact, already confirmed dead.

Those whose relatives or friends had been infected would never accept that they were already dead. Before witnessing the zombies’ destructive power firsthand, they would desperately stand in the way of anyone attempting to take the infected away.

At this moment, such actions could very likely plunge society into chaos.

Although zombies had already appeared, society was still functioning normally. Water, electricity, and gas were supplied as usual. People could still communicate through the internet. For many, the danger posed by zombies existed only online.

They were not Fu Qing. They could not see the future. From the surface, no one could tell that the social system was rapidly and irreversibly heading toward collapse.

So even if the authorities completely believed Fu Qing, the infected still could not be killed.

This had nothing to do with the nature of zombies themselves. It was purely for the sake of social stability.

They could not even announce the virus’s one-hundred-percent fatality rate. If they did, countless people, out of fear of being “dealt with,” would conceal the fact that they had been bitten.

A long incubation period would give people false hope.

That false hope had cost countless lives in their previous life.

The more Fu Qing thought about it, the more her head began to ache.

She was used to acting alone. Now that she had chosen to cooperate with the authorities, she could rely on the immense machinery of the state to accomplish things impossible for an individual, but she was also bound by equal constraints.

“But there is still much you can do.” She pressed her temple, her thoughts clear as she pointed out, “At the very least, more than vague, non-mandatory stay-at-home advisories like the ones currently being issued.”

“Correct.” The man nodded. “Which is why I need you to tell me your source of information, or provide evidence sufficient to convince me to issue orders.”

This meeting was being conducted in secret. His tone sounded casual, yet Fu Qing could still sense the decisiveness and unquestionable authority behind it.

The two looked at each other through camera and screen for two seconds.

To outsiders, a young person of unknown background speaking on equal footing with someone of this rank was already astonishing. At this moment, however, Officer Chen felt even more shaken.

Fu Qing was actually thinking.

She was actually considering whether she could trust him.

After a brief moment, Fu Qing seemed to have made her decision. She spoke calmly. “What if I told you that I already knew the virus would break out?”

Fu Qing’s words were like a thunderbolt striking out of nowhere.

Officer Chen nearly sprang to his feet, and Director Liu, seated closest to her, could not stop himself from widening his eyes in shock.

Urgent, overlapping questions erupted from one screen after another.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean you already knew? Please explain clearly!”

“You understand that withholding information about something that endangers national security is also a crime, don’t you?”

Fu Qing had already revealed so much information that many people had begun quietly wondering how she knew all this.

Some had even started speculating whether the virus came from some secret research project. Since Fu Qing was a university principal, perhaps it had even originated from a biological laboratory at her school.

If that were true, they could first obtain intelligence from her now and evaluate responsibility afterward.

But no one expected Fu Qing to state it so openly.

An act bordering on self-incrimination, yet she carried it out with complete composure.

Even Zhao Yunxiao and Xue Ran beside her wiped sweat from their brows.

Following their principal into this situation really required a strong heart.

Ignoring the pressing questions thrown at her, Fu Qing continued, “Not only that. I knew about all of this a year ago.”

She suddenly reached into the bag she carried. The others in the conference room instinctively moved to reach for their guns, only to stop awkwardly the next second when Fu Qing pulled out a tablet.

She directly opened the profile page of @DormitoryEscape on the screen and handed it to Director Liu while saying, “You can investigate this account called @DormitoryEscape. It was created about a year ago by students at my university. All the videos were independently planned and filmed by them.”

“The account established a fictional setting in which a zombie apocalypse would arrive roughly one year later. A group of university students prepared for this imagined apocalypse by repeatedly simulating various dangerous scenarios and making preparations, including but not limited to growing vegetables on dormitory balconies, stockpiling supplies, and training combat skills.”

“The zombie designs that appeared in the videos are identical to the zombies currently appearing, both in attack methods and weaknesses.”

“In addition, you can search for the account @TeacherFangHasSomethingToSay. Besides videos, we also shared written content there.”

Fu Qing said, “As early as one year ago, all students at Fangzhou had already begun preparing for this inevitable apocalypse.”

Across every screen came the sound of people sharply inhaling.

Director Liu stared at the tablet in his hands, his mouth slowly falling open.

Meanwhile, personnel from the cybersecurity department had already pulled up the account page on the large screen and rapidly filtered for segments featuring “zombies.”

At the same time, another person found the livestream announcement released in advance by @DormitoryEscape. Translated on Hololo novels. It showed that today’s livestream was their “one-year anniversary.”

The account had not even existed for a full year yet, so why call it a one-year anniversary?

They found the answer in the comment section.

Because today was precisely the day @DormitoryEscape had predicted the apocalypse would arrive.

The cheerful-toned livestream announcement was frozen on the screen. Most of the people present were older and could not understand the internet slang within it, nor could they comprehend why such a flippant, unserious tone was being used to greet a catastrophe facing all humanity.

Some were already looking at Fu Qing with hostility.

Others, however, thought more deeply, including the middle-aged man who held overall authority for the meeting.

He carefully reread the announcement once, and only then did the tight crease between his brows slowly relax, though confusion still remained. “The giveaway event and participation conditions mentioned in your announcement… were they meant to encourage more people to prepare for staying at home after the outbreak?”

He quietly consulted the person seated beside him and, under their guidance, somewhat awkwardly scrolled down to the comment section. There, he discovered many netizens enthusiastically signing up.

[All the supplies I passionately stockpiled at home after watching TaoTao can finally be put to use!]

[I just ordered a whole box of the agricultural products TaoTao recommended last time. Super fresh! Just a bit too much, enough to last me a month.]

[No more words needed, please look: (photos of supplies including flashlights, hand-crank generators, military knives, compressed rations, etc.)]

[I’ve been eating scallions and bean sprouts I grew myself for half a year already. Never thought following TaoTao would actually save me money.]

Some people were showing off supplies, others their newly trained muscles, and still others posted photos of vegetables thriving in their homes.

It was a world completely unfamiliar to him.

Yet he could still see that all of this had come about because of Fu Qing and her students’ influence.

He then opened the homepage of @TeacherFangHasSomethingToSay and discovered that the account updated almost daily, sometimes even posting several articles a day. Judging by the writing styles, there were no fewer than ten contributors.

The topics covered an extremely wide range, using absurd, attention-grabbing titles to present serious educational content.

The reading statistics below were quite impressive. Judging from the profile pictures in the comment section, most readers were middle-aged or elderly.

No one realized what they were truly trying to say, yet everyone had been subtly influenced.

The cheerful tone and ridiculous headlines were only surface appearances. Beneath them, an urgent warning was ready to burst forth. They had been striving to warn the public of this disaster and encourage more people to prepare.

Nearly a year of persistent updates and management, written posts spread across multiple platforms beyond the videos, dense and seemingly endless to scroll through. The effort invested was obvious.

But why?

“Why didn’t you come to us from the beginning?” he asked. “Was it because you didn’t trust us?”

Fu Qing shook her head. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I simply couldn’t.”

With a turn of her hand, a lifelike zombie suddenly appeared beside her.

