What?! I Became the Zombie Beauty in the Villain’s Arms – CH331-333

Chapter 331| Chapter 332| Chapter 333

Chapter 331: New Life

Pei Xiqing didn’t actually see her child until the third day after waking up.

She had spent those days cooperating with a rigorous battery of medical examinations. Duan Xiaolin refused to let her leave the bed until he was absolutely, undeniably certain that her life was no longer in any danger.

When Long Yan finally walked into the room carrying the newborn, Pei Xiqing had been lost in thought, distracted by the overwhelming surge of energy coursing through her veins from the additional crystal cores in her system. Hearing footsteps, she looked up and saw Long Yan standing in the doorway, beaming brightly with the small bundle in her arms.

Long Yan gently wiggled the baby’s tiny hand toward her. “Look, little one, who is this? This is your mother.”

Pei Xiqing immediately set aside the empty velvet box in her hands and stood up. When she saw the tiny, fragile life bundled in Long Yan’s arms, a profound, overwhelming sense of wonder flooded her eyes.

She quickly reached out her hands. “Let me see him.”

Long Yan walked over and carefully transferred the baby into her waiting arms.

“This little guy has been incredibly well-behaved the last few days,” Long Yan said with a fond, relieved sigh. “He hasn’t caused any trouble at all. Brother Duan came to see him a few times, and he did cry then, but other than that, he’s been very quiet. He doesn’t just cry randomly like most newborns.”

The very second Long Yan finished speaking, the child in Pei Xiqing’s arms screwed up his tiny face and let out a hoarse, ragged wail.

Long Yan froze. “…This child.”

Pei Xiqing instantly panicked, looking completely lost. “Is he afraid of me? Or… does he not like me?!”

“Just try holding him closer,” Long Yan encouraged gently. “How could a newborn possibly understand what he likes or dislikes yet? I swear, he’s usually very quiet! Like I said, when Brother Duan came to see him earlier, he bawled his eyes out too. But he rarely cries otherwise! There must be some explanation for why he’s only crying when he’s held by you two.”

Flustered, Pei Xiqing awkwardly bounced the little one, desperately trying to coax him. Miraculously, in less than a minute, the child sniffled and stopped crying.

Long Yan smiled. “See? I bet this little guy only cries when he’s with his parents. He never cries for anyone else. He’s just acting spoiled because he knows he’s with you guys.”

“I hope he isn’t crying because he blames me and Brother Duan for not being able to hold him for the last few days.”

“If he could understand that, he definitely wouldn’t blame you two,” Long Yan reassured her. “You can rest easy on that front.”

This was Pei Xiqing’s first time taking care of a baby, and she had absolutely zero experience. In just those few short minutes of panic, a layer of sweat had broken out across her forehead.

Long Yan handed her a tissue to wipe her brow, unable to hold back a laugh. “It’s only your first time holding him, and look at how nervous you are!”

Pei Xiqing offered an embarrassed, self-deprecating smile.

“Don’t worry. Until you’re fully recovered, Ma Mengxiang and I will be right here to help you. And even after we leave, you still have Brother Duan. With him around, you don’t have to worry about a thing. Raising a child is a process; you just learn as you go.”

“Okay.”

Pei Xiqing lowered her head, gently teasing the little guy in her arms by offering him her index finger.

He immediately grasped her fingertip. His small, fleshy palm pressed tightly against her skin, and his two round eyes stared up at her with intense curiosity.

While his features hadn’t fully developed yet, he had been born over a week ago, and she could clearly see a distinct, mesmerizing hint of green in his irises. They were exactly the same as Duan Xiaolin’s.

She stared at his eyes in stunned awe for a moment before she couldn’t help but lower her head, gently rubbing her cheek against his tender little face.

He smelled faintly of milk.

She hadn’t even fed him yet, but his entire being seemed to radiate that soft, milky scent.

Noticing her confusion, Long Yan explained, “I’ve been feeding him a highly specialized formula. Breastfeeding isn’t strictly necessary for your recovery right now, and as long as his nutritional intake is sufficient, he’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Specialized formula?”

Long Yan nodded, keeping a completely straight face. “Yes. It’s the highly exclusive ‘Qiu Chao Brand’ professional milk powder for struggling dads.”

Pei Xiqing burst out laughing.

“By the way, what is this?” Long Yan asked, gesturing toward the empty velvet box Pei Xiqing had left on the bedside table.

Adjusting her hold on the baby, Pei Xiqing glanced at it. “That’s Brother Duan’s. It’s a specialized container used for storing high-grade crystal cores.”

“Where are the cores that were inside it?”

“They should be inside my body,” Pei Xiqing replied softly.

Long Yan only had a vague, top-level understanding of Pei Xiqing’s unique physical condition. “Do you feel any discomfort or rejection right now?”

“No.” Pei Xiqing shook her head. “The cores were in the box before, but they were gone when I woke up. If nothing unexpected happens, it means Brother Duan administered them to me while I was unconscious, and the energy has already successfully integrated with my body.”

Long Yan frowned, looking slightly worried. “High-grade crystal cores are incredibly rare, even in the apocalypse—especially now, with the natural disasters wiping out the parasites. They are vastly too important. In the wasteland, human lives are often treated as worthless compared to a single high-grade core… If you absorb too many of them, will there be any dangerous side effects? What happens if your body reaches its limit and can’t absorb any more?”

“I don’t think that will happen. I’ve absorbed the energy of many cores before, and Qiu Chao has rigorously tested my limits. If there was a fatal flaw in the process, I wouldn’t be sitting here today.”

“That makes sense,” Long Yan sighed, feeling a bit relieved. “Then you should just use them. To ordinary people, those cores are priceless treasures, but to Brother Duan, they’re probably just things he’d gladly trade his own life for.”

“I’d rather he didn’t trade his life for anything,” Pei Xiqing murmured quietly.

The little one in her arms started grabbing at her fingers again, completely oblivious to the heavy conversation.

Pei Xiqing felt a profound warmth bloom in her chest. “Your father is so exhausting to worry about,” she whispered to the baby. “You must never learn to be like him when you grow up.”

Long Yan teased her a bit more before the door opened. Ma Mengxiang hurried in, followed closely by Duan Xiaolin, who was carrying a heavy, insulated lunch box.

Ma Mengxiang was practically vibrating with excitement. “I can finally see him outside the incubator! Oh, my precious little baby! Your godmother missed you so much!”

Pei Xiqing smiled and carefully transferred the child into Ma Mengxiang’s eager arms. “Godmother?”

“It was just a joke!” Ma Mengxiang instantly flushed with embarrassment. “Just a joke! If you don’t like it, I’ll never say it again!”

