What?! I Became the Zombie Beauty in the Villain’s Arms – CH223-225

Chapter 223| Chapter 224| Chapter 225

Chapter 223: Binding

It genuinely felt like a lifetime ago.

Ever since she discovered that she was completely immune to the zombie virus after being bitten in the wild, she had instinctively wanted to stay as far away from dense human populations as possible. Perhaps it was directly related to the anomalous genes now woven into her biology. If Duan Xiaolin hadn’t been by her side, anchoring her to the world, she would have happily continued to wander the wilderness, never setting foot near another human settlement.

It had been nearly half a year since she last saw the iron gates of Base Three. She didn’t miss the rigid lifestyle of the fortified sectors at all; the only memories truly worth keeping from that time were the moments she had shared with Duan Xiaolin.

As night fell, Pei Xiqing and the man bypassed the first defensive perimeter, finally catching a glimpse of the structural reality hidden inside the sector.

Beyond the towering outer ramparts rose even higher, entirely enclosed steel walls. They were packed so densely together that they resembled colossal cages, choking out the horizon. She had originally assumed they would have to systematically navigate each checkpoint one by one to reach their destination. To her surprise, Duan Xiaolin led her straight into a hidden subterranean tunnel network instead.

By utilizing a high-speed transit elevator concealed deep beneath the foundation of the outer walls, they rapidly bypassed the standard quarantine grids. Within a few breaths, the sleek, capsule-like elevator ground to a smooth halt.

The heavy doors slid open to reveal a corridor draped in absolute darkness.

Duan Xiaolin squeezed her fingers. “Are you frightened?”

“No,” she replied softly.

It was merely a transition from one coordinate to a completely foreign environment, and she was more than capable of adapting to the shift. If anything, she was simply consumed by a deep curiosity, desperate to see what the capital of human survival actually looked like.

Unfortunately, the tunnel remained entirely unlit.

The moment she took a step forward, her boot pressing onto the solid, pristine road surface, a localized gravity sensor and biometric detection array beneath the floorboards instantly scanned her entire body. Simultaneously, a blinding flood of overhead tactical lights flickered to life.

The violent contrast of the sudden, brilliant glare made it impossible for Pei Xiqing to open her eyes. She instinctively raised her hands to shield her face, only managing to study her surroundings through the narrow gaps between her fingers after several agonizing seconds.

Duan Xiaolin immediately reached for the manual overrides on the wall, dimming the luminosity. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“This is the automated screening matrix,” he explained smoothly as her eyes adjusted. “The scanners embedded beneath the asphalt detect and evaluate biological markers in real time.”

Pei Xiqing lowered her head, checking the diagnostic terminal nearby. “So, what exactly are my results?”

There was no flashing warning display or localized containment shield. The array merely emitted a steady, passive blue light. Ordinarily, the exact second a trace of the zombie pathogen was registered, the terminal would detonate a base-wide alarm, automatically signaling every active commander across the sectors to initiate an immediate quarantine lock.

“That is because I instructed Long Yan to recalibrate the neural network’s testing parameters ahead of our arrival,” he stated slowly. “This bypass was engineered exclusively for you. Every biometric sensor within this capital has been coded with a permanent exception for your signature.”

“Impressive.”

Duan Xiaolin gently guided her forward, out of the scanning bay. “While you are inside this perimeter, you can relax. Do not allow yourself to be bound by your viral status.”

He desperately wanted her to experience life as an ordinary human being; he refused to let the latent spots on her skin become shackles that restricted her freedom.

“Alright,” she murmured, a soft smile touching her lips. “I’ll do my absolute best to acclimate.”

The man’s lips curved into a slight silhouette. “Let’s move.” He laced his fingers through hers, locking their hands together. “Once we ascend this final corridor, you will be standing inside the heart of Central Headquarters.”

“Good.”

The massive arterial tunnel apparently connected to every vital sector within the capital’s infrastructure. It boasted automated parking docks at every junction, though access to this subterranean highway was strictly limited to elite clearance holders.