Its realistic appearance made several people in the room cry out in alarm. Those less composed practically sprang from their seats. Participants on the screens rubbed their eyes repeatedly, their expressions turning into ones of existential disbelief after confirming what they were seeing.

“….” Xue Ran, however, felt a strong sense of familiarity. The principal’s habit of presenting evidence without preamble was something she had experienced on the very first day of school. She simply had not expected that even powerful figures of such high status could still be startled again and again by her.

“Th-this… what is going on?” someone finally asked, daring to speak while examining the suddenly appeared object.

Although it resembled the infected outside, its motionless stance made it look more like a robot.

“This is a training prop normally used at Fangzhou, something called a simulated zombie. It can replicate various existing zombie types, though its capabilities do have limits,” Fu Qing explained.

It was something she had brought with her, intending to donate it for research.

The room fell silent for two seconds. Everyone felt that something about this situation was off.

Compared with this so-called simulated zombie, the more important question clearly was…

“Where did you even produce that thing from?!”

Officer Chen voiced the question that all the high-ranking figures, who could not openly react so dramatically, were thinking.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 125: My Multiverse Supermarket

An Fengxuan noticed something wrong with the Emerald Wasteland even before Zhou Li did.

Zhou Li had only sensed that the fog outside was unusually thick.
But An Fengxuan realized immediately—it wasn’t ordinary white fog. It was black.

And that kind of black mist definitely wasn’t natural.

Just as they began to wonder if another group of idiots was about to attack the supermarket again, a familiar figure emerged from the haze.

Zhou Li narrowed her eyes. “Natisha?”

“Good evening, my lady boss,” said Natisha.

Zhou Li froze for a moment—she wasn’t entirely sure it was really her.

An Fengxuan asked, “Didn’t you used to stutter? Uh, I mean—you look really different now.”

She’d spoken what Zhou Li was thinking, and Zhou Li nodded in agreement. “Yeah. You dyed your hair black, too.”

Natisha smiled. “I am indeed Natisha. But now, I am the version of me blessed by the Goddess’s power.”

Zhou Li thought to herself: …if she remembered correctly, shadow mages worshipped the Goddess of the Nethermoon, didn’t they?

“I don’t really get it,” said An Fengxuan.

Then, a new voice carried through the fog:
“The Goddess of the Nethermoon rules over the night and the moon, death and shadow. Her favored followers gain strength in those domains—night, moonlight, death, and shadow. But under daylight, their power wanes. The deeper one is corroded by shadow energy, the weaker they become under the sun.”

Natisha turned toward the speaker in surprise. “Master Lamanda!?”

Lamanda studied her student for a moment, her expression complicated. “Natisha… you’ve grown stronger.”

The unspoken meaning: stronger in darkness, weaker in light.
And that was not a good thing.

The reason shadow mages differed from necromancers or death knights was that they were still human.

Once completely consumed by shadow energy, they would become “Abyssspawn”—creatures that could no longer walk beneath the sun, bound entirely to darkness and ruled by shadow, no different from shadow beasts themselves.

Zhou Li asked curiously, “Aren’t followers of the Nethermoon Goddess all crazy death cultists?”

Natisha didn’t seem particularly crazy.

Lamanda explained, “Shadow mages are divided into different schools. Their paths vary depending on what they pursue. Some spread plague and death; others, bloodthirsty fanatics, revel in slaughter and sacrifice. Necromancers feed on the pain and despair of lost souls. Then there are those who seek pure shadow energy—that path leads closest to the Goddess, but also most easily leads to corruption.”

Natisha said softly, “Abyssspawn… only by becoming one can we enter the Goddess’s divine realm and serve as her attendant.”

Zhou Li: …you know, anything with “spawn” in the name usually doesn’t have a good reputation.

Lamanda suddenly turned to Zhou Li. “Tell me, do you also sell shadow-elemental gemstones here?”

At that, Zhou Li’s stomach tightened. The last time, Natisha had bought all the deep-purple sea fluorite—could that be what caused her transformation?

Zhou Li glanced at her. “Yes. There were five of them—and they’ve all been sold.”

In fact, the shipment of sea fluorite from Councilor Su had also contained a few deep-purple stones, though Zhou Li hadn’t yet processed them individually. They were still tucked away in her dimensional storage system.

When Lamanda heard there had been five, she sucked in a sharp breath. “Natisha… don’t tell me you absorbed all the shadow power from five gemstones in such a short time? No wonder you’ve turned out like this!”

Natisha said nothing.

An Fengxuan scratched her head. “Is five really that many?”

Lamanda said, “Of course it is! A single elemental gemstone contains enough energy to raise an apprentice to a full mage—and it takes at least a month to absorb one safely.”

Natisha had consumed five in barely twenty days. Like someone starving for months suddenly gorging themselves, she might look satisfied now, but the backlash could strike anytime.

Lamanda’s concern was plain, but Natisha replied coldly, “This has nothing to do with you, teacher.”

Zhou Li could tell at a glance there was history between them.
But she wasn’t here for drama—and she certainly didn’t want a fight breaking out inside her store.

She asked Lamanda, “Ma’am, are you also a shadow mage?”

Something about that name sounded familiar.

Lamanda smiled faintly. “I’m an alchemist—a follower of the Goddess of Wisdom, servant to knowledge itself.”

“Oh! You’re Alchemist Master Lamanda!” Zhou Li suddenly remembered. Rebecca had once traded a potion of Oath of Truth for supermarket points.

But wait—how had a follower of the Wisdom Goddess produced a potion blessed by the Goddess of Oaths?

Lamanda raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Rebecca mentioned you,” Zhou Li said.

“Ah, that explains it. I came here for the same reason.”

“What do you need?” Zhou Li asked.

“My cauldron and philosopher’s stone are damaged,” Lamanda said. “I need elemental gemstones to repair them.”

She opened her bag and laid out several bottles of alchemical potions.

Zhou Li scanned them through the auction interface:
【Transformation Potion】—turn into any animal for 3 minutes.
【Invisibility Potion】—grants invisibility for 30 seconds.
【Wisdom Potion】—enhances focus and learning for 30 minutes.

Zhou Li’s eyes lit up at the last one. Drinking that would double her learning efficiency!
Parents of students would buy these by the crate.

“Do you have more Wisdom Potions?” she asked, returning the dangerous ones that could cause havoc if misused.

Pleased with her choice, Lamanda smiled even more warmly. “Of course I do.”

Zhou Li caught the look in her eyes—it practically said: Join us. Become a servant of knowledge too. Let the Wisdom Goddess bless you with intellect and understanding.

Zhou Li hesitated, unsure how to respond.

Lamanda had brought over thirty bottles of Wisdom Potion.
Each was worth about 300 points, and after transaction fees, she earned a total of 10,000 points.

Lamanda was delighted—it meant she could buy ten or twenty elemental stones!

Zhou Li didn’t have the heart to tell her that Natisha’s potions had fetched over fifty thousand points in comparison.

“Please wait a moment,” Zhou Li said, and went to the storage area.