“No, I actually quite like it.” Pei Xiqing grabbed a set of bowls and chopsticks, helping Duan Xiaolin unpack the steaming food from the insulated box and arrange it on the table. “Thank you for taking such good care of me all this time, Mengxiang. I have absolutely no problem with you being his godmother. Honestly, if he really gets to have a godmother like you—someone who’s an incredible cook and can survive anything—he’ll be a very lucky boy.”

Ma Mengxiang held the baby with extreme, reverent care, beaming with pride. “Yay!”

Long Yan, who was sitting nearby preparing another bottle of formula, asked casually, “So, what are you two going to name this little guy?”

Pei Xiqing looked over at Duan Xiaolin. “What do you think, Brother Duan?”

Duan Xiaolin was busy portioning out her food. Without looking up, he replied calmly, “What have you come up with? I’ll follow your lead.”

Pei Xiqing thought about it for a long moment. “…Ruiying.”

“What does it mean?” Long Yan asked.

Pei Xiqing walked over and took the child back from Ma Mengxiang, her eyes softening as she looked down at his tiny, sleeping face. “This apocalyptic snow has been falling for so long, and he was born right in the middle of this dark, difficult time. The old proverb says that an auspicious, timely snow (Rui) promises a good harvest, and the spring breeze ushers in new life (Ying). I just hope he won’t be buried in this endless winter for too long, like the rest of us have been. I hope he can welcome a true, new spring.”

Long Yan and Ma Mengxiang fell completely silent.

Subconsciously, both women looked up at the heavy stone ceiling of the underground base.

Yes, the snow had truly been falling for a very, very long time. As far as anyone could remember, even during the chaotic early days of the apocalypse when humanity was nearly wiped out by the virus, there had never been an endless blizzard like this—one that made people feel as though there was absolutely no hope left for the world.

The man’s thin lips curled into a faint, gentle smile. “Alright. Then his name is Duan Ruiying.”

Even after giving birth and recovering her strength, Pei Xiqing had no immediate plans to relocate to the new Franlun base on the surface.

She sat comfortably in her chair, engaged in a video call with Long Yan and Qiu Chao, who were projecting from the other side of the encrypted screen.

Long Yan angled the camera to show off the bustling command center behind her. “Look! The reconstruction here has gone incredibly well! If you come up here, you’ll be even more amazed to see it in person!”

Pei Xiqing shook a bottle of warm formula, testing the temperature against the inside of her wrist. “What a pity! I really can’t help it right now. Little Ruiying is still too young to adapt to the harsh surface environment and the transit. Besides, if there’s no one left guarding this underground sector, the syndicates will just move right back in and turn it into another black market stronghold.”

“I understand,” Long Yan nodded sympathetically. “Once the surface infrastructure is completely finalized, Franlun will definitely dispatch a specialized garrison to secure your sector. Then you can finally come back to us.”

“We’ll talk about it when the time comes,” Pei Xiqing smiled. “By the way, why did I just see Ling Lang duck out of frame?”

Long Yan laughed and spun the robotic camera around.

Ling Lang, caught standing just behind the camera drone with no time to escape, rubbed his nose awkwardly. Covering his embarrassment, he reached down and hauled up two small figures who had been squatting at his feet.

Pushing them in front of the lens, he muttered, “Ahem… these two have something they want to tell you. I have urgent military matters to attend to, so I’m leaving.”

True to his word, he spun on his heel and marched out of the room.

Xiao Xiao and Xiao Yu stood excitedly in front of the camera. Since Xiao Yu was too short to reach the lens, Xiao Xiao hoisted her onto his back so she could see the screen.

Xiao Xiao waved enthusiastically. “Sister Xiqing!”

Xiao Yu giggled, waving her small hands at the camera. “Sister!”

Pei Xiqing had always known that the two orphans and the refugees from their initial group had been taken under Ling Lang’s wing, but she hadn’t expected to see them looking so healthy and vibrant.

“Xiao Xiao, it looks like you’ve grown a lot taller recently!”

“Really?!” the boy beamed proudly. “I’m learning military close-quarters combat, advanced marksmanship, and tactical fighting from Brother Ling Lang every single day! He’s taught me so much! I feel like I don’t ever have to be afraid of zombies again! I can fight as many as come at me, and I’ll protect my sister!”

Pei Xiqing smiled warmly. “That’s wonderful. You must continue to watch over your sister and teach her what you learn. When you have some free time, I’ll ask Brother Duan to teach you the advanced techniques for dealing with the new mutated parasites.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

She chatted with the kids for a while longer before the background noise in the command center escalated. It seemed the new base was getting busy again. Long Yan stepped back into the frame and waved. “The signal is getting unstable due to the blizzard, and I have to get back to work. Take good care of yourself and little Ruiying! And make sure you bring him over to show everyone soon! The entire squad is chomping at the bit to meet him!”

“I will.”

She ended the call.

The formula in the bottle was finally the perfect temperature. She carried it into the next room and handed it to Duan Xiaolin, who was awkwardly holding their crying son, trying to coax him into settling down.

The infant was lying against his father’s broad shoulder, crying breathlessly. His drool and tears were rubbing directly into the expensive fabric of the man’s black shirt, leaving a large, highly noticeable wet stain.

Pei Xiqing couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the terrifying Chief Judge being completely defeated by a screaming newborn. “Why don’t I take him? I swear he cries every single time you hold him.”

“If I don’t get used to handling him now, I’ll be even more helpless in the future.” Refusing to hand the baby over, Duan Xiaolin took the bottle from her with his free hand and skillfully angled the nipple into the crying child’s mouth.

Instantly pacified by the milk, little Ruiying finally quieted down. Duan Xiaolin sat heavily in the rocking chair, adjusting the baby in his arms, and looked up at her. “What were you talking about with Long Yan and the others?”

“Just the situation at the new base. I also got to see Xiao Xiao and Xiao Yu. From what I could see on the feed, the reconstruction over there really is progressing exceptionally well.”

“Hmm.” He nodded, lowering his eyes to focus on feeding his son.

Pei Xiqing sat on the armrest of his chair. “I have something I need to ask you.”

“Ask.”

“Did you administer those crystal cores to me while I was unconscious after the delivery?”

“Yes.”

“Did you give me all five of the cores that were in the velvet box?!”

“One per day, to be exact.”

Pei Xiqing’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. “What?! That’s… that’s insanely extravagant!”

She had never dared to consume that much pure energy in such a short timeframe before; she hadn’t even dared to imagine it. Most high-ranking ability users in the wasteland might never even see a core of that quality in their entire lives, yet she had burned through one a day for five days straight.