The exact moment they emerged from the underground passage, the very first thing that hit Pei Xiqing’s senses was the deafening, majestic roar of crashing waves. The sound was incredibly violent, as if a churning, volatile ocean were pressed directly against her eardrums, vibrating relentlessly through her skull.

The air filled with a sharp, heavy scent of bitter brine. Sure enough, as she stepped out of the tunnel exit, she found herself completely surrounded by an endless, dark sea.

Central Headquarters was anchored entirely to a massive island in the middle of the ocean.

With no landmass in sight, the black water surged furiously, throwing up colossal sheets of foam that resembled a galloping army. The waves battered the reinforced concrete retaining walls of the island with an awesome, terrifying power. Standing on the edge, the continuous, rhythmic impact created a dizzying illusion that the entire island was slowly drifting across the water.

She stood frozen for a long moment, a wave of vertigo washing over her. The sheer scale of the installation felt profoundly surreal. Taking a few cautious steps forward, she leaned her weight against the heavy steel guardrails, peering out across the vast expanse. The ocean was a solid, impenetrable deep blue, its deepest trenches entirely hidden from view—brooding, mysterious, and radiating an ominous, predatory energy.

The water looked impossibly dense and heavy.

Duan Xiaolin stepped up beside her, his voice low with a stern warning. “Do not stare into the depths for too long. There are things nesting in the tides.”

“What kind of things?”

“Hyper-mutated parasites and massive densities of the infected.”

Pei Xiqing blinked in surprise. “No way. Can zombies actually survive in the open ocean? I didn’t think they possessed the motor control to swim. Wouldn’t they just sink to the seafloor alongside their hosts?”

“If I define them as modern water ghouls, it might be easier for your mind to visualize the threat,” he noted calmly.

“I see.” The moment he used the phrase water ghouls, her mind instantly constructed a vivid, chilling image of the bloated, aquatic horrors waiting just beneath the surface.

“We need to keep moving.”

The installation was essentially a gargantuan, isolated rock with zero natural resources to rely on. Glancing back toward the horizon they had just traveled from, she could see rows of towering, mountain-like city walls stacked upon one another. It was staggering to realize how grueling it would have been if they had been forced to clear those defensive barriers layer by layer on foot.

Directly ahead, the island’s interior was dominated by a dense forest of jagged skyscrapers that resembled a bleak, cyberpunk cityscape. The architectures were suffocating and overwhelming, painted in a monotonous, deeply depressing color palette. To make the atmosphere even more grim, the lower tiers of the buildings flanking the streets were reinforced with structures that looked identical to high-security prison blocks.

High above their heads, a dozen tactical aircraft patrolled the gray skies, their active scanning lasers casting sweeping crimson beams across every corridor and alleyway to monitor the base.

Yet, none of these aggressive defenses were directed at them.

One of the hovering patrol crafts slowly broke formation, descending toward their position. Its sleek, agile chassis executed two precise maneuvers in mid-air before its landing gear touched down on the reinforced runway, surging toward them with a blast of wind.

The violent backdraft left Pei Xiqing’s dress slightly disheveled, her long hair whipping wildly across her face.

The man stood unyielding in his long black windbreaker. The wind caught the edge of his tie, but behind the reflective lenses of his glasses, his eyes remained entirely cold and detached. He raised his gloved hand, his black leather fingers gently smoothing the wild strands of hair away from her face.

Noticing the absolute seriousness of his expression, Pei Xiqing murmured, “What’s wrong?”

His lips curled into a slow, rare trace of amusement. “Nothing. I simply think you look exquisite when you’re a little undone.”

Pei Xiqing studied his silhouette. He was dressed immaculately, radiating an sharp, imposing authority that left very little room for human tenderness. He looked every bit the apex dictator of Franlun. She gently reached out, taking his gloved hand and quietly squeezing his fingers to ground him.

The aircraft’s hydraulic hatch hissed open.

