Chu Ling took a sweeping glance around the small base. Though it was surrounded by a metallic wall just over a meter high and powered by electricity to deter monsters and trigger alarms, it was still only a temporary structure—not particularly sturdy.
This group consisted of no more than a dozen people, about five or six researchers and an equal number of guards armed with advanced tech-based guns. Their uniforms made it easy to distinguish between the two roles. While the guards and their equipment might suffice to handle ordinary zombies, this level of defense was far from foolproof.
By four or five in the afternoon, the sun would set, leaving the base shrouded in darkness. Nights in this world were always longer than the days, stretching for 15 to 16 hours. Once darkness fell, the risks multiplied as monsters and mutants became far more active.
Fortunately, the base's current location wasn't too far from the Empire's main city. This area was relatively safe, with few active threats. That sense of relative safety was likely why Gu Jingbo finally reappeared. He had changed into a clean jacket, but Chu Ling didn't care about the lifestyles of these so-called 'elite-class' individuals.
Gu Jingbo had already contacted his family to confirm the payment. The two of them touched their wristbands together, producing a soft ding, and just like that, 200,000 credits were transferred into Chu Ling's account.
These wristbands were unregistered and ownerless, meaning whoever possessed the band could claim the credits stored on it. This made them highly valuable—and easy targets for theft. Chu Ling, however, wasn't worried. As soon as the credits arrived, she immediately transferred them into her system, converting them into 20,000 gold coins. Seeing her balance update in the system gave her a sense of relief.
20,000 gold coins.
This sum represented six months of grueling work: selling instant noodles, running errands, and guiding clients through dangerous terrain. Within the Empire's lower-class communities, this was a staggering fortune—something the average person could never hope to earn, even after a decade of hard labor.
Yet for the Empire's elite, this amount was but a drop in the ocean. Take the Gu family, for instance. Their annual income exceeded millions of gold coins. For those born in the Upper City, wealth was nothing more than a number, a mere abstraction. Meanwhile, people from the Lower City relied on these numbers to exchange for food and basic survival.
The rigid divide between the Upper and Lower Cities was a product of the Empire's flawed system. It was said that when the Empire was first established, genetic testing determined whether a person would be classified as an Upper City resident or a Lower City resident. Those with 'inferior genes' were condemned to the Lower City, left to fend for themselves. Even if they starved or died, the Empire's leaders wouldn't bat an eye.
Over the past decade, however, something unexpected had emerged: mutants. These were people whose genes had undergone mutations, granting them supernatural abilities. Though viewed with suspicion and fear, the Empire eventually found a way to use them. Mutants were conscripted into the Empire's special forces, turned into publicized 'heroes' to explore the outside world and battle the monsters that roamed the land.
Meanwhile, the Gu family and their scientific faction advocated for a different path. They believed the future lay in technology, not in biological aberrations. Their research focused on extracting the abilities of mutants and integrating them into weapons and machines.
As a result, the Empire's power structure was divided between two factions: the 'Supernaturalists', who relied on mutant abilities, and the 'Technologists', who championed innovation through science. Yet despite their constant rivalry, one thing remained unchanged: the Upper City's disdain for the Lower City. The elites still looked down on those beneath them, viewing them as nothing more than expendable labor.
Such was the nature of the apocalypse.
Chu Ling had no interest in the politics or ambitions of the Upper City. She wasn't some bleeding-heart savior who wanted to save everyone. This wasn't her world. She cared only about earning more money, surviving, and protecting the one person she wanted to save—nothing more.
No matter how rotten this world became, Chu Ling wouldn't care. Even if someone were in danger right in front of her, she'd weigh the pros and cons before acting. Would saving them benefit her? Would it put her at risk? This was the harsh reality of survival in the apocalypse.
She wasn't like the heroine, who had the author's golden halo of plot armor or a miraculous cheat system. One mistake, one moment of carelessness, and she could easily meet her end. After all, in the original story, her role was nothing more than a disposable side character.