“As long as it guarantees your safety and ensures a full recovery, burning through ten or a hundred cores a day makes absolutely no difference to me.”

Pei Xiqing rested her head against his shoulder, looking down at their son quietly drinking his milk. For a moment, her heart felt incredibly heavy and complicated.

This sense of peace and happiness was so hard-earned. With him and their child, their small family could live here safely, and it truly didn’t matter if the conditions in the bunker were a little harsh. However, the apocalyptic natural disasters that were ravaging the surface were a colossal, terrifying hurdle that she simply couldn’t get over.

Before, Xiao Yue and Pei Yanting’s original “protagonist” plot armor had been the massive chasm she couldn’t cross. But now, it was the “natural disasters” mandated by the failing rules of the world. Under the crushing weight of a world actively trying to destroy itself, what kind of future could their family possibly have?

The existence of the crystal cores, and the violent cataclysms required to harvest them, felt like an invisible, bloodstained sword hanging precariously over their heads.

Pushing the dark thoughts away, Pei Xiqing hugged his arm, helping him angle the bottle. “Your son’s eyes are the exact same shade as yours. I’m guessing he inherited the genetic markers for your supernatural abilities, but I have no idea when they might actually awaken.”

“According to Qiu Chao’s initial genetic sequencing and data analysis, the latent energy will likely remain dormant until he is at least seven years old.”

“So we have to wait until he’s seven.” She gently brushed a finger against her son’s long eyelashes. “Honestly, I actually hope his abilities awaken much later than that. I don’t want him to be drafted into the brutal military training programs so early, or to be exposed to the horrific cruelty of this world before he’s even had a childhood.”

In the apocalypse, any child who awakened supernatural abilities was immediately prioritized for intense, grueling combat training. Essentially, the moment a child displayed powers, they were shipped off to a military camp to be forged into weapons.

“I can personally take him out for private field training when the time comes,” Duan Xiaolin offered.

“But you might be overwhelmed with headquarters issues by then,” she argued softly. “It’s better to just treat him the same as everyone else. We shouldn’t make too many exceptions for him.”

Duan Xiaolin chuckled, wrapping his free arm around her waist. “What’s wrong with making an exception? Our child deserves the absolute best.”

Pei Xiqing covered his mouth playfully. “Stop it. You’ll spoil him rotten. I don’t want him growing up to be an arrogant, entitled brat like the Lin family—like that Lin Ziyan guy, Ma Mengjia’s ex-husband.”

Speaking of Ma Mengjia, Pei Xiqing realized she still had absolutely no idea what had happened to her cousin. Mengjia was older and had gotten pregnant earlier; she should have given birth a month or two ago.

But frankly, Pei Xiqing didn’t have the time or the energy to care about her right now.

Having finished his milk, little Ruiying fell into a deep, milk-drunk sleep in his father’s arms.

Pei Xiqing couldn’t help but lean over, pressing a soft kiss to her son’s forehead. “Duan Ruiying, you have to grow up to be a good man. Don’t become a villain in the future.”

This child did not exist in the original plot of the novel at all. He was a complete anomaly. No one—not even the so-called “rules of the world”—knew what his future held. She and Brother Duan would simply have to work together to raise him with love and care, forging their own path.

Newborns required an immense amount of sleep. Having exhausted all his energy throwing a tantrum earlier, little Ruiying was now sleeping soundly against his father’s chest.

Pei Xiqing stared at the sleeping infant, frowning slightly. “Why does he look more and more like you every day…? He doesn’t look like me at all!”

When Long Yan had first brought him in, his features had been too scrunched up to tell. But now, looking closely, she could see the undeniable, striking resemblance to his father.

Feeling a sudden, childish spike of dissatisfaction, she poked Duan Xiaolin’s arm. “This is so annoying! He doesn’t even look like he’s my biological child! His eyes, his nose, his mouth—they’re all exactly like yours!”

Duan Xiaolin looked at her completely deadpan. “His skin looks like yours.”

Pei Xiqing glared at him. “You might as well have said nothing at all!”

Amused, he stood up and carefully placed the sleeping child into the secure cradle inside the incubator. Then, turning back to her, he slid one hand around her waist, hooked the other under her thighs, and effortlessly lifted her into his arms.

Held high against his chest, Pei Xiqing looked down at him in surprise. “What are you doing…?”

Since her pregnancy and delivery, her body had become incredibly sensitive. The moment his strong hands gripped her, she could feel the dormant viral totems on her back flare with sudden, undeniable heat, practically clamoring for his touch. Flustered, she quickly pressed her hands flat against his broad, warm chest. “I… I’m still supposed to be in postpartum confinement!”

“You absorbed five ultra-high-grade crystal cores,” Duan Xiaolin murmured, his voice dropping to a dark, husky whisper. “Your cellular regeneration and recovery speed is already five times faster than a normal human, and significantly faster than even an elite ability user.”

He began walking toward the bedroom. “Let me see exactly how well you’ve recovered.”

Pei Xiqing’s cheeks instantly flushed a brilliant, burning red. “No!”

Chapter 332: Is A Good Thing

Pei Xiqing’s flustered, frightened look was incredibly adorable, and Duan Xiaolin was only teasing her. However, he wrapped an arm securely around her waist, lifting her up and deliberately pressing her flush against his chest, refusing to let her go.

“Why not? No matter what you say, you have to let me thoroughly examine how those crystal cores are integrating with your body.”

“Haven’t you already checked everything?!”

If she had to endure another examination now, then what had all those exhaustive checkups over the past few days been for?

Ever since she woke up after giving birth, she had been subjected to medical checks at least ten times. They had been so thorough she felt like they had counted every single strand of hair on her head.

Having to go through it again? She was practically traumatized just hearing the word “checkup.”

The man lowered his head, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating against her. “One more check, what’s the harm?”

“I don’t want one,” she protested, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck and struggling playfully to get down. “Put me down quickly! I still have to go find Mengxiang.”

It was supposed to just be a medical examination, but knowing him, she didn’t dare imagine where things would end up once it actually started.

Pei Xiqing hooked a finger into his collar, pulling gently. “Hurry up, Mengxiang is waiting for me. She said she had something important to show me.”

Her struggles were completely useless against his terrifying strength. In fact, her squirming was doing more harm to herself than him. Her movements caused her clothes to ride up, exposing the soft, pale skin of her thighs.

Duan Xiaolin’s large palm slid upward, resting intimately against her exposed thigh.

The moment his hand touched her bare skin, Pei Xiqing couldn’t suppress a violent shiver. Her long, dark hair tumbled over her shoulder, partially blocking her eyes but revealing a deeply flushed, rosy cheek. She looked up, instantly meeting the man’s burning, heavy gaze.