She needed to unpack that mountain of sea fluorite.
She also called An Fengxuan to help.

Once they were gone, silence fell over the store.

After a while, Natisha said, “Teacher, please come outside. I have something to tell you.”

The Emerald Wasteland at night was a paradise for shadow creatures—and Natisha’s home turf. If she’d wanted to harm Lamanda, she could’ve crushed her with a gesture.

But that wasn’t her intention.

Lamanda followed her outside without hesitation.

The black mist enveloped them both. Lamanda felt a faint unease, but she realized the haze was meant to prevent eavesdropping.

Natisha said quietly, “This is the Goddess’s guidance. You may find here the truth behind the coming of the Age of Waning Magic.”

Lamanda’s eyes widened. “But… wasn’t this shop only recently established?”

The Waning Age had begun centuries ago. At first, the decline of magical energy was subtle, unnoticed.

Only in the last two hundred years had the loss become clear.

Finally, at a joint conference of the Alchemy Guild, the Knowledge Order, the Holy Light Church, and others, mages, priests, and alchemists reached a consensus and proclaimed: The Age of Waning Magic has begun.

That declaration sent the world into panic. Many blamed the rise of the steam industry for the decline of magic, giving birth to the Magic and Steam factions.

The divide deepened into outright hostility—
the Magic faction rejected all technology and industry,
while the Steam faction branded mages, priests, and alchemists as heretics to be executed on sight.

As a follower of the Wisdom Goddess, Lamanda loved all knowledge, whether magical or industrial.

Unfortunately, as a member of the Alchemy Guild, she was caught in between.

The Steam faction’s scientists were developing chemical medicine but regarded alchemy as heresy—so the entire Alchemy Guild was blacklisted as a cult.

In retaliation, the guild forbade its members from studying industrial sciences, including medicine.

Lamanda believed the truth of the Waning Age must be tied to the rise of industry—but under the ban, she’d found nothing so far.

Now, Natisha had given her a new lead.

“This is the domain of shadow mages—my domain,” Natisha said. “Nothing that happens here escapes my sight. This shop appeared out of nowhere, with no trace of teleportation magic, not even a fluctuation of magical elements. And yet… it’s surrounded by a strange energy field, like the power of rules themselves. Those who violated them—bandits—were erased instantly.”

Lamanda pondered. “The power of rules… Could it be the Goddess of Order? But that can’t be right…”

The Goddess of Order was one of the new deities worshipped by the Steam faction.

Unlike the old gods, new gods never gave oracles or directly intervened.

Their followers were judges, lawyers, and arbiters—those who defined law and truth in human terms.

In other words, “order” was man-made, shaped by human benefit.
The so-called Goddess of Order was little more than a symbol for their rule.

“Or perhaps,” Lamanda murmured, “it’s the Goddess of Oaths.”

And then, a thought struck her—a single, chilling word.

“Could this… shop… be a divine realm?”

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 124: My Multiverse Supermarket

The technicians arranged by Councilor Su arrived together with the Su Oil Group’s shipment of heavy fuel.

Qi Jiayu and the others took the opportunity to let those technicians handle the refueling work.

Before Newborn Island set sail again, Xu Jiayi visited several times—not only to purchase more supplies but also to help them demand reparations from the Li family.

With General De’an’s death, the Dusa Archipelago had fallen into chaos. The Li family, though furious that Newborn Island had caused Li Guangren’s death and destroyed their fleet, dared not attack again.

Until they figured out how Newborn Island had counterattacked, any further offensive would be suicide.

So they agreed to pay compensation, eager to see Newborn Island leave the Dusa waters and “go cause trouble somewhere else.”

Zhou Li treated the compensation as public funds for the island, converting it into supermarket points and transferring it to Newborn Island’s corporate account.

Qi Jiayu would use that money to issue wages, purchase goods, and receive refugees from other islands.

Some of these new residents came from Savi Island, others from Lonewind Island.

When the Dusa Archipelago first fell into turmoil, Xu Jiayi had taken advantage of the chaos to seize several of Li Zairen’s islands.

After Li Zairen’s repeated failures—and his desperate bid for power that led him to pull all his private troops to the main island—his reputation on places like Vira Island had plummeted.

Once his atrocities on Savi Island were exposed, both his subordinates and the citizens rejected him. Xu Jiayi barely had to lift a finger to take over his territory.

Controlling those islands also meant she now bore responsibility for their civilians’ welfare.

With Newborn Island as a massive resource depot behind her, she wasn’t short on supplies—but feeding so many mouths was still a heavy burden.

So when some citizens who had gone to Newborn Island didn’t return, she turned a blind eye. If Newborn Island didn’t send them away, it probably meant they needed manpower too.

Even so, Qi Jiayu still called Xu Jiayi to run background checks.

Newborn Island was no haven for criminals. Anyone who had committed crimes elsewhere couldn’t use the island as a place to hide from justice.

Since the supermarket’s defense system could only passively protect and couldn’t automatically identify criminals, proper background checks were left to professionals.

Some applications were approved right away.

For example, Dr. Chu—who came with Du Xiaogan’s recommendation.

Dr. Chu had been drawn by the medical pod. When she heard that Du Yishi had regained speech and chewing function, she was astonished. She’d once been reluctant to leave her small clinic and patients, but upon hearing that news, she packed up immediately.

Qi Jiayu invited her to join the shelter’s hospital as a resident doctor.

And so, after the deputy island master, the security captain, logistics head, and sanitation leader (Grandma Du), Newborn Island finally had its doctor.

Du Xiaogan also invited a talented chef to move to Newborn Island.

Before the apocalypse, this woman had cooked for grand banquets.

After the end came, banquets vanished and no one needed chefs. Skilled only with her wok, she had been forced to scavenge and fight zombies for survival.

That was how she met Du Xiaogan, and through many collaborations, they’d built a solid partnership.

When Xu Jiayi later stabilized Lonewind Island and scavenging was no longer necessary, they drifted apart.

Now, Du Xiaogan invited her not only out of friendship, but because with so many new technicians aboard, the shelter’s canteen urgently needed a head chef.

The woman hadn’t expected to find work again—she came happily and at once.

She also recommended several relatives and friends who wanted to move to Newborn Island. Qi Jiayu didn’t approve them immediately; she passed the list to Xu Ouge for vetting.

Priority went to those who could contribute to the island’s development.

To prevent Li family spies from infiltrating, new residents were forbidden from bringing any communication devices that could reach the outside world.

Qi Jiayu also advised them: “Newborn Island won’t stay in one sea area forever. If you still have loved ones on Savi or Lonewind Island, think carefully before applying.”

When the day of departure came, Zhou Li saw how smoothly Qi Jiayu and the others were managing affairs and felt at ease initiating a world jump.

This time, though, she sensed something strange—a brief pause mid-transition.

Usually, dimensional travel was instantaneous, but this time the supermarket seemed to stutter. It only lasted a moment, yet for someone as experienced as Zhou Li, who had jumped dozens of times, it was impossible to miss.

“System?”

The system replied calmly, “It’s fine—just a bit of resistance.”

