Author Archives: sandy

Ch 115: My Multiverse Supermarket

Steam and Magic: Revolution

The blazing sun scorched the ground.

Across the boundless wilderness, vegetation was sparse.

Beside two acacia trees stood a three-story residential building.

Not far away, in a patch of muddy ground, a young giraffe lay dead while several hyenas tore at its flesh.

A few more hyenas prowled near the building.

Inside the supermarket—

Zhou Li had plenty to complain about. “Didn’t you say this world was one of steam and magic?” she asked the system.

Steam and magic—just the name evoked the style of steampunk.

She’d imagined an era at the crossroads of the Middle Ages and the Industrial Revolution—something like Victorian London.

So why did everything around her look like an African savanna in the dry season?

“You’re sure we didn’t end up in some random plane?”

The system replied, “This is the Steam and Magic Plane. It’s just that the Emerald Wasteland is a no-man’s-land—neither under the jurisdiction of the Science Faction nor restricted by the Magic Faction.”

Zhou Li sighed. “Got it. So neither side wants us.”

“Quite the opposite,” the system said. “Both factions offered several cities for settlement. But for long-term trade, the Emerald Wasteland is the most strategic location.”

Zhou Li: …

She had really wanted to see what a world of coexisting magic and technology looked like!

“Out of all these planes, it seems only the interstellar one had a normal setup.”

The ancient plane was on a mountain range, the zombie plane on a remote island, this one was an ‘African savanna,’ and the infinite plane was the most absurd—no fixed location at all.

The system cheerfully said, “Isn’t that great? You get to see all kinds of natural landscapes without leaving your store—mountains, beaches, alien ice worlds, and now the grasslands. The infinite plane even lets you explore local towns, so you can experience the life of a grassroots civil servant in advance.”

Zhou Li: …

Suddenly, An Fengxuan—who was at the door, exploring this “new world”—called out, “Boss, there’s an airship floating above!”

Zhou Li leaned out and saw a huge, round, bulbous airship drifting through the sky.

It moved slowly from east to west—“floating” was exactly the right word for it.

An Fengxuan murmured, “Is that powered by magic or by technology?”

The airship looked like an inflated pufferfish balloon, complete with propellers, suggesting a technological design.

But in many fantasy settings, airships were magically powered, so it was impossible to tell which faction it belonged to.

Zhou Li pulled out the sea fluorite crystals and packaging bags from under the counter. “Who cares what it is? Back to work.”

“Got it, boss.”

When the airship bearing the insignia of the “Black Raven” passed overhead, everyone in sight panicked and hid.

Inside the command cabin—

Commander Front was listening to a report from his subordinates when the magic array at the center of the room suddenly glowed faintly.

The light immediately drew everyone’s attention.

The mage at the console turned to Front. “Commander, there’s a reading of magical elements coming from the Emerald Wasteland.”

Front said, “Find out what’s causing it.”

The mage raised his staff and chanted a spell. The glowing area of the magic array rapidly expanded.

Through the projection, everyone could now see a peculiar-looking house standing in the middle of the wasteland.

The mage frowned. “The house appears to be protected by a barrier. I can’t see inside, but I can confirm the presence of elemental gemstones.”

The moment he spoke, shadows in the room rippled, and a low whispering “buzz” came from all directions.

The soldiers around Front began to sweat, frozen in place.

“Silence!” Front barked.

The shadows stilled.

He rubbed his brow and spoke in a calm tone. “I understand this discovery excites you all—but we are not in Mayrelia. How do you know this isn’t a plot by Atmos? Besides, the readings show only a small amount of elemental energy—not enough to sustain the Magic Council’s daily use.”

The buzzing rose again, louder this time.

Front listened intently, then said, “Understood. I’ll send someone to investigate.”

When silence returned, the soldiers finally relaxed.

Front said, “Summon Rebecca and Yag.”

Quartermaster Rebecca and Paladin Captain Yag quickly arrived.

Front pointed to the map on the magic array. “We detected elemental energy here. The airship will land at Vitas Outpost. You and Yag will lead a squad of paladins to investigate.”

“Yes, sir!” Rebecca replied. She had many questions but, as an officer, knew her duty was simply to follow orders.

Vitas Outpost was one of the Magic Faction’s fortresses in the Emerald Wasteland—built to monitor and counter the Steam Faction’s activities there.

It was roughly 30 miles (48.28 km) from the site of the elemental reading—a five-hour ride by horse.

However, the wasteland was home to an animal called the landrunner, whose strength and speed rivaled a horse’s and whose adaptability to the terrain made it an ideal mount once trained.

After the airship landed at the outpost, Rebecca and Yag set off immediately with five paladins, each astride a trained landrunner.

Before sunset, they finally reached the peculiar house glowing under the acacia trees.

At that same moment, Zhou Li—after several focused hours—finished packaging the sea fluorite crystals and neatly arranged them on the shelves.

An Fengxuan stretched her cramped fingers. “Boss, I’m going to make dinner.”

Ever since partially leaving the Infinite World, An Fengxuan had picked up a new skill—cooking.

After being tormented by the bland food of the Infinite World, her standards for taste had become extremely high.

She’d put great effort into learning culinary arts, and her cooking was now far superior to Zhou Li’s.

Zhou Li had since delegated all meals to her, taking care only of preparing ingredients.

“Go ahead,” Zhou Li said. “I bought some beef brisket—you can make braised brisket rice.”

“Perfect,” An Fengxuan said, hurrying upstairs.

The smell of food soon drifted out from the stairwell.

Just then, Zhou Li heard the miserable cries of hyenas outside.

When she looked, she saw a massive hammer come crashing down, smashing the skull of a leaping hyena.

Zhou Li let out a hiss. For some reason, she thought: though the hyenas were dead, at least they’d had a good meal before dying. Maybe, when they reached the underworld, they’d count as “cats that died full.”
After all, despite their name, hyenas aren’t canines—they belong to the feliform suborder, family Hyaenidae.

“Nice, another general knowledge question reviewed,” Zhou Li muttered to herself.

System: …

Once the beasts around the area were cleared, Yag blocked Rebecca’s path.

His face darkened as he glared at the glowing sign outside the building. “That’s not a magical artifact.”

Everyone knew that in nations devoted to eternal magic, most objects used by people were magical in nature.

But the light box before them gave off no trace of magical energy—it was clearly an industrial product.

Using industrial products meant one thing: an enemy of their faith!

“So it is a trap by Atmos!” Yag’s words made the paladins lift their hammers, ready to strike.

Rebecca pressed a hand to stop him. “Don’t act rashly. You all wait outside. I’ll go in and take a look.”

With that, she stepped inside first.

Bright light enveloped her, and an irreverent thought suddenly crossed her mind—the brightness was comparable to the Holy Light of the God of Light Himself.

Lamps could stay lit indefinitely, while divine light could not last long.

Realizing her thought was blasphemous, she quickly cast it aside.

Zhou Li greeted her with her signature smile. “Welcome to Good Life Supermarket.”

Rebecca didn’t understand the word “supermarket.” Her eyes were drawn instead to the colorful “gems” on display.

The moment she realized what they were, her pupils contracted.

“Elemental gemstones!”

Following her gaze, Zhou Li looked over—and saw that the “gems” were indeed sea fluorite.

So sea fluorite in this plane was equivalent to elemental gemstones?

Did that mean the zombie plane also had magical elements?

But then, why were sea fluorites only found in the ocean?

Did that imply that in the zombie plane, magical elements existed only in the sea—or even just the seabed?

Zhou Li had no way of knowing.

Breathing quickly, Rebecca asked, “Why do you have elemental gemstones here?”

“Sorry,” Zhou Li said, “that’s a trade secret.”

Rebecca composed herself, then introduced formally, “I am Rebecca, quartermaster of the Black Raven Legion.”

“The Black Raven Legion?” Zhou Li echoed.

Rebecca hadn’t expected her not to recognize the name.

But since this was the Emerald Wasteland, a place cut off from both sides’ influence, it wasn’t too strange that locals knew little of the outside world.

She explained, “The Black Raven Legion is a military force under Homoleia. We are followers of the War Goddess.”

Zhou Li said, “Oh…”

Outwardly calm, she was already tapping furiously at the system. “Which faction does the War Goddess belong to?”

This was basic enough for the system to answer.

“The Magic Faction. But the Steam Faction also has a God of War—her twin brother. He caused so much chaos that the War Goddess and the Goddess of Wisdom beat him senseless, and he defected to the Steam Faction. Those who study tanks, firearms, and ammunition—the war academics—are his followers.”

Zhou Li asked, “So if magic and missiles went head-to-head, who’d win?”

System: “If you stay in this plane long enough, you might one day find out.”

“No thanks,” Zhou Li replied. “Earth loves me, and I love Earth.”

System: …

Rebecca sensed no hostility from her, which eased her nerves a little.

At least this woman wasn’t from an enemy faction.

Rebecca asked, “May I ask if these elemental gemstones are for sale?”

“Of course,” Zhou Li said. “Prices are listed above.”

Rebecca’s heart leapt—until she glanced at the price tag and froze. “Four hundred ninety-nine… gold?”

That wasn’t expensive at all.

But Zhou Li’s next words shattered her illusion.

“I don’t take gold directly. You need to exchange valuable items for the store’s currency—member points. You can only use points to purchase goods here.”

Rebecca understood the idea of member points.

Many factions and organizations had their own internal currencies used for trade.

For example, soldiers of the Black Raven Legion had to exchange merit badges for extra equipment or supplies.

“So this means… 499 points?” Rebecca asked.

“Yes.”

“Please wait a moment.” Rebecca stepped outside.

Yag immediately came forward. “Well? What did you find?”

Instead of answering, Rebecca asked, “Do you have any gold coins on you?”

Puzzled, Yag pulled out a pouch containing the remainder of his monthly pay—about a dozen gold coins.

Ordinary soldiers earned one gold coin per month; as a captain, he earned twenty.

The five paladins with him each earned ten.

As quartermaster, Rebecca’s pay was even higher, but she didn’t usually carry much with her.

Taking Yag’s coins, she went back inside.

“How many points can these be exchanged for?” she asked.

Zhou Li examined the coin, which bore a woman’s profile. “May I ask who this is?”

“That is Homoleia—the High Priestess who serves the War Goddess,” Rebecca said reverently.

“I see,” Zhou Li nodded. “These can be exchanged for 1,913 points. But since the coins aren’t yours, you can’t register a membership card.”

Each coin weighed 4.37 grams, with 60% purity—about 14k gold.
At a rate of 461 yuan per gram, its value was 2,014.57 yuan.
After deducting a transaction fee, it came to 1,913.84 yuan.

Zhou Li rounded down the decimals.

Rebecca quickly calculated—one gold coin could buy nearly four elemental gemstones.

Her breathing grew faster.

[Author’s Note]
This plane follows a steampunk aesthetic. Elements such as the “landrunner” and “quartermaster” were inspired by World of Warcraft.

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 114: My Multiverse Supermarket

Julia Bates personally came to the Good Life Supermarket to sign for the latest shipment of supplies. As they chatted, Zhou Li casually asked, “Does Mia have ships?”

Julia smiled. “Of course. Mia has oceans, too. But the weather’s gotten so bad that the sea surface has frozen over. All ships are trapped in the ice—no one can sail.”

“No icebreakers?” Zhou Li asked.

“We have them,” Julia said. “But the cost is too high. Ships aren’t very useful here. On Blue Star, ships serve for transport, patrols, research, and tourism. Mia has more efficient ways to handle all those things. Under these conditions, using orka fuel for icebreaking would be a waste.”

Zhou Li suddenly understood.

Right—Mia already had cargo spacecraft, much faster than sea transport.

“So what powers your ships, then?”

“The old surface vessels use orka reactors that release energy to drive steam turbines. Industrial-class ships can both sail and fly. They have dual systems…” Julia explained patiently, like a lecturer.

She even gave an example: one of Bates Industrial’s traditional research vessels used only thirty kilograms of orka fuel and had sailed for seventeen years at a steady twenty-five knots.

Zhou Li’s eyes shone.

According to Earth’s data, a nuclear-powered carrier with two reactors used about four tons of uranium per refueling, allowing it to travel a million nautical miles and operate for thirteen years.

Compared to that, a ship that ran for seventeen years on thirty kilograms of orka—clearly orka was vastly more efficient. Even a “cloud scientist” like her could tell which energy source was superior.

When Julia finished, she looked at her. “Thinking of buying a ship?”

Zhou Li waved her hand quickly. “No, I don’t need one.”

But she hesitated, then described Newborn Island’s situation hypothetically: “…Under those conditions, how many reactors and how much fuel would be needed to move it?”

Julia raised an eyebrow. “A one-knot cruising speed? That’s barely moving. Almost any power system could handle that. You wouldn’t need orka at all, though it would be more efficient. If such an artificial island really exists, one arc2.6 reactor would suffice. But for safety, build two—one as backup. Five hundred kilograms of orka fuel would power it for over two million nautical miles.”

Zhou Li said, “One will do. If it breaks, I’ll switch to traditional power.”

Julia chuckled. “So you really do have such an island.”

Zhou Li froze—she’d let it slip. “…Something like that. Not exactly mine, though.”

Thankfully, Julia didn’t press.

“How much is an arc2.6 reactor?” Zhou Li asked.

“About four million orka credits.”

Zhou Li instantly thought of the medical capsule on her third floor that had cost around two to three million yuan. It had seemed pricey at the time—but compared to a reactor, that was nothing. After all, it could treat ALS and other fatal illnesses.

She remembered Sophia’s sleek hovercar and asked curiously, “The Moonshadow X—it runs on orka too, right?”