She quickly turned her head away in embarrassment, but he gently caught her chin, tilting her face back up. Weaving his fingers through the hair at the back of her head, he leaned down and kissed her fiercely.

Whenever she faced him like this, Pei Xiqing had absolutely zero ability to resist. Within moments, she was kissed until she was breathless, her eyes stinging with happy, overwhelmed tears.

Her hair became even messier. Peering up at him through the dark strands, her misty eyes looked delightfully flustered. Having just given birth, her features possessed a new, incredibly soft and mature charm. Every breathless glance she gave him was overflowing with an unintentional, devastating allure.

Duan Xiaolin stared at her deeply, his chest rising and falling.

If he calculated it carefully, from the moment she first became pregnant until now—ignoring those few brief times in between when they hadn’t been able to go all the way—he hadn’t properly touched her in almost a year.

Every time she shed a few tears, shamelessly used the baby as an excuse, or acted spoiled and pitiful, he genuinely hadn’t been able to bring himself to cross the line, terrified of hurting her fragile foundation.

Pei Xiqing tried to squirm down again, but the man held her fast.

“What do you need to see Ma Mengxiang about?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“Girl stuff, obviously. You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”

The man tilted her head back, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her sensitive neck. He easily left a dark, blooming kiss mark on her snow-white skin.

Pei Xiqing gasped softly. “You…”

Duan Xiaolin’s eyes darkened with raw, restrained desire. “Come back early. My son and I will be waiting for you.”

He finally released her, letting her feet touch the ground.

The viral totems hidden beneath her clothes on her back were burning so hot she felt like she was on fire. She didn’t dare look at the man’s face at all. She turned and practically sprinted out of the duplex without looking back, leaving the father and son at home.

When Pei Xiqing finally trotted over to the underground garden, Ma Mengxiang was furiously hoeing a patch of tough soil. She swung the heavy tool again and again, sweating profusely, her clothes completely soaked through.

Pei Xiqing grabbed a bucket of water and walked over to help with the sowing and watering.

Ma Mengxiang immediately dropped the hoe in a panic. “What are you doing?! Put that down! You just gave birth; you’re still in recovery! You need to rest! Sit down! Sit down right now!”

Pei Xiqing merely squatted in front of a small row of freshly planted seedlings. “I’m basically fully recovered. If an ordinary ability user absorbed those high-grade crystal cores, it would take them over a month to stabilize. But with my physiology, I can process it in a week. Not to mention it’s been more than half a month since the delivery now. I’m fine.”

“I guess those crystal cores really are something special.” Ma Mengxiang looked curious, wiping the sweat from her brow as she walked over. “I know a little bit about them. I know they’re incredibly rare. How do you have so many of them? Is everyone at headquarters like you? As long as they’re from the central base, can they just get as many crystal cores as they want?”

“Crystal cores are extremely rare,” Pei Xiqing explained gently. “But for ordinary people, they aren’t a necessity. As long as you’re healthy and safe, it doesn’t matter if you have them or not.”

Ma Mengxiang nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. As long as we’re safe, those glowing rocks aren’t important at all. Honestly, it’s probably better not to have them. Otherwise, someone might get greedy and try to murder me for it.”

Pei Xiqing helped her finish watering the crops. Working together, it still took them half the day to finally finish tending to the far side of the massive underground garden.

Ma Mengxiang clapped her dirt-stained hands together. “Finally done!”

Suddenly remembering why she had called Pei Xiqing over in the first place, she grabbed her arm hurriedly. “Wait! I found something, and I absolutely have to show it to you! Come here, quickly!”

Pei Xiqing followed her into the small tool shed adjacent to the vegetable garden. “What did you find? Why were you so anxious to get me here?”

Ma Mengxiang reached into a large water barrel, retrieving a fist-sized rock she had hidden inside. She excitedly wiped the grime off it. “Here, here! Take a closer look. Is this a crystal core?!”

Pei Xiqing took the object from her hands. She examined it for a few seconds, her eyes widening slightly in shock. “Where did you find this?”

“I went up near the surface airlocks a few days ago,” Ma Mengxiang explained rapidly. “I was trying to see if there were any hardy vegetable seeds up there that I could transplant down here. I was digging around in the frozen dirt and found this thing. I had no idea what it was, but it kept glowing in the dark! I thought it looked important, so I sneaked it back down here.”

“It is a crystal core,” Pei Xiqing confirmed.

Ma Mengxiang’s jaw dropped. “Is it really?! Oh my god, I am so lucky! We were just talking about how rare they are, and I had already dug one up!”

“And the quality…” Pei Xiqing wiped the remaining dirt away, examining the pure, radiant energy pulsing within the stone. “It’s exceptional.”

“Quality?”

“It’s the grade of the core. This is easily an upper-middle tier.”

“Can you use it, then?” Ma Mengxiang asked eagerly. “Or Brother Duan? Or Brother Yingzi? Can any of you use it?”

“They shouldn’t be short on this kind of core, but you could actually use it,” Pei Xiqing smiled. “However, to be absolutely safe, we need to have Qiu Chao test it for any latent viral contaminants or harmful substances before you decide whether to absorb it or not.”

“Wait, I can really use it?!” Ma Mengxiang gasped. “But I don’t have any special abilities! Isn’t giving this to me a massive waste?”

“It’s not a waste at all,” Pei Xiqing assured her. “You can try absorbing it. Sometimes, high-grade cores can forcibly awaken and stimulate latent supernatural powers in ordinary humans.”

“Are you serious?! It’s that amazing?!” Ma Mengxiang practically vibrated with excitement. “Then I definitely want to try it once it’s tested!”

“Mengxiang, can you tell me exactly what the situation was like when you found this core?”

“Okay!” Ma Mengxiang pulled over two small wooden benches, sitting down to explain every detail of her scavenging trip.

“Was there any… organic material wrapped around the core when you dug it up?” Pei Xiqing asked carefully.

“…Now that you mention it, it did look like there was a massive, black mass buried next to it. But it was so incredibly dark up near the airlocks that I couldn’t see anything clearly. I just used my hoe to chop away the weird, frozen dirt surrounding the glowing stone.”

“Take me there to have a closer look. Do you remember the exact location?”

“I remember!”

“Let’s go.”

Ma Mengxiang hesitated. “Ah? You mean… right now?”

Pei Xiqing nodded firmly. “Yes. I want to go up there right now. The sooner, the better.”

“What about Brother Duan?” Ma Mengxiang asked nervously. “Do we need to ask his permission first?”

“He’s busy taking care of the baby right now. We’ll be back soon. Besides, I know the security perimeter around the base’s upper levels has been cleared multiple times. There won’t be any active zombies or parasites. Even if there are, you don’t have to worry.”