For the past six months, every step she took had been cautious and calculated. On the surface, she might seem carefree, cheerful, and optimistic, but that was just a façade.
Because deep down, she was still just an ordinary college student.
Even if she appeared to have adapted quickly to this world—accepting the post-apocalyptic setting, adapting to its brutal survival rules—there were still moments when fear gripped her. Fear of this strange and dangerous world. Fear of losing her tenuous grasp on survival.
At night, she sometimes thought of her parents and friends back in her original world. Did they grieve when they learned of her death? Did anyone still remember her?
In this world, she had no connections, no ties to anyone. That kind of isolation was suffocating.
Perhaps that's why she cared so much about Gu Xiyan. Part of her attachment stemmed from nostalgia. Thinking of Gu Xiyan reminded her of her past life, the days when she was just a normal college student reading a novel. She had been an outsider back then, simply watching Gu Xiyan's struggles, empathizing with her pain, and raging against the author's cruelty.
But now, she was here, part of this world. And Gu Xiyan was no longer just a fictional character—she was real.
The night was deep, and the creatures outside began stirring, their movements faintly audible in the distance. For Chu Ling, however, this was the perfect opportunity to seize a business moment. She glanced at the makeshift base, then couldn't help but mock aloud, "This so called latest technology of yours isn't much, huh? A bit of power won't hold off those monsters for long."
With that, she casually took off her sunglasses, which she usually wore to shield herself from the glaring sunlight during the day, and hung them loosely on her chest.
Gu Jingbo, naturally, didn't take her criticism seriously. The defenses were, after all, calibrated with precise data and designed to fend off any known threats. Watching Chu Ling's casual demeanor, he found her more and more childish, not at all like the seasoned mercenary he'd expected.
"Miss Chu, you're overthinking it. Our defenses are the most advanced in the entire Empire—there's no chance of anything going wrong."
Chu Ling raised a skeptical brow at his arrogance. "Even so, I'm still not convinced. Can I set up my own layer of defenses outside the wall?"
Gu Jingbo couldn't hide the disdain that flickered in his heart. What kind of crude defenses could a lowly mercenary possibly have that would outperform the Gu family's technology?
Still, he maintained a polite façade and said, "Of course, Miss Chu. Feel free. But I think you're worrying unnecessarily."
Chu Ling fought the urge to roll her eyes at his smug expression, but she held her tongue. Instead, she motioned for her small team to follow her and whispered instructions in their ears before sending them off to prepare.
Soon, they pulled five iron pillars, roughly two meters long, from the back of their off-road vehicle. These didn't look like they were forged by advanced machinery but instead seemed hand-crafted. The material resembled ordinary iron, coated in a thin layer of silver to give it a smoother appearance.
Each pillar was about as thick as a clenched fist, and embedded in the middle of each one was a yellow crystalline stone that glowed faintly in the darkness. The team carried the pillars, while Chu Ling took the lead, planting the first one firmly into the sandy ground. The others followed suit, placing the remaining four pillars to form a pentagonal perimeter around the base.
Once the pillars were in place, Chu Ling hauled out a length of chain from the vehicle. It was long, sturdy, and seemingly unremarkable. With practiced ease, she wrapped the chain around the first pillar, securing it tightly. Holding one end of the chain, she began twirling it in the air before hurling it toward the second pillar. One of her team members caught the chain with equal skill, repeating her actions and looping it around the second pillar before passing it on.
The process continued until all five pillars were connected, forming a complete circuit. By the time the final link was secured, the yellow crystals on the pillars began to glow brighter. A faint hum filled the air as arcs of electricity crackled between the chains, forming an electric barrier that enveloped the base.
This yellow crystal was one of the mutated resources of the post-apocalyptic world. According to Chu Ling's knowledge from the novel, red crystals generated heat, while yellow crystals generated electricity.