“Yes,” Julia said. “It’s equipped with two SLG-7 reactors, dual-mode for both ground travel and high-altitude flight.”

That was a Bates Industrial flagship design. Julia knew it well.

Zhou Li wanted one, but she couldn’t afford even the smaller reactor.

Seeing her silence, Julia said kindly, “Bates still has a few unused fishing vessels. They use the older arc2.0 reactors—less powerful, phased out from new designs. Only small fishing companies still use them, so we kept the production line open. After the climate worsened, most fishing firms went bankrupt. Their ships were never delivered—just left sitting in the docks. If you’re interested, they’re available for seventy thousand orka credits.”

Zhou Li said, “I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

After inspecting the goods, Julia left—but not before gifting Zhou Li a present.

When Zhou Li opened it, she almost cried out—it was a working agricultural light synthesizer!

Julia smiled. “Paul Bowman was stingy to sell you that broken one. You don’t need to waste time fixing it now.”

Seeing its auction price listed at eight million, Zhou Li nearly wanted to hug the woman’s leg and call her “Grandma.”

Still, she said earnestly, “That’s an incredibly valuable gift. I could trade it for a lot of supplies. Are you sure?”

Julia smiled warmly. “It might be worth a lot to you, but compared to our friendship, it’s just an ordinary gift.”

She was no fool. A bond built only on trade was cold and fragile—easily broken. Human connections, however, were much harder to sever.

Zhou Li understood. “Then I’ll accept it gratefully.”

Now that she had a functioning light synthesizer, the broken one was useless.

She put it up for auction—and within seconds, it sold for two million. After the five percent fee, she pocketed 1.9 million.

But the sum barely excited her anymore.

She was used to billion-level transactions. Watching money flow in and out had become routine.

Besides, surrounded by so many temptations—gadgets, technology, weapons—this little fortune wouldn’t last long.

For instance, she now wanted a light-brain wristwatch.

Lin Jianshan had told her that even a basic one cost 120,000 orka credits. With the current exchange rate of 1 orka = 80 yuan, that was 9.6 million yuan.

No wonder she couldn’t even afford that seventy-thousand-orca fishing ship, let alone a new reactor.

Still, Zhou Li had her stash of orka energy crystals.

Each crystal could power a light-brain watch for eight years—or a light synthesizer for over a year.

At Mia’s current market rate, one crystal sold for twenty thousand orka credits.

She had over sixty in storage, and her “Treasure-Spitting Toad” kept producing three more every day.

If she sold them all, she could earn 1.2 million orka easily.

But she didn’t dare sell too many—her machines and medical pods still ran on orka.

And if Mia’s political situation suddenly worsened, the orka supply could be disrupted. She needed a reserve.

Meanwhile, she’d also been buying more medicine—particularly the multi-stage ALS treatment.

The first stage stabilized symptoms.
The second repaired neurons—it took the longest and consumed the most medicine.
The third focused on rehabilitation.

The full course cost over eight hundred thousand orka credits.

When she had saved An Yixiao’s life using the medical pod, it hadn’t cost nearly as much—the surgery was simple, and the drugs were cheap.

Zhou Li sold ten of her orka crystals to buy the first stage and the first cycle of the second.

The rest, she’d wait until City Hall negotiated lower prices with Wolf Pharmaceuticals.

Zhou Li stayed in the interstellar realm for three days.

An Fengxuan had expected them to head to either the ancient or the zombie world, but Zhou Li told her, “We’re going to open a new market.”

“I thought all these worlds were already enough to keep you busy,” An Fengxuan said.

The more worlds they served, the shorter their stay in each one.

In the zombie world, for example, they’d been gone over twenty days—how long could Qi Jiayu’s team hold out without them?

Zhou Li smiled. “Actually, fewer and fewer worlds need us to stay long. Take this one—the people of Mia have begun finding their own way to survive. Even if we vanished, they’d make it eventually.”

Mia’s problems weren’t just environmental collapse—social divisions, famine, and despair. Yet since the supermarket appeared, most of those had eased.

Now, with cooperation between the major factions, the short-term migration program had started.

And since City Hall had a stable, long-term supply contract with the supermarket, even if Zhou Li stopped showing up for a month, Mia’s people wouldn’t starve.

They could also pre-order goods through their light-brain watches and collect them from vending machines with a single tap. Efficiency was sky-high.

In just three days, the supermarket served fifty thousand customers.

The stock ran so low that Zhou Li had to order the system to compile a new list while she purchased emergency supplies from the auction hub.

She had a hunch: once Mia fully recovered and found its own path, their interplanetary trade would end.

And so it would be with the other worlds too.

That was probably why the system kept urging her to expand into new markets.

[Author’s Note]

The “Magic and Science” world will likely be the final major realm to unfold [dog-head emoji].

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 113: My Multiverse Supermarket

Zhou Li and her small supermarket had stayed long enough in the zombie-ridden world. She still had other worlds to visit, so she asked Qi Jiayu to issue a notice announcing that Newborn Island would be closed.

On the day of closure, no one would be allowed to enter or leave the island.

Qi Jiayu knew this meant the Little Boss’s departure was imminent, and she did everything she could to cooperate.

Du Xiaogan said, “Even though there aren’t many people on the island, there will still be some who try to sneak in.”

She knew this well—after all, she herself had once snuck in.

Qi Jiayu replied, “Then we’ll have to ask Major Xu to assist.”

Although Xu Jiayi didn’t understand why Newborn Island needed to be closed, she had benefited greatly from her cooperation with them, so she was willing to dispatch patrol boats to stop any Lonewind Island civilians from crossing.

Still, she warned Qi Jiayu, “Su Wujun’s ships haven’t left yet. The Li family may soon send people to condemn Newborn Island.”

Li Zairen had been desperate to divert the Li family’s attention, but once news spread that the Su family had begun trading with Newborn Island, the loss of his three escort ships would surely become the perfect excuse for them to launch an attack.

Xu Jiayi even suspected that Newborn Island’s closure might be a strategic move to avoid conflict with the Li family.

…

Zhou Li herself had no idea that her decision to close the island would spark so many speculations.

Her original plan was to announce the closure, stay for two more days, and deliberately lure out whoever was watching in the shadows—so she could make an example of them.

But An Fengxuan told her, “Real snakes don’t show themselves when you start rattling the grass. They’ll wait. Their strike will come days later. How long can you afford to stay here?”

Zhou Li thought about it and agreed.

The first three days after closure would be filled with Lonewind Island civilians trying to sneak in.

Even if they triggered the island’s defense system and got punished, it wouldn’t stop the Li and Su families from sending scouts later.

By the third day, both families would likely dispatch suicide squads to test the waters.

If Zhou Li wasn’t around and the defense system didn’t activate, they would soon realize that Newborn Island’s strength was only a facade.

By the time Zhou Li returned, the island could already have changed hands.

Qi Jiayu and the others were deeply troubled.

Then Du Xiaogan, confused, asked, “What exactly happens after the island is closed?”

Everyone fell silent—they had forgotten that since joining the logistics team, Du Xiaogan had begun attending meetings.

But they had never told her about the Little Boss’s origins or the true situation of Newborn Island.

Qi Jiayu turned to Zhou Li. “Should we tell her?”

Zhou Li smiled faintly. “I’ll explain.”

She paused, then said to Du Xiaogan, “You may have already guessed—Newborn Island wasn’t built by us. As for its origins, I won’t go into detail. You can check the archives at the operations center if you’re curious.

“What you need to know is this: I’m leaving to find medicine that can treat your sister. It’ll take around ten to twenty days. During that time, the island’s defensive systems will temporarily shut down. Any armed group could seize Newborn Island easily.”

Zhou Li wasn’t lying.

She did plan to travel to the interstellar realm to purchase an Orka energy core to replace the island’s current power source—and she’d also look for a cure for ALS—but that wasn’t her main reason for leaving.

Still, the promise of a possible cure was motivation enough to ensure Du Xiaogan would never betray Newborn Island’s secret.

Du Xiaogan’s eyes hardened with determination. “I’ll protect Newborn Island with my life.”

Qi Jiayu said, “That’s admirable—but we can’t defend it alone.”

Du Xiaogan thought for a while. “Maybe we can cooperate with Major Xu. Have her station troops here while the Little Boss is away. But Newborn Island might need to offer her something in return.”

Qi Jiayu asked, “What could she want besides supplies?”

“She wants to break Lonewind Island’s blockade.”

Buying resources from Newborn Island helped, yes—but the Li family’s blockade still strangled her operations.

She couldn’t just stay on the defensive forever. To survive, she’d have to strike back someday—but she lacked the power to do so.

Du Xiaogan then asked Zhou Li, “As long as you’re here, the defense system works, right?”

“Yes,” Zhou Li said. “But it only reacts defensively.”

Du Xiaogan smiled slightly. “Then that means Newborn Island really does have the strength to destroy escort ships. That’s exactly what Major Xu needs. The Little Boss can move Newborn Island closer to the Dusa Archipelago. The Li family won’t dare touch it, and if they attack, they’ll be countered. When they’re too busy fending for themselves, the blockade around Lonewind will crumble.”

A sly glint flickered in her eyes.

Zhou Li: …

So she wanted Newborn Island to play the troublemaker.

An Fengxuan leaned in and whispered, “Little Boss, that’s actually a great plan. Our original goal in taking Newborn Island was to open the supermarket to the whole world, wasn’t it? If we’re going global, swinging by Dusa along the way isn’t a big deal.”

Zhou Li sighed. “…Fine. So who’s going to negotiate with Major Xu?”

“I’ll do it,” Qi Jiayu volunteered.

She had always handled external affairs, and now that they had a clear direction and bargaining chip, it made sense for her to take the lead.

No one objected.

…

After negotiations, Xu Jiayi agreed to send fifty soldiers to Newborn Island for patrol and defense duty.

Before Zhou Li departed, An Fengxuan handed Du Xiaogan a doll and a stack of talisman papers.

Du Xiaogan blinked. “What’s this?”

An Fengxuan explained, “Take one drop of your sister’s blood and smear it on the doll’s forehead. Then place one of these talismans on someone else. That person will mimic your sister’s movements exactly.”

Du Xiaogan frowned. “Wouldn’t that make them unable to move?”

An Fengxuan smiled sweetly.

And suddenly Du Xiaogan understood—this was meant as a weapon. Anyone who broke into the island and got marked would instantly lose all mobility, just like her paralyzed sister.

An Fengxuan added, “The doll must carry your sister’s blood. The person marked by the talisman will move in sync with her until the paper is torn off.”

Du Xiaogan thought of everyone on the island and realized no one’s movements were more restricted than her sister’s.

She opened her mouth as if to object, but An Fengxuan cut her off. “It’s borrowed, not gifted. You don’t need to know what it is.”

Why Du Xiaogan, specifically?

Because, in An Fengxuan’s eyes, she was skilled yet predictable—the perfect choice.

So Du Xiaogan said nothing more.

Soon after, she and the others watched as the small supermarket vanished before their eyes.

Lin Xiaole’s eyes bulged wide. “They’re not… aliens, are they? Maybe that house was actually a spaceship?”

“Why not deities?” Fang Qin suggested. “Fengxuan feels more like a being with divine powers.”

Qi Jiayu asked thoughtfully, “Do you think they might be connected to the zombie virus? I don’t mean they caused it, but… could they have a cure or vaccine?”

Du Xiaogan shook her head. “If they did, they would’ve used it by now.”

After all, the Little Boss already had access to drugs that could treat ALS. If she had a cure for the zombie virus, she wouldn’t hide it.

After sending An Fengxuan back to the Infinite Realm for vacation, Zhou Li returned briefly to Earth.

She restocked her supermarket’s warehouse and ordered a fresh shipment of vegetables from local farmers.

She added several new fruits and vegetables to the inventory and expanded the meat selection beyond just pork to include beef and lamb.

The system questioned her. “If you want produce and meat, you could just buy them through the auction hub.”

Zhou Li replied, “The supermarket’s sales volume might have skyrocketed since we added more worlds, but it’s still a small supermarket. I want it to stay that way—at least on the surface.”

Ever since she became a supplier across worlds, her trades often reached billions in value. Sometimes she forgot she even ran a supermarket.

But she didn’t want to lose herself in the multiverse. She couldn’t forget who she was—or what she stood for.

So on Earth, she still ran her shop as if it were just a modest local store making under a thousand yuan a day.

Once she had the new products and prices synced to the store’s app, she finally relaxed.

That’s when Mu Kun wandered in.

The moment she entered, she noticed a large basket of colorful stones on the counter—each about the size of a pigeon egg, irregularly shaped, crystal clear but neither gemstone nor glass.

Zhou Li was sealing them in OPP plastic bags.

Mu Kun glanced at the unfinished labels. “Sea fluorite? Is that a type of fluorite?”

Zhou Li looked surprised. “You know fluorite, Aunt Mu?”

Mu Kun gave a small laugh. “Of course I do. I know every kind of pretty gem there is. But I’ve never heard of sea fluorite—and I’ve certainly never seen fluorite this beautiful.”

Zhou Li smiled. “It’s a new craft stone. A bit pricey, though.”

“Oh, it’s an ornament stone! Perfect—I’ve been meaning to fix my necklace.” Mu Kun began picking a few pieces out of the basket.

She hesitated, though, because they were expensive—499 yuan each for a 50-gram stone.

Zhou Li had bought the sea fluorite from the zombie world through the auction system at 7 yuan per gram.

Since she thought it might be useful in the magic world, she purchased all of it under the supermarket’s account—about 350 yuan per piece. Selling them at 499 yuan meant a profit of 149 yuan each.