As she spoke, Pei Xiqing unconsciously let a fraction of her latent energy slip. This was the very first time Ma Mengxiang had ever seen the faint, terrifyingly powerful bioluminescent glow that only elite ability users possessed radiating from Pei Xiqing’s skin.

It took the younger girl a long time to recover from her shock. “Xiqing… it turns out you have superpowers too! Oh my god.”

For all this time, she had been kept completely in the dark, knowing absolutely nothing about the lethal arsenal of abilities Pei Xiqing possessed.

By the time Ma Mengxiang snapped out of her daze, Pei Xiqing had already grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the vegetable garden.

“Slow down! Run slower! Watch your step!”

When Shadow rushed to Duan Xiaolin’s quarters to report this development, the man was sitting calmly, feeding his newly awakened son a bottle of formula.

Hearing the report, Duan Xiaolin simply asked, “Where is she now?”

Shadow lowered his head respectfully. “She hasn’t officially breached the final airlock to the surface yet. We can intercept her immediately. If we don’t stop her, she might discover the anomaly…”

Duan Xiaolin gently supported the back of his son’s head, resting the baby against his shoulder to burp him. His expression remained utterly calm. “Let her go.”

On the other side of the base, Ma Mengxiang and Pei Xiqing had successfully bypassed the inner security cordons.

The heavy industrial elevator ride from the basement levels was completely smooth. As they ascended, the surroundings became eerily quiet. It was almost too quiet.

“There were heavily armed patrols guarding these checkpoints the last time I sneaked up here,” Ma Mengxiang whispered, looking around nervously. “How come we haven’t seen a single person today? Is everyone resting?”

Every time she had tried to leave the lower levels before, she had been stopped and aggressively questioned multiple times. Today, they hadn’t encountered a single guard.

Pei Xiqing smoothly pulled on a thick winter coat, a hat, and gloves. She handed a heavy-duty flashlight to Ma Mengxiang. “Here, take this.”

“Aren’t you going to use one?”

Pei Xiqing held up a small, warm-colored crystalline lamp. “Brother Duan gave me this a while ago. I recently infused it with some excess energy, otherwise, it would have been wasted.”

“Okay.”

When they walked through the final, massive security gates, still no one came out to question them.

Ma Mengxiang looked around, bewildered. Pei Xiqing smiled and explained, “Brother Duan almost certainly knew about this little expedition before we even left the duplex. He didn’t order anyone to stop us, so naturally, no one is going to step in our way.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Come on, show me the way. Are you sure you still remember the route?”

Ma Mengxiang nodded confidently. “I remember! I’ve been sneaking up to these upper-level maintenance tunnels frequently to dig for wild root vegetables. I know this area like the back of my hand.”

She led Pei Xiqing forward into the freezing darkness, playing tour guide as they walked. “Over here, there are a lot of wild, mutated vegetables, but they taste awful and are incredibly difficult to keep alive. If you don’t regulate the soil perfectly, they die in massive droves. To our right, the wild crops taste okay, but there aren’t many seeds left. They’re all buried deep under the permafrost. Sometimes I have to dig for hours just to find a handful of viable seeds.”

“The survival rate is so low because they can tolerate the freezing cold, but they can’t handle extreme temperature fluctuations. So, a while ago, I spent hours digging up here and cross-referencing these seeds with the ones I used to plant back in the village. Finally, I managed to isolate the specific vegetables and fruits that are hardy enough to grow down in the underground bunker.”

Pei Xiqing listened quietly, genuine admiration shining in her eyes.

She had never expected this young village girl to possess such a profound, practical understanding of agriculture—knowledge that eluded even the brightest scientists in the apocalypse.

Noticing the look, Ma Mengxiang suddenly felt self-conscious. “Why are you looking at me like that? Did I explain something wrong?”

Pei Xiqing shook her head. “I just think you are genuinely amazing, Mengxiang. To be able to accomplish all of this in the middle of the apocalypse… you’ve already surpassed the vast majority of people in this world.”

Ma Mengxiang chuckled, her face flushing with pride. She held the heavy flashlight steady, leading them forward against the biting wind whistling through the tunnels.

About ten minutes later, she pointed ahead. “Left, take a left here. If we go straight, we’ll hit the perimeter of that terrifying magnetic field.”

Pei Xiqing followed her closely.

The two women walked together—one holding a glowing crystal lamp, the other a heavy flashlight.

The apocalyptic wind and snow from the surface were still blowing fiercely through the cracked ventilation shafts. Stray snowflakes drifted down, landing softly on Pei Xiqing’s shoulders.

Finally, Ma Mengxiang stopped.

She carefully used her heavy hoe to probe a large, jagged hole in the frozen earth ahead of them, stepping lightly to test the stability of the ground. Satisfied there were no immediate dangers, she squatted down.

“It’s right here. I remember it perfectly. I was digging around, looking for roots, when I saw a strange light flashing from beneath the black soil. That’s when I dug out the crystal core.”

As she spoke, she used the handle of her hoe to carefully poke at the frozen dirt inside the hole. “Yes, yes, this is exactly the spot. The soil looks exactly the same; nothing has shifted.”

Pei Xiqing squatted down beside her.

Ma Mengxiang quickly pulled a collapsible umbrella from her pack, popping it open to shield Pei Xiqing’s head from the falling snow and debris. “What do you think?”

Pei Xiqing stared into the dark hole for a long moment before making a decision. She rolled up her sleeve and prepared to reach inside.

Ma Mengxiang gasped, grabbing her wrist. “Wait! This black soil is highly corrosive! You have to wear heavy gloves, or it’ll burn the skin right off your hands!”

“I’ll be fine.”

The instant Pei Xiqing extended her arm, the terrifying, ethereal silhouette of the Qiong Snake manifested, coiling protectively around her forearm.

A faint, sickly green light illuminated the shadows as she reached deep into the jagged hole.

The black soil inside was indeed violently corrosive, and it felt as hard and jagged as shattered ice. She fumbled blindly in the freezing muck for a long time before her fingers finally brushed against something solid. She gripped it and pulled hard, but the object refused to budge.

She turned to her companion. “Mengxiang, help me pull.”

Ma Mengxiang immediately tossed the umbrella aside. “Okay!”

She wedged herself into the narrow space beside Pei Xiqing, plunging her heavily gloved hands into the hole to grab whatever it was.

“One, two, three! Pull! Come on! One, two, three!”

With the combined, desperate strength of both women, they finally managed to wrench the massive, unknown object free from the frozen earth.

They fell back onto the snowy ground, dragging the heavy mass with them.

