Chapter 75: Parallel World in Dreams
“That’s right! I’m the one who disbanded Base No. 27!”
Inside the God’s Supermarket, Liu Xiaona stood proudly on a chair, regaling the crowd with the tale of how she had risked her life to dismantle the enemy’s stronghold.
The moment Lin Han had marched the bulk of his combat psychics out to siege Base No. 35, Liu Xiaona and Zhang Hua had slipped into the unguarded perimeter. First, they effortlessly knocked out the skeleton crew left behind. Then, they literally beat drums and gongs to rally the ordinary, powerless civilians, convincing them that it was time to pack up and find a better place to live.
“Once the remaining psychics wake up, they’ll be too terrified of Lin Han’s wrath to stay put,” Liu Xiaona reasoned. “So it was better for everyone to just clear out ahead of time.”
“That’s it? It was really that simple?” Zhang Yimiao asked, her eyes narrowing with skepticism.
“Well, do you want to know what the real clincher was?” Liu Xiaona leaned down, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“What?”
“I used my knowledge of the timeline to my advantage,” Liu Xiaona giggled. “I told the people at Base No. 27 that Lin Han and Wan Youzhi had already failed their mission and been captured. I told them they could either stay there and wait to die, or find a fresh start at the other bases.”
Back then, the entire population of Base No. 27 had immediately scrambled to pack their belongings. The scene had been noisy but completely orderly—less like a panicked evacuation and more like a massive, celebratory carnival.
“She’s telling the truth! We saw it with our own eyes!” one of the water mutants who had escaped from Base 27 shouted excitedly. It had been the most thrilling spectacle they had ever witnessed. If their bodies hadn’t been heavily mutated and locked down at the time, they would have happily joined the exodus alongside the regular civilians.
“Honestly, mutating might have actually been a blessing in disguise,” the dark-skinned psychic traveling with Zhang Yimiao muttered under his breath. Shifting from a utility water attribute to a lethal, toxic poison attribute definitely had its perks.
Murmurs rippled through the lobby, with people quietly debating the sentiment. After all, turning completely charcoal-black from head to toe was a pretty heavy hit to one’s vanity.
“Gaha!”
Perched high up in the branches of the towering tallow tree outside, Gaha suddenly bounded down, calling out to Liu Xiaona and Little Meat Bun.
Liu Xiaona squeezed through the crowd to look outside. An absolute mountain of zombie corpses had been neatly piled next to the glowing security vortex—all courtesy of Zhang Yimiao’s squad hunting along the road.
When a few customers called out for her to tell more stories, Liu Xiaona waved them off with a grin. “Alright, storytime is over. Back to work!”
She grabbed a few safety helmets from the lower shelves, securely strapping them onto Little Meat Bun and Gaha to shield their heads from the falling ice.
Working like a well-oiled machine, Little Meat Bun and Gaha began dragging the heavy zombie carcasses into the security gate, while Liu Xiaona stood by the terminal, meticulously logging the trade-in points and corresponding inventory. They had performed this routine so many times that they didn’t even need Song Yuqing present to oversee the transactions.
Outside, the storm raged on, and a thick blanket of white quickly blanketed the asphalt. The fist-sized snowflakes were incredibly rigid when they first struck the ground, but they rapidly softened into a dense, rubbery slush, leaving deep, ragged footprints wherever people stepped. At one point, a mutant carrying a zombie lost his footing and went down hard, face-planting directly onto the dead monster.
Oddly enough, despite the heavy snowfall, the ambient temperature hadn’t dropped at all. It didn’t feel cold.
“Gaha…” Gaha grunted as a soft clump of slush drifted down from the tallow tree, landing gently on her helmet.
Little Meat Bun, on the other hand, was in fantastic spirits. He wrapped his chubby arms around the trunk of the massive tree, shaking it with all his might. A heavy cascade of softened snow broke free from the upper canopy, burying the little creature completely.
Finding the spectacle highly amusing, Zhang Yimiao lunged into the yard to challenge the panda, aggressively stealing his snowballs until the two erupted into a full-scale snowball fight. Unlike the hard, icy snowballs from before the apocalypse, these post-apocalyptic blocks behaved more like dense chunks of foam rubber.
Meanwhile, inside her bedroom, Song Yuqing lay deeply asleep, her eyes darting rapidly beneath her lids as cold sweat soaked through her clothes.
Deep within her dream, she had entered her spatial storage. To her surprise, the narrow, corridor-like void had expanded significantly.
Reaching out, her fingers wrapped around the handle of a heavy iron door. She turned it with a gentle click.
Stepping through, she found herself standing in a world that looked almost identical to the pre-apocalyptic era.
Towering skyscrapers stood in neat rows, their polished glass facades reflecting the brilliant, unfiltered sunlight. Tucked behind the modern towers were clusters of older, low-rise residential blocks. Song Yuqing found herself standing in the center of a bustling public plaza, anchored by a massive, silver dome sculpture. Rising directly in front of the plaza was a distinctive, H-shaped commercial high-rise.