Mu Kun ended up choosing three.

Zhou Li blinked in surprise. “Aunt Mu, you’re buying three?”

“The other two are gifts,” she said cheerfully. “My friend’s daughter is getting married—I’ll have them made into earrings and a hairpiece.”

Zhou Li thought about it. The auction system hadn’t flagged any radiation or health hazards, so she said nothing.

“Give me a discount, hmm?” Mu Kun grinned.

Zhou Li was used to small-town bargaining. It would’ve been strange not to haggle over something this expensive.

“Alright, 20 percent off for Aunt Mu,” she said.

Both sides were satisfied—Zhou Li still profited, and Mu Kun felt she’d scored a deal.

By the time Zhou Li finished packaging a few dozen stones, night had fallen.

She placed the basket under the counter, then left to pick up An Fengxuan.

After several days, Zhou Li finally arrived at the interstellar realm again. The tense situation on Planet Mia had eased somewhat.

When Lin Jianshan came to work, Zhou Li learned that Julia Bates had officially announced a short-term migration program—recruiting technicians from across the planet to join Mia’s engineers aboard the orbital station.

The public welcomed it. As long as there were no fees and as long as someone was still trying to keep them alive, they were on board.

Julia had even mentioned that Good Life Supermarket would provide material support for the initiative.

With such generous benefits—guaranteed food and supplies for participants and their families—technicians were eager to sign up.

After Bates Industries joined the supermarket’s alliance, Wolf Pharmaceuticals could no longer resist pressure and approached the mayor, the Richter family, and the Bates family to negotiate peace.

In this new climate of loosened restrictions, Zhou Li successfully acquired a large batch of medicine.

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 112: My Multiverse Supermarket

Newborn Island, in the forest encampment.

After Qi Jiayu steered the conversation firmly back to heavy oil, Su Wujun’s face turned dark as iron. He left the tent without another word.

“These people from Newborn Island are utterly uncivilized,” he growled to his aide.

In his mind, a negotiation should be a slow, deliberate dance—yet Newborn Island’s side had talked only about the trade itself, shutting him out completely.

“They’re all young,” the aide said cautiously. “They don’t know proper etiquette.”

“We’re not the ones lacking etiquette,” came a cool, sharp voice from behind them. “We just don’t care for bureaucratic nonsense—or empty formalities.”

Both men froze and turned around. Somehow, someone had appeared behind them without either of them noticing.

Thick-skinned as he was, Su Wujun quickly recovered. “And you are?”

“Newborn Island’s Head of Security—Fengxuan,” she said evenly.

Su Wujun narrowed his eyes, now paying her more attention.

If she oversaw the island’s security, perhaps she knew the truth behind how those Li family escort ships had been sunk.

“So the island’s military force is under your command, then?” he probed.

Fengxuan smiled faintly. “I only manage public order.”

Su Wujun shot a look at his aide. The man caught the cue and feigned confusion. “But… there don’t seem to be many guards here at all.”

Fengxuan’s tone turned cryptic. “If you can see them, they aren’t security—they’re just guards.”

That line alone made Su Wujun’s eyes narrow further.

He took the hint through his own thick-skinned cunning: Newborn Island’s elite force must be hidden in the shadows.

Realizing he’d get no secrets out of her and unwilling to risk his safety, he quickly left and returned to his fleet.

Back aboard, the ship’s captain handed him the latest intelligence report.

“Sir, new intel—Newborn Island possesses sonic weapons.”

“Sonic weapons?” Su Wujun was stunned. “You’re not joking?”

“Our agent on Lonewind Island confirmed it. The Li family’s elite troops were dissected after death—their injuries match those caused by sonic attacks.”

Su Wujun silently thanked himself for leaving when he did. If the negotiations had gone south and Newborn Island decided to trap them, those same weapons could have been turned on them.

“Should we inform President Su?” the aide asked.

Su Wujun said coldly, “She’s still talking business. What’s the point?”

If Su Qingyi and her party died, that would simply give him a perfect excuse to retaliate.

Inside the negotiation tent, the atmosphere was tense and heated.

Su Qingyi and Qi Jiayu were locked in a fierce exchange, each slicing at the other’s prices like blades.

“One gold coin per ton of heavy oil.”

Qi Jiayu calculated swiftly. “A gold coin weighs fifteen grams. At sixty-eight percent purity, that’s 450 points per gram. That makes 6,750 points per ton—too expensive. I’ll only accept twelve grams per ton.”

“Transportation has costs,” Su Qingyi countered.

Qi Jiayu muttered, glancing toward Xu Jiayi, “Maybe it’s time to start collecting a ten percent tariff.”

Xu Jiayi: …

Why did it feel like Lonewind Island was the one getting punished for their negotiations?

If Newborn Island started taxing trades at ten percent, Lonewind’s 7.8-billion-credit trade volume would owe seventy-eight million in taxes.

Still, since the tariff wouldn’t fall on the Su family, Su Qingyi wasn’t bothered.

Xu Jiayi tried to smooth things over. “Really, this partnership could be mutually beneficial. President Su, why not reconsider?”

Su Qingyi smiled faintly. “As the corpses evolve, oil extraction becomes harder. Heavy oil may not be as valuable as diesel or gasoline, but it’s still rare. High price or not, it’ll sell.”

She wasn’t lying—and that was her leverage.

From the Su family’s perspective, Newborn Island had little to offer. But Newborn Island needed Su’s heavy oil.

That made them the buyers—and buyers couldn’t dictate terms.

Still, Su Qingyi was a businesswoman, not a politician. She believed in profit over pride. If she hadn’t, she would have walked out like Su Wujun had.

Xu Jiayi asked, “Are you saying the Su family lacks nothing?”

Su Qingyi hesitated. Of course they weren’t self-sufficient.

Qi Jiayu said calmly, “Except for weapons, we can get almost anything.”

Su Qingyi pounced. “If that’s true, why buy heavy oil from us at all?”

Qi Jiayu’s eyes glinted. “Because there’s no reason to pay more domestically for what we can get cheaper abroad. And tell me—if the Su family truly produces every material it needs, why are you still scavenging pre-apocalypse alcohol, despite all your brewing crops?”

Su Qingyi fell silent.

She couldn’t deny it. Post-apocalyptic water sources were contaminated. Over half their crops were diseased.

No matter how many raw ingredients they grew, they couldn’t brew decent alcohol without clean water. What little they managed tasted foul.

Yet the elite of Anhai still demanded fine liquor—so the Su family had to scavenge old-world stockpiles.

She forced a light tone. “Then what if I asked for solar photovoltaic equipment? Do you have that too?”

Xu Jiayi answered before Qi Jiayu could. “We do.”

She was confident because she had personally handled the purchase and assembly of solar components for Zhou Li’s earlier orders.

Su Qingyi went quiet again.

Before the apocalypse, the Anxi Archipelago had relied entirely on diesel power thanks to its oil fields.

Five years later, their stored fuel was long gone, new refining was limited, and blackouts were common.

Only then did the Su family realize the value of solar energy—but it was too late. They lacked engineers, parts, and infrastructure.

Newborn Island’s offer was undeniably tempting.

“How much for a full set?” she asked.

“It depends on scale,” Qi Jiayu said. “For a small household system, about fifty thousand points. A large one for a Su family villa—four to five hundred thousand. For factories, over a million.”

Factories were the backbone of the Su family’s power over the archipelago. This was no small deal.

But with this shift, the balance of power between them and Newborn Island might start to turn.

…

Su Qingyi couldn’t make the final decision alone.

As night fell, she and Su Baichun returned to their vessel—not to the fleet’s warship, but to the Su family’s pride: The Su Explorer, a 160-meter superyacht, eight decks high.

It had a pool, sports courts, parking bays, a helipad, and seven speedboats.

Once they had sailed beyond Lonewind’s waters, Su Qingyi contacted her parents to report the negotiations.

When Su Baichun later came knocking with a bottle of wine, she overheard her cousin inside saying, “This deal’s ours to decide. No need to wait for their approval. I just want our factories prioritized for power supply.”

Su Baichun smiled faintly to herself.

As expected—her aunt had sensed opportunity.

The family patriarch had never intended to finalize the heavy oil trade. He’d only wanted to test Newborn Island’s strength.

But seeing the leverage Newborn Island held, her aunt was now pushing to close the deal.

Once the room fell silent, Su Baichun waited a few moments, then knocked lightly as if she’d just arrived.

Su Qingyi wasn’t surprised to see her but raised a brow at the bottle in her hands. “Where’d you get that?”

“From Newborn Island’s supermarket,” Su Baichun said. “A brand I’ve never heard of—but it’s real alcohol.”

Su Qingyi fetched two glasses.

After a sip, she admitted, “Cheap taste, but these days even that counts as good wine.”

“What else did you buy?”

“When we left, your boat was packed full.”

“Wine, drinks, and snacks,” Su Baichun said simply.

The Su factories produced many essentials—but not luxuries like these. Even as a Su heiress, she rarely got to enjoy a soda or snack.

Then she told her aunt how the islanders rushed to the supermarket for supplies, yet the owner never ran out of stock.

But she said nothing about the ambergris.

At last, Su Qingyi looked at her young niece—barely eighteen—with newfound seriousness.

“So, in your view… does Newborn Island hold vast hidden reserves?”

“I don’t know,” Su Baichun replied. “But I’m sure Uncle Wujun already had the island scanned.”

“Unfortunately,” Su Qingyi said, “he told me it’s useless. The island’s equipped with laser radar jamming—it can’t be mapped or penetrated.”

“Which means their tech level is higher than ours. Working with them brings more benefit than risk.”

“I agree,” Su Qingyi said softly.

“I can convince my mother to support the deal,” Su Baichun offered.

Her aunt’s gaze sharpened. “What do you want in return?”

“I want the uninhabited island beside Susan Port’s channel.”

It wasn’t large, but its deed belonged to Su Qingyi—and owning her own island would be the first step in Su Baichun’s larger ambitions.

Two days later, Zhou Li sealed another massive contract worth thirty million yuan.

Su Qingyi had officially ordered four full solar power station systems.

Each would provide 3.2 megawatts of capacity—roughly 3.84 million kilowatt-hours of electricity per year.

At the same time, Zhou Li purchased three thousand tons of heavy oil from Su Oil Group at 5,400 yuan per ton.

Since the heavy oil was for use on the artificial island, the payment couldn’t come from the supermarket’s account—and Zhou Li didn’t have enough personal funds.

So she acted as a middlewoman: buying ambergris at 25,000 yuan per gram (below the 28,000 market price) and reselling it at auction.

After a five percent fee (about 1,400 yuan per gram), she earned roughly 1,600 yuan per gram in profit.

All of it went straight into buying heavy oil—she didn’t keep a single yuan.

But that would be a one-time move. From now on, she wouldn’t spend her own money for Newborn Island’s operations.

The island would soon belong to Qi Jiayu and her team to manage—and when they proposed collecting tariffs from foreign traders, Zhou Li agreed without objection.

[Author’s Note]

Next up: a new world—Magic and Technology [dog-head emoji] (about two chapters away!)

The photovoltaic system prices were sourced online.

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 95: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Grandma Zhang was awakened by a series of violent knocks on the door.

Older people tended to sleep lightly, yet for some reason she had slept very deeply this time. Perhaps her recent good mood had improved her sleep quality as well. The knocking outside had gone on for quite a while before she slowly woke from her afternoon nap.

There was noise outside, but she couldn’t make out what people were shouting about. After gathering herself, she got up to open the door.

“Who is it, in such a hurry…”

Muttering, Grandma Zhang leaned toward the peephole and looked out, only to be startled to find her daughter Zhao Ya and granddaughter Yaya standing outside.

Zhao Ya was holding Yaya tightly. Blood was splattered across her sun-protection jacket. Her face was pale as she pressed her daughter’s head firmly into her chest, the hand covering the back of Yaya’s head trembling nonstop.

The lingering drowsiness vanished instantly. Grandma Zhang gasped in alarm, instinctively reaching toward the bloodstains on Zhao Ya, then trying to check on Yaya at the same time, her hands fumbling in confusion.

“What happened? Where did this blood come from? Who’s hurt?”

Seeing Grandma Zhang standing there safe and sound, Zhao Ya’s eyes reddened immediately. Hearing the flood of concerned questions, she choked up. “It’s not mine or Yaya’s blood. Don’t worry.”

Then she asked urgently, “Mom, are you okay?”

“I was taking a nap at home. What could’ve happened?” Grandma Zhang said, completely confused.

“That’s good… that’s good…” Zhao Ya murmured absentmindedly. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she turned cautiously to look behind her and hurried Grandma Zhang inside. “Let’s talk inside.”

Outside felt far too unsafe. Even standing there frightened her.

Once the heavy security door shut, Zhao Ya finally relaxed. All her strength drained away, and she collapsed onto the sofa. Yaya was finally released from her mother’s arms and looked helplessly between her mother and grandmother.

Zhao Ya had protected her well, covering Yaya’s eyes the moment danger appeared. The child hadn’t seen the bloody scenes and wasn’t truly afraid, but children were sensitive. Her mother’s unusual state made her uneasy.

Grandma Zhang brought Yaya a packet of biscuits and told her to sit in the room and eat. But Zhao Ya suddenly sprang up from the sofa, ignoring her exhaustion, and pulled Yaya along to check every window in the apartment.

After what she had just experienced outside, she was too frightened to let her daughter leave her sight.

Only then did Zhao Ya notice something unexpected. Protective bars had been installed outside all the windows.