Pei Xiqing raised her glowing crystal lantern, slowly scanning the grotesque object lying before them. As the light illuminated the top of the mass, she sharply threw her arm out, blocking Ma Mengxiang from stepping closer. “Don’t come any closer.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a parasite,” Pei Xiqing said grimly, immediately covering her mouth and nose. “It’s been dead for a long time, but because it was frozen, the corpse only recently began to rot.”

Sure enough, the moment she finished speaking, an overpowering, nauseating stench of putrid, rotting flesh hit them.

Ma Mengxiang gagged violently, nearly vomiting on the spot. She slapped both hands over her mouth and nose, desperately wishing she was wearing ten layers of industrial masks.

“A parasite?!” she shrieked, her voice muffled. “Why didn’t I notice it the last time I was here?!”

“Because it was frozen solid. And it probably wasn’t completely dead when you found it.”

“What?!” Ma Mengxiang’s eyes widened in sheer horror. Does that mean I literally dug a crystal core directly out of the face of a live parasite?!

“Don’t worry. It must have wandered out of the magnetic field and frozen. It doesn’t have any offensive capabilities left, and the virus should be inert. It can’t hurt anyone now.”

“I was almost scared to death!”

Trembling, Ma Mengxiang shined her heavy flashlight onto the corpse.

She saw a grotesque, rounded black mass protruding from the frozen dirt. It was covered in thick, hardened carapace and reeked of death.

“Is that a parasite?” she asked, shivering. “Do they normally look like that…?”

“This is just its head,” Pei Xiqing said, her voice eerily calm. “The rest of its massive body is still buried deep within the permafrost behind it. We could never pull the whole thing out with just the two of us.”

“What?!” Ma Mengxiang panicked, backing away. “Then why did it die here, buried so deep in the snow? If it wasn’t completely dead when I found it, why didn’t it even try to struggle or attack me?”

Pei Xiqing frowned, staring down at the horrific, frozen corpse. Her eyes narrowed as she pieced the puzzle together.

“Perhaps,” she whispered, a chilling realization dawning on her, “it didn’t dare to move. It didn’t struggle… because something infinitely more terrifying pinned it here.”

Chapter 333: Useless

Ma Mengxiang couldn’t quite figure out what Pei Xiqing meant for a moment. She could only hazard a guess: “Did it get sick? Or was it injured? But these parasites have terrifying regenerative and reproduction capabilities. How could one just die from something as trivial as an illness or a random injury?”

She remembered the warnings clearly: these new parasites couldn’t be killed by ordinary means. High-level supernatural abilities or highly specialized chemical compounds were required to halt their terrifying reproduction and self-recovery rates. In theory, these parasites were several times more difficult to kill than the zombies ever were.

“It’s highly probable it didn’t die from an injury or an illness,” Pei Xiqing said.

“Then why is it dead here?”

Pei Xiqing looked at the proximity of the parasite’s corpse to the underground base’s entrance, then at the specific location where it had died. She had a very strong guess. This guess was further corroborated by a faint, resonant induction her viral “Qiong Snake” totem felt from the carcass.

She raised her head, looking out into the blizzard. “Maybe… someone dragged it here specifically to kill it.”

Ma Mengxiang’s jaw dropped. “Ah? Are you serious?!”

“Yes.”

Pei Xiqing stood up, glancing around the desolate, frozen landscape with a complex expression in her eyes. “Furthermore, I’m guessing the only reason the hardy plants growing up here have survived and produced seeds is because these buried parasite corpses are acting as hyper-dense fertilizer, continuously providing vitality to the soil.”

Ma Mengxiang gagged. “How is that possible?! You’re saying… the food we eat, and the seeds I’ve been harvesting… they’ve all been nourished by rotting parasite corpses?!”

“It’s a very strong possibility.”

Ma Mengxiang’s eyes went completely dull with horror.

However, after a moment of internal struggle, she reasoned that dead parasites were essentially just highly potent organic fertilizer. As long as she wasn’t actually ingesting the virus or a live parasite, she could force herself to accept it.

Seeing Pei Xiqing begin walking forward through the snow, Ma Mengxiang quickly snapped open her umbrella and hurried after her. “Wait for me!”

Pei Xiqing circled the perimeter of the base’s upper airlock several times. In a relatively small area, she found the semi-buried corpses of no less than ten massive parasites.

Ma Mengxiang gripped the umbrella tightly, unable to recover from her shock for a long time.

These parasites looked unimaginably disgusting and terrifying. Even though some were heavily buried and partially unrecognizable, their grotesque, nightmarish forms were still glaringly obvious.

Even though she had survived the apocalypse and had seen hordes of rotting zombies, this was her first time being so terrifyingly close to these massive, mutated monstrosities.

She patted her chest repeatedly, muttering under her breath to comfort herself: They’re all dead. They’re all dead. They can’t bite anyone now.

Just as she finally managed to mentally fortify herself, she turned around and nearly tripped over a massive, severed tentacle protruding from the snow. She fell flat on her back with a shriek.

The tentacle was swaying slightly in the wind, hovering just above the ground. It was a sickly pitch-black and emitted a faint, nauseatingly fishy odor.

Pei Xiqing quickly pulled her back to her feet. “It’s okay, it’s dead. Some of the residual virus in its cellular structure must still be active. When the permafrost covering it shifted and exposed it to the air, it caused a brief, post-mortem muscular spasm.”

“I was scared half to death,” Ma Mengxiang gasped, clutching her chest. “I thought it had suddenly come back to life!”

“I wonder how massive this thing must have been when it was fully alive? I feel like that tentacle alone could crush a person flat.”

Recovering her courage, Ma Mengxiang leaned in closer, shining her flashlight over the strange, suction-cup patterns on the appendage. Unable to hold back the sudden surge of saliva pooling in her mouth, she asked curiously, “Is it edible? Why does it look exactly like a giant squid tentacle, just a little thicker? I bet if we roasted it over an open fire, it would taste incredible.”

Pei Xiqing was stunned. “This… I’m not entirely sure. Even if the host parasite is dead, there will still be a massive concentration of residual virus in the tissue. Using them as fertilizer for plants should be fine because the soil filters it, but if you eat the flesh directly…”

“Will it be dangerous?”

“It’s hard to say.” Pei Xiqing frowned. “My advice is absolutely do not take the risk.”

Ma Mengxiang nodded immediately. “Okay, okay! But what you just said reminded me of something. When we were evacuating over the mountain, we heard horrifying rumors along the way. People said that survivors in other settlements had inexplicably turned into parasites overnight. There were no warning signs, no bites, and no one knew how the infection had spread. It was extremely terrifying. The rumors said their bodies looked like they exploded from the inside out, their flesh and blood inverting as the parasite rapidly grew and devoured them from within.”