“Resistance?” Zhou Li blinked. “We’ve been to the Steam and Magic world before. Why resistance now?”

“Some of the gods are… displeased,” the system said blandly.

Zhou Li’s eyes flicked to the pile of sea fluorite—no, elemental stones.

“So the sulking gods are from the steam faction, huh? Don’t tell me it’s because of these?”

The system stayed silent.

“Got it,” Zhou Li said. “They’re just jealous!”

Then, muttering to herself, she added, “What, they think I only brought elemental stones? Please, look at all the tech I packed this time!”

After all, fair trade required balance—she’d brought goods for both the magic and the steam factions.

Back on the Emerald Wasteland, she’d already seen steam cars, light bulbs, and pocket watches. From that, she had a general sense of the tech level here.

She figured the world hadn’t yet reached the telephone era; communication was probably still dominated by telegraphs.

So, in advance, she’d submitted a procurement list to the Auction Hub—including early communication-industry equipment.

She didn’t know whether the steam gods could hear her, or what they’d think if they did—but saying it aloud made her feel better, so she dropped the matter entirely.

…

She didn’t realize that while she and the supermarket were gone, the minor disturbance her presence had caused in Atmos and Mayelia was still spreading.

Rebecca and the sentries from the Vitus Outpost had returned to investigate, only to find nothing.

The two acacia trees were still there, as were the traces of battle—but the supermarket itself was gone.

Had the bandits from Boulder Town destroyed it?

Impossible—even they couldn’t erase a building from existence.

To find out, the sentries clashed with the Boulder Town bandits in a brief skirmish.

From that encounter, they learned that the little shopkeeper was supposedly a shadow mage who had killed over a dozen bandits. Maybe she had used some secret spell to hide the store.

Rebecca was skeptical. She’d never sensed a trace of magic from that woman.

But not knowing much about shadow mages, she couldn’t rule it out.

The investigation ended inconclusively.

Rebecca sold her extra elemental stones to an alchemy master, Lamanda, and ordered a large batch of healing potions.

The Black Raven Legion was desperately short of healers—clerics, druids, and paladins could heal, but their only paladins came from the Church of Light and would leave once the mission was over. With soldiers constantly on the front lines, they needed an abundance of potions.

Healing potions came in tiers. Basic ones treated minor wounds; internal injuries or broken bones required intermediate ones.

As for high-grade potions, their formulas and materials had been lost since the Age of Waning Magic.

If the injury was magical—damage to soul or mind—potions alone were useless; only a cleric’s spiritual restoration spells could help.

The legion had long wanted to recruit a cleric, but followers of the Life Goddess aimed to serve her in her divine realm, not wander mortal lands. So, they were rare in both Atmos and Mayelia.

Druids could touch the soul, but they cared more about nature than healing people. Ironically, though part of the magic faction, they were most active in Atmos—constantly sabotaging capitalists who destroyed the environment.

Thus came a popular joke across the lands: If you’re looking for a druid, don’t go to Mayelia—check the prisons of Atmos instead.

Lamanda, intrigued by the story of the elemental stones, asked Rebecca about their origin.

After hearing it, she packed up her belongings and insisted on going with Rebecca to the Emerald Wasteland.

Rebecca tried to dissuade her: “When I left, the supermarket had already vanished. Even if you go, you won’t find anyone.”

Lamanda smiled. “That’s fine. I have a student there. If I can’t find the shop, I’ll find her.”

Rebecca sighed and assigned a ranger to escort Lamanda as a guard to the wasteland.

Others soon followed her lead—traders, mercenaries, even rival conglomerates.

The Mayelian Senate’s merchant caravan, the roaming Thorn Independent Consortium, and the Glorious Syndicate (which had stolen intelligence from the Aka Corporation) all dispatched investigation teams.

But the Senate worked slowly, the Thorn group was too weak to cross the wasteland quickly, and the Glorious Syndicate didn’t even know the exact coordinates—so the first to arrive was, of course, the alchemy master Lamanda.

She hitched a ride on the Black Raven Legion’s airship to the Vitus Outpost, and without waiting for dawn, galloped toward Rebecca’s coordinates.

When she saw a faint light shining through the dark mist, she laughed aloud:

“Praise the Goddess of Wisdom—seems my luck’s holding out!”

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 123: My Multiverse Supermarket

Li Guangren’s single cannon shot made Newborn Island’s name echo across all of Anhai.

In the following days, applications requesting permission to visit the island poured in.

Qi Jiayu, though secretly pleased, kept Newborn Island’s stance clear in her mind. She rejected meaningless social visits and publicly stated, “Newborn Island does not belong to any faction. We will not invade any territory; we will only retaliate if attacked. Please rest assured.”

Once the position was clarified, she immediately began advertising.

Still troubled by shortages of supplies? Come to Newborn Island.
Too many people, poor environment, nowhere to settle? Come to Newborn Island.
Still struggling to survive on a barren island with incomplete infrastructure? Come to Newborn Island.

…

After hearing these slogans, people finally understood—Newborn Island wasn’t a resort or a refugee shelter. It was, essentially, a mobile marketplace.

In the apocalypse, that kind of attitude was refreshingly out of place—but strangely reassuring.

As long as Newborn Island wasn’t competing for territory, it was no threat.

So, trade requests with Newborn Island began to multiply.

Qi Jiayu didn’t accept them all at once. She said that, when possible, the island would travel to those regions instead—no need for others to make long and dangerous trips.

Of course, she didn’t reject every visitor either.

When Su Qingyi arrived with the Su Oil Group’s fuel transport ship, Newborn Island rolled out the welcome mat.

Alongside Su Qingyi came Councilor Su and her daughter, Su Bochun. After Su Qingyi completed the oil delivery, the two women came to Newborn Island separately.

Councilor Su, about fifty years old, dressed formally but had a gentle demeanor with no trace of political arrogance.

Su Bochun, in contrast, was dressed for a vacation—light, colorful, and carefree, as if she were here for sightseeing.

Mother and daughter even argued about their clothing on the way.

Su Bochun believed dressing too formally created distance and made them seem unfriendly.

Councilor Su insisted they were here for serious business; showing up in resort wear would be disrespectful.

Neither would budge, so in the end, each dressed according to her own preference.

The people of Newborn Island were mostly practical and casual themselves, caring little about fashion. Still, because of age and authority, their attention naturally centered on Councilor Su.

Su Bochun only pouted, not truly angry.

The mother and daughter’s purpose was clear—to formalize a partnership.

And to Bochun’s relief, Newborn Island’s true owner—the little boss of the supermarket—had approved the collaboration.

Zhou Li asked, “May I ask what exactly Councilor Su and Miss Su would like Newborn Island to do for you?”

Councilor Su replied, “We’d like to restart the Virus Research Center…”

Through her explanation, Zhou Li and the others learned that even after the zombie virus outbreak, the Island Federation’s Virus Research Center had never stopped working on a vaccine.

But the virus evolved too quickly, and power-hungry opportunists repeatedly sabotaged the research.

In one attack, the center was devastated—most researchers died or turned into zombies; only a few experts escaped.