A tall man clad in full tactical combat gear stepped down onto the tarmac. Keeping his dark visor down, the officer marched directly toward Duan Xiaolin, offering a crisp, respectful nod. “Chief Judge. You have officially arrived.”

Duan Xiaolin extended his hand, executing a brief, formal handshake. “What is the status of the upper sectors?”

“You are asking a question to which you already hold the precise metrics,” the officer replied, a bitter, weary chuckle vibrating through his comms helmet. “Central Headquarters carries the weight of the entire alliance. How could any of us truly be thriving under this pressure?”

“You’ve handled the logistics well, Captain Lu.”

“Now that the Presiding Judge is finally back on the board, I strongly suggest you prioritize a visit to the subterranean water dungeon,” Captain Lu urged, his tone shifting into an urgent briefing. “The political factions locked down there are instigating a massive riot. It’s creating a severe administrative headache for my division, and the directorate is waiting exclusively for your office to resolve the containment.”

Duan Xiaolin’s posture remained flawlessly straight, his presence calm and immovable. “I execute my objectives according to my own timeline,” he stated flatly.

“Understood. Marshal Ye is also eagerly awaiting your arrival at the high command.”

“Mhm.”

“I will escort you to the briefing room myself. The Marshal personally dispatched my unit to secure your transport.” The officer’s visor finally shifted toward Pei Xiqing, who was standing quietly in Duan Xiaolin’s shadow. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his expression instantly smoothing into a mask of professional impartiality. “Please do not delay your arrival for too long, Chief Judge. My transport team has been holding this runway for an entire week.”

Seeing the captain gesture for Duan Xiaolin to board the command craft alone, Pei Xiqing opened her mouth, intending to tell him that she could simply wait for his return at the transit bay.

But before she could speak, the man gripped her hand firmly. “You are coming with me.”

Pei Xiqing blinked. “Is it truly permitted for a civilian to enter the high command?”

The man stepped onto the boarding platform, turning back to extend his gloved hand down to her. His eyes locked onto hers behind his glasses. “Trust me.”

A profound wave of relief washed over Pei Xiqing, and she offered him a bright, unshakeable smile as she placed her palm in his. “Since I chose to leave the valley to accompany you, I will always place my absolute belief in you.”

Chapter 224: The Living Dead 

Once the aircraft took off, Pei Xiqing found herself experiencing this mode of transportation for the first time.

It wasn’t merely a transport vehicle; it was designed for combat reconnaissance, flying at a blistering speed that completely eclipsed the high-speed transit elevator they had just ridden in the subterranean tunnel. The cabin was quite spacious, with more than enough room to comfortably accommodate four adults. Turning her head, Pei Xiqing could watch the clouds rolling dynamically outside the glass. Inside, she barely felt a single bump. The flight was as smooth as ever.

Humans in this era wielded a terrifying array of advanced, high-tech weaponry, pushing their technological baseline farther than ever before. Yet, despite these structural advantages, the alliance still couldn’t muster enough confidence to definitively counter the dual threat of the parasites and the zombies. It was glaringly obvious that this new parasitic strain was hitting the outer boundaries with unprecedented momentum—it was a force that could not be underestimated.

They flew for more than ten minutes. Given their extreme velocity, Pei Xiqing had initially assumed they would completely clear the island’s airspace within moments. But when the aircraft finally initiated its descent, she felt as though she were stepping into a thick, disorienting fog. Looking up, she realized the island was staggeringly gargantuan. Even an advanced aerial transport flying at top speed hadn’t managed to traverse its boundaries after all this time. They had merely caught a fleeting glimpse of a single corner.

Compared to the towering, oppressive skyscrapers they had observed near the shoreline, the architecture in this sector was significantly more low-key. The tallest structures here belonged exclusively to the laboratory complexes. The surrounding residential quarters consisted of standard, single-story bungalows, but the entire grid was sealed behind a massive, humming electric fence that completely enclosed the perimeter. Through the airtight mesh of the barriers, Pei Xiqing watched the uniform movements of laborers constantly rushing back and forth between the buildings. They seemed locked in a cycle of perpetual motion, unable to rest for even a single second.

