Could you please provide the specific text you would like translated?

At Ye Yu’s suggestion, Ye Yin registered a mercenary squad and named herself captain. It sounded impressive, but so far, she was the only member—a one-woman army, through and through.

“In a few days, I’ll assign some skilled fighters to your team,” Ye Yu told her. “Of course, you can add your own people as well—the more, the better.”

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you,” Ye Yin replied. “I know a hermit who lives outside the base. He’s always kept to himself, but recently, after some star-gazing and finger-counting, he suddenly decided to come out of seclusion and take on missions with me. I owe him a favor, so I had to agree. The old man’s a bit eccentric, but he’s extremely capable and won’t be a liability.”

“If you know him, then there’s no problem,” Ye Yu said offhandedly, tying her bathrobe belt. “By the way, do you know any spatial ability users who actually have goods on hand?”

“I know a few. Why do you ask?”

“Tell them to stockpile their supplies—especially food. They’ll make a killing soon.” Ye Yu leaned to the side, resting her chin on her right hand, a faint smile on her lips as she looked at Ye Yin. “If I recall, you have a farm, don’t you?”

“Yes, but it’s tiny. The harvest isn’t even enough to pay taxes.”

“If the base ever comes under my control, you won’t have to pay taxes on it,” Ye Yu said, twirling the still-damp, jet-black ends of her hair around her finger. “And no one would dare lay a finger on your people.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t betray you,” Ye Yin replied.

As long as our interests align.

Ye Yu let out a barely audible sigh. She straightened and crossed her legs. Her long, beautiful legs peeking out from the loose edge of her bathrobe made her, fresh from the bath, seem all the more alluring.

“Like you, I don’t trust people easily,” Ye Yu said. “So I only have subordinates—never friends.”

“And family?”

“Same as you. Just a younger sister,” Ye Yu answered. “If she were still alive, she’d probably be about the same age as your sister.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. She died of illness—passed away very peacefully.” Ye Yu unconsciously scratched at the plush cushion on the sofa with her nails, a gesture Ye Yin noticed.

“That’s why I sometimes envy the bond you and your sister share. I used to argue with mine all the time. She was so stubborn, not at all like Ye Hua, who’s so obedient… Now I regret it. Why did I, as her older sister, feel the need to fight with her?”

“The departed are gone. Don’t let it sadden you.”

“I’m not sad,” Ye Yu smiled. “It’s been so many years—the pain has faded. I just think, if my sister were still here, maybe I’d be living a different life, maybe even one like yours. People often say we’re alike.”

“Perhaps,” Ye Yin replied. “But who can say? Our personalities are quite different.”

Ye Yu laughed heartily, picking up the squad registration form from the coffee table and asking curiously, “Did you come up with this name yourself?”

“Yes. I’m terrible at naming things.”

“I don’t think it’s bad at all. ‘Anli’…” Ye Yu mused. “‘Peace and profit wherever you go’?”

Ye Yin discreetly wiped away a bead of sweat. “Something like that… I suppose.”

It wasn’t her fault. Before she crossed over, Ye Yin had an aunt who’d joined an organization even more zealous than the Heaven and Earth Society, and her life became inseparable from that name. Everywhere she went, she carried promotional pamphlets; visiting relatives felt like attending lectures, and everyone quickly learned to avoid her. Her aunt’s near-maniacal enthusiasm left a deep impression, so when asked to choose a name with impact, this was the first thing that came to mind.

“I hope you can make the Anli Squad flourish.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Back home, Ye Yin gazed affectionately at the “hermit” in the second-floor storeroom, filled with satisfaction.

This was her second high-level puppet after An An—the upgraded version of the Empty Soul Puppet: the Super Empty Soul Puppet.

A flawless alloy body, excellent spell-learning functionality, a delicate nervous system, a highly humanlike soul, and a heart loyal as a hound—truly a masterpiece among puppets. Before starting in earnest, Ye Yin had practiced with plenty of materials, failing countless times before finally perfecting her craft; the result was the nearly flawless “hermit.”

Even appearance alone made the “hermit” worthy of praise: tall and powerfully built, with striking, almost wickedly handsome features, a touch of vermillion between his brows, and a black gauze robe draped artistically over his frame—he looked deadly attractive.