Soon after, the head of the governing council was assassinated, the council dissolved, and the islands all declared independence.

In the years since, only a few far-sighted island leaders continued to support vaccine research. Most others were too busy seizing power and wealth.

Although Councilor Su had her own political ambitions, she didn’t want ordinary people to become casualties of the upper class’s greed for control.

Li Zairen, for example—he had once staged a deliberate viral outbreak to conceal his failures, turning thousands of citizens on Savi Island into pawns. It was cruel, vile, and monstrous.

If not for the zombie virus, his lies would never have held up.

Thus, developing a vaccine would stop the virus from being used as a weapon by the ambitious—protecting ordinary people who just wanted to live.

Councilor Su’s intentions were good, but the Su family had never given her strong backing.

It wasn’t that they wanted the world to remain in chaos—peace benefited their business empire the most.

But they hesitated for two reasons: limited scientific expertise and the enormous resource cost.

No one knew how many years—or how much money—it would take.

If it took ten years to see results, how much of the Su family’s fortune would still remain to divide?

The cake was only so big—if one person ate half, what would be left for the rest?

So, her proposal never gained traction within the family.

The emergence of Newborn Island, however, gave the councilor and her daughter a shortcut.

If the island could truly obtain all kinds of supplies besides weapons, then securing advanced lab equipment for the research center would no longer be a problem.

“Lab instruments, hm?” Zhou Li said. “I can try. But I’ll need a detailed list, and it’d help if you note their intended uses. Even if I can’t find the exact models, maybe I can source suitable equivalents.”

She wasn’t sure whether the Auction Hub could provide them, but she was already thinking about visiting Planet Mia—where biotechnology and research instruments would certainly be more advanced.

“Before the research center is rebuilt,” Councilor Su continued, “we’d also like to send a few technical personnel to your island for exchange and learning about artificial island construction.”

Fang Qin rolled her eyes inwardly. Exchange and learning? More like spying on their systems. Typical politician’s maneuvering.

Zhou Li smiled. “Of course, that’s fine.”

Fang Qin almost choked. Was the little boss really that naïve?

Councilor Su herself hadn’t expected agreement to come so easily.

The two stayed most of the day. Before leaving, Su Bochun had her attendants bring in piles of “stones” to exchange for membership points.

Those “stones” were, of course, ambergris.

Since news of its value hadn’t spread to the Anxi Archipelago, her people had been able to collect hundreds of pounds of it for just a handful of gold coins.

Zhou Li calculated: “There’s three hundred and thirteen jin of ambergris. At 20,000 yuan per gram, minus a 5% transaction fee, that’s… 2.9735 billion points.”

Nearly three billion, just like that. Yet Su Bochun remained perfectly calm—as if she’d just made thirty bucks, not billions.

In fact, she looked dissatisfied.

She whispered to her mother, “We only gathered three hundred jin in time… thirty billion points won’t buy much—maybe a few sets of equipment. But I’ll keep collecting.”

“No rush,” Councilor Su said, patting her shoulder. Then she turned to Zhou Li. “I almost forgot—I’ve brought a gift for you. It should arrive soon; someone will deliver it to the dock.”

Zhou Li, thinking about hosting the incoming technicians, didn’t refuse. “Thank you very much.”

After the Su women departed, Fang Qin grumbled, “Boss, that so-called exchange is clearly a cover for espionage.”

Zhou Li asked calmly, “And what exactly do we have that’s worth stealing? The shelter? The control systems of the island?”

“Uh…”

“Newborn Island wasn’t built by us. We understand less than three percent of its structure—we just know how to operate it. Tell me: if the internal equipment breaks down, can any of you fix it?”

Everyone fell silent.

Lin Xiaole suddenly realized, “Ah—I get it. Boss agreed to the exchange so their engineers could help us learn about Newborn Island’s systems.”

An Fengxuan added, “And even if they did learn the island’s basic setup, they still couldn’t access its true core technology. That’s something no outsider can touch.”

Even as an authorized employee, she couldn’t break through the supermarket’s security systems—how could anyone else?

Qi Jiayu nodded in agreement. “Exactly. The real secrets are with the boss herself. If she’s letting them in, she’s not worried about leaks.”

Zhou Li said, “More than that—I want all of you to learn as much as possible from those technicians. And, if you can, make them want to stay permanently.”

That was how exchanges worked even back on Earth:
Country A sent people to learn from Country B’s technology, while Country B opened its doors to lure those talents into staying.

“Boss, you’re brilliant!” Fang Qin said with genuine admiration.

Zhou Li thought wryly: Brilliant? I just copied history.

Then Du Xiaogan’s voice came through the intercom: “Boss, Councilor Su’s gift has arrived. Could everyone come give me a hand?”

Zhou Li sent An Fengxuan to help.

But Du Xiaogan added, “Captain Feng alone won’t be enough.”

Zhou Li asked, “What did she send?”

After a pause, Du Xiaogan replied, “A shipload of sea fluorite.”

“A shipload meaning…?”

“Several tons, by the look of it.”

When Zhou Li arrived at the dock, workers were hauling cart after cart of glowing blue-green stones onto shore.

Even though she’d braced herself, seeing the mountain of sea fluorite—no, elemental stones—with her own eyes still left her a little stunned.

The shipment was overseen by Councilor Su’s secretary, who explained, “We heard the boss likes these pretty sea fluorites. The Su family often uncovers them during oil extraction, so the councilor specially asked President Su to send a full shipload as a gift. We hope you like it.”

Sea fluorite was beautiful but had little real value—it was brittle, mildly radioactive, and unsuitable as gemstone material.

Outside of sculpture enthusiasts, it was mostly used in industry.

Councilor Su hadn’t been sure whether Zhou Li would truly like it; her daughter had merely noticed that while other items used for point exchange—ambergris, coral, pearls, gold—vanished instantly after trade, sea fluorite was the one thing the boss seemed to keep aside.

That must mean it held some special significance.

Not knowing what, the Su women had decided to send a whole ship to test her reaction.

If sea fluorite truly had hidden importance, they could start gathering it en masse.

Zhou Li smiled brightly. “Please thank Councilor Su and Miss Su for me. I love this gift. When their technicians arrive, I’ll make sure they’re well taken care of.”

【Author’s note】
Next chapter: back to the Steam and Magic world! [dog emoji]

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 122: My Multiverse Supermarket

At 5:40 in the morning, the sun began to rise.

Across the Anhai region, countless factions that had stayed awake all night—waiting for news from the front—finally received the latest report.

To their shock, the victor was neither the Li family nor the Su family.

On the main island of the Anxi Archipelago, the Su family patriarch hung up the phone under the gaze of those around him.

Seeing the grave expression on the old man’s face, Su Qingyi immediately understood—
the Li family had lost. Completely.

Sure enough, the old man took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “The Li family’s fleet has been annihilated. Li Guangren, who personally commanded the battle, is dead.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

After a long pause, someone blurted out, “How could they lose?”

The old man shot him a cold glance. “The same way Li Zairen lost last time—that’s how Li Guangren lost.”