“Where exactly did you hear that rumor?”

“While we were traveling, Brother Yingzi took us to a small, abandoned town to rest for the night. The refugees we met there were originally from that town, and they were the ones who told us.”

“That is very strange indeed,” Pei Xiqing noted.

Ma Mengxiang leaned in closer. “I think they were infected because they ate these parasites.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because Brother Yingzi mentioned that you and Brother Duan had actually lived in that town for a while before the blizzard hit. He said there were several restaurants and small hotels there. They were shabby, but fully operational and hospitable.”

Pei Xiqing’s eyes widened in belated realization. “Could you be talking about…”

“Yes! Exactly! You remember it, don’t you?!”

Pei Xiqing and Duan Xiaolin had stayed in many places while traveling across the wasteland, but there was only one small town that fit that exact description—a town with operating restaurants and hotels that had miraculously survived the initial zombie waves.

“It definitely has to do with the food served in those restaurants,” Pei Xiqing realized with a sickening lurch in her stomach. “I remember when we were there, the locals had started hunting and cooking ‘mutated beast meat’ to serve in their diners.”

Ma Mengxiang snapped her fingers. “That’s right! The ‘mutated meat’ they were eating must have been harvested from parasites!”

“That explains the sudden, explosive infections,” Pei Xiqing murmured.

“So, what you just said confirmed my suspicion,” Ma Mengxiang concluded, shuddering. “No matter how delicious or tender these parasite tentacles look, they absolutely must not be eaten! Once you ingest the infected flesh, you’ll become a host and explode from the inside out just like those people did.”

Despite her horrifying conclusion, Ma Mengxiang couldn’t help but look back at the swaying black tentacle.

She swallowed hard, her mouth watering uncontrollably.

The closer she looked, the stronger the inexplicable, burning desire to take a bite became.

Realizing what was happening, Ma Mengxiang forcefully tore her gaze away. She squeezed her eyes shut, muttering a desperate mantra: “Don’t look at it, don’t look at it! These things are packed with a lethal virus! You absolutely cannot eat it, you cannot eat it…”

Pei Xiqing, holding the glowing lantern, remained entirely focused on examining the massive parasite corpse beneath her feet.

After comparing the bodies of the ten parasites she had found, she noticed a chilling pattern: the chest cavity of almost every single parasite had been brutally hollowed out. Furthermore, there seemed to be more corpses buried directly underneath the massive beasts.

Spotting what looked like human fingers protruding from the icy mud near the first parasite, she quickly pushed aside the surrounding soil and pulled the body out.

It was a zombie.

Its skin was a mottled, sickly gray-green—the exact same color as the lethal corpse spots that had once threatened to consume her own body. Its mouth was full of razor-sharp fangs, its face was completely destroyed, and its flesh was in an advanced state of rot.

Digging deeper, she found many more zombie corpses buried beneath the parasites.

Just like the mutated beasts above them, the chest cavities of all these zombies were completely empty. Massive, jagged holes had been punched straight through their ribs where their hearts should have been.

She set the lantern down and used both hands to grip the frozen corpse underneath the first zombie, trying to drag it out for a better look.

But the bodies were packed too tightly in the frozen earth.

Unable to pull it free on her own, she called over her shoulder. “Mengxiang, come help me pull this out. There’s a massive pile of corpses down here. We might find some vital clues. It would be incredibly helpful if we could find something related to how the virus mutated inside their bodies.”

She waited for a long time, but Ma Mengxiang didn’t respond.

Confused, Pei Xiqing turned around.

She froze in absolute horror. Ma Mengxiang had dropped the umbrella. She was currently clutching the severed, swaying tentacle with both hands. Thick, uncontrollable drool poured from her mouth, and her eyes were glazed over as she opened her mouth impossibly wide, preparing to bite down on the rotting, pitch-black flesh.

Pei Xiqing lunged forward, tackling Ma Mengxiang to the ground. She grabbed the girl’s face, physically forcing her jaw shut. “Mengxiang! Ma Mengxiang! Wake up! Wake up right now!”

Ma Mengxiang thrashed violently, reaching desperately toward the discarded tentacle. Her eyes had lost all clarity and humanity; they were filled only with a primal, ravenous desire to consume the infected flesh.

“Let me go… I want to eat… Let me eat it!” she snarled, her voice distorted. “I haven’t eaten such delicious, fragrant meat in so long! Just let me take one bite… just one bite! It smells so good…”

Her eyes rolled back into her head as she struggled with inhuman strength.

“Wake up!” Pei Xiqing screamed, shaking her violently. “You cannot eat that! It will kill you!”

After being shaken forcefully, Ma Mengxiang seemed to snap back to reality for a brief second, but the clarity didn’t last. The extreme, maddening desire flooded her eyes once again.

“No! Let me go! I need to eat! Give it to me!”

She bucked wildly, throwing Pei Xiqing off balance. Caught off guard by the girl’s sudden, unnatural strength, Pei Xiqing was shoved hard into the snow.

Like a possessed demon, Ma Mengxiang scrambled on all fours toward the severed tentacle.

Before she had taken three steps, a shadow descended from behind her. A swift, brutal chop struck the back of her neck, knocking her instantly unconscious.

Shadow caught her collapsing body before she hit the ground. He looked over at Pei Xiqing. “Miss Pei, are you alright?”

Pei Xiqing was gently pulled up from the freezing snow by a strong pair of hands. She turned around and saw Duan Xiaolin standing behind her.

She wasn’t particularly surprised to see him. She waved a hand dismissively, brushing the snow off her coat. “I’m fine. Take her back to the bunker immediately. If she’s still exhibiting these symptoms when she wakes up, administer a heavy sedative.”

Shadow nodded sharply. “Understood.” He hoisted Ma Mengxiang over his shoulder and sprinted back toward the airlock.

Pei Xiqing turned her head to look at the massive, severed tentacle still swaying slightly in the dark wind. She frowned deeply, turning to the man beside her. “Brother Duan, this thing is highly problematic. It seems to exude some kind of fatal, hallucinogenic attraction to ordinary humans—or people whose supernatural abilities haven’t fully awakened yet.”

Ma Mengxiang’s sudden, violent reaction had proved it.

Pei Xiqing herself was perfectly fine, entirely immune to the lure. But Ma Mengxiang had instantly lost her mind. If Pei Xiqing hadn’t noticed and tackled her in time, the girl would have bitten into the raw flesh and been instantly parasitized.

