Chapter 423: The Corpses
Zhang Yi’s cautious approach to survival influenced everyone in the Shelter, ensuring none of them grew complacent.
Uncle You trained daily in close combat and shooting.
Yang Siyah tirelessly produced energy-boosting food, which Zhang Yi stored in his spatial dinsion.
Even Fatty Xu, usually the laziest of the group, was dragged out by Zhang Yi to hone his abilities.
Each Superhuman’s powers were unique. While their initial abilities might seem simple, they all had significant potential for growth. Zhang Yi, for example, had expanded his spatial powers into nurous versatile skills, and he continued pushing the boundaries of what he could achieve.
Fatty Xu, however, felt a growing sense of inadequacy.
During the Five-Army Battle, he had witnessed Wei Dinghai’s powerful Ice and Snow Lord ability—a stark reminder of how far behind he was. Determined not to beco a burden, he threw himself into training.
One particular realization shook him further: Liang Yue also possessed the rare Devourer ability, allowing her to absorb the abilities of other Superhumans. Previously, only Zhang Yi and Hua Hua had this power, and Fatty Xu hadn’t thought much of it.
Now, it was clear that there were tiers of talent even among Superhumans—and he and Uncle You were at the lower end.
“Damn it! I can’t keep relying on last-minute miracles!” Fatty Xu muttered, frustrated by his lack of progress.
Despite his efforts, his abilities—ice spikes, ice walls, and snow bursts—remained useful primarily for controlling the battlefield. Against other Superhumans, they lacked the raw power needed for decisive combat.
Zhang Yi noticed his struggles and approached him with advice.
“Your abilities grow stronger the more you use them, but strategy is just as important,” Zhang Yi explained, tapping his temple. “Think of your ability as a weapon. Strengthening the weapon is important, but mastering its use matters even more.”
He smirked. “A skilled fighter’s pebble can be deadlier than an amateur’s blade.”
Fatty Xu mulled over Zhang Yi’s words and had an epiphany.
“I’ve been too hung up on raw power,” he realized. “When you killed Ling Feng, it wasn’t because your ability was stronger—it was your intelligence and preparation!”
His perspective shifted. Though he lacked the ability to absorb others’ powers, maximizing his own potential could still make him formidable.
March arrived, bringing a slight increase in temperature as Blue Planet edged closer to its perihelion. Despite this, the world remained bitterly cold.
Within the Shelter, life carried on peacefully. Zhang Yi and Fatty Xu had beaten countless AAA-tier gas on the console, and the communal mahjong table had needed repairs several tis—thanks to Lu Keran, their resident chanical expert.
It was a tranquil existence, almost idyllic.
But life had a way of delivering surprises when least expected.
At the ruins of West Hill Base.
The long-abandoned site lay eerily still. Its resources had been looted by Zhang Yi, and the aftermath of the Five-Army Battle had deterred other factions from approaching.
Yet, sothing stirred.
The thick, green iron door of The Fourth Life Pod trembled violently, as if struck by an imnse force.
Boom! Boom!
With each thunderous impact, the heavy door’s bolts weakened until they finally snapped.
From the darkness within, an eerie green light began to pulse, accompanied by the nauseating stench of decay.
One by one, a horde of decrepit, blank-eyed corpses shuffled out.
It was as if soone had opened a long-forgotten can of rotten fish.
The zombies poured into the passageway, their numbers quickly filling the confined space.
Guided by so unseen force, they cleared debris from the base’s entrance and erged into the open air.
The wind howled as thousands of zombies stread out, their movents sluggish but unyielding, heading southeast.
Back at the Shelter, Zhang Yi lounged on the sofa, sipping coffee as Yang Xinxin briefed him on the latest updates from other factions.
Over the past month, Yang Xinxin had managed to infiltrate the networks of the remaining factions, observing their activities in secret.
Unlike West Hill Base, their network security was rudintary—no more sophisticated than that of pre-apocalypse small businesses.
“Qingfu Base continues to play it safe, enjoying their current territory without attempting expansion,” Yang Xinxin reported. “Chaoyu Base is in full retreat, focusing on recovering from the Five-Army Battle. Their leader, Wei Dinghai, is still injured, and unrest has flared in their territory.”
“Yangsheng Base remains stable, though they’ve had to suppress several internal uprisings. And as for Bai Xue Jiao...”
Yang Xinxin paused, her expression serious.
“They’ve been the biggest beneficiaries of the war. Their mbership has grown exponentially—possibly exceeding ten thousand followers.”
Zhang Yi leaned back, casually absorbing the information.
Most of it aligned with his expectations, but Bai Xue Jiao’s explosive growth intrigued him.
“How are they feeding so many people?” he mused aloud. “Most of their recruits are likely non-combatants, not all of them useful. A large population can beco a burden.”
Yang Xinxin offered a theory. “Perhaps they’re using faith as leverage. Desperate tis drive people to cling to whatever promises security.”
She added, “Do you rember the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom? Their movent was built on the chaos of the ti, using a pseudo-religious banner to establish a regi that lasted over a decade.”
Zhang Yi nodded. “So you’re saying Bai Xue Jiao could do the sa in Tianhai City?”
“Exactly,” Yang Xinxin said. “Their leader, Yuan Kongye, might not just want survival—she might want divinity.”
Zhang Yi raised an eyebrow. “Turning herself into a god? That sounds ridiculous.”
Yang Xinxin’s tone grew more serious. “It might seem absurd, but in desperate tis, people will believe anything that gives them hope. Even the educated will bow when faced with starvation and death.”
Zhang Yi acknowledged her point but remained skeptical.
“Even with ten thousand followers, numbers alone can’t defeat modern weapons. The other factions are still far stronger.”
Yang Xinxin countered, “But what if Yuan Kongye uses her Blessing ability to awaken an army of Superhumans?”
Zhang Yi’s expression hardened.
Now, that was a problem worth considering.
As Zhang Yi pondered, his gaze drifted toward the snow-covered horizon.
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed.
In the distance, silhouetted against the white landscape, a mass of figures erged, moving steadily toward the Shelter.
“Visitors,” Zhang Yi murmured, setting down his coffee.
Author's Note
User Comments
0 comments from readers