Captain Lu Yu stepped forward, his tone carrying an underlying urgency. “Chief Judge, the Marshal—”

Ignoring the interruption, Duan Xiaolin reached out, took Pei Xiqing’s hand, and slid a familiar sleek object into her palm.

Pei Xiqing blinked in surprise. “How did my phone end up with you?” She had felt a vague sense of missing something throughout the entire journey, and it turned out she had completely forgotten to pack her phone.

In the brutal reality of the apocalypse, mobile phones were practically obsolete. No one used them to browse videos or stream music anymore; they were entirely inferior to the military’s high-tech communication arrays and were essentially reduced to bricks capable only of running offline games. Ever since she had settled into the isolated village, she had rarely touched her phone, utilizing it over the past few months exclusively to snap photos and document the growth of Xiaobai and the parasite. When it came time to abandon the valley, the device had completely slipped her mind. She hadn’t expected him to remember.

“Go ahead and take some photos,” he murmured smoothly.

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

Pei Xiqing glanced at Captain Lu standing rigidly behind them, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Isn’t the Marshal waiting for your immediate arrival?”

Duan Xiaolin kept his eyes fixed on the distant laboratory complexes, his tone entirely unbothered. “I’ll check in with him shortly.”

Pei Xiqing gripped her phone, entirely unable to fathom what kind of administrative game this man was playing. But since he had explicitly authorized it, she figured there was no harm in sightseeing. Central Headquarters was undeniably a world apart from the ruined sectors of Base Three. The sheer prosperity and structural density of this floating metropolis were entirely beyond the imagination of wasteland scavengers. The engineering feat required to construct a centralized artificial island of this magnitude was staggering—even more so when executed amidst the collapse of civilization. The absolute rarity of such a sanctuary was self-evident.

She spent a few minutes capturing the sleek architectures of the inner perimeter, then playfully pulled Duan Xiaolin into the frame to snap a quick selfie together. As the twilight completely faded, plunging the sector into darkness, she lowered the device. “Are you truly going to be alright delaying like this? What are you actually planning?”

“I am simply waiting for the board to align,” he replied evenly.

Realizing she had exhausted the novelties of the sector and feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion, Pei Xiqing was finally ready to face the high command. Duan Xiaolin guided her toward the primary government building looming directly ahead.

The moment they breached the heavy gates of the electric fence, the atmosphere shifted. The corridors were choked with personnel moving frantically between sectors. As they walked, a researcher, entirely consumed by the medical data he was reading, mindlessly collided straight into Pei Xiqing. The heavy stack of documents he was holding slipped from his fingers, scattering violently across the floorboards.

Pei Xiqing immediately dropped into a squat, instinctively reaching down to retrieve one of the pages.

At first, the researcher didn’t even process the physical reality of the collision. He simply stared blankly down at Pei Xiqing, his voice a mechanical, vacant murmur. “Damn it… a living citizen inside the core base… I must deliver these documents to the executive bureau for authorization immediately. I have to transmit them now. Absolute efficiency must be maintained… there can be no administrative delay…”

Duan Xiaolin crouched down, casually gathering a few stray sheets that had drifted past his boots. But before the researcher could reach out to reclaim his files, his eyes darted past Duan Xiaolin’s shoulder, locking onto the terrifying visage of Captain Lu. A visceral, panicked terror instantly shattered his daze, and he violently threw himself onto his knees.

He began to frantically hammer his forehead against the concrete floor, the impact so brutal that his skin ruptured after the second strike. “I was wrong! I was negligent! I was entirely reckless! Forgive my error!”

Captain Lu let out a cold, venomous snort. “Colliding with my unit is an administrative triviality. Disrupting the Presiding Judge’s trajectory is a capital offense.”