Grandma Zhang lived on the third floor, neither high nor low. In their neighborhood, only residents on the first or second floors usually installed anti-theft bars. Few people above the third floor bothered. Yet seeing the bars on her mother’s windows, Zhao Ya vaguely recalled that many higher-floor apartments in the complex now seemed to have them too.

Even the old wooden front door had been replaced with a brand-new security door.

The new key hadn’t yet been given to Zhao Ya, which was why she had been stuck knocking outside for so long.

It had only been a few days since her last visit. How had the house changed so much?

And… the timing was almost too perfect.

Zhao Ya felt puzzled. Her mother was elderly and usually found tasks inconvenient. Whenever something needed replacing at home, she would call Zhao Ya to arrange it. Yet this time, all the doors and windows had been upgraded without her knowing anything about it.

Still, the unexpected security bars and door brought her immense comfort. She finally relaxed completely, quietly telling Yaya to stay in the room eating biscuits before returning to the living room. With trembling hands, she quickly removed the bloodstained jacket, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the trash bin.

That still didn’t feel like enough. She tied the garbage bag tightly and moved it to an unseen corner of the balcony.

Grandma Zhang watched, confused. “What exactly happened?”

When Zhao Ya spoke, her voice was hoarse. “Something’s happened outside. A lot of people are attacking strangers in the streets. Many people have died. The ones doing the killing… they didn’t seem normal.”

She had seen with her own eyes someone pounce on another person and bite him.

And before long, the bitten person became the same as them.

…No, not them. Them.

Remembering the scene made nausea surge in her stomach.

She forced herself not to vomit. Looking at her mother’s thin figure, then thinking of her daughter in the room, she steadied herself.

With elders above and a child below, she had to be strong.

Grandma Zhang was not unfamiliar with death. Though startled, she quickly calmed down. “Are there many people hurting others?”

“Many. On the way here I saw at least seven or eight,” Zhao Ya said. While fleeing with Yaya, she had constantly watched her surroundings, distancing herself immediately whenever someone began acting strangely. That vigilance was the only reason she had managed to run so far while carrying a child.

They had come today on a sudden whim to visit Grandma Zhang.

After her last phone call with her mother and brother, Zhao Ya had slept poorly for several nights, filled with regret.

Her mother had called to share details about her recent life, yet she and her brother had only poured cold water over her enthusiasm. She knew how to encourage and support her own daughter, yet somehow lost patience with the mother who had raised her.

Remembering how happy her mother sounded when the call connected made Zhao Ya’s chest ache.

She had indeed been busy with work and caring for her child, her temper growing short. Once work finally eased this week, she immediately brought Yaya to visit Grandma as soon as she had free time.

Grandma Zhang, living alone for so long, was happiest whenever her daughter and granddaughter visited.

Zhao Ya had wanted to surprise her and hadn’t called ahead. None of them expected anything like this to happen on the way.

They had originally stopped near a supermarket close to home to buy some things before coming over. Translated on Hololo novels. But chaos erupted before they could even enter. Zhao Ya didn’t dare return to the underground parking garage to retrieve the car. She picked up Yaya and ran the rest of the way.

After taking a drink of water, she continued, “Things outside are completely chaotic. I don’t think it’ll calm down anytime soon. Let’s stay home for a while. Don’t go out for the next couple of days.”

Afraid her mother’s heart couldn’t handle the shock, she avoided describing the outside situation in detail.

In Zhao Ya’s view, with security bars and reinforced doors, the three of them would be safe staying inside and simply waiting for the military to restore order.

Grandma Zhang thought for a moment, her expression growing heavier. “I’m afraid this isn’t just happening around us. Do you know if there are places elsewhere where people like this have appeared?”

What if it wasn’t only here…

Grandma Zhang’s reminder made Zhao Ya’s heart sink. She quickly pulled out her phone, scrolling through dozens of messages in succession before lowering it again, despair filling her face.

“It’s chaos all over the country… even overseas.”

With an outbreak on this scale, rescue personnel would inevitably be insufficient. Waiting for help to arrive quickly was probably impossible now.

And judging by how fast it spread, one bite was enough to turn another person. Zhao Ya had seen seven or eight earlier. By now, that number might already have become dozens.

After one day, two days… how many would there be?

Even if police or the military came to rescue people, they would first have to carve a path through blood. Just imagining it filled Zhao Ya with dread. The mutated were ordinary civilians. It felt even crueler than war.

“We can’t just wait for rescue. We have to figure out how to save ourselves,” Zhao Ya said, forcing herself to stay composed. “We should prepare to last at least a week at home… no, two weeks.”

She still held onto hope and also feared her mother couldn’t bear too much pressure, so she didn’t mention a longer timeframe.

Grandma Zhang shook her head. “If it’s really that serious, one or two weeks probably won’t solve anything.”

“Come with me.”

Her face showed no panic as she gestured for Zhao Ya to follow her into the kitchen.

The moment Zhao Ya stepped inside, her eyes lit up.

The kitchen was piled high with unopened bags of rice, flour, cooking oil, and grains. Several boxes of canned eight-treasure porridge, luncheon meat, and fruit sat nearby. Opening the cupboards revealed every kind of seasoning imaginable, along with generous amounts of millet, red beans, mung beans, soybeans, and oatmeal for cooking porridge. It was obvious everything had been recently restocked.

There was even a bag of puffed rice snacks and a bag of peanuts on the dining table, probably bought when someone downstairs had come by pushing a cart to sell goods.

Zhao Ya and Zhao Liang usually disliked these traditional snacks and only Grandma Zhang ate them. But now Zhao Ya felt nothing but gratitude. They were cheap, filling, nutritious, and peanuts in particular could be stored dry and sealed for over a month.

Grandma Zhang wasn’t finished surprising her. “There are also snacks I bought for Yaya, chocolate, biscuits, jelly cups, potato chips.”

Those items stored well, and she had bought many at once so she wouldn’t have to trouble Song Rushuang repeatedly.

“And the unopened rice and flour,” Grandma Zhang added, pointing at the supplies on the floor. “I planned for you to take them home next time you visited. You said you’re always busy with work and don’t have time to shop, and Yaya ends up eating takeout with you. So I thought I’d buy them for you. Wouldn’t it be convenient to just take them back? You drove here anyway, so moving them wouldn’t be hard. And the shopping apps really were cheap. If you bought enough, there were discounts.”

Under normal circumstances, Zhao Ya would probably have complained.

These things were heavy. Carrying them back herself would be inconvenient when delivery existed. Even with discounts, how much money could she really save? Why haul so much across cities?

And buying so much at once clearly meant her mother, new to online shopping, had gone on a spending spree like those old TV shopping channels.

But now Zhao Ya felt tears welling up.

Yaya ate very little, and Grandma Zhang didn’t eat much either. The three of them together probably consumed only what two adults would. These supplies could sustain them for a very, very long time.

As she counted everything, she realized there was even more hidden deep inside the cupboards, all brand new packages. Her mother must have realized she had bought too much and hidden some in advance out of embarrassment.

Now that everything had been uncovered, Grandma Zhang turned her head awkwardly. “Let’s go store some water first. You said those people infect others by biting. It’s probably some kind of contagious disease. Who knows if the water supply might get contaminated later. Better to prepare.”

“The soybeans and mung beans can be soaked and sprouted. If we stay home long enough without fresh vegetables, we can eat those. If we don’t have enough containers, there are plastic bottles I’ve saved on the balcony. Just cut them open and they’ll work.”

Zhao Ya remembered the pile of “junk” her mother kept on the balcony.

She didn’t rummage through trash outside, but every plastic bottle, bucket, cardboard box, and scrap paper used at home was washed clean and saved until there was enough to sell.

If gas stopped working, paper could be burned for fire, and plastic bottles could serve as containers. When leaving the house wasn’t possible, none of it was trash. Everything could be repurposed.

Zhao Ya had never felt so grateful for her mother’s habits of stockpiling and saving recyclables.

Of course, she still hoped those “just in case” scenarios were only her imagination.

After walking through the apartment, Zhao Ya finally felt her heart settle. Then she thought about her own home in another city and realized they had almost nothing stored.

She and Yaya went to the supermarket once every week or two, buying only fresh produce and food for the coming days. Even rice was bought in small bags because they couldn’t finish it. Aside from seasonings and toilet paper, they had no habit of stockpiling.

That lifestyle wasn’t wrong, but in an emergency, if they were trapped at home, they might not even last a week.

And what would happen then was something Zhao Ya didn’t dare imagine.

After hesitating for a long time, she finally apologized honestly. “Mom, I’m sorry. I was too busy last time we talked on the phone and in a bad mood. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please don’t be angry with me.”

She was no longer a child. Her own daughter was already grown enough to understand things. She had prepared herself mentally before coming but hadn’t known how to begin.

Yet once the words were spoken, she realized apologizing wasn’t so difficult after all.

Grandma Zhang rolled her eyes. “Do you think I’d really stay mad at you?”

Even as she said it, a smile crept onto her face.

Zhao Ya smiled too, but thinking of the chaos outside quickly wiped it away. “Still, you really had incredible foresight. Stocking all this at just the right time, and the security door…”

“That wasn’t my foresight. You should thank Xiaoshuang,” Grandma Zhang said, shaking her head. “Didn’t I tell you before? She helped me install the shopping apps. She said living alone made grocery trips inconvenient, so she taught me how to use them.”

“I learn slowly, so while she was home during summer break, she helped me buy a lot of things first. Saved me so much trouble.”

Grandma Zhang truly liked Song Rushuang. Translated on Hololo novels. Once she started talking about her, she couldn’t stop.

“The security bars and door were her idea too. She suggested everyone install them together. Oh right, I didn’t tell you. Not long ago a child in our complex nearly fell from a building…”

Grandma Zhang recounted Song Rushuang’s heroic deeds in detail, including organizing a safety lecture with local police and arranging installation of security doors and window bars.

Zhao Ya listened in stunned disbelief. “…Xiaoshuang just started college, right?”

She remembered Song Rushuang’s excellent exam scores. Smart, athletic, brave enough to climb buildings to save someone, kind to elderly neighbors, courageous and compassionate… How had her parents raised such an outstanding child?

Come to think of it, what had Zhao Ya herself been doing at eighteen or nineteen?

The thought made her face burn. Compared not only to her younger self but even to her current self, Song Rushuang seemed more accomplished.

While Zhao Ya was away, Song Rushhuang had quietly done so much for her mother.

And every single one of those actions was helping their family now.

Whether coincidence or not, if they ended up trapped for a long time, Song Rushhuang’s actions would truly count as life-saving kindness.

And she hadn’t helped only their family.

Zhao Ya silently resolved that once everything was over, she would personally visit to thank her.

Then her expression suddenly changed. “Wait. I just saw messages saying things overseas are chaotic too?”

Her younger brother Zhao Liang lived in Country A.

Grandma Zhang panicked. “Quick, call him and ask what’s happening.”

Zhao Ya didn’t need reminding. She had already initiated a video call. But it rang for a long time with no answer.

The two exchanged a glance, their faces turning pale.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 94: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Zhang Han and Sun Wei also used the chance to tidy their rooms privately to explain the apocalypse to their parents.

Because the three families had already witnessed the girls’ abilities firsthand, as well as the situation outside, they accepted the truth quickly.

And since their current environment felt safe, although they were still afraid, they were far calmer than they had been outside or while watching videos in the cafeteria.

They even found themselves recalling the girls’ earlier behavior.

Zhang Han’s fake crying, Song Rushuang’s serious-faced nonsense, and Sun Wei’s so-called “startup plan”…

So it had all been acting. All lies.

The parents didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Liu Zhen even poked Zhang Han’s forehead and said bluntly, “Quite the schemer. Used all your tricks on your own parents.”

The complaint sounded affectionate rather than angry.

If the girls hadn’t gone to such lengths, their households wouldn’t have stockpiled so many supplies. Running out of food at a critical moment could mean death.

Liao Yahui and Sun Miao suddenly remembered the supplies left behind halfway and began to worry, but Sun Wei tugged at their sleeves and explained that she had handed the truck keys to the principal.

“There’s already a lot stored in the underground cold storage and supply rooms. The school also has farmland and a breeding farm, enough food for us. Once the fresh meat is brought back, we’ll keep a small portion and share the rest with my classmates,” she said quietly.

“Go ahead and share it,” Liao Yahui said, gradually calming after the shock of witnessing a driver’s death. “If your principal hadn’t helped, the truck’s contents wouldn’t have made it back anyway.”

“We’re not short on food for now. And the cold storage you described probably can’t hold that much meat anyway. It’ll spoil quickly outside. Better to distribute it.”

Neither Liao Yahui nor Sun Miao felt reluctant.

On one hand, although they understood rationally that the outside world was dangerous, psychologically they hadn’t fully adjusted yet and didn’t feel overly possessive about food. Translated on Hololo novels. On the other hand, Sun Wei had already said she wasn’t the only one bringing supplies back.

She herself had received plenty of help from classmates, otherwise she couldn’t have stockpiled so much.

In the future, everyone would have to live together long-term. Only if the shelter as a whole became stronger could their own family survive longer.

These were things they understood clearly.

Seeing how quickly her parents accepted everything, the long speech Sun Wei had prepared to persuade them remained unsaid. She only silently disagreed with the first point in her heart.

Even without the principal’s help, if they had called Song Rushuang and the others and made another trip, they probably could have brought the truck back safely.

Her parents still didn’t fully understand how capable they really were.

But that was fine. There would be plenty of time for them to see in the future.

Talking about the girls’ earlier preparations reminded the parents of relatives and friends still outside the school.

