Chapter 120: Sea
Song Yuqing leaned half her body out the window. Down below, Little Meat Bun was lying comfortably on the sand with his legs crossed. The waves rolled in with a seemingly turbulent energy, but each time they reached the shore, they merely caressed the little panda’s feet.
Turning back to Liu Xiaona and Gaha, Song Yuqing gave a knowing nod. The three of them climbed onto the ledge one after another and dropped down into a squat on the beach.
Zhang Yimiao and Zhang Hua had already followed them up to the second floor. The moment they saw the others clear the ledge, they launched themselves through the frame like carps leaping over a mythical gate or puppies diving through hoops of fire.
When Song Yuqing landed, she came down squarely on top of Liu Xiaona. Before she could move, Gaha dropped from above, pinning her down. Beneath Liu Xiaona lay Little Meat Bun, his face twisted in a mask of pure agony as he let out a muffled, aggrieved roar.
Before any of them could untangle themselves, several more bodies plummeted from the sky. Zhang Yimiao, Zhang Hua, and a wave of the other new arrivals from Base Zero had eagerly joined the fray. They piled on top of each other like a human hill, adding a solid six feet of height to the flat shoreline.
By the time Song Yuqing finally managed to wriggle free from the dogpile, Xiaoyi dropped straight onto her, sending her face-first into the sand.
“Whoa! Look at this!” Xiaoyi squealed, scrambling to her feet with excitement. Without even bothering to help her manager up, she bolted toward the crashing waves and dove headfirst into the azure sea.
Song Yuqing pushed herself up, deeply moved by the sight of the pristine blue sky and the crisp white foam. For a fleeting second, she was trapped in a beautiful illusion that the apocalypse had vanished, replaced by a peaceful seaside holiday.
She tracked the visual path of their drop and spotted the window—or rather, a clean, square tear cutting right through the blue sky and fluffy clouds. Measuring the distance with her thumb, she estimated the portal hung a good thirty feet above the shore. It was a miracle none of them had broken any bones. Then again, it wasn’t a matter of luck; it was simply the nature of this mystical beach. It was an incredibly gentle, forgiving sanctuary.
Song Yuqing watched Liu Xiaona splashing around in her slippers, Little Meat Bun rolling happily in the wet sand, Gaha collecting pristine seashells, and Zhang Yimiao swimming out into the deep. Suddenly, a logistical hurdle crossed her mind: How on earth are we supposed to get back up? Do we form a human pyramid? Or do we have Gaha throw us up one by one?
As if answering her thoughts, a long rope ladder slowly uncoiled down from the sky. Shen She poked his head out of the portal, surveyed the beach with a satisfied nod, and began a slow, careful descent. After all, his physical body was that of an elderly man now.
Leave it to Shen She, Song Yuqing thought with a wave of quiet admiration. The kid has been hyper-cautious since he was a boy.
The rope ladder he had dropped was exceptionally sturdy, cobbled together on a total whim right before he stepped through.
This is paradise, Song Yuqing sighed internally, staring out at the horizon. She wanted to stay anchored to this shoreline forever, basking under the warmth of the sun and letting the sea breeze wash over her.
Suddenly, Gaha and Little Meat Bun flanked her, aggressively dragging her toward the surf. Song Yuqing’s initial instinct was to break free, but she quickly checked herself. Why am I fighting them? I love the ocean too! Reclaiming the initiative, she grabbed her non-human employees and hauled them straight into the deeper water. It was exhausting work, but she hadn’t had this much fun in months.
She allowed the cool saltwater to submerge her entirely, emptying her mind of all operational stress and letting the gentle current carry her adrift. Just this once, she was going to be extravagant and think about absolutely nothing.
Within an hour, nearly every single refugee camped around God’s Supermarket had filtered through the portal, splashing and playing along the coast.
Once she had her fill of the water, Song Yuqing waded back ashore, walking along the edge of the tide and leaving a neat line of footprints in the wet sand. This beach and this ocean felt utterly infinite. She hadn’t experienced a space this safe and vast in a very long time; there wasn’t a single shred of danger lurking in the environment, everything projecting a gentle, inclusive warmth.