“But that was an entire fleet!”

The Li fleet had included one battleship, two cruisers, five destroyers, eight frigates, five fighter aircraft, and more than a dozen other vessels.

Such a powerful force—completely wiped out?

“What about Newborn Island?” someone asked.

The old man replied, “Newborn Island… is completely intact.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Nothing is impossible. You all thought it was a fierce midnight battle, both sides exchanging heavy fire? In truth, Newborn Island and Lonewind Island didn’t even deploy a single warship. After the Li family attacked, the fighting stopped within half an hour.”

All the later noise had come from the fleet itself exploding.

The chaos only ended when the Li fleet had completely sunk—
a perfect repeat of Li Zairen’s earlier debacle when his three escort ships went under.

“Good heavens… Has Su Wujun returned yet?” someone shouted. “Tell him to withdraw immediately!”

“He already has—an hour and a half ago.”

After witnessing the Li fleet inexplicably destroyed, the sea in that area churning with waves several stories high as if struck by a storm, even Su Wujun didn’t dare let his ships get close.

When he saw that Newborn Island was untouched—no smoke, no ruin, everything pristine—he fled in terror.

Li Zairen fled too. He’d never boarded his ship at all, wary that Newborn Island might have hidden trump cards.
The moment Li Guangren’s fleet came under fire, Li Zairen rushed back to the main island, hoping to seize control before anyone could blame him.

…

On Lonewind Island, Xu Jiayi sat in silence.

Why did this scene feel so familiar?

Then she shuddered. “Anhai’s entire power balance is about to turn upside down.”

After today, no one in the region would ever underestimate Newborn Island again.

In fact, perhaps not just the Anhai region—unless a nation was completely isolated, the name Newborn Island would soon spread across the world.

Xu Ou’ge came running to her. “Commander! I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Xu Jiayi said, “Start counting casualties and damages on Lonewind Island.”

The island lacked Newborn’s advanced defenses; despite her best interception efforts, some shells still landed.

She’d evacuated civilians into bunkers early, so most of the wounded were her own soldiers.

After a moment, her eyes blazed with determination. “Send out my orders—repair and rearm. It’s time for a counterattack.”

General De’an would probably be enraged to death by this outcome.

Once he died, chaos would grip the Dusa Archipelago.

If she didn’t seize a few more islands now, then all the suffering from a year of blockade and shortages would have been for nothing.

The wider political upheaval was lost on the people of Newborn Island—and none of them cared.

They were throwing a party in the shelter, celebrating Zhou Li’s return and their miraculous survival.

Zhou Li herself was too tired and declined to join, leaving the ever-energetic An Fengxuan to take part.

Du Xiaogan, having lived through war before, felt a bit lost.

Most people cleaned up battlefields after a fight—but here, they were celebrating?

Then she thought about it: nothing on Newborn Island had been damaged, there was no battlefield to clean.
And after such a brush with death, maybe celebration was the only way to breathe again.

Seeing her younger sister smiling so brightly, Du Xiaogan found herself smiling too. Maybe a little joy wasn’t such a bad thing.

The party didn’t last long.

They were happy, yes—but they all knew tougher days were coming, and they needed to rest and recover for whatever came next.

…

Zhou Li didn’t wake until nine.

The racket last night had gone on forever, and her place wasn’t soundproof; she hadn’t fallen asleep until after three.

There probably wouldn’t be any customers today—so she allowed herself a rare lazy morning.

After washing up and eating breakfast, she finally went downstairs.

Qi Jiayu and the others came to brief her on the recent events and share information, waiting to see if she had new instructions.

Zhou Li said she had none. “You’re the acting master of Newborn Island now—you’ll have to take charge on your own one day.”

Fang Qin hesitated. “Boss, we… made a decision without your approval. We reached a cooperation deal with Su Bochun.”

Zhou Li asked, “Did she help?”

“Yes. Councilor Su did speak up for us, but unfortunately—”

“Since she showed good faith, Newborn Island should honor the agreement, no matter the result. I won’t blame you for taking initiative. In fact, finding allies beyond Lonewind Island under those circumstances was smart.”

Fang Qin sighed in relief—and felt secretly proud. From today, her name finally meant something.

Once the reports were done, Zhou Li looked toward the door, where Du Xiaogan had been lingering nervously. “Why don’t you come in?”

Du Xiaogan entered, struggling to find words.

Zhou Li said, “Your sister’s treatment can start now. But the process won’t be short—and it’s not cheap. Be mentally prepared.”

Du Xiaogan’s eyes shone. “I’ll find a way to collect coral.”

Zhou Li said, “You might not have to pay yourself. The Li family owes us compensation, after all. If it’s enough, we’ll count it as public revenue—earmarked for infrastructure, relief, and medical aid.”

That made Du Xiaogan happy—but also embarrassed. “I didn’t contribute much during the crisis…”

Compared to what Qi Jiayu and Fang Qin had done, her efforts seemed trivial.

If the enemy had landed, she might’ve fought—but since they only bombarded from afar, all she could do was hide in the shelter.

“Protecting the island’s assets is a contribution too,” Zhou Li said.

From the start, she’d assigned Du Xiaogan to logistics—not combat or diplomacy. During the attack, Xiaogan had focused on moving surface equipment underground to keep it safe, and that was more than enough.

Zhou Li said, “While I’m free, bring your sister for treatment.”

Du Xiaogan wiped her face, eyes red, and left.

Soon she returned, pushing Du Yishi in a wheelchair.

Zhou Li placed her inside the medical capsule. The machine automatically analyzed her condition and proposed an optimal treatment plan.

Following the instructions, Zhou Li selected the program and loaded the corresponding medication.

When a countdown appeared on the display, she said, “The process takes three hours. She’ll need two more hours of rest afterward before waking up. Let’s give her some quiet.”

Du Xiaogan wanted to stay by her side, but in the end, she chose to trust Zhou Li.

While she went off to handle errands, Grandma Du arrived with a set of cleaning tools.

Zhou Li asked, “Grandma Du, what are you doing?”

“I’m helping you clean up,” she said.

Zhou Li tried to refuse, but the old woman insisted—grateful that Zhou Li had saved her granddaughter, she needed to do something to repay the kindness. Zhou Li could only let her.

Though Zhou Li usually kept the store tidy, it was big, with countless shelves and corners easy to overlook.

Grandma Du cleaned every last speck of dust, even in the hardest-to-reach spots.

When she finished, she asked, “Boss, do you still need these cardboard boxes?”

Zhou Li: “…No.”

“Then can I have them?”

“Go ahead.”

Grandma Du beamed as she collected them.

An Fengxuan asked, “What do you need boxes for?”

“They’re very useful,” Grandma Du said cheerfully. “When it gets cold, you can cover yourself with them to stay warm!”

Just then, Du Xiaogan arrived to pick up her sister, whose treatment was nearly done. Hearing that, her heart ached. “Grandma, we have blankets now. We don’t need cardboard boxes.”

“Well, they can still hold things,” the old woman said stubbornly.

