On the map, the border between Jiangbei City and Shangyuan City looked as if a child had taken a white crayon and carelessly drawn across it. Countless buildings vanished in an instant, and the line pointed straight toward the city center of Jiangbei.
The blocky snake surged through a residential building packed with yellow mud, carving out a perfectly square tunnel as it crashed through. Hidden calamities were flung aside like they had been struck by a giant hammer.
It crossed the dried-up Zhenma River, its path running almost parallel to the abandoned railway tracks along the riverbed.
“Ding-dong. Game time remaining: eight minutes.”
It passed through the Leather Trade City, clothing factories, and the stone wholesale market, leaving behind a long tunnel. Its tremendous speed kicked up clouds of dust and debris, creating a strange vacuum trail in its wake. Every survivor lurking in hiding sensed the disturbance. They peeked out in terror, only to see a black box descend from the heavens—its origin unseen, its destination unknown.
“Game time remaining: three minutes.”
The first to feel it were the residents inside the neighborhood—the ground trembled beneath their feet.
Then a scouting team came running back, shouting: “Grab your weapons! A calamity is attacking!”
Most of them had fought against such calamities before. They knew if they lost the neighborhood, they’d have no retreat. At once, they armed themselves with their best weapons and disaster stones.
At the café, 060 raised her twin tails. She loved this job—she couldn’t afford to lose it! The tips of her tails glimmered with an eerie light, and everyone around her felt a sudden surge of burning hot blood, as if flames had been lit inside their hearts.
The giant crocodile crawled out slowly, followed by six little croc underlings.
“Game time remaining: one minute. Countdown begins—58, 57…”
The crocodile reached the gate of the neighborhood. The noisy crowd fell silent, fear mingling with awe, parting for it like the Red Sea before Moses.
They saw it—the oncoming calamity! Terrifying, carrying the sharp winds and scorching afterglow of the sun, crashing forward with unstoppable force!
And yet, the crocodile moved at its own pace, its six underlings just as unhurried. It was as if they had simply overeaten at dinner and decided to go for a digestive stroll—its posture and attitude dripping with disdain for the enemy.
“10… 9… 8…”
The crocodile stretched its long snout past the neighborhood gate. It was still hot outside. It wrinkled the skin on its neck and slowly pulled back. The road at the entrance was narrow—it had to be careful not to get stuck.
“5… 4… 3… 2…”
In a blink, the blocky snake was right before them. The pressure from its high-speed movement was strong enough to nearly suck people off the ground, and even crops at the southern farm bent low under its pull.
The crocodile yawned. Mouth wide open, it gave the blocky snake a perfect, careless yawn.
“1. Game over. Thank you for playing!”
Boom! The massive blocky snake vanished in an instant, as if an invisible, mountain-crushing force had erased it. Yet this force was so controlled that not a single shred of energy leaked outward. Only a gentle breeze remained, and the bloody glow of the setting sun.
The people held their breath, not daring to make a sound, as they watched the crocodile turn and wander off toward the fountain to surf. It was as if it really had only yawned. The six little crocs rolled around the grass, plotting to tear it into mud while Yu Qunqing wasn’t looking.
“What… what’s on the other side of that road?”
On both sides of the wide avenue, survivors crept hesitantly out of their narrow hiding places. They had seen the nameless snake vanish. Was it because someone at the end had defeated it? Their throats were dry, their skin caked with grime. Would the end of the road hold what they longed for? Would someone be willing to take them in?
At the end of the road… could there be a future?
The wide avenue lay like a piece of mutton-fat jade, peacefully resting amidst the chaos, accepting the footsteps of any who walked upon it.
At the far end, the students leaned on one another, starting their journey out. Their bodies bore bruises and cuts, their faces still clouded with confusion. But once they took the first step, the next ninety-nine became much easier.
They pushed a small cart piled high with important research, gazed at the wide road, and made their decision: they would follow it.
“The blocky snake disappeared—something must’ve defeated it…”
“Could it be that neighborhood in the city center? The snake’s path pointed right there.”
“Should we… head that way?”
Yao Linlin stumbled forward, glancing back after walking a dozen meters. The Agricultural University was already far behind.
Some Shangyuan City survivors, seeing they carried supplies, shamelessly followed behind. But Yao Linlin’s group knew their resources were scarce, and arguments broke out, even shoving matches.
From another direction, Gu Tian stepped onto the avenue. He wanted to ask Yu Qunqing what had just happened—but Yu Qunqing was already gone. The students gathered in silence, walking forward. Their hearts were full of gray despair, but as the scenery shifted, they suddenly realized—they were no longer in the university town. In this new environment, maybe they could begin again. As long as they kept moving, there was hope ahead.
They merged with Yao Linlin’s group, and their numbers swelled. The Shangyuan survivors, outnumbered and unwelcome, skulked away, cursing that the road’s end must surely hold an even greater calamity.
For the first time, the students had won a battle. Confidence stirred faintly in their hearts.