Who knew whether they had encountered those biting monsters…

The thought made everyone anxious.

“I’ll make a call,” Liao Yahui suddenly said, her expression changing as she stood and moved to a corner. She dialed her secretary.

She ordered that everyone who had come in for weekend overtime leave immediately and return home. All employees were to exit the company within ten minutes.

Starting Monday, the entire company would begin paid leave, with the return date to be announced later.

“Tell them to be careful on the way home. Those with cars should give rides to coworkers who live nearby. Avoid public transportation if possible. Also, let them divide up any remaining food from the restaurant, R&D department, and sample rooms and take it with them. It’s dangerous outside. No one knows how long they’ll have to stay home, so anyone without food should prepare some.”

There were still quite a few people working overtime in such a large company. Liao Yahui spoke rapidly, then emphasized again, “Take whatever can be taken. Don’t leave anything behind.”

Who knew how long that office building would stand empty in the future.

They worked in the food industry. Food was the one thing they had plenty of. Translated on Hololo novels. She had specifically mentioned departments with larger food reserves, but in reality even break rooms, meeting rooms, and office refrigerators were stocked with snacks. Grabbing some could provide crucial calories and sugar when supplies ran out.

Taking that food meant employees wouldn’t have to risk going outside to stockpile supplies themselves.

The secretary on the other end stayed silent for a long moment before hurriedly agreeing. After hanging up, she let out a long breath.

The company was already in chaos. Few people were actually working anymore. Everyone was glued to their phones, growing more anxious with every scroll.

Yet almost no one dared simply grab their bags and leave.

When Liao Yahui suddenly announced leave at this moment, the secretary felt both shocked and deeply moved. She had been quietly following social media too and knew that almost no schools or companies had announced closures yet. Liao Yahui’s decision clearly placed employees’ lives first.

Having a boss like this felt like pure luck.

There wasn’t even time for an emergency meeting. After sending out the notice, worried people would pack too slowly, she called the security manager and ordered guards to go department by department urging evacuation.

“The faster the better!” she stressed.

…

While Liao Yahui contacted the company, Sun Miao called relatives from both sides of the family.

Other parents also began calling friends and relatives, confirming everyone’s safety while carefully avoiding revealing too much information. Instead, they hinted indirectly, urging people to find safe shelter quickly and prepare food and water.

Fortunately, much of this preparation had already been encouraged by Song Rushhuang and the others during the summer. Nearly every household already had food supplies. One of Sun Wei’s cousins had even canceled an overseas vacation after listening to her advice and was now safely staying home, feeling immensely relieved.

At the time, Sun Wei’s excuse had been that the country might soon experience a major earthquake, even backing it up with news articles.

“But experts say that every year anyway.”

At this point, though, no one cared about the truth anymore.

All that remained was gratitude toward Sun Wei, Zhang Han, and the others.

The calls went surprisingly smoothly, and they received many expressions of thanks. When everyone finally put down their phones, the tension weighing on their hearts eased at last.

The only person whose expression remained grim was Song Jianguo.

His call had been to his younger brother, Song Aiguo. Only then did he learn that his brother’s family of three was trapped at Song Xiang’s school.

When Song Rushuang had been warning people earlier, she hadn’t forgotten her cousin’s family. Even if she didn’t particularly like them, she wouldn’t deliberately leave them out. But perhaps resentment from the earlier pedestrian street surveillance incident still lingered, because her cousin responded with extreme indifference.

Song Rushhuang had tried several excuses without success. In the end, she could only buy supplies and send them under Song Jianguo’s name.

Since Song Jianguo often sent things to his brother anyway, it raised no suspicion. Song Aiguo accepted the free items without hesitation and didn’t even say thank you, leaving Song Rushhuang, who had secretly borrowed her father’s phone to delete the messages afterward, speechless for quite a while.

She had previously checked and learned that her cousin’s family had no travel plans that day, and Song Xiang’s school term didn’t start for another week. Why had all three gone to the school today?

Song Xiang’s school was located downtown, where buildings were densely packed and crowds far heavier than at Fangzhou. Saying they were trapped there was probably no exaggeration.

Song Rushuang frowned as she listened. “Going to school today… he wasn’t going early for a makeup exam, was he?”

She couldn’t believe it.

He was only a freshman, and Song Xiang already needed a makeup exam?

No wonder when she’d asked around before, Song Xiang’s family had all kept it from her, only saying they’d be staying home today. So it wasn’t that they didn’t know, they were just too embarrassed to say it.

Song Rushuang’s guess made even Song Jianguo flare up in anger. “That kid!”

He paced in anxious circles. Xu Mingyu and Song Rushuang exchanged a look, and Song Rushuang spoke first. “There probably aren’t many people taking makeup exams. And if I remember right, Song Xiang’s school isn’t open to the public. Once they shut the gates, if they just stay inside, it’s still relatively safe. Better to take advantage of the fact that there aren’t many infected yet and hurry to the campus convenience store to buy supplies and keep them in the dorm.”

“Right, right. I’ll tell Aiguo now,” Song Jianguo said, nodding repeatedly. Then he remembered something and hesitated, as if wanting to speak but holding it back.

Xu Mingyu, blunt as ever, said, “You’re not thinking of having Xiaoshuang go pick them up, are you? I’m telling you, impossible.”

“And you remember, Xiaoshuang called so many relatives before, even went to people’s homes. She’s already done more than enough. They’re the ones who didn’t listen.” Just thinking about it made Xu Mingyu furious. She clearly remembered passing by once and hearing them talking to Song Rushuang in that same sneering, sarcastic tone.

That familiar, annoying voice. Xu Mingyu had heard it too many times dealing with that family. Translated on Hololo novels. She had wanted to snatch the phone and hang up on the spot. Now she didn’t bother to hide it at all.

“Besides, Xiaoshuang said this shelter has a limited number of slots. We can’t take that many people in.”

Song Jianguo also grew urgent. “That’s not what I mean, and the city is too dangerous. There’s no way I’d let Xiaoshuang go. I’m just wondering if I could drive over myself and take them home.”

Song Aiguo had said earlier that parking near the school was difficult, and their family had taken a taxi there. Otherwise they wouldn’t have ended up trapped.

Xu Mingyu was about to argue again, but Song Rushuang had already opened a map app and handed it to Song Jianguo.

The area around Song Xiang’s school was jammed into a solid red mass.

“Driving there now would be suicide. Let them hide at school for now,” Song Rushuang said. “Have them stockpile supplies. A dorm building with few people is actually safer than a residential neighborhood.”

Many school buildings were functional, classrooms, sports fields, landscaping. They took up a huge area. The only places people truly lived were the dorms. As long as few people returned to campus, a school could actually be quite safe.

Even after some time passed and people went out to scavenge supplies, a campus wouldn’t be their first choice.

After Song Rushuang explained, Song Jianguo finally calmed down a bit. “Right. Tell them to be careful. At least they’re together as a family. Xiaoxiang isn’t little anymore. He can protect himself.”

He convinced himself and made the call.

He pleaded and warned them again and again over the phone, then hung up still uneasy, unable to stop himself from letting out a tired sigh.

A younger brother in his forties, and somehow he was more worrying than his teenage daughter. Truly…

The Shi household.

Shi Guangyao’s trembling hands could barely hold his phone anymore.

That principal hadn’t been wrong. She hadn’t lied. The apocalypse had really arrived.

At 2:30, exactly as she said, not even a second off. The trending list exploded within minutes. Even as automated moderation kept deleting posts, some bloody footage still began spreading online, yanking him instantly back into that terrifying afternoon.

If one prophecy had come true, then what about the rest?

Would humanity really go extinct within five years?

…How much longer could he live??

He didn’t want to die. He was still so young. He’d worked so hard, repeating a year just to get into university, and his new life was only just beginning. If he’d known… if he’d known it was all real, he never would have studied so miserably this past year… There was so much he still wanted to do, so much he hadn’t enjoyed yet…

Without realizing it, tears rolled down Shi Guangyao’s face.

From downstairs came the faint sounds of an argument, then screams. A commotion rose outside the bedroom door.

Shi’s father spoke first. “What’s going on? Are people fighting outside?”

Shi’s mother said, “Should we go down and take a look? Don’t let it disturb Guangyao…”

They deliberately kept their voices low while speaking. Shi Guangyao had been emotionally off all day, and they were afraid the noise downstairs would set him off again.

Shi Guangyao shuddered. Fear flooded his chest.

Zombies. It had to be zombies. Even their apartment complex had zombies now!

He stopped crying at once, burst out of his room, and shouted at his stunned parents, “No one goes out! No one leaves the house!”

“From now on, seal the doors and windows. We hide at home. We never go out again.”

Shi’s mother was at a loss. “What’s wrong? I went out this morning and it was fine… How about we go outside together, get some sun, clear our heads?”

When she went out to buy groceries that morning, Shi Guangyao, who’d stayed up late, had happened to be asleep and didn’t know.

Hearing that she’d gone out today, Shi Guangyao’s face twisted. He roared, “Who allowed you to go out?”

His expression turned dark. He yanked his mother toward him with force, forgetting entirely that the virus only broke out in the afternoon. He shoved up her sleeves and inspected her skin inch by inch, even trying to force her to take off her clothes.

“Do you have any wounds? Were you hurt?” Shi Guangyao demanded, over and over, like a madman.

His nerves had already been stretched to the brink by a year of torment, one thread away from snapping, and the zombie downstairs was the final straw that broke him.

Shi’s father reacted, gritting his teeth as he shoved his son away. “Calm down!”

Shi’s mother, hair in disarray, was stunned rigid with fear. She looked at the cherished son she’d raised from childhood with a strange, unfamiliar gaze.

Shi Guangyao, shoved back, steadied himself and glared at them. “Outside is already chaos. If you want to die, don’t drag me with you! Whoever goes out, I’ll lock the door from the inside and you’ll never come back.”

The screams downstairs grew even more violent, mixed with heart-rending sobs. Shi’s parents finally realized something was wrong. They rushed to the window and looked down, their faces changing drastically.

Meanwhile Shi Guangyao walked straight into the small room next door, turned the key in the lock, bolted it from the inside, then pulled the key out and slipped it into his pocket.

Their home had an extra north-facing guest room, usually unused, treated like a storage room. The supplies they’d bought earlier and yesterday were temporarily piled inside.

Shi’s parents had collapsed to the floor, nauseated by what they’d seen downstairs. Their minds had stopped working. They only stared blankly as Shi Guangyao finished doing all this.

“From today on, what we do at home, what we eat, all of it is up to me,” Shi Guangyao said, his face set. “We don’t have much. We have to ration, or we won’t last long.”

As for going out while zombie numbers were still low to find supplies, Shi Guangyao, already scared out of his wits, didn’t have that courage at all.

He had no combat ability. The only thing he could do was hide at home and survive one day at a time.

Thinking of that, he couldn’t help recalling the two girls he’d run into yesterday, Song Rushuang and Zhang Han.

If it were them, they probably wouldn’t be afraid to face zombies.

If he had stayed at Fangzhou back then, maybe he would know more, maybe he could live longer…

Shi Guangyao’s rage flared again.

There was no “if.” His chance to live had been cut off a year ago by Fu Qing. She had sent him down the road to death.

He cursed her in his heart, viciously, but he knew it was useless. No matter how much he hated her, it wouldn’t change anything. He had to rely on the supplies at home to hold on.

Unfortunately, yesterday’s time had been tight. He hadn’t bought much, and now there were two more mouths to feed…

Shi Guangyao glanced subtly at his parents huddled together. His expression didn’t change much as he gave a grim command. “Now go find containers in the house. Fill the bathtub, the fish tank, the basins, everything with water.”

Power and water would fail soon, but he didn’t know when. He could only prepare as early as possible.

Shi’s parents hurried to obey.

Watching their backs as they left, Shi Guangyao slipped a hand into his pocket, touched the key, and clenched it tight.

He hadn’t said it, and he never would.

Besides the storage room, there were several boxes of instant noodles and bottled water under his bed. Whenever anxiety or nightmares hit, he would climb down and drag them out, counting them one by one before he could sleep again.

With those, plus what was in the storage room, he could live a long time.

Longer than anyone else.

A sudden streak of ruthless hardness flashed through Shi Guangyao’s empty eyes.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 93: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Song Rushuang and the other two brought their parents back to the dormitory.

The four-person dorm was spotless. All personal belongings the students had once brought, along with decorations from the walls and furniture, had been cleared away. Even the bathroom tiles had been polished until they reflected light like mirrors. The single beds were left with nothing but bare bedboards.

The parents walked around the dorm twice, then turned back in disbelief. “This is your dorm?”

“You really lived here for a whole year?”

It didn’t look like it at all.

Song Rushuang felt a little embarrassed and glanced around as well. It seemed the four who had lived here before leaving must have scrubbed even the grout between the tiles, otherwise it couldn’t possibly be this clean. Even investigators wouldn’t be able to find a single trace of evidence.

You really couldn’t underestimate the standards of people their age.

“This isn’t our old dorm. It’s where we’ll be living from now on,” Song Rushuang said, picking up luggage from beside the door. “I brought mattresses and blankets. Let’s tidy up a bit.”

Only then did everyone notice that only Song Rushuang’s luggage was placed behind the door.

They were confused. Where had that little robot put Zhang Han’s luggage?

Zhang Han and Sun Wei spoke up at the right moment. “Mom, Dad, we’re living next door.”

“We’re not sleeping here. Come with us.”

They shook the keys in their hands. Each keychain had a tag, one labeled 403, the other 405.

Song Rushuang’s family was staying in 402.

After summer break, the dorms had been reassigned.