Du Xiaogan said nothing, only looked at Zhou Li with hopeful eyes.

Zhou Li smiled. “Come on, let’s go take a look.”

Grandma Du, seeing them head upstairs, couldn’t resist following.

Though her legs were weak, the thought of seeing her granddaughter gave her strength; she climbed all three flights in one go.

“Ah, I’m exhausted,” she said, holding the railing, dizzy from the effort.

But before she could sit down, she heard a familiar, raspy voice: “Sis… ter.”

That hoarse sound—no matter how old or forgetful she became—she would never forget it.

Straightening her back, she shuffled toward the medical room.

As she appeared in the doorway, Du Yishi turned her head to look at her.

Grandma Du’s vision blurred completely—clouded by tears.

【Author’s note】

Boss Zhou: “Sure, the Li family suffered heavy losses—but we were scared half to death. Mental distress compensation sounds fair, doesn’t it?” [dog emoji]

Li family: “…”

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 121: My Multiverse Supermarket

The disappearance of the Good Life Supermarket from Newborn Island wasn’t discovered by Xu Jiayi until the second day after the island went into lockdown.

On the first day, no one dared make any sudden moves.

It wasn’t until the second day that some people, unable to hold back, snuck ashore.

While patrol boats from LoneWind Island were circling nearby, they noticed something seemed to be missing on Newborn Island. Someone familiar with the small supermarket immediately realized that one of the self-built houses had vanished.

After the patrol team reported it, Xu Jiayi immediately checked the photos and videos—and confirmed the disappearance.

However, no one believed the supermarket had truly vanished into thin air.

Since Newborn Island was an artificial island, many speculated that there was some mechanism beneath the supermarket—perhaps it usually sat above ground, but during lockdowns it sank back underground.

And after all, it was just one small shop that disappeared. The island itself was still there.

Those most concerned were ordinary citizens who had planned to buy supplies.

Fortunately, LoneWind Island had stocked up heavily, so its own material shortage crisis was temporarily averted.

Xu Jiayi even issued an order forbidding the residents of LoneWind Island from sneaking across to Newborn Island during the lockdown. Anyone caught would be treated as a spy—because if the island already had enough supplies, anyone still defying orders must have ulterior motives.

Su Wujun had sent people several times to test the situation, but Xu Jiayi blocked them each time.

Yet, as Qi Jiayu had predicted, the Li family eventually took notice of Newborn Island.

Whether Su Wujun had a hand in this was unclear to both Qi Jiayu and Xu Jiayi.

But the Li family formally issued a warning, demanding that the island’s owner travel to the main island of the Dusa Archipelago to be punished—for the sinking of three of their escort ships.

Naturally, Qi Jiayu ignored the threat.

The Li family waited three days, watching Newborn Island closely. Then they made their move—sending a legion to surround both LoneWind Island and Newborn Island.

The Lis had long been used to blockading LoneWind Island, so they didn’t take it seriously. As long as they didn’t attack first, they assumed the islanders would not strike back.

This time, along with Li Zairen—eager to restore the family’s reputation after his earlier humiliation—came General De’an’s eldest son, Li Guangren, and his legion.

Li Guangren, though born out of wedlock, was heavily favored by General De’an and held great power.

That favoritism was the root of the “Nine Sons Struggle for Inheritance” within the Li family.

Though Li Guangren had influence, he was not a legitimate heir, and his half-brothers born of the general’s lawful marriages—like Li Zairen—despised him for it.

General De’an had been married several times; few of his children shared the same mother.

That meant none of the mothers would step in to mediate the rivalry.

Raised from birth to compete, the siblings grew up seeing each other only as rivals and threats.

For this operation, Li Guangren commanded, and Li Zairen served as his deputy.

Li Guangren personally led the fleet.

His arrival greatly increased the pressure on Xu Jiayi.

However, since the Su family still held power, Li Guangren did not immediately attack. After all, with declining industrial output, ammunition and weapons were limited—once used, they were gone. If they wasted their firepower on the islands and the Su family seized the opportunity to strike, they would be at a disadvantage.

During the encirclement, Li Guangren even took time to meet with Su Wujun.

Xu Jiayi didn’t know what they discussed, but she guessed Li Guangren was inviting Su Wujun to join forces.

Her suspicion grew when something unusual happened with the Su family: Su Oil Group’s tankers loaded with heavy fuel had already set sail.

From what Xu Jiayi knew, even if Su Qingyi had agreed to trade with Newborn Island, she wouldn’t have rushed to ship the goods so quickly.

Such haste could only mean Su Qingyi and Su Wujun had fallen out—most likely over the Newborn Island affair. Su Qingyi probably wanted to complete the deal quickly to minimize losses.

Xu Jiayi contacted Qi Jiayu, urging her to prepare Newborn Island mentally for war.

Qi Jiayu checked the calendar and realized the “Boss” might still need several days to return. She was anxious, but there was nothing she could do.

To buy time, Fang Qin proposed inviting Su Bochun to visit Newborn Island.

“Why Su Bochun?” Lin Xiaole asked, puzzled.

Su Bochun held no official position and no real power—she was merely a pampered heiress.

Even if they kidnapped her, she’d make a poor hostage.

Fang Qin said, “Don’t underestimate her. Her mother is a member of the Anhai Island League’s governing council. That alliance might be nominal now, but Councilor Su still has influence across Anhai’s territories. If she’s willing to speak on our behalf, we can hold out until the Boss returns.”

“You’re not actually planning to kidnap Su Bochun, are you?” Lin Xiaole was alarmed.

“Who said anything about kidnapping? We’re going to win her over.”

“And with what? She already has everything.”

Fang Qin said, “She’s been to the supermarket—and she knows the value of ambergris. But when Su Qingyi joined the membership program, the points she exchanged weren’t just with heavy fuel, but with gold, silver, and jewels. I don’t believe Su Bochun was just a decorative pawn put forward by the Su family.”

Qi Jiayu said, “You mean she might’ve kept the real value of ambergris a secret and started collecting it in private?”

Fang Qin asked, “If you were her, would you go around telling everyone?”

“Of course not. The rarer the ambergris, the more people would try to compete for it.”

“Exactly. She’s a Su, but hiding something that valuable from her family means she must need the Boss for something—and ambergris is her bargaining chip.”

“But will she actually come?”

Qi Jiayu made the decision. “Let’s invite her and find out.”

Under the guise of a “visitation day,” they sent invitations to Xu Jiayi, Su Qingyi, and Su Bochun alike.

Of the three invitees, only Su Bochun was their real target.

Xu Jiayi was too busy preparing for the Li family’s possible attack to visit, and Su Qingyi had already returned to the Anxi Archipelago, making her attendance impossible.

Only Su Bochun—still leisurely vacationing nearby—accepted with delight.

When Su Qingyi heard about it, she panicked. Worried that Su Bochun might be taken hostage by Newborn Island, she called to dissuade her.

Su Bochun said calmly, “If Newborn Island resorts to kidnapping me, that only proves their incompetence. Anyone that foolish will destroy themselves even if the Li family spares them. I don’t believe they’re that stupid.”