The researcher didn’t offer a verbal defense. Like a broken machine, he simply continued to execute the agonizing penance, slamming his head against the ground over and over again. Within moments, a bright crimson pool began to bloom across the floorboards. Deep fractures split the bone of his forehead, looking as though his skull would structurally fail at any second. Yet, he continued the self-flagellation tirelessly, his vacant eyes proving he was entirely desensitized to the physical trauma.

The surrounding personnel moved past the spectacle without breaking stride, completely desensitized to the brutality. The sight of fresh blood pooling across the corridor didn’t cause a single operative to hesitate. They simply stepped right through the crimson stains, their eyes glued to the data arrays gripped in their hands.

Pei Xiqing’s brow furrowed tightly, a sudden chill creeping down her spine. The man hadn’t committed a malicious crime; it was a simple accident. She shot a desperate glance at the man beside her.

“Cease,” Duan Xiaolin commanded, his voice flat.

Captain Lu immediately countered, his tone laced with a twisted sense of discipline. “Let the worm finish his penance, Chief Judge. His lack of situational awareness has directly impeded your executive path. He must endure the appropriate metrics of correction. The previous administration of the Presiding Judge was defined by absolute, unyielding ruthlessness. The internal penal code of Franlun is explicitly designed to be harsh, enforcing compliance with total integrity. Under the standing regulations, sparing him from the subterranean water dungeon is already an act of extreme clemency.”

The kneeling researcher didn’t alter his rhythm. His facial muscles remained frozen, entirely incapable of registering baseline human terror. Like a hollow puppet, he continued to hammer his skull against the concrete. After a few more sickening impacts, the dark blood pooling on the floor began to mix with gray matter.

The corridor instantly transformed into a theater of raw horror, the pungent, metallic stench of fresh blood filling the air. It was the first time Pei Xiqing had ever witnessed a human being mindlessly hollow out their own skull through sheer obedience. A wave of intense nausea hit her chest, and her complexion turned deathly pale.

The two officers flanking them didn’t move a muscle. Indifference, cruelty, and an absolute, hollow silence—these traits appeared to be the uniform baseline for every operative entrenched within this capital. There was clearly nothing more terrifying than the total erasure of human empathy. Once a society systematically scrubbed out its baseline humanity, it became infinitely more monstrous than any wandering horde or parasitic abomination.

Captain Lu’s lips curled into a smirk of sick satisfaction. “This precise regulatory framework was personally instituted by your office, Chief Judge. Whoever deviates from the metric must accept the penalty.”

Duan Xiaolin’s dark green eyes remained entirely vacant of pity or human sympathy. He stepped forward, his polished leather shoes cutting straight through the pool of blood and gray matter, and extended his gloved hand to firmly halt the researcher’s movement, forcing the dying man upright.

“Purge his file from the execution queue,” Duan Xiaolin directed coldly.

Shadow instantly materialized from the rafters, smoothly taking custody of the shivering, fractured researcher before his body could collapse back into the blood.

Captain Lu’s expression twisted, his composure fracturing. “Chief Judge, this deviation—”

“The metrics of the law are entirely subject to the entity that commands the execution,” Duan Xiaolin interrupted, his voice cutting through the corridor like a razor. “Deploying psychological conditioning to break vicious saboteurs is a valid method of maintaining control. But if your command staff systematically reduces every asset under your jurisdiction to the status of the living dead, utilizing rules to balance their metrics becomes entirely meaningless.”

“A fascinating philosophical assessment, Chief Judge.”

A smooth, resonant voice echoed down from the grand staircase behind them. A massive entourage of high-ranking military dignitaries descended into the corridor. Standing at the absolute vanguard of the command staff was the supreme director of the alliance—Commander-in-Chief Fu Yan—his dark blue military uniform immaculate, his chest and broad shoulders gleaming with rows of golden badges.