“That is correct,” Duan Xiaolin explained, his voice grim. “The mutated virus residing within their cellular structure emits a highly concentrated, hallucinogenic pheromone after the host dies. If ordinary humans inhale it for too long, the virus hijacks the pleasure centers of their brain, creating an overwhelming, addictive urge to consume the flesh. If an ability user with weak mental fortitude inhales it, they will also succumb to the infection within ten minutes.”

Pei Xiqing frowned in disgust. “How incredibly vile.”

“What brought you up here? What exactly were you looking for?”

Duan Xiaolin produced a professional-grade filtration mask and carefully secured it over her nose and mouth.

He looked down at her, his dark eyes intense. “If you are looking for something, you can tell me directly. Or you can simply ask me for it.”

Pei Xiqing obediently let him secure the mask, leaving only her clear eyes visible. She looked up at him for a few seconds before answering quietly, “I heard Mengxiang mention that she had dug up a crystal core near the surface airlocks, so I wanted to come up and investigate. I didn’t expect to find a mass grave of parasites and zombie corpses.”

She stepped closer to him. “Why are there so many dead bodies clustered right here?”

“The primary reinforced blast doors of the Sixth Base are located exactly ten meters below this spot,” he explained. “Despite the heavy shielding, these parasites and high-level zombies can still track the scent of human life. Every creature buried here actively attempted to breach the base.”

“Then… why are their chest cavities always completely hollowed out?”

“To extract their crystal cores.”

The man made absolutely no secret of it.

Pei Xiqing already knew the answer in her heart, but hearing him admit it so casually chilled her.

She didn’t question him further right away.

Duan Xiaolin wrapped a strong arm around her waist. He picked up the discarded umbrella, holding it over their heads to shield her from the blizzard as they began the slow walk back to the airlock.

Pei Xiqing couldn’t help but look up at his profile.

After a long silence, she asked softly, “Brother Duan… is there a high risk of violent physical backlash when you do this?”

“No.”

Pei Xiqing turned her face away, staring out into the snow.

She hesitated, her heart heavy with unspoken fears.

“Can these specific parasite crystal cores actually be used to stabilize my condition?”

“Even if I harvested ninety-nine or a hundred of them, it wouldn’t be enough.”

Pei Xiqing sighed, a profound sadness settling over her. “It seems there’s very little hope left, then.”

“There will always be a way.”

As he spoke, the man reached into his coat and pulled out a flawlessly pure, high-grade crystal core that emitted a radiant, ethereal blue light.

Pei Xiqing’s eyes lit up in shock.

“Was this… was this extracted from a high-level host’s body?”

“Yes.”

“The quality! It’s absolutely breathtaking! It’s easily comparable to the purest cores I’ve ever absorbed!”

He looked down at her, a genuinely tender smile curving his lips, and gently brushed a few stray snowflakes from her hood.

Even if there was only a one-in-a-hundred chance of success, he would slaughter however many monsters it took to secure the perfect crystal cores needed to save her life.

However, despite the stunning core in his hand, Pei Xiqing was not fully immersed in the joy of the discovery.

Once they were safely back inside the underground base, she covertly opened her gloved palm, revealing the item she had secretly picked up from the mass grave outside.

It was a dull, heavily flawed, inferior-grade crystal core she had extracted from one of the hollowed-out zombies.

Resting in her palm, it looked like nothing more than a hollow, useless rock.

She stared at the dull core, comparing it in her mind to the radiant, pure blue stone the man had just shown her.

They weren’t on the same level at all.

No matter how she analyzed it, the crystal cores naturally formed inside these new parasites and zombies were absolutely low-level, severely flawed, hopelessly dull… and completely useless for her specific physiological needs.

Yet, in his hand, Duan Xiaolin somehow possessed a high-level crystal core that was impossibly clear and pure.

She looked at the flawed core in her hand, remaining utterly silent.

Back in their duplex, Duan Xiaolin gently massaged her lower back, thoroughly checked to ensure she hadn’t sustained any injuries during her brief trip outside, and then announced he had to leave temporarily to “take care of some business.”

Ma Mengxiang was still heavily sedated and asleep in the spare room. Shadow stood guard outside her door. Seeing Pei Xiqing emerge, he asked in a low voice, “Do you need any assistance, Miss Pei?”

Pei Xiqing shook her head. “Keep a close eye on Mengxiang. If she wakes up exhibiting those same ravenous symptoms, it’s incredibly dangerous. Oh, and please call one of the medics to come watch little Ruiying.”

“Are you going out again?” Shadow asked, alarmed.

Pei Xiqing stood at the front door. Suddenly, she felt the base violently shudder beneath her feet.

Taking advantage of the chaotic movement, she slipped out of the duplex, silently following the path Duan Xiaolin had taken.

Shadow stood in the corridor, watching her resolutely disappear into the shadows. Beneath his tactical mask, his eyes were heavy with profound worry.

Pei Xiqing bypassed the security checkpoints and slipped out of the upper airlock. Through the howling wind and blinding snow, she spotted the tall silhouette of the man and his elite Franlun operatives standing in the frozen wasteland.

She remained hidden behind a massive snowdrift, watching silently.

Several colossal, newly mutated parasites lay thrashing on the ground in front of the man.

He casually accepted a specialized tactical dagger handed to him by a Shadow operative. With a face as expressionless and coldly decisive as carved marble, he stepped forward and ruthlessly drove the blade directly into the massive beast’s chest cavity.

The parasite roared in absolute, primal agony. Its massive, bladed arms and fleshy wings slammed frantically against the frozen earth, causing the ground beneath their feet to shudder violently.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. The repeated, earthquake-like tremors the base had been experiencing over the past few weeks hadn’t been natural seismic activity. The tremors had been caused by this.

Even these monstrous parasites felt blinding pain—especially the unimaginable agony of having their vital crystal cores ripped from their chests by a man using only his bare hands and a dagger. The sheer torment instantly triggered their hyper-regenerative survival instincts, making them thrash with earth-shattering force.

Unfortunately for the beasts, before they could struggle free or mount an attack, they were utterly crushed and paralyzed by the terrifying, invisible supernatural pressure radiating from the man’s palm.

Pei Xiqing witnessed the entire, horrifyingly bloody process from the shadows.

Forcibly extracting a crystal core from a live host was a brutally cruel, unimaginably agonizing execution.

Yet, Duan Xiaolin performed the slaughter with the casual familiarity of a man drinking water or eating a meal.

He was drenched in thick, black blood, but his eyelids didn’t even twitch.

It wasn’t until he had violently extracted the final glowing core from the beast’s chest that he paused. He slowly pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket, meticulously wiped the hot blood from his silver glasses and his dagger, and finally turned around.

Through the howling blizzard, their eyes finally met.

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