“But why you?” Su Qingyi asked.

Su Bochun smiled radiantly. “Maybe because we’re the same age—we’ll have things to talk about.”

Su Qingyi: …

Who would believe that excuse?

Unable to stop her, Su Qingyi could only watch as Su Bochun boarded a yacht bound for Newborn Island.

She didn’t bring many people—just one bodyguard and four attendants.

Upon landing, she was greeted by Fang Qin and asked curiously, “Where’s Acting Island Master Qi?”

Fang Qin replied, “She’s occupied with work. I’ll be hosting you today.”

“Hosting me as… a tourist?” Su Bochun mused with a playful smile. “Then where will you be taking me sightseeing?”

Fang Qin said, “To an area that has never been open to the public before.”

Su Bochun’s curiosity sparked. “I heard your island has a shelter—is it there?”

Fang Qin smiled and nodded. “Yes, the shelter is an internal zone. Normally off-limits, it’s only open on visitation days to certain guests.”

Su Bochun laughed. “Then I must be very lucky.”

Her bodyguard: …

Lucky? It was obvious this “visitation day” had been tailor-made for her.

Still, both sides pretended not to see through each other.

Fang Qin led Su Bochun and her guard inside the shelter, leaving the other Su family attendants outside.

Once inside, Su Bochun immediately realized that Newborn Island’s defense didn’t rely on manpower, but on high technology.

She couldn’t identify all their advanced weapons, but the fact that she’d been allowed in meant she was close to the island’s core secrets.

“Why… is there no one around?” Su Bochun asked.

Fang Qin said, “They all turned into zombies.”

Su Bochun froze.

Fang Qin chuckled. “Don’t worry, they’ve all been wiped out. It’s perfectly safe now.”

Before Su Bochun could ask further, Fang Qin launched into an introduction of the shelter’s design and purpose.

When she finished, Su Bochun asked, “You really invited me here just to show me this? No other intentions?”

Fang Qin said frankly, “Let’s speak plainly. We’d like to invite Miss Su to join us.”

Su Bochun blinked in surprise—then laughed lightly, as if hearing a joke. “Did I hear that right? You want me to join you? Why would I do that?”

Her bodyguard, too, couldn’t fathom where Newborn Island got the confidence to make such an offer.

A pampered heiress from the Su family, with luxury and security—why would she join an embattled island?

Fang Qin said, “We’re not asking you to abandon the Su family, only to become an ally. Surely you know—apart from weapons, there’s nothing Newborn Island can’t obtain. An alliance could bring Miss Su many benefits.”

Su Bochun’s expression grew thoughtful.

After a pause, she asked, “By the way, where’s the owner of the Good Life Supermarket?”

Fang Qin replied, “I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

“She’s the real leader of your island, isn’t she?”

Fang Qin remained silent.

That silence was answer enough. Su Bochun guessed that whoever supplied Newborn Island’s materials—the mysterious “supermarket owner”—was their true pillar of strength.

“But what I don’t understand,” she said, “is why you’d need me as an ally.”

Fang Qin replied, “Even before the apocalypse, great powers like the Ansu Nation still sought alliances. Newborn Island doesn’t fear enemies—but we don’t want to be dragged into endless, pointless wars either.”

Su Bochun nodded in agreement.

Before the world fell, her mother’s work had been mediating disputes among the island federations. If peace could resolve conflicts, war should always be the last resort—war only bred hatred and escalation.

Fang Qin’s proposal intrigued her. She too could use more allies.

But right now, Newborn Island was under the Li family’s watch, and the Su family had already declared neutrality—planning to “watch the tigers fight” and possibly play the fisherman afterward.

An alliance now would bring more risk than benefit.

Fang Qin added, “We don’t need military aid from you. We only ask that the Su family not get involved.”

Su Bochun smiled faintly. “That’s easy enough.”

Before the Su Oil Group secured its photovoltaic system, Su Qingyi would definitely stop Su Wujun from interfering. If Bochun quietly persuaded her mother to nudge things further behind the scenes, she could earn Newborn Island’s gratitude—a profitable deal.

Fang Qin’s own hope was simple: if the Su family stayed neutral, the Li family would hesitate to act rashly—buying them enough time for the Boss to return.

…

Things unfolded just as they’d predicted. The Su family stayed silent, watching from afar.

Councilor Su, Bochun’s mother, even joined several members of the governing council to pressure the Li family, forcing Li Guangren’s fleet to stay docked at the nearest military port, awaiting orders.

Qi Jiayu and her team began to relax, believing they could hold out until Zhou Li returned.

Then sudden news from the Dusa Archipelago shattered the calm—General De’an was critically ill.

The situation, once stable, turned upside down.

Li Guangren and Li Zairen both wanted to secure their inheritance rights before De’an’s death—and Newborn Island was the perfect target to gain fame and military merit.

They rushed to send fleets to attack.

Xu Jiayi received the alert and immediately sounded the alarm, ordering civilians into the bunkers.

On Newborn Island, Fang Qin cried out in despair, “Just a few more days—we were so close!”

“Man proposes, heaven disposes,” Qi Jiayu sighed. Who could’ve predicted the general would fall ill now?

Time was running out for his “dutiful sons,” and they were desperate to prove themselves—of course they’d strike Newborn Island in haste.

Qi Jiayu told Du Xiaogan, “You should go back to Lonewind Island while you can. Without the Boss, we can’t protect you.”

Du Xiaogan shook her head. “I chose to stand with Newborn Island—I’m not leaving now.”

Her luck hadn’t been great, but she had no regrets.

On the day the Li family launched their assault, there wasn’t a single outsider left on Newborn Island. Qi Jiayu and the others retreated into the underground shelter, praying it could withstand the bombardment.

The shelter had been built to military bunker standards. As long as the surface wasn’t breached and the island’s vital systems remained intact, they still had a chance.

The thick walls muffled outside sounds—but not the shockwaves.

Each thunderous blast drained more color from their faces.

The explosions rocked the artificial island; even below ground, the shaking was unmistakable.

Gradually, Du Xiaogan sensed something was wrong.

The noise outside wasn’t dying down. She made a decision and stood up.

“Xiaogan, where are you going?” Grandma Du called after her.

“I’m going to check on Acting Master Qi,” she said.

“Don’t wander off.”

Du Xiaogan forced a smile. “This place isn’t big. No matter what happens, we’ll still be together.”

Grandma Du reluctantly let go of her hand.

As soon as Du Xiaogan stepped outside, she saw Qi Jiayu and the others running toward the elevator.

“You’re heading up to the surface?” she asked.

Qi Jiayu hesitated, glancing back. “We… just want to take a look outside.”

A sudden feeling hit Du Xiaogan—she was about to follow them when the elevator started moving on its own.

Everyone tensed immediately. Had the Li family’s troops already landed!?

Weapons were drawn, safety catches flicked off.

A few seconds later, the elevator chimed—ding.

The doors slid open—

and standing there was An Fengxuan.

She grinned. “What’s this? A welcoming party? You’re all way too… enthusiastic.”

☢️☢️☢️