Chapter 225: It’s Worth It No Matter How Long It Takes

Deep fatigue was etched between Fu Yan’s brows, and his hair and beard were completely disheveled. Looking at him, it was impossible to tell that he was only in his thirties.

Pei Xiqing had never seen the Commander-in-Chief in the flesh before, but she knew him well from the novel’s plot. He spent the first half of his life entirely consumed by the brutal, exhausting war against the undead. Five years into the apocalypse, stress had already turned his hair gray. Ten years in, he would finally cross paths with his most capable asset, Xiao Yue. With the male protagonist’s help, Fu Yan would gradually stabilize the human sectors before abdicating early, stepping back to let Xiao Yue claim the spotlight, consolidate power, and build his own ultimate savior base. From that point on, the narrative shifted entirely to Xiao Yue leading humanity toward a golden age, while this worn-out Marshal, who had sacrificed his youth to the crisis, vanished from the text without a trace.

In the novel, she had thought the description of his accelerated aging was a theatrical exaggeration. How could a man in his early thirties—essentially the same age as Duan Xiaolin—look like an old man? But seeing him today, she realized the text hadn’t even captured the full severity of it. The crushing anxiety of commanding a dying world could truly hollow a person out overnight.

The moment Fu Yan caught sight of Duan Xiaolin, his eyes lit up with intense anticipation. He immediately strode forward. “Xiaolin, you’ve finally arrived.”

“Marshal,” Duan Xiaolin greeted evenly.

“You’re actually back! I was terrified you truly intended to abandon your post,” Fu Yan said, grasping his hand tightly. His voice was thick with relief. “No matter how long I had to hold this runway, having you back on the board makes it entirely worth it!”

Duan Xiaolin calmly withdrew his hand. “My schedule was slightly delayed on the road. We crossed paths with a few rogue blacksmiths in the outer sectors who claimed they were fulfilling advanced weapon commissions directly for the high command.”

“Ah, that’s a trivial matter,” Fu Yan dismissed quickly, desperate to keep the Chief Judge appeased. “The Presiding Judge’s alignment is vital to the survival of this base. A minor delay on the road means nothing. Even if I had to wait weeks, your presence is worth the delay.”

It was glaringly obvious that Fu Yan was terrified Duan Xiaolin would permanently resign from Franlun. If the Chief Judge walked away now, the entire administrative structure would collapse, and the Marshal wouldn’t just be losing sleep—he would likely lose his life to the next political coup.

“As for those external blacksmith commissions, I am fully aware of the logistics,” Fu Yan added, guiding them toward the main lift. “It was indeed an executive directive from my office. I authorized exactly five external workshops to assist with the manufacturing shortfall. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement to supplement our armories. It’s a small matter.”

“Has the capital truly degenerated to the point where it must rely on wasteland scavengers to resolve its arms deficit?” Duan Xiaolin asked sharply, a dangerous trace of mockery bleeding into his voice. “When the final breach occurs, do you intend to deploy your divisions into the meat grinder entirely unarmed?”

Fu Yan’s brow furrowed tightly, a flicker of helplessness crossing his face. “We are facing an unprecedented manpower shortage within the primary garrisons; we are simply forced to engineer alternative solutions. Smelting high-tier crystal cores into conductive alloys yields weapons with an undeniable combat output. It bridges the numerical deficit. I give you my word, Xiaolin—regardless of the strategic cost, I will never willingly send our soldiers to their deaths.”

Fu Yan waved a hand, cutting off the debate as the elevator doors opened. “Let us ascend to the executive hall to unpack this properly. The corridors are too crowded, and the directorate has already finalized the security arrangements for our brief.”

“Lead the way.”

Fu Yan was flanked by a dozen high-ranking military dignitaries. While they maintained a posture of absolute deference toward Duan Xiaolin, their eyes continuously drifted toward the woman tracking closely behind the Chief Judge, their expressions a mix of profound confusion and shock.

Who on earth is she…?