The very yellow crystals Chu Ling had used were the same type of resource Gu Jingbo and Gu Xiyan were hoping to locate at the Yellow Sand Ruins. The current they produced wasn't particularly harmful to humans; anyone who touched it would only feel a mild tingling sensation. However, for the mutated monsters outside, the electric current was extremely painful, forcing them to instinctively avoid it. This made the setup an excellent form of defensive warning.
Gu Xiyan, having noticed the commotion, approached quietly. She stood at a distance, observing the process with fascination. Her life in the Upper City had kept her sheltered, and most of what she knew about the outside world came from books and records. The sight of such a device in action was completely new to her.
The glow of the crystals reflected in her eyes, and though her expression remained composed, there was a faint spark of excitement within her gaze. Even so, her upbringing as a proper lady of the Upper City kept her curiosity restrained. She didn't step forward, merely watched from afar.
Chu Ling, of course, noticed Gu Xiyan's fleeting look—a glimmer of pure curiosity quickly hidden behind her poised demeanor.
With the barrier fully set up, Chu Ling passed through the arcs of electricity without hesitation, walking toward Gu Xiyan as if it were second nature. Gu Xiyan stood just outside the perimeter, close enough that if she extended her hand, she could touch the electric current.
She silently observed Chu Ling's casual stroll through the electric field, her eyes brimming with questions. How could someone walk through the current unscathed?
Chu Ling, naturally, understood the unspoken curiosity in her gaze. Smiling mischievously, she leaned slightly toward Gu Xiyan and said in a low voice, "The current doesn't hurt. You can try it if you don't believe me."
Her tone was like the whisper of a devil, tempting Gu Xiyan to cross a line she wouldn't normally dare to breach.
Gu Xiyan's curiosity warred with her composure. This wasn't something a Gu family heiress should do. Yet Chu Ling's teasing gaze seemed to say, Go ahead—it's fine. It's not forbidden.
Gathering her courage, Gu Xiyan slowly extended a finger toward the electric field. Just as she was about to touch it, she hesitated and pulled back.
Sensing her hesitation, Chu Ling reached out, her calloused hand gently wrapping around Gu Xiyan's soft one. Step by step, she guided Gu Xiyan's hand toward the current.
The moment Gu Xiyan's fingertip touched the electric field, a tingling sensation spread across her skin. It wasn't painful—just a mild, ticklish feeling, almost pleasant.
For the first time in a long while, Gu Xiyan's eyes lit up with childlike delight. It was as if she'd discovered a new toy, something novel and fascinating. She turned to look at Chu Ling, her expression filled with unspoken joy.
"Told you, it doesn't hurt," Chu Ling said with a grin.
Gu Xiyan stared into her eyes. Those eyes, filled with warmth and amusement, seemed incapable of lying.
"Xiyan."
Gu Jingbo's voice shattered the moment. The warmth in Gu Xiyan's gaze faltered as she quickly withdrew her hand from Chu Ling's, turning to face her cousin.
Before Gu Xiyan could type anything on her tablet, Gu Jingbo spoke in a commanding tone. "It's late. You shouldn't be out here in the wind. Go back and rest."
His words were less of a suggestion and more of an order. Chu Ling's smile faded, replaced by a cold, sharp look as she stared at Gu Jingbo with disdain.
Gu Xiyan hesitated for a moment, then deleted the words she had been typing. She replaced them with a single word: [Okay]. After showing the word to Gu Jingbo, she glanced back at Chu Ling.
Noticing that Chu Ling was watching her expectantly, as if waiting for her to write something else, Gu Xiyan typed out: [Goodbye].
Chu Ling nodded. "Goodbye."
With that, Gu Xiyan turned and walked back toward the base.
Chu Ling's gaze lingered on her retreating figure. Meanwhile, Gu Jingbo, clearly displeased by the interaction, glared at Chu Ling. But Chu Ling couldn't care less about his attitude. She didn't even spare him a glance as she turned and headed back toward her vehicle.
It was time to set up her stall for the night.