Since students were no longer returning alone, rooms were now allocated by individual student units. Each person had a private room, with room size determined by exchange quotas. Because teaching buildings had also been converted into residential areas, former classrooms were remodeled into rooms of varying sizes. Those with two to three quotas could stay in standard dorms, while those with four quotas could apply to live in larger rooms converted from classrooms.

Rooms divided from the same classroom had slightly poorer soundproofing, and washing required using the shared restrooms and showers on each floor, making them less convenient than dorms. However, since families living together sometimes needed private space, the larger rooms allowed residents to install partitions and create smaller independent living areas. For that reason, many students still chose to move into the teaching buildings.

As for the underground emergency shelters, the lack of sunlight and oppressive atmosphere made them unsuitable for now. Since there were still enough rooms above ground, Fu Qing temporarily used them as additional storage.

Only when absolutely necessary would people move underground.

The advantage of living in the underground shelters was that there were only a few escape routes. Once sealed, zombies would find it extremely difficult to break in. Even special zombies could not force open the heavy civil defense doors through brute strength.

As long as intelligent infected did not appear, those inside would be completely safe. With stored food and supplies, surviving for several months would not be a problem.

The downside was that just as outsiders couldn’t enter, those inside couldn’t leave either. It was destined to be a last-resort escape option.

Song Rushuang and Sun Wei, one with excellent grades and the other with bonus points from the publicity group, technically qualified for the larger classroom rooms.

But the group of four didn’t want to separate, so they chose to stay together.

Living next door to friends made days without being able to go outside much more bearable.

Situations like this were common across campus. Fu Qing didn’t restrict students from applying to switch dorms either. Translated on Hololo novels. Staying long-term in a high-pressure, enclosed environment easily led to psychological problems. In the future, she even planned to convert the currently unused gymnasium into an activity space.

As for the athletic field, when the construction shop had first unlocked a year ago, Fu Qing had originally intended to turn it into farmland. But after fully developing the western plains, she realized the cultivated area was already large enough. Combined with plans to convert the artificial lake into a breeding farm later, the field was left as it was.

The realistic training zombies and various equipment moved out of the gym wouldn’t go unused either. Once the students had mastered their training, they could use them to train the parents.

Even the instructors were ready-made, one per family, responsibility assigned household by household. If any parent fell behind, it would reflect poorly on their child. With that alone, students wouldn’t dare slack off while teaching.

Otherwise, when everyone else’s parents had learned how to kill zombies while their own hadn’t, they wouldn’t even have the face to meet their classmates.

Of course, the parents still had no idea what awaited them.

After Zhang Han and Sun Wei left with their parents, only Song Rushuang’s family remained in the dorm.

Three people in a four-person dorm felt quite spacious, and there was even a private bathroom. The loft beds had desks underneath. The desks could be used for meals and storage, and anything that didn’t fit could be placed on the extra bed.

Song Rushuang, who had lived in dorms for a year, was very satisfied with these conditions. But Xu Mingyu and Song Jianguo found everything slightly uncomfortable.

It had been so long since they were students, yet now they were back to sleeping on ninety-centimeter-wide hard beds and bunk frames. Especially Song Jianguo, whose slight beer belly made it hard even to turn over on the bed.

Of course, given the circumstances, they wouldn’t complain openly. Still, speaking among family, they didn’t bother hiding their thoughts.

Song Jianguo tapped the upper bunk’s railing, looking worried. “In the middle of the night… I won’t fall off this thing, right?”

Song Rushuang, still tidying without looking up, replied, “The conditions here are already very good. Don’t ask for too much.”

Song Jianguo choked, half laughing, half speechless.

That line… sounded awfully familiar.

If he said one more thing, she’d probably follow up with, “If everyone else can live here, why can’t you?”

Thinking of that, he immediately shut his mouth. “It’s great, really great. Much better than when we were young.”

Just hopefully not for too long…

He silently added that last part in his heart.

The family of three quickly finished arranging the pillows and bedding Song Rushuang had brought. Only then did Xu Mingyu realize that Song Rushuang had brought exactly three sets of blankets.

Calling it coincidence would be far too forced.

Blankets weren’t like clothes. Buying extra just in case made little sense. For a local student to struggle carrying three sets of bedding to campus was clearly unreasonable.

She had obviously prepared them for Xu Mingyu and Song Jianguo.

And since Song Rushuang had asked them to help tidy up, she clearly had no intention of hiding it any longer, simply waiting for them to notice and ask themselves.

There was also the matter of the dorm itself. When they returned earlier, Song Rushuang and the others had retrieved their room keys directly from the key cabinet downstairs. No staff member had assigned rooms, nor had anyone explained the arrangements. If this were temporary housing, why hadn’t Xu Mingyu, who had barely left Song Rushhuang’s side since returning to campus, heard any instructions?

And it wasn’t just Song Rushhuang. Zhang Han, Sun Wei, and even passing students all wore expressions far too calm compared to the anxious parents beside them.

Everyone lined up to collect their keys, quiet and orderly the entire time, as if guided by an unspoken understanding.

Yet the parents had no idea when or how that shared understanding had formed.

Since the outbreak of the madness, since the school lockdown and the moment everyone fell into panic, it had consistently been the students comforting the parents more often than the reverse. It felt as though family and social roles had quietly reversed, and in the face of disaster, the adults had unconsciously begun relying on their more dependable children.

But when had they become so dependable?

When had they secretly prepared spare clothes and bedding? When had they cleaned the dorms, changed living arrangements? When had they accepted the arrival of the apocalypse and forged such strong bodies and minds?

Xu Mingyu stared at the bloodstains on Song Rushuang’s clothes, lost in thought.

Song Rushuang had already opened her suitcase, taking out three separately packed toothbrushes and pairs of slippers and setting them aside. Translated on Hololo novels. She pulled out a change of clothes for herself, preparing to change out of the dirty ones first.

Then she handed a bag to Xu Mingyu. “Mom, there aren’t partitions where we’re staying. If you want privacy, you can hang bed curtains. There are three inside. Ask Dad to help set them up… Mom?”

Xu Mingyu stared blankly down at the plastic bag.

Three bed curtains. There was no pretending anymore.

She grabbed Song Rushuang’s hand and stared straight into her eyes. “Xiaoshuang, tell me honestly. Do you know something?”

“Did you already know this madness would break out outside?”

Thinking of all the people who had died, Xu Mingyu’s hand trembled slightly.

If Song Rushuang really knew, then why did she know?

Did all of this have something to do with her, with Fangzhou School?

She didn’t want to think that way, yet she was afraid of the answer, looking at her daughter with anxious pleading.

Seeing the pain and fear in Xu Mingyu’s eyes, Song Rushuang froze for a moment, then quickly understood what her mother was thinking. She couldn’t help a helpless smile, mixed with a trace of tenderness.

Xu Mingyu and the others now were so similar to themselves a year ago. After the entrance simulation exam, she too had once suspected the principal. The forums had filled with conspiracy theories before everyone gradually let go of their doubts. So she couldn’t blame Xu Mingyu for overthinking.

Things like “rebirth” were difficult even for young people to accept, let alone elders.

Without knowing more information, seeing their group predict the apocalypse in advance and prepare for survival would sound suspicious even to Song Rushuang herself.

She squeezed her mother’s hand reassuringly. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Song Jianguo had slowed his packing as well, and couldn’t help smiling faintly.

After going outside and witnessing her ruthlessness in killing zombies firsthand, he must have had even more questions bottled up than Xu Mingyu. It was impressive he had endured this long and even helped cover for her in the cafeteria.

After a brief pause, Song Rushuang spoke slowly. “Mom, Dad, it’s not madness. It’s an extremely contagious virus.”

“Dad saw it too. The infected lose their reason like zombies in movies and attack people violently, so we all call it the zombie virus. Even after becoming decayed corpses, the infected can still move. Some of them even undergo special mutations, becoming faster and stronger. Without weapons, ordinary people can hardly kill them.”

“The virus is highly lethal. Once someone is bitten, they mutate as well. At that point they may still look human, but they’re no longer alive. Animals also have a certain chance of infection.”

“Because the incubation period varies, even the smallest wound that comes into contact with zombie saliva carries a risk of infection. Infected individuals have already appeared worldwide. Next comes a phase where transmission will spiral out of control, and infection numbers will multiply rapidly.”

“Mom, Dad, this is no longer a peaceful society. From the moment the first zombie video was uploaded this afternoon, whether we accept it or not, life won’t return to what it was for a very long time.”

The hand she held trembled, damp with sweat. Song Rushuang didn’t let go. Looking directly into Xu Mingyu’s eyes, she continued, “So we have to prepare to stay at school long-term. If we want to survive, our family has to work together.”

“The people currently in the school, and those who will come seeking refuge later, are mostly my classmates and their families. Everyone knows one another. Compared to ordinary shelters, this place will be far more stable and safe. If we stick together, we can survive for a long time.”

She gently shook her mother’s arm. “Mom, do you trust me?”

Xu Mingyu and Song Jianguo’s faces were pale. After a long silence, Xu Mingyu finally forced out a sentence. “Xiaoshuang… but how do you know all this?”

“Even the news hasn’t reported this information.”

How did you know?

Xu Mingyu felt uneasy, yet Song Rushuang spoke with such clarity and certainty that she already believed most of it.

If anyone else stood before them proclaiming the apocalypse, they would probably call that person insane, or at least verify everything first. They would never simply believe whatever was said.

But this was Song Rushhuang.

She was their daughter. How could they not believe her?

If they didn’t believe her, who else could they believe?

Song Rushhuang hesitated. “I can’t say.”

The principal’s experiences were too extraordinary. The more people who knew, the more dangerous it would be for her. Besides, without experiencing it firsthand, few would believe it anyway.

They hadn’t even seen holographic technology yet.

“All I can say is that the teachers and students here are absolutely trustworthy. We really did know about the apocalypse ahead of time. Everything we’ve done over the past year was preparation for this day, preparation to save more people.”

“But before today actually arrived, we had to keep it secret. Because besides us, there’s another group watching closely. They want to ensure the virus outbreak happens. We weren’t strong enough before. If we provoked them, it would’ve been too dangerous.”

She vaguely referred to the Believers, covering for the unseen force, likely connected to the principal, that prevented them from revealing the truth.

After finishing, she asked again, “Are you willing to trust me and stand by my side?”

Xu Mingyu and Song Jianguo exchanged a glance.

Song Rushhuang’s words solved the mysteries that had lingered in their minds for days. Her recent changes, why she had dragged them into exercise all summer, why she encouraged Grandma Zhang and other elderly neighbors to stockpile supplies and install security bars.

Their daughter had always been kind. They had always known that. And now there was proof.

“How could we not trust you?” Xu Mingyu said, forcing a smile.

Her emotions were too heavy for it to last, but Song Rushhuang still felt the comfort and tenderness within it, and her whole body suddenly relaxed.

Song Jianguo stepped forward and patted her shoulder.

He didn’t know what to say. His lips moved before settling into a sigh. “You’ve worked hard.”

Even without those “enemies,” if Song Rushhuang had started shouting months or a year ago that the apocalypse was coming, no one would have believed her.

Before seeing everything unfold with their own eyes, she and her classmates would only have been dismissed as delusional kids obsessed with novels.

So her parents couldn’t possibly blame her for keeping secrets. Instead, they could only imagine how difficult this past year must have been, carrying everything silently alone.

The more they thought about it, the more their hearts ached.

Fortunately, she had her classmates, companions who shared her purpose, close roommates who stood with her.

In fact, thinking carefully, if she hadn’t entered this school, they would never have known any of this. Today might have passed like any ordinary day, until they were suddenly attacked like countless ordinary people on the streets, caught completely unprepared by the apocalypse.

In that sense, Fangzhou had saved them.

Blinking, they looked around the dorm again, thinking of Principal Fu Qing. Their mindset had completely changed, now filled with gratitude.

Their expressions shifted rapidly, shock, lingering fear, absent-minded staring. Their emotions were painfully easy to read.

Watching them, Song Rushhuang couldn’t help recalling simulation scenarios where the apocalypse began on day one. Back then, when she played the protagonist trying to convince strangers the end had come, it had never been this easy.

Her parents’ faces held worry, shock, and tenderness, but none of the suspicion or disgust she had grown used to seeing.

This was Fangzhou’s natural advantage. Everyone who entered had been personally chosen by the students. Whether family or friends, there was already a foundation of trust. Especially the parents who arrived first, they were among the least likely people in the apocalypse to ever betray you.

In such a shelter, there would be far less suspicion and internal conflict.

Some people might not believe their children immediately, but most were not acting out of malice.

Given time, everyone in the shelter would eventually unite as one.

The Fangzhou of the future would be far more united and powerful than any official or unofficial shelter, whether yet to be built, already standing, or destined to fall.

Song Rushhuang was certain of it.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 92: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

The livestream chat was so shocked that, for a moment, the comments dropped by more than half.

A close-up shot captured the instant of the zombie’s death. The unblurred wound, and Fu Qing’s completely unhesitating movements, hit them with tremendous impact.

Even the other four people in the small on-screen window couldn’t help baring their teeth and wincing where the viewers couldn’t see.

The principal was simply too ruthless, too direct. Without warning, she dragged an audience that still hadn’t understood what was happening straight into the brutal atmosphere of the apocalypse, making them inexplicably think of how they themselves had been thrown into a fully realistic mock exam the moment they enrolled.

Some clueless passersby wandered in by mistake and were scared half to death, thinking they’d stumbled into some kind of illegal livestream.

[??? What is this, “how to kill people” lessons?]