But after walking for about five minutes, she slammed straight into an invisible wall.
The seemingly endless shoreline had its limits after all.
She pressed her palms against the barrier, unable to take another step forward. It was a jarring revelation: the boundless horizon stretching out before her eyes was nothing more than a localized projection.
Standing flush against the invisible barrier, a heavy wave of depression and profound loss washed over her. The manifestation of the wall was a cruel, poetic reminder of their current existence in the wasteland. They had no idea where their path was charting, and there was nowhere left for them to go. Even the miracles they witnessed could easily be classified as an illusion.
Song Yuqing traced the line of the wall as it cut down into the surf, diving beneath the surface to hunt for a gap or a flaw in the barrier. Tragically, the invisible shield remained perfectly solid, leaving no loophole for escape.
At the end of the day, it was merely a beautifully engineered cage.
Holding her breath under the water, Song Yuqing opened her eyes to take in the spectacular, crystal-clear azure depths—a sight completely alien to someone raised in the ash-choked apocalypse.
Suddenly, Master Fu’s voice resonated directly behind her ear. “Don’t get entirely carried away by the recreation, Manager Song. You need to execute those three directives I gave you as soon as possible.”
The tone was surprisingly stern. And unlike his usual electronic transmissions, the voice sounded perfectly organic, completely devoid of the standard radio distortion. It felt as though he were standing right next to her.
Song Yuqing snapped her head around. Resting quietly in the water was a genial middle-aged man, offering her a warm, supportive smile.
She recognized him instantly. It was the exact facial structure of Teacher Fu, the colossal figure she had observed typing behind the glass tubes in the giant server room. Except right now, he was standing directly in front of her, scaled down to match her exact height.
Song Yuqing gasped in shock, a sudden influx of seawater rushing down her throat. She frantically broke the surface to catch her breath, but the moment her head cleared the water, Teacher Fu’s presence vanished completely.
She plunged her face back beneath the surf, and sure enough, the man was still waiting for her. She noted with a shock that his garments remained perfectly smooth, unaffected by the aquatic currents. He continued to smile warmly, breathing naturally without producing a single air bubble around his nose.
Unable to believe her eyes, Song Yuqing reached out to grasp his sleeve, but her fingers passed clean through his form as if he were nothing but a mirage.
It was a holographic projection.
Catching her realization, Teacher Fu spoke, his voice vibrating clearly through the water. “I do not physically exist within this sector matrix. The only reason your biology can perceive my form is because I have exploited a temporary loophole in the system architecture.”
A loophole in the system?
Reading the confusion written across her face, Teacher Fu gave a slow nod. “I am Master Fu. Or rather, I am the foundational creator behind the entity you address as Master Fu. Under strict structural protocol, I am expressly forbidden from establishing direct contact with you.”
!!!
Song Yuqing grew so intensely excited that she completely lost her balance in the water, her arms and legs flailing wildly as she struggled to process the revelation. What on earth did he mean?
Teacher Fu shrugged, his expression turning serious. “But the tactical landscape has shifted. I have bypassed the firewalls to meet you today because I intend to reveal the absolute truth of this world.”
Song Yuqing blinked rapidly, entirely unable to articulate her explosive thoughts underwater. She could only track his movements with wide, eager eyes. God knows she was dying to hear the answers!
“However, the designated hour has not yet arrived,” Teacher Fu conditionalized, a look of subtle regret flitting across his features. “Once the final war between humanity and the undead reaches its conclusion, return to these exact coordinates, and I will unlatch the core database for you. Consider today’s meeting merely a preventative measure to fortify your resolve.”
A truth that cannot be revealed yet? Song Yuqing felt a brief pang of disappointment, but she quickly pushed it aside. At this stage, she couldn’t begin to fathom what kind of cosmic secret he was guarding anyway.
Her mind immediately locked onto the more immediate, terrifying variable he had casually dropped.
The final war between humans and zombies.
When exactly is that going to unleash?