For years, the enigmatic Chief Judge of Franlun had been flanked exclusively by masked, stone-cold operatives. The sudden appearance of a civilian woman standing in his immediate shadow was an administrative anomaly.

Sensing the mounting tension, Long Yan quickly broke away from the vanguard of the entourage, stepping forward to smoothly take Pei Xiqing’s hand.

“Marshal, this is the exceptional civilian I highlighted in my previous field reports—Miss Pei Xiqing,” Long Yan announced clearly to the crowd. “Her tactical awareness and bravery out in the wild were the sole reasons Ling Lang and I successfully navigated several lethal ambushes.”

Pei Xiqing blinked, completely caught off guard by the sudden reunion. “Sister Long Yan.”

Long Yan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, turning back to the dignitaries. “Furthermore, during the black market purge, Miss Pei’s operational logistics were invaluable to our division.”

With a few swift sentences, Long Yan had essentially manufactured a flawless military background for her, framing her as a decorated asset. Pei Xiqing’s mind briefly short-circuited. When did I ever save anyone? And since when did I rescue Long Yan and Ling Lang?

Catching the subtle, urgent wink Long Yan flashed her, Pei Xiqing immediately understood the play. She smoothed her expression, offering Fu Yan a polite, elegant smile. “It is an honor, Commander-in-Chief. I am Pei Xiqing.”

“Miss Pei, so it is truly you. Surviving the lawless wilderness requires immense intelligence; you are clearly very capable,” Fu Yan smiled, his eyes scanning her face. “Ling Lang has spoken highly of your instincts as well. That boy was deployed on a high-priority tracking mission this morning, but you will likely cross paths once his unit returns to base.”

“Thank you, Marshal.”

Fu Yan maintained a flawlessly polite, diplomatic smile. Yet beneath his approachable demeanor lay a calculated, icy alienation. He radiated the typical aura of a seasoned politician—completely unreadable, distant, and impossible to gauge upon a first encounter.

Understanding her immediate proximity to Duan Xiaolin, Fu Yan chose not to complicate the logistics further. Turning to his officer, he directed, “Long Yan, escort Miss Pei down to the residential quarters so she can rest. A trans-sector journey is grueling. We have critical administrative business to unpack, and the session will likely run late into the night. Take Miss Pei down and ensure she is fed properly.”

Before Long Yan could comply, Duan Xiaolin’s cool voice severed the directive. “I instructed my wife to accompany me into the briefing room. I want her to observe the administrative mechanics of the capital firsthand. I will handle her arrangements personally once the session concludes. Let’s proceed to the conference hall.”

The declaration sent a visible shockwave through the surrounding dignitaries. Several officers practically bristled with indignation.

This was a blatant, unapologetic violation of high-command protocol! To bring a civilian woman—a wife, no less—into a classified military tribunal? The Presiding Judge was acting with absolute arrogance, treating the alliance’s inner sanctum like his personal estate. Yet despite their boiling irritation, not a single official dared to voice an objection. They kept their mouths shut, burying their fury deep within their files.

Fu Yan cast a long, calculating look at Pei Xiqing before his eyes drifted back down to the pool of fresh blood still staining the lower corridor. A flicker of annoyance marred his features. “Have a maintenance crew scrub the floorboards immediately. A baseline clerk met a premature end—what of it? Leaving a biological mess of this scale outside the main bureau is unnecessarily disturbing.”

With a dismissive flick of his pristine sleeve, the Marshal turned to scale the grand staircase. “What a useless waste of skin.”

Pei Xiqing looked back to see a cleanup crew already systematically bleaching the concrete. Despite their speed, the foul, metallic stench of blood hung heavily in the air, refusing to dissipate. Reflecting on the absolute, casual cruelty of the high command and the sheer indifference of the passing operatives, the knot of nausea in her stomach tightened.

The webnovel’s lore had never lied: Central Headquarters was fundamentally a meat grinder where humans devoured one another to survive.

The inner doors hissed shut as the entourage filed into the colossal executive conference hall—a sweeping chamber designed to comfortably seat hundreds of dignitaries.

