Forty-two

Ye Yin was at a loss for words—should she call the thing before her a lump or a pile? In the original novel, zombies were classified by rank, but even among those of the same rank, their appearances could differ wildly: some were plump, some were slender, and some no longer resembled humans at all. Take, for example, the fifth-rank zombie before her. It had completely abandoned not only human dignity but also the human form, degenerating into its current state. Perhaps it had once been run over by dozens of tons of trucks but hadn’t been thoroughly destroyed—now it looked as if every bone in its body had been shattered, its limbs and torso indistinguishable, a sticky, limp mass awkwardly crawling forward. Ye Yin might have mistaken it for a slab of pork cutlet zombie, if not for the glaring red eyes and gaping mouth reminding her that this vague mass was supposed to be a head.

It was simply revolting. Without another word, Ye Yin swung her Heavenly Judgment Sword.

She knew well the sword's might; it could cut through iron like mud and sweep aside legions. Yet she hadn’t expected this lump of a zombie to react with such abnormal agility—it dodged with a swish, then spat out an enormous fireball at Ye Yin. This wasn’t ordinary fire; its temperature was so high that in a blink, a wide swath of rooftop was reduced to ash.

“A fire-element zombie of the Five Elements!” Ye Yin was overjoyed, though she wondered why Qiao Xinran, a lightning-type ability user, could use this to reach fifth rank.

But this was not the time to ponder. Ye Yin’s movements were as light as a swallow; she twisted in midair, narrowly avoiding the barrage of fireballs. In the instant she floated upside down, her whole body seemed to fast-forward—she flipped and drove her sword straight at the fifth-rank zombie.

Her sword was razor-sharp, the zombie’s flesh soft and yielding—she pierced it with ease, her entire body passing through the hole like a circus lion leaping through a ring of fire.

A thunderous crash sounded behind her.

Was it really this easy? Ye Yin landed in a half-crouch, sword in her right hand angled sideways—her pose perfectly reminiscent of the freeze-frame after a climactic duel in a shōnen manga, impossibly cool.

Before she could savor the moment, darkness fell over her eyes and she could see nothing.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she realized she was surrounded by putrid, rotting flesh. Only stunned for a second, Ye Yin immediately understood—she was encased in the zombie’s flesh. Could it not only spit fire but also reassemble itself? Was this really just a fifth-rank zombie?

There was no time for decorum—Ye Yin instantly transformed into a towering, fifteen-meter-tall muscle-bound gorilla. The zombie was blasted apart, its bloody chunks writhing across the floor in all directions.

Ye Yin murmured a spell, gathering the wriggling flesh into a floating circle, then recited the Purification Incantation.

She’d always thought the Purification Incantation was useless, but today it finally had its use. Once purified, the zombie flesh instantly lost its demonic regenerative power, falling limply to the ground in a stinking, reeking heap.

Resuming her middle-aged woman disguise, Ye Yin summoned the Heavenly Fire Wheel and burned the zombie until nothing remained. When the ashes drifted away on the wind, a fist-sized, blood-red crystal core was left behind. Ye Yin picked it up, and as it touched her palm, a flood of appraisal data surged into her mind:

Fire-element crystal core, sixth rank, can awaken abilities.

The crystal core slipped from her grasp and thudded to the ground. For a long moment, Ye Yin was utterly stunned.

She’d always been troubled by not being an ability user. Awakeners faced many restrictions, cultivators spent years in arduous training with few meteoric rises, but ability users—quick to master, powerful, adept at muddling through—were the most useful. Although “Numberless Elephants” had granted her the power to copy abilities, she had gradually realized that only max-star abilities could be copied, and only from high-ranking users, making it almost impossible.

But didn’t the novel say that crystal cores were hard to use for awakening? Did it require a sixth rank or higher…?

Ye Yin didn’t know that the core itself didn’t awaken abilities. What gave it that power was the refining field of “Numberless Elephants.” The heroine’s “Thread of Heaven” refining field was a knock-off—it could barely guide the lightning ability hidden in her body, but couldn't grant her new ones. In other words, the heroine was a lightning-user all along—it just hadn’t been obvious before the apocalypse, which misled readers about the “Thread of Heaven’s” true power.

Ye Yin hurriedly picked up the crystal core, dusted it off, and carefully stored it away.

After the sixth-rank zombie suppressing the horde perished, zombies began to flood the streets and alleys of Dazhang Town. The quiet was broken by their low growls—the town had become a proper disaster zone, crawling with the undead.

Ye Yin casually tossed out several Heavenly Fire Wheels, wiping out most of the horde, then collected all the crystal cores. The sixth-rank core in her space was too valuable to give to Huahua for now—it was better to gather more third- and fourth-rank cores for her.

Teacher Yue doted on Ye Hua, often giving her extra lessons and gifting her any crystal cores she could obtain for training. Ye Hua worked hard and advanced far faster than Yue had expected, much to her delight. Yue always thought this was the hallmark of a max-star ability user, not realizing that Ye Hua’s real trump card was her sister, the formidable “registrar.”

With talent, diligence, and a steady supply of resources, Ye Hua’s rapid progress was all but inevitable.

Ye Yin didn’t clear the town too thoroughly; she left a fourth-rank zombie and a scattering of low-rank undead as a token threat—not enough to endanger the team, but enough to prevent later arrivals from being suspicious. As for the resources in Dazhang Town, Ye Yin only took a small portion, leaving the rest untouched. She didn’t need them just now—and more importantly, she didn’t want to upstage the heroine when she showed off her spatial “ability” in public!