[Mom, can we broadcast this in our country now? Did the internet cleanup campaign forget to tell you?]

[Weren’t we promised a college-student comedy skit account?! Why is it this hardcore every time the mysterious guest shows up?!]

[It’s summer break and my little brother and sister are playing at my place. They accidentally saw the stream and got scared into crying. Now they’re wailing in my ears on both sides. I can’t calm them down, what do I do TOT……]

But some people watching felt something was off.

[This is an outdoor stream. There are so many people and cars in the background, there’s no way this is just for effect, right? And you can’t even do special effects on a live stream.]

[I have a terrifying guess if you think about it. This can’t be real… can it?]

[I’m watching the stream on my computer and still scrolling news on my phone. The “zombies” TaoTao filmed look exactly the same as the ones in the news. You can’t screenshot the stream, so I suggest everyone search for the blogger “@YangyangLovesToEat.” She posted a video five minutes ago: someone in a barbecue shop got attacked by a crazed person and grabbed a metal skewer nearby and jammed it into the attacker’s face. A few skewers went into the eyes and that person stopped moving immediately. Maybe the brain really is the only weakness for this thing.]

[Uh, I have a question and I’m not sure I should ask, but even if it’s not some zombie, a normal person would stop moving if you stabbed their brain too… I mean, that’s the brain! Not an elbow!]

[Damn it, don’t make me laugh at a time like this. I can’t laugh anymore.]

[No, what I meant is “only” weakness… You’ll understand if you watch a few more videos. This thing is insanely terrifying. It can fall from the third floor and still bounce back up like nothing happened, chasing people down to bite them. Even if its spine breaks, it doesn’t stop it from looking at normal people with glowing green eyes. It’s the middle of summer and I’m breaking out in cold sweat watching this.]

[Is it really that scary? My classmate sent me something just now and I thought he was joking. Don’t scare me.]

[So what the mysterious guest said is true? She really wants to teach us how to kill this thing?]

[I’m going to lose it. These “things” are just humans except they’ve lost their minds. How can you bring yourself to do it? Are we even living in the same civilized society?]

[To the person above, didn’t you see people getting bitten and dying on the spot from severe injuries? It’s not that learning this means you have to go out and kill people, but at least you need to know how to protect yourself if you really run into something.]

[+1, I think that’s what the streamer means too.]

[Am I the only one curious how the mysterious guest even knows this thing’s weakness? It’s been less than half an hour since posts started popping up everywhere!]

[……]

In just half an hour, too much had happened. The overwhelming flood of reports and posts, plus the bloody scene unfolding live in front of them, set everyone’s nerves on fire.

People argued. Others spiraled, repeatedly questioning and confirming. Some were so frightened they quit the stream outright, as if not watching meant they wouldn’t have to face any of it.

Only a small fraction, through the livestream, truly realized how severe the situation outside was.

Most other content online was one- or two-minute clips. The people filming were in chaos, barely able to protect themselves, and didn’t dare record for long. That made a streamer like Sun Wei, who had kept her livestream running the entire time, especially valuable.

Like a war correspondent.

Silently grateful, they tried to enlarge Sun Wei’s stream, not daring to miss any scrap of intelligence it might reveal, replaying Fu Qing’s words over and over in their minds.

But before long, the livestream was abruptly cut off.

On the truck, Sun Wei fiddled with her phone for a long time, then looked up awkwardly at Fu Qing. “Principal, the stream got shut down.”

Fu Qing: “……”

The apocalypse had only arrived half an hour ago, and the platform’s moderators were still doing their jobs as usual.

There was nothing to be done. What had just been shown couldn’t even be described as “skirting the line.” It was dancing in a minefield.

Su Huaijin had already drafted a brief announcement explaining the situation and stating that the livestream would end here.

The comment section quickly turned into a boiling mess, but she didn’t reply anymore, focusing instead with the rest of the publicity team on preparing to escape.

Over on Song Rushuang’s side, while Fu Qing and Sun Wei were livestreaming, she and Zhang Han had already cleared all the zombies near the roadside around the truck.

By the old classifications, these were mostly low-level zombies. The most agile one had already been dragged away by Fu Qing to use as a teaching aid. Translated on Hololo novels. So with one holding a knife and the other wielding a fire axe, they were moving almost one kill per strike, smooth as chopping melons and slicing vegetables.

When the first zombie went down, Song Jianguo’s brain buzzed. His head was full of thoughts like what if his daughter had killed someone, were there cameras nearby, could he take the blame for her… until he saw a zombie tackle a child, about to bite into the carotid artery. Then he couldn’t think about any of that anymore.

That was too vicious. If it would even go for a child with lethal intent, it wasn’t human anymore.

Thankfully Song Rushuang reacted fast enough. As the zombie opened its mouth, she had already jumped behind it, grabbed it, and flung it aside. Zhang Han stepped in and finished it with an axe blow. The two turned their heads, saw the child was unharmed, and only then let out their breath.

After that, the entire scene was effectively taken over by Song Rushuang and Zhang Han. Zhang Feng and Song Jianguo stood to the side like wooden statues, completely stunned by how fierce the girls were.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to help. They were killing too fast.

Song Rushuang drove her blade again and again into the temple and the eye socket. At her fastest, she could take down a zombie in a few seconds. Song Jianguo, standing there with a blunt weapon like a fire extinguisher, couldn’t really contribute anything.

A few times he swung too hard and knocked a zombie away, which actually threw off Song Rushuang’s precision.

Catching Song Rushuang’s hesitant expressions more than once, Song Jianguo felt his old face burning hot with embarrassment.

Before leaving home, he had patted his chest and promised his wife he’d protect their daughter. Yet once they were out, he’d become his daughter’s accessory. Truly…

He also found it strange how skilled Song Rushuang was when she struck, but in a crisis, those questions clearly weren’t easy to ask.

When they finished clearing the last zombie within sight, Sun Wei also came running down from the truck with her parents.

On the way, she had taken out two more zombies stuck in cars, so she was a step slower.

After killing so many zombies, it had already become muscle memory. For the people of Fangzhou now, killing a few low-level zombies was simply a matter of convenience.

But the parents were terrified.

Even after the three girls urged them into the cars, they were still dazed and unsteady, as if they hadn’t fully come back to themselves.

Before the vehicles started up, it was Song Jianguo who thought of Fu Qing and mentioned it. “Where’s your principal? She’s not coming with us?”

“The principal will come later. She told us to go first,” Sun Wei said. “It’s fine, don’t worry about her.”

Song Jianguo was a little worried. But then he remembered the glimpse he’d caught of Fu Qing casually swaying her way into the line of cars, and somehow felt there wasn’t much to worry about after all.

She could outrun an off-road vehicle on foot and subdue a vicious criminal with her bare hands. Could he do that?

He’d only be the one dragging everyone down.

The ride back was quiet. Song Rushuang tore off a scrap of paper, meaning to wipe the blood from her hands, but after a second thought she gave up, stuffed it into her pocket, and returned to the school just like that, smeared in blood from head to toe.

In the cafeteria, Xu Mingyu and Liu Zhen had been so anxious they couldn’t sit still, constantly lifting their heads to look toward the entrance.

In the short ten or so minutes the group had been gone, the internet had erupted with even more videos. Every time they scrolled past a new one, their hearts sank another notch, and their minds filled uncontrollably with grim possibilities.

Liu Zhen’s eyes were red. She kept staring at Zhang Han’s contact on her phone, over and over, but didn’t dare call. She was afraid that if something really had happened, a phone call would only distract them. “If I’d known, I never would’ve let her go out…”

She slapped her thigh in regret, not holding back her strength. Xu Mingyu hurried over to stop her. “It’s fine. It hasn’t been long. They might be back any second.”

Xu Mingyu knew Song Rushuang’s fitness. Forget everything else, her morning training intensity had practically become a neighborhood spectacle. If something happened, she could at least run. That was why Xu Mingyu wasn’t as worried as Liu Zhen.

But she couldn’t really say that out loud, so she could only keep comforting her.

Then, the very next second, the curtain at the cafeteria entrance was pulled aside. Translated on Hololo novels. The two women snapped their heads up. When they saw their daughter and husbands, they nearly burst into tears of relief.

But before their smiles could fully form, they saw the bloodstains on Song Rushuang and Zhang Han.

Other parents in the cafeteria noticed too and cried out. Liu Zhen’s legs went weak, her vision swimming dark. She almost couldn’t stay standing.

She staggered forward to Zhang Han. “You’re hurt? Where? Let me see…”

As she spoke, a sob squeezed out of her throat, tears threatening to spill in her panic.

Among the parents there were doctors. Someone rushed over, only to see Zhang Han and Song Rushuang bounce in place twice and spread their arms. “We’re fine. Both of us.”

“This isn’t our blood.”

The way they moved didn’t look like they were injured.

Liu Zhen and Xu Mingyu looked doubtfully toward Zhang Feng and Song Jianguo. When both men nodded, only then did the souls that had flown out of their bodies seem to return.

Liu Zhen pressed a hand to her chest and collapsed onto a nearby bench. Zhang Han hurried to support her.

“What happened?” she asked, panting. “Where did all this blood come from?”

The parents who’d run over to help heard that these people had just come back from outside. They didn’t leave, instead staying to listen, studying them as they did.

The blood on the three girls was far too glaring. And seeing the adults looking half out of their minds, even before hearing anything, everyone understood that the situation outside was probably truly dire.

They’d assumed the short videos online were just isolated cases, and that they only seemed numerous because they were being posted. But now, had even the area around the school fallen?

A few people who had been loudly insisting a moment ago that they go find the principal to get permission slips to leave campus stopped making noise.

If something really happened, they couldn’t leave their children alone at school.

The students standing with them were visibly delighted, and when they looked at Song Rushuang and the others, their eyes held even more gratitude.

Song Rushuang had brought Song Jianguo and the others back to campus for exactly this reason.

What Song Jianguo and Zhang Feng, adults of the same generation as the other parents, said would carry far more weight than anything the students said.

Add Sun Wei’s parents, and with four adult witnesses, persuading the rest would become much easier.

She stepped aside. “Dad, you tell them what happened outside.”

Song Jianguo was pushed forward without warning. Quite a few people had already gathered in front of them. Everyone in the cafeteria, hearing the commotion, drifted closer, waiting for information.

A sense of responsibility rose in Song Jianguo. His expression turned more solemn as he described, in full detail, what he had seen.

When he got to the part about someone being bitten and dying on the spot from injuries that were too severe, the crowd sucked in a cold breath.

“To protect themselves, people have already started fighting back against those attackers,” Song Jianguo said, glancing at Song Rushuang as he spoke carefully. “That’s where the blood on us came from.”

“There was no choice. If you don’t fight back, you can’t get out. They’re too vicious.”

In truth, the first “person fighting back” he’d seen was that principal. And after that, it was Song Rushuang.

And the principal, after killing one zombie, went to the truck to find his daughter’s roommate, and didn’t do much more. All told, Song Rushuang had killed the most.

At the thought, Song Jianguo: “……”

He’d known Xiaoshuang was fierce, but he hadn’t imagined she was this fierce.

But fierce was good. Fierce meant you could survive, and even save people.

Thinking of the child who had only been saved because Song Rushuang reacted fast enough, Song Jianguo let out a quiet sigh.

He didn’t dare share those details. Luckily, Zhang Feng, who had been there too, immediately understood what he meant. Remembering that Zhang Han had killed plenty as well, the two men covered for the girls, one sentence at a time.

“Yeah. If you don’t act, it’ll kill you. The way they throw their lives away is terrifying.”

“Better to stay at school for a few days. Don’t go out these next few days. Wait for the police and the military to handle it.”

“Right. On that trip alone, I saw at least a dozen people dead by the roadside.”

Even as he spoke, he still felt shaken.

If Song Rushuang and Zhang Han hadn’t acted decisively, it really wasn’t certain they would’ve all come back in one piece.

Everyone had grown up in peaceful times. Who had ever seen something like this? Just hearing the description, the parents’ minds painted a river of blood, and the cafeteria erupted in alarmed chatter.

At that moment, two people walked in from outside the cafeteria. A sharp-eyed student recognized them at once and called out happily, “Teacher Lu, Teacher Xu!”

Lu Yan and Xu Mingyue had been called over by Fu Qing.

She was afraid that if she didn’t find two people to help answer questions, the parents would soon be knocking on the principal’s office door.

Granny Liu was too old. Hao Zhenye looked too fierce. Bai Tang and Zhao Yunxiao looked too much like students. Bringing any of them out would only make the parents more anxious. After weighing it all, the task finally landed on Lu Yan and Xu Mingyue.

After introducing themselves, the two continued, “Please rest assured. The school is currently safe. There are cameras near the walls and the main gate, monitoring at all times for anyone trying to break in.”

“We’ve also arranged a campus patrol team. Once everyone is settled, any parents who are willing to help can also go to the administration building to sign up with me as volunteers.” Xu Mingyue gave the address of her office.

“The cafeteria’s food reserves can last a long time. The school also has a clinic, with enough medical supplies to handle the vast majority of emergencies.” As he spoke, Lu Yan mentioned that he was the school doctor. After a brief pause, he added, “Also, if any parents here are doctors or nurses, please come register with me as well.”

As soon as he finished, several people raised their hands.

Lu Yan called them to the side, recorded their names and their children’s names, along with each person’s area of expertise, and said he would contact them if needed later.

The appearance of the two teachers calmed the anxious parents somewhat.

When they thought it through, the school had walls, places to sleep, and necessities like food and medicine. With so many people gathered together, what hardship couldn’t they get through?