Some Shangyuan survivors tried to join President Qi’s camp.
But President Qi’s camp was merciless—not only refusing outsiders, but also beating them and threatening to take their lives if they crossed paths again. The clash ended with the outsiders limping away, broken.
President Qi turned, furious after kicking someone out—only to see Dong Changxin. Instantly, he shrank in fear.
“D-don’t come near me!” He knew better than anyone how strong Dong Changxin was. With Yue gone, there was no one left who could restrain her.
Dong Changxin said coldly: “The moment you schemed to harm others, to take lives, you should’ve expected this day would come.”
“We—we didn’t succeed, right?” President Qi stammered, hiding behind his classmates. They pleaded with Dong Changxin to show mercy—they still had to travel together.
“If you had succeeded, I’d be the one regretting now. Just because you look pitiful doesn’t mean you should be spared.” Dong Changxin ignored their excuses. She had realized something: “If I hesitate to act, many others may die because of that hesitation…”
President Qi and his group scrambled away on all fours.
Dong Changxin turned and struck her ammunition cache. The sky darkened with storm clouds, then arrows of destruction scattered in every direction. She had already planted cone-shaped beacons around them—there was nowhere for enemies to hide.
Screams rose from the ruins, blood mist splattering against the walls.
She waited, trembling. The cries grew faint, and the stench of blood spread. Her body shuddered with nausea, and she nearly collapsed.
By her side, She Lulang handed her a handkerchief. She thanked him timidly, especially grateful that he had saved Yue.
She Lulang only said, “I’m glad too.”
Dong Changxin: ? His expression didn’t match his words at all.
Meanwhile, Yue, injured at the ankle, was speaking with Yu Qunqing.
“This is for you. I made it from leftover scraps—it might be useful in battle.” Using a makeshift crutch, Yue handed him a cloth-wrapped bundle. “Thank you… for bringing her, for bringing all of us out alive.” She only knew that She Lulang had saved her with his powers, and that Yu Qunqing seemed to be the leader. She had no idea about the schemes behind the blocky snake.
Yu Qunqing accepted it, intrigued. He could see Yue was close to Dong Changxin—even a key reason why Dong Changxin had massacred the shelter in their past life. Yet Dong Changxin had never once mentioned this person.
He felt a small stir within.
So much had already changed.
Yue rambled on, praising Dong Changxin’s strength and good temper, while stressing her own research skills. Between the lines, she was hinting that it would be a good deal to let the two of them join. She had quickly judged Yu Qunqing’s group to be strong and reliable, and she wanted to secure a better future for Dong Changxin.
After all, Dong Changxin had just taken bloody revenge—even if justified, people would fear and reject her. Yue didn’t know what humanity had become beyond the university town, but Yu Qunqing’s group looked like the safest bet. She used her clumsy words to try to persuade him.
But Yu Qunqing didn’t really listen.
Her throat went dry from talking so much. When Yu Qunqing offered her water, she froze—water was such a precious resource, why give it to them?
Seeing her confusion, Yu Qunqing explained: “The end of this road leads to the city center neighborhood. There, water isn’t scarce.”
Bread, food, shelter. Yue’s eyes lit up with fragile hope.
At last, Yu Qunqing made his decision: “You’ll have more possibilities there.”
They continued down the wide road. Dusk was falling; they had to find a safe place to rest before night. Tomorrow, they would go on.
Not far ahead, Lin Luyi and Dong Changxin were bickering—Dong Changxin suspected Lin Luyi was still a high schooler. Sun Min sighed, trying to calm them. She Lulang, annoyed, left to walk beside Yu Qunqing, just like in their past life.
Rebirth had many meanings.
The greatest meaning was to give a better possibility to things that once went wrong. For Lin Luyi, who had lost his memory. For Sun Min, who had found no help. Yu Qunqing wanted to change their fates.
But for things that had gone well, perhaps he should also allow different possibilities.
For example, Dong Changxin. She had friends, she had ability. Would it really be good to bind her to his team? In her past life, she became a sniper. Couldn’t she choose a different future this time?
“When you get there, think it over again,” Yu Qunqing said at last, letting out a long breath. If he could, he didn’t want to lose a single teammate. He was obsessively protective, wanting everyone to stay within his rules. But now, giving her freedom, his heart felt hollow, leaking air.
Yue nodded and walked away.
Only She Lulang stayed at his side.
“You explain to them where that snake came from,” He said, clearly tired of Lin Luyi and Dong Changxin’s endless squabbling.
Yu Qunqing looked at him, and suddenly his heart felt light again. That missing piece inside him was soothed. No matter what possibilities the future held—whether separation or reunion—the deputy would always be there. That burning image in the fire would no longer haunt him. As long as She Lulang remained, he would gladly be a kind and competent leader.
So he smiled and said: “As long as we run fast enough, we won’t need to explain anything.”
She Lulang’’: ?
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Nice
Ḥahz
Hahaha peaceful
at least the arguing is now bickering