Main Idea

An indescribable surge of excitement washed over Mo Yu, almost making her want to shout with joy. As soon as Old Hu gave the order to “dismiss,” she didn’t hesitate for a second, grabbing Qing Xuan’s hand and racing with him through the gates of B City.

“These youngsters are really excited,” Sister Xue commented, resting her hand on Old Hu’s shoulder, a smile lighting up her face as she watched Mo Yu and Qing Xuan disappear into the distance.

“Yes, I heard their families are all in B City,” Old Hu replied, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag. “Both of them look so young. To have survived the apocalypse without any family’s help, their abilities must be formidable.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve seen their strength with your own eyes!” Sister Xue said, removing her hand only to straighten Old Hu’s collar. “Enough dawdling, let’s go turn in the mission. We’ll need to hand out rewards to those kids later.”

“By the way, did you give Mo Yu and her husband their residency cards?”

“I did already. They got them when they registered just now. Their room is in the building our team was assigned, right next to ours. Since you’ve already taken them in as god-siblings, how could I not look after them?” Sister Xue’s smile grew; it was clear she was genuinely happy to have Mo Yu and her husband as neighbors. Mo Yu and Qing Xuan were good people and strong—a layer of security. In the apocalypse, strength was the key to survival for everyone.

Although B City was the safest place in the country, the influx of people and dwindling food supplies had forced the city to divide itself into residential zones. The low, tattered fabric tents that Mo Yu and Qing Xuan saw upon entering the city were where the lowest rung of society lived. In front of almost every tent were small items—cigarettes, knives, and other things—some involved in shady dealings, most exchanged for food rather than barter. According to Mo Yu’s observation, these things were incredibly cheap. A Swiss Army knife, which she considered top quality, was worth only two buns!

The vendor was a scrawny young man with a scar on his face, his eyes sharp and calculating. Seeing Mo Yu hesitate but not look destitute, he immediately guessed she might be a wealthy customer and hurried over with a broad smile.

“Take a look! This is imported, top-notch stuff! If food weren’t so scarce, I wouldn’t dream of selling it! Look at this blade—so sharp it slices wood like butter! You can have it for just two buns! How about it?” As he spoke, he demonstrated by shaving a piece of wood with the knife. It was indeed sharp, but Mo Yu wasn’t worried about finding good weapons—she still had her trickster’s pocket dimension store, with more weapons than she could ever want. Just after entering B City, so close to her family, finding them was her priority.

The scar-faced vendor saw Mo Yu and Qing Xuan hesitating and then turning to leave. He noticed there was no desire or regret in Mo Yu’s eyes over the knife, and instantly realized these two weren’t interested in his goods at all. Clearly, they were experienced, and likely well-off.

“Hey, don’t go!” The vendor rushed out from behind his stall to block their way. Seeing Mo Yu’s guarded expression, he realized he’d overstepped, and quickly withdrew his hand. After glancing around to be sure no one was paying attention, he leaned in and whispered, “Want to come inside the tent and take a look? I’ve got some treasures nobody’s ever seen—very rare! I’m sure you’ll be interested!”

Mo Yu looked at Qing Xuan, then back at the scar-faced vendor. Her curiosity piqued, and she sensed no real danger from the shabby little tent, so she nodded in agreement.

Her nod delighted the vendor. To Mo Yu’s surprise, the inside of the seemingly ragged tent turned out to be a sturdy little enclosure. Steel plates anchored deep into the ground reinforced the edges, making it remarkably secure. Clearly, this scar-faced young man had some abilities; surviving in a place where people ate people was no small feat, and Mo Yu revised her initial opinion of him.

“Please, have a seat. My home is modest, I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said, leading them to a corner where two chairs, so worn their color was indiscernible, were placed. Mo Yu and Qing Xuan sat down without protest.

“Just a moment,” the vendor said, a nervous smile on his face. He turned around, crouching, and began digging through his belongings. After a while, as he continued to rummage, Mo Yu asked, “Still can’t find it?”

“Almost, almost!” he said, speeding up.

“I’m tired,” Mo Yu murmured. After a day of constant tension, she felt uncharacteristically drained. She leaned most of her weight against Qing Xuan, her left leg in tight leather pants stretched forward, right foot resting lightly against the chair’s leg.

Suddenly, she stiffened. She had just closed her eyes to rest, but then her left foot pressed down, and the earth beneath seemed to give way a few centimeters. A trace of doubt flashed through her mind. Odd—she’d walked in here earlier, and the ground had felt as hard as stone, yet now it felt soft beneath her step. What was going on? Mo Yu trusted her sixth sense, but trusted her own eyes more. She had to confirm her suspicions.