Fu Yan claimed the central high back chair at the head of the long mahogany table. Duan Xiaolin took the immediate seat to his right, and Pei Xiqing sat directly beside the man. The remaining military officials deliberately clustered at the far end of the table, maximizing the physical distance between themselves and the Chief Judge.

Fu Yan wasted no time, diving straight into the agenda. “Xiaolin, your office has undoubtedly reviewed the intelligence. The parasitic anomalies are multiplying at an exponential trajectory across every peripheral base. What is Franlun’s strategy to stabilize the borders?”

Before Duan Xiaolin could even part his lips, the officials at the end of the table exploded into a frantic chorus of conflicting opinions, desperate to assert their dominance.

Duan Xiaolin didn’t interrupt. He simply leaned back in his chair, listening to the mounting noise with total detachment before tilting his head slightly to look down at the woman sitting rigidly beside him. He raised a single eyebrow, his silent gaze playfully asking for her assessment of the debate.

Pei Xiqing felt he was giving her far too much credit. How on earth was she supposed to harbor a strategic military opinion on a global biological crisis? She was immune to the pathogen, sure, but she wasn’t a tactical genius. She simply shook her head, offering him a dry look.

Eventually, the squabbling dignitaries realized that the only entity capable of engineering a viable containment strategy was the man sitting silently at the head of the table. One by one, the voices fizzled out until the chamber fell completely dead, everyone waiting with bated breath for the Chief Judge to speak.

Duan Xiaolin adjusted his glasses, his voice cutting through the quiet with slow, deliberate precision. “The density of the parasitic swarm has admittedly breached our initial projections. However… humanity is not entirely devoid of leverage.”

“What exactly does that imply, Xiaolin?” Fu Yan pressed urgently, leaning forward. “Has Franlun successfully identified a biological vulnerability? Can we systematically eradicate the swarm at its progenitor source?”

“Precisely!” an official chimed in eagerly. “We knew the moment the Chief Judge reclaimed his seat, the dark clouds hanging over this base would finally break!”

“A counter-measure exists,” Duan Xiaolin murmured smoothly, playing his cards with calculated deliberation. “However, the serum requires active live-specimen validation before cross-sector deployment.”

“Detail the parameters immediately, Chief Judge!”

“Let us hear the deployment metrics, Presiding Judge!”

In an instant, the chamber dissolved right back into a chaotic wall of noise. Dignitaries shouted over one another, their arguments blurring into a deafening drone that made it impossible for Pei Xiqing to track who was even speaking. She hadn’t expected the elite leaders of the human alliance to behave exactly like bickering academics.

Initially, she had tried to pay attention, tracking their theories about using high-tier ability traps and chemical neurotoxins to neutralize the swarm. But within seconds, her mind drifted. She knew from her memory of the original plot that the parasites would easily adapt to conventional poisons, rendering the council’s grand strategy entirely useless. Sure enough, Duan Xiaolin callously dismantled the official’s proposal a moment later.

The cycle repeated endlessly. One plan was abandoned, and another was frantically drafted. Throughout it all, Duan Xiaolin remained entirely detached—a master puppeteer letting his assets exhaust themselves before dictating the final outcome.

As the hours dragged on and the debate stretched past midnight, the sheer volume of voices began to make her scalp tingle. Sitting in the warm room listening to their circular arguments felt identical to sitting through a grueling university lecture, where a professor droned on endlessly about life truths and earnest values.

Her head gave a sudden, violent nod, her forehead nearly cracking against the polished mahogany table.

Pei Xiqing snapped awake, gasping slightly as she realized she had completely dozed off in the middle of a high-level military council. Jerking her spine straight, her eyes immediately collided with the man’s dark green gaze. A faint, deeply amused smile was dancing in his eyes.

Her cheeks flushed a violent crimson, and she instantly locked her hands in her lap, staring straight ahead as if she had been perfectly conscious the entire time.

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