Ye Yin suddenly thought, if she sold this as an inflatable doll to Qiao Xinran, the price could probably break all records…

As Ye Yin was finishing her preparations, word about the Second Base began to spread, and not even Qi Dawei could avoid hearing rumors, which frightened him deeply.

His cousin—an aunt’s daughter—had just married the secretary of a high-ranking military official, and it was her husband who quietly shared the news with him. The matter was too serious for him to tell his mother and worry her, so he came to Ye Yin for advice. In his eyes, Ye Yin was like a starving camel—still bigger than a horse. Even retired, as a sixth-rank ability user with impressive connections, she was far more capable than he.

“What should we do?” Qi Dawei was frantic. “If the Second Base falls, our base is probably doomed! If it breaks, what will happen to all of us?”

“We’ll likely have to relocate—seek refuge in another base.”

“It’s not that simple! There are zombies everywhere outside. Out of a million people, who knows how many would survive the journey? And I’ve heard only our base and the First Base are truly blessed—same temperature as before. The others have gotten colder; they barely have enough food for themselves. Even if we go, it’s pointless!”

Looks like I’ll have to raise more volcano frogs…

“Don’t worry. There’s always a way,” Ye Yin reassured him. “Don’t forget, we have living immortals here. They won’t just stand by and watch us die.”

This gave Qi Dawei some comfort. “Right… how could I forget the masters of Lightcloud Sect? Maybe they’ll use some formation or immortal art and wipe out all the zombies!”

Ye Yin almost laughed, but held back out of consideration for his feelings. If Lightcloud Sect had that ability, they’d have used it already. Daoists had their rules—taboos about karma and fate, never acting lightly. Besides, the sect’s most powerful master, Floating Cloud, was still in seclusion. That, in itself, was worth noting.

What was going on with Floating Cloud, still not emerging from seclusion—could he have suffered a stroke from old age?

Perhaps to appease the government and quell internal panic, Commander Mu took the initiative to “announce” the Second Base’s predicament, declaring he’d send troops to the rescue and delivering a stirring, impassioned speech.

“Yes, the Second Base is indeed surrounded, but the number of zombies isn’t as high as people imagine—at most a hundred thousand! Our warriors have weathered countless storms—what haven’t they seen? From the founding of the base to now, every siege has ended with the zombies routed. The Second Base’s predicament is nothing! The military exists to protect the people. As morale flags, I’ve decided to lead the expedition myself and set an example. Even if these old bones break, I’ll fight the zombies to my last breath!”

The crowd cheered and wept. Hidden among them, Ye Yin gazed up at Commander Mu’s gaunt face and graying hair, her eyes cold with amusement.

The speech had its effect; with the public reassured, their attention gradually shifted, and rumors subsided.

Ye Yin had assumed Commander Mu was merely managing a crisis, but this time it seemed genuine. The base government began urgently assembling and training a punitive force, gathering supplies, and even issued mercenary missions with rewards so generous they were hard to believe.

The mission was straightforward: serve as a scout team, venturing ahead of the army to reconnoiter the situation around the Second Base—a classic cannon-fodder task, the kind only mercenaries would accept.

Usually, the rewards for such missions were base currency or food—once spent, they were gone. This time, however, military rank was on offer!

Military rank was more than just a title. Though it held no real power, the benefits were first-rate: those with rank were allocated fine housing in Zone B or A, received a fixed salary every month without having to work, and as long as the base government stood, they could live under its protection for life. Generally, unless one committed a political crime, military rank was never revoked—a permanent meal ticket. Countless officials’ children were desperate for those limited slots, for who would risk their life if they could eat in peace?

Perhaps because the mission was so dangerous, even with such rewards, few teams accepted, most of whom were Ye Yu’s own people.

“Fewer people is better; too many just invites trouble,” Ye Yu told Ye Yin. “We set out at dawn—get some sleep tonight.”

“Alright.”

After parting with Ye Yu, Ye Yin found Zhiqiu at Spring Snow Teahouse and quietly took a seat across from him.

“You leave tomorrow?”

“That’s right.”

“Safe travels.” Zhiqiu gently pushed a teacup toward her. “I promise you—if anything happens, your family and friends will be my first priority for evacuation.”

Ye Yin nodded, saying nothing, and drained her cup in one go.

Author’s note: Thank you to the young lady who sent a king’s ticket without setting a name =3=