“What’s wrong?” Qing Xuan asked, displeased as Mo Yu pulled herself out of his embrace. He had barely begun to relax and steal a moment of closeness, only to find her suddenly on alert again. He was reluctant to let go.

“Shh!” Mo Yu pressed a pale finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet. Qing Xuan swallowed his complaint and fell silent.

Mo Yu’s steps were as light and swift as a cat’s. She crept quietly to the hole the scar-faced vendor was digging and craned her neck to look inside.

The sight nearly gave her a heart attack. The vendor’s hand was still digging, but his neck and head were nowhere to be seen.

It wasn’t that his head and neck had been chopped off—his neck was still attached to his body, but she had no idea where it had stretched to. Mo Yu had never seen such a bizarre supernatural ability before. The shock left her sweating cold.

Even as her mind raced, her body acted faster. In an instant, she teleported back to Qing Xuan’s side. Just as she grabbed him and blinked them to the entrance, the scar-faced man’s face—with an impossibly long neck—burst up from the spot where they’d just been sitting. His eyes gleamed with murderous intent, his mouth open wide and bloody. Mo Yu had no doubt that if they’d hesitated for even a moment, their throats would now be between his teeth.

Mo Yu knew the rules of the apocalypse well: to leave this place alive, they’d have to fight to the death. But a sudden wave of dizziness and heaviness swept over her. She sensed danger; she couldn’t afford to stay here. Instinctively, she prepared to drag Qing Xuan to escape.

“Don’t bother struggling,” the man sneered, all traces of his earlier politeness gone. His smile was now wild, nearly maniacal. In Mo Yu’s eyes, this man, with his separated head and body, was even more terrifying than the zombies.

“You’re not getting out of here,” the scar-faced man taunted, swallowing the key in front of them. His head and long neck flailed like a deflated balloon before snapping back onto his body.

“What do you want?” Mo Yu’s strength was fading fast. She could barely stand with Qing Xuan’s help. She realized she must have fallen for the man’s trap, and regret flooded her.

“I can’t hold on,” Mo Yu whispered weakly in Qing Xuan’s ear. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, how touching!” the scar-faced man jeered, clapping mockingly as he approached. “Knowing your end is near, you’re in a hurry to whisper sweet nothings to your lover. Truly moving.”

Mo Yu and Qing Xuan had already reached the tent’s entrance, only to find a solid steel door, impossible to force open with their bare hands.

“I’m fine. You rest here for a bit,” Qing Xuan said, not sparing the scar-faced man a glance. His eyes were on Mo Yu, full of tenderness. Only after settling her did he look up at their enemy.

The moment Qing Xuan’s eyes met his, the scar-faced man hesitated. Until now, Qing Xuan had seemed like a typical pretty boy, devoted to the girl and letting her take the lead. The vendor prided himself on his ability to read people, but perhaps this time he’d miscalculated. He could only hope Qing Xuan was as harmless as he looked. Nervously, he clenched his fists.

The scar-faced man possessed a supernatural ability, but he wasn’t truly powerful. His success had always come from trickery and ambush, never direct confrontation. Now, faced with Qing Xuan’s deadly intent, he stood no chance.

“Mercy, sir! Please spare me!” the man wailed, his neck—nearly a meter long—twisted into several knots by Qing Xuan. He writhed on the ground in pain. “I was wrong! I didn’t recognize greatness! Please, have mercy!” Crawling, he dragged himself toward Qing Xuan, his withered hands reaching for Qing Xuan’s pant leg. But Qing Xuan, holding the knife Mo Yu had given him for self-defense, showed no mercy, ready to finish off this treacherous villain.

“Qing… Qing Xuan…” Mo Yu coughed. Thankfully, her body’s resilience, enhanced by special modifications, allowed her to recover quickly. Though only a few minutes had passed, to Qing Xuan it felt like an eternity. He ignored the scar-faced man crawling to his feet and hurried to Mo Yu’s side.

As soon as Mo Yu woke, she saw clearly who had won. The scar-faced man's twisted neck made her own ache in sympathy. She had never killed anyone other than zombies, but she had no intention of sparing him, nor did she try to stop Qing Xuan’s killing intent.

But then she caught a glimpse of the medal pinned to the inside of the man’s shirt. It looked so familiar.

That medal—it was her grandfather’s most cherished possession, even the scratch she had accidentally made on it as a child was still there!

Could it be that this man knew something about her family?