In any case, this chaos couldn’t possibly last that long. If they held out a few days and waited for things to settle, they would be able to leave.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 91: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Sun Wei jumped onto the roof of the car, partly so the two people rushing over could see her clearly.

Through the car window, Song Rushuang and Zhang Han immediately locked onto the person standing at the highest point. Zhang Han quickly pulled the car to a stop as close to the truck as possible.

The three exchanged a glance. Song Rushuang waved, signaling Sun Wei to get down quickly.

Standing there was far too conspicuous. Not only had she drawn their attention, the zombies were being attracted as well.

Yet many living people were still trapped in the flow of traffic, unaware of what was happening. Over a hundred meters away, where the zombies had broken in, corpses already lay everywhere. The drivers stuck in cars ahead were still shouting angrily, blaming the vehicles in front for not moving after so long, unaware that their raised voices were only gathering more zombies around them.

Sun Wei hesitated for two seconds, glancing left and right. The small truck was practically the highest point in the entire traffic jam.

From her vantage point, she could see quite a few blocked drivers stepping out of their cars, craning their necks to look back in complete ignorance.

She cast one last glance at Song Rushuang and Zhang Han’s car, made up her mind, cupped her hands around her mouth like a megaphone, lowered her voice slightly, and shouted, “Someone’s killing people behind us! If you can run, run now! If you can’t, get back in your cars and lock the doors! Stop watching the show!!”

“Murder! Run!!”

The onlooking drivers were startled. Turning their heads, they saw a young woman standing high above, shouting herself hoarse.

Not far away, zombies were already scrambling onto car roofs on all fours, their eyes fixed directly on Sun Wei.

Song Rushuang could clearly tell that these zombies were far more agile than the “low-level zombies that appeared at the beginning of the last apocalypse” shown in the simulation pods.

Remembering what the principal had said earlier, that intermediate zombies might appear from the very start this time, her mood suddenly grew heavy, and she worried even more about Sun Wei’s safety.

Some drivers were cautious by nature, or had families with them, and didn’t dare gamble with their lives. They obediently abandoned their cars and fled.

Others relied on the safety of numbers, convinced nothing would happen. Drivers from several adjacent cars gathered together instead, clustering to watch the excitement.

Unaware that zombies loved crowds the most.

Several phones were raised high. Translated on Hololo novels. When people couldn’t capture anything interesting, they turned their cameras toward Sun Wei instead.

Thinking about how Sun Wei was risking her life to warn everyone, Zhang Han grew furious. “Are these people sick? Someone’s killing people and they’re enjoying watching it?”

Song Rushuang shook her head, already unfastening her seatbelt. “There are still people ahead who don’t know what’s happening. They probably think it’s just normal traffic. Someone really does need to warn them.”

She could see clearly that two people were still seated in the back of the truck, nervously observing the surroundings through the windows. They were likely Sun Wei’s parents.

Zombies were steadily closing in on the truck. The priority now was to get her parents out first.

She slung on her weapon bag and was about to get out when a hand suddenly shot out from the back seat and grabbed her tightly.

Song Jianguo, frantic with worry, said, “What are you doing?”

From their position on the outskirts, their view wasn’t blocked like the drivers trapped inside the traffic. At a glance, they could see people both within the traffic and along the roadside rolling on the ground in agony, their faces and bodies covered in torn wounds.

Several others staggered forward, chasing people and biting them, their deranged appearance identical to the man they had seen earlier on Fangzhou’s street.

Recalling short videos they had watched before, where people attacked in the same way, the same word surfaced in both their minds at once, zombies.

You’ve got to be kidding…

If they were still at home scrolling social media, they probably wouldn’t have believed it. But now both victims and attackers were right before their eyes, and seeing their daughter about to get involved, they had no choice but to believe, and no courage not to.

“We have to get my friend and her parents out,” Song Rushuang said directly, knowing she couldn’t persuade her father otherwise. “Come with me, Dad. Protect me. I’m scared.”

Song Jianguo could no longer refuse.

He glanced at Sun Wei, heart tightening, then steeled himself. Sweeping his eyes across the car, he grabbed a fire extinguisher to bolster both his courage and his daughter’s. “Let’s go!”

He was about to open the door when someone beside him jumped out of the car even earlier.

Fu Qing adjusted the pouch at her waist and walked toward the small truck. Song Jianguo couldn’t help calling out, “Why don’t you wait in the car? We’ll be back soon.”

Fu Qing glanced back at him, her gaze lingering for two seconds on the dry powder extinguisher in his hand. “No need. We can go together.”

After all, Song Rushuang could protect the two of them.

But Song Jianguo misunderstood her meaning entirely.

Thinking back to the time Fu Qing had saved Song Rushuang on the pedestrian street, he was deeply moved.

The two fathers, believing themselves fully prepared, carefully stepped out of the car with their daughters. The moment they turned around, they saw a blood-covered man rolling his eyes as he staggered toward them.

Song Rushuang immediately recognized him as an infected person. Her hand slipped into her waist pouch, weapon only halfway drawn, when a pfft sounded beside her. The infected was engulfed in a cloud of fine white powder.

Everyone froze.

Song Jianguo stood there gripping the nozzle warily. “Don’t come any closer! Come closer and I’ll spray you again!”

After speaking, he sprayed twice more, pfft pfft, as a warning.

Song Rushuang: “…” Her dad was actually warning a zombie.

She turned to look at the principal and saw that she had already reached the edge of the traffic, flipped lightly onto the roof of the first car, and instantly all her worry for Sun Wei vanished.

Fu Qing’s movements weren’t fast. Though the scene was chaotic, it wasn’t yet urgent enough to rush. To outsiders, she appeared to be strolling leisurely across the car roofs, as if taking a walk through the traffic.

Until she passed one car, when a zombie that had been hidden somewhere suddenly burst out, scrambling onto the hood in a few leaps and opening its bloody maw toward Fu Qing.

“Roar—”

The sound caught in its throat as Fu Qing reached out and clamped a hand around its neck. Anyone standing close might have clearly heard the gradual crushing and deformation of bone, until, at a certain moment, a sharp crack signaled it shattering completely.

On the truck, Sun Wei’s voice had already gone hoarse, yet several people still stood by the roadside watching, unwilling to believe.

Her desperate warnings seemed to them like a dramatic performance. Sun Wei’s heart went cold.

Footsteps suddenly sounded beside her, firm and clear against the metal roof, accompanied by an unfamiliar scraping noise. Confused, Sun Wei turned her head. The moment she saw the scene before her, her pupils shrank sharply.

Fu Qing strode over with long steps, dragging a dead zombie with one hand. She stopped beside Sun Wei, swept a cold glance over the onlookers, and released her grip.

The corpse hit the roof with a heavy thud.

Its head lolled weakly to one side, a bright red tongue slipping from its half-open mouth. The lower half of its face was smeared with blood. Whether by coincidence or intention, its unfocused eyes faced directly toward the crowd of spectators.

Silence fell over the entire scene.

After more than ten seconds of deathly quiet, someone suddenly screamed:

“Murder—!!!”

“Help!!”

“Call the police, call the police!”

They turned and fled over one another in panic, scrambling away. In no time, the area cleared completely.

Sun Wei: “……”

She looked at the principal with deep admiration.

After shouting herself hoarse for so long, it still hadn’t been as effective as the principal’s single silent action.

Sun Wei greeted the principal and quietly added a thank-you.

Fu Qing glanced at her. “Call your parents over and follow Song Rushuang’s car back.”

“But this truck is still loaded,” Sun Wei hesitated. “I brought a lot of meat to share with my classmates.”

Fu Qing looked slightly surprised and turned to glance back. If the cargo compartment was really filled, the quantity was considerable.

After a moment’s thought, she said, “You go first. I’ll drive the truck back.”

With that reassurance, Sun Wei immediately relaxed. She didn’t worry that Fu Qing would keep the meat for herself after all her effort bringing it here, and happily replied, “Thank you, Principal!”

Just as she was about to jump down to find Liao Yahui and the others, Fu Qing suddenly reminded her, “Your livestream is still on.”

As she spoke, she tapped her right ear.

Only then did Sun Wei notice the inconspicuous earpiece in Fu Qing’s right ear. She pulled out her phone and saw the scrolling comments on the screen: “It really is.”

Ever since Sun Wei had shouted “Murder!” earlier, the livestream chat had exploded. Now that her face reappeared on camera, viewers flooded the screen with messages of concern, warming her heart.

Sun Wei glanced at the time in the upper-right corner, 2:58 PM. The stream had started at one o’clock and was scheduled for two hours, leaving only two minutes remaining.

Su Huaijin had already heard Sun Wei greeting Fu Qing. Seeing her return, she suddenly had an idea. “Welcome back, Yuyu! Can you switch the camera to the rear view?”

Rear camera… which meant…

Sun Wei instantly understood Su Huaijin’s intention and decisively turned the lens toward Fu Qing.

Noticing the movement, Fu Qing glanced over. Her familiar facial features immediately sent the chat into a frenzy.

The mysterious sixth person, the mysterious guest TaoTao had mentioned, really was her!

The latter half of the stream had been chaotic. Viewers had been distracted by the news, then worried about Sun Wei’s safety. Everyone assumed the livestream would simply end like this. Yet in the final two minutes, the mysterious guest appeared in such an unexpected way.

People couldn’t help but wonder if everything had been prearranged.

Was the so-called “unexpected incident” on Greenhead Fish’s side actually staged?

Those thoughts quickly faded. After all, trending topics were genuinely filled with sudden murder and assault cases erupting across the world. There was no way all of that was acting.

Then what exactly was Fu Qing’s purpose as the mysterious guest?

At this point, fewer than half the viewers remained. Many had gone offline due to real-life emergencies. Those still watching didn’t fully understand what was happening outside yet and warmly welcomed Fu Qing’s appearance.

[She’s not wearing a mask this time, what a surprise!]

[Finally seeing her face, just as handsome as I imagined~]

[Wait, are Yuyu (t/n: Yu = fish) and the guest standing on a car roof? Am I seeing things?]

[Why is it so chaotic over there? I see people running in the background. What happened?]

Seeing the comments, Sun Wei didn’t know how to explain, so she simply stayed silent and continued acting as the principal’s camerawoman.

This livestream had been planned in advance after Fu Qing discussed it with the five others. The time, format, and content were all decided together, including the gimmick of the “mysterious sixth person” appearing during the stream.

But what the principal would actually do after appearing was unknown to the five of them. Even Fu Qing herself had only said during the meeting, “We’ll see when the time comes.”

So although Sun Wei was filming her, she herself was completely confused.

System: 【Host, because apocalyptic scenes have appeared in the livestream, your world influence value is increasing slightly.】

Since the stream began, Fu Qing’s influence value had been steadily rising. Now she was only one step away from the next reward threshold.

Receiving the system’s reminder, she curled her lips faintly. Her gaze swept across the area and landed on the infected person stuck against a car door.

The front passenger door of the sedan trapping his lower body hung half open, and a figure crawled out from inside.

Sun Wei noticed it too and thought, no wonder the man had tried to escape through the window. The other escape route must have been blocked.

The zombie had been drawn by their voices. As soon as it left the car, it climbed straight toward the truck with a clear objective. Passing the trapped infected, it stepped directly on its companion’s face without hesitation, using it as leverage to clumsily climb upward. Step by step, it drew closer to Fu Qing and Sun Wei. Upon catching the scent of living humans, its breathing grew heavier.

Comments:

[Are these the same zombie guys from earlier?]

[No, they look different. Not the same one.]

[They look exactly like the crazed people in the news. Did Yuyu actually run into them…?]

[So scary, streamer stop filming and run!]

[This first-person view is way too immersive. Feels like it’s about to bite me.]

At that moment, the trapped zombie shook its head irritably and let out a snarl. The climbing zombie slipped and was about to fall back down.

The next second, someone grabbed its collar. With a single pull, Fu Qing lifted the entire zombie one-handed as if pulling up a scallion from dry ground.

Not only Sun Wei and the livestream audience, even the zombie itself seemed stunned for two seconds.

It looked utterly confused to be helped by its prey.

In truth, Fu Qing had watched it struggle upward for so long that when it was about to fall back to the starting point, she grew impatient and simply gave it a hand.

Held by the collar, the zombie was slammed heavily onto the car roof. Only then did it remember to struggle angrily, tilting its head to bite Fu Qing. But her grip was perfectly placed. No matter how it twisted, it couldn’t reach the prey right in front of it, howling in frustration.

Fu Qing somehow produced a dagger, lifting the zombie’s chin with the tip as she said, “When a person turns into a zombie, the skin begins to take on a bluish tint, facial and neck veins protrude, pupils constrict, the whites of the eyes become cloudy, and language ability is lost. These are the primary identification signs.”

“The zombie’s weakness is the brain. The temples, eyes, and ear canal are all vulnerable points. However, stabbing through the ear canal is more difficult, so the eye socket is usually more convenient.”

“For slow-moving zombies like this, killing them is simple. As long as you find a suitable weapon, anyone can try it—”

Her wording sounded exactly like one of those short videos titled “Three-minute household tips anyone can master.”

Her extremely calm tone contrasted sharply with the howling zombie beneath her.

Behind the camera, Sun Wei swallowed hard.

Whether simulated zombies, intelligent infected like Skull, or real zombies like this one, once they fell into the principal’s hands, they seemed destined only to become teaching materials…

Too brutal.

While her thoughts wandered, Fu Qing’s dagger pierced the zombie’s eye, pulling out a mixture of red and white matter.

The zombie twitched for two seconds, then went still.

“—Did you learn it?”

The lesson finished, the principal asked.

₊˚.🎧📓✩