The square was teeming with life: parents playing with their toddlers, teenagers practicing kickflips on skateboards, and internet influencers conducting lively outdoor streams.
Suddenly, a blonde young man emerged from the lobby of the H-shaped building. He held a phone to his ear, loudly coordinating a meeting with someone. The moment his voice carried across the plaza, Song Yuqing’s breath hitched—it was the unmistakable, distinct cadence of Master Fu. Furthermore, his face matched the exact countenance she had glimpsed during her brief journey through the parallel world.
That really is Master Fu.
As if pulled by an invisible magnetic force, Song Yuqing trailed behind him. She followed his path across a gridlocked intersection, turning down a narrow, dim alleyway illuminated by flickering neon signs. They ascended a steep, winding concrete staircase until Master Fu pushed open a rusted, heavy iron door leading down into a basement. It was a subterranean underground music venue.
Stationed at the entrance of the basement were two bouncers sporting heavy black eyeshadow and dark lipstick, strictly checking tickets. Song Yuqing opened her mouth to ask where she could purchase a pass, but before she could utter a word, the surging crowd behind her surged forward, swept her past the gates. Jostled by the dense pack of bodies, she stood disoriented in the dim space until, without warning, the house lights cut out completely.
Feeling claustrophobic, Song Yuqing tried to navigate her way back toward the exit, but the crowd was locked tight; there wasn’t a single inch of breathing room.
Suddenly, a deafening blast of instrumental rock shattered the air, the pure acoustic vibration shaking the basement walls until a fine layer of dust rained down from the ceiling. The stage lights flared into a chaotic, strobe pattern, and a wave of thunderous cheers nearly ruptured her eardrums.
The frantic rhythm of the music and the sea of jumping bodies triggered a sudden rush of nostalgia, making Song Yuqing feel as though she had been instantly transported back to her youth.
Moving with extreme caution, she gradually worked her way to the perimeter of the room, pressing her back firmly against the concrete wall. Looking up at the stage through the flashing strobes, she spotted Master Fu roaring into a microphone, his hair dyed a vibrant, glowing red by the spotlights.
The harder Master Fu screamed into the mic, the wilder the crowd became, thrashing their heads and spinning in manic circles. Standing pinned against the wall, Song Yuqing rapidly lost her footing as the mosh pit expanded, violently shoving her back against a side door with a loose, rattling latch.
The sea of bodies surged forward once more, and before she could even brace herself, the sheer physical pressure forced her straight through the door.
Everything went pitch black.
Panicking, Song Yuqing scrambled back to fling the door open and escape, but the wood wouldn’t budge an inch. Even the muffled, roaring rock music from the basement began to rapidly fade away into nothingness.
An absolute, heavy silence enveloped her. It grew so quiet that she could distinctly hear the frantic thumping of her own pulse.
Snap—
A row of overhead fluorescent lights flickered to life, bathing the space in a brilliant white glow.
Song Yuqing rubbed her eyes in sheer disbelief, blinking repeatedly to ensure her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. She was standing directly inside the God’s Supermarket.
“Welcome to the God’s Supermarket! We wish you a delightful shopping experience!” a crisp, pleasant automated voice echoed through the invisible speakers.
Song Yuqing took a tentative step forward, her boots clicking softly against the floorboards as she approached the nearest aisle.
“A fresh shipment of organic vegetables has just arrived in our produce sector,” the automated voice continued smoothly. “These items possess the unique property to rapidly restore internal psychic reserves. We welcome you to browse our selections.”
From out of nowhere, a sleek metal shopping cart glided across the floor, stopping perfectly right by her hip.
“Please place your desired selections into the cart and proceed to checkout. The corresponding points will be automatically deducted from your account balance.”
Moving entirely on instinct, Song Yuqing gripped the handlebar and pushed the cart down the pristine aisles, her eyes widening as she scanned the stock.
Fresh produce, fortified ration biscuits, high-calorie energy bars, medical supplies, trauma kits, heavy-duty sleeping bags, tactical flashlights, protective hazard suits, solar charging arrays, premium toiletry kits…
Every imaginable survival asset lined the shelves in infinite supply. Song Yuqing began grabbing items frantically, tossing nearly a hundred units of each product into her basket.
Strangely, the moment an item settled into the bottom of the shopping cart, it instantly vanished into thin air. A spike of panic shot through her, and she nearly smashed the cart in frustration before her spatial awareness kicked in. She realized the items weren’t missing—they were being funneled directly into her personal spatial storage.
Reassured, Song Yuqing continued down the line, pulling inventory off the racks at a manic pace. But after walking for several minutes, a strange sensation crept over her. It took her a moment to fully process what was wrong: no matter how far she walked, the aisles kept stretching out before her.
The shelves of this dream supermarket were completely endless.