Space abilities were rare in the early days of the apocalypse, and no one dared reveal their possession of such powers. Once exposed—even if the space was empty—one would be hounded mercilessly for supplies. So, everyone kept silent. But after the heroine openly revealed her space, several people at the base followed suit, admitting they too had spatial abilities. Gradually, those with storage treasures or space abilities relaxed, trying tentative trades or openly using their hoarded items without fear. With the proliferation of spatial artifacts and abilities, no one regarded their owners as easy prey anymore—there were too many, and resources too few, for everyone to get their share.

This was exactly what Ye Yin wanted. Truth be told, she was the one with the greatest stash—a problem she’d always been pondering how to launder. With the heroine bravely taking the first step, how could she dampen her enthusiasm?

Finally, Ye Yin erased all traces of battle and returned to base at dawn.

As expected, the mission to clean up Dazhang Town was a resounding success, with almost no casualties. Qiao Xinran stood out, dispatching the troublesome fourth-rank zombie with a few bolts of lightning and showcasing her space ability by sweeping up the town’s resources before everyone’s eyes.

The event caused a sensation—even the headquarters of the Ability Users’ Association in the First Military District sent inspectors.

Ability users were never known to possess more than one power—there had never been such a precedent in centuries of the association’s history. Who was this Qiao Xinran to have two exceptional abilities at once?

Tang Nana, the only one besides Master Floating Cloud who knew Qiao Xinran’s “Thread of Heaven” secret, grew concerned at seeing Xinran in the limelight. “Xinran, why did you tell them you have a space ability? The tallest trees catch the wind…”

“What’s there to be afraid of?” Qiao Xinran replied coolly. “You know, there’s another little girl who’s also a max-star ability user.”

“Yes, I know—she’s the registrar’s little sister from the first floor.”

“If we’re both max-star ability users, why does she get private lessons from the teacher while I have to squeeze into class with this bunch of deadweights? Isn’t that odd? If I don’t show the association my worth, I’ll never get the best resources.”

Tang Nana was convinced. “You think further ahead than anyone.” She didn’t mind being included among the “deadweights.”

“Besides, my space doesn’t depend on external objects—it’s just like having an extra ability.” Qiao Xinran snapped her fingers with flair. “After this incident, the army will surely entrust me with greater responsibilities—just wait and see.”

Ye Yin, upon returning home, didn’t even sleep but sat cross-legged on her bed, solemnly placing the fire crystal core into her refining field.

A warm current spread from her abdomen through her veins, enveloping her whole body. Ye Yin drifted into a wondrous trance; she vaguely saw herself seated in a lotus of red flames, the petals transforming into fire, gently and passionately licking her bare skin, imbuing her with specks of red light. In that moment, she felt like an iron figure being forged, her body glowing red and translucent.

There was no pain, no sense of burning—just patient acceptance of the lotus fire’s baptism, until at last the final petal withered and darkness returned. Ye Yin slowly awoke from the vision.

“Numberless Elephants” could not appraise itself. Ye Yin tested herself this way and that, but could glean nothing. So, she went with Ye Hua to Teacher Yue for identification.

Teacher Yue was delighted to see Ye Yin had awakened her ability, and agreed to help. When the identification was done, she looked at Ye Hua in astonishment. “Your parents… Could they have been max-star ability users too? I’ve never seen anything like this. Could it be hereditary?”

“Teacher, do you mean…” Ye Hua could hardly believe her ears and stared at her teacher in a daze.

“Your sister, just like you, is a max-star ability user.” Teacher Yue slowly took off her glasses, full of emotion. To have discovered two max-stars at once, and sisters, was surely fate.

“Teacher Yue, I have a question,” Ye Yin ventured.

“Go ahead.”

“Is star ranking for ability users determined by teachers at the association?”

“In principle, yes.”

Blushing, Ye Yin said, “If that’s so, could you keep my max-star status a secret? Could you tell others I’m just four-star?”

Teacher Yue was stunned. “Why? There’s a world of difference in treatment between max-star and four-star ability users…”

“I don’t care about that. I just want to study and train quietly,” Ye Yin said, patting Ye Hua’s head. “Two max-star ability users are enough for the base.”

After a long pause, Teacher Yue nodded and sighed. “A four-star becoming max-star, a max-star becoming four-star—it really is a chaotic world.”

And so, with Teacher Yue’s sponsorship, Ye Yin entered the second ability user training class, where Situ Fei was enrolled.

With two max-star users ahead of her, Ye Yin’s four-star fire ability drew little attention—only a few older fire-users came by to ask a few questions. The fire element was common and practical: strong attacks, steady advancement, and many everyday uses. Fire-users made up about forty percent of registered abilities, and most served in the military after graduation—the main fighting force. As a newcomer to this large group, Ye Yin naturally attracted even less notice.

She could no longer work as a registrar—but keeping things in the family, she passed the job to Lili, who often ran between the farm and the barracks anyway. Lili gladly accepted. The handover was easy—a crate of cured meat and fish did the trick, reminding Ye Yin once again of the power of food in the apocalypse.

Qiao Xinran didn’t give the matter much thought; when the teacher introduced the new student, she merely glanced over. To be honest, Ye Yin’s honest demeanor didn’t interest the self-styled queen at all. Before the self-introductions ended, Qiao Xinran’s mind had wandered elsewhere.

“My name is Ye Yin. I suppose many of you already know me,” she said with a goofy smile. “I hope we can all learn and improve together.”

The applause was sparse, with only Situ Fei and Fang Ling clapping enthusiastically—the others remained aloof. Their attitude wasn’t without cause; students tended to be proud, and ability users even more so. In their eyes, the registrar was like the old gatekeeper. If one day the teacher announced that the old man would study with them—and had even better talent than they did—who could accept it?

Ye Yin didn’t mind in the least. She sat down, happy, and listened attentively to the lesson, taking notes.

She knew she had finally taken her first step.