Chapter 218: The Hunt Begins
When it came to matters of life and death, the team’s execution was unprecedentedly strong.
Every day, Lu Weiyi led the field team out, and each evening they returned covered in injuries.
The first thing the four B-rank ability users did upon returning was wash up and bandage their wounds—sometimes they were so exhausted that they dozed off while eating, and once they lay down, they couldn’t get up.
No one knew what they had gone through. Even the usually talkative Xu Sa was completely drained, not saying a single extra word.
“If you really can’t hold on, take a day off.” Watching the still-unhealed wounds layered with fresh injuries, Gu Qingyue couldn’t help but speak up when he saw the scars covering Gu Qingji’s sculpted muscles.
Before anyone else could respond, Gu Qingji shook his head first. Xu Sa, Wu Yue, and Xiong Jie glanced at each other, their faces filled with the look of death itself. None of them agreed aloud.
“You’re getting old, can’t keep up anymore? Should I talk to Weiyi for you?” Xi Shi gently touched the bandages wrapped around Xiong Jie’s back, eyes red with emotion.
“Don’t,” Xiong Jie grabbed his hand, opened his mouth, then shut it again before dejectedly saying, “I’ve got no face to ask.”
Gu Qingyue looked at the four of them, confused. In the end, it was Gu Qingji who explained, “Lu Weiyi pushes himself even harder than we do.”
When someone more talented and capable than you works even harder, and crushes you in front of your face every day…
Xu Sa thought about those strange, unpredictable, and impossible-to-defend-against ability attacks. He rubbed his face in a daze and rasped, “You guys might not believe this, but he used to be one of the worst students.”
Liu Rui was carefully massaging his arm to relax the muscles. Hearing this, he pursed his lips and let out a faint smile.
“You wouldn’t believe it, but he used to never stand if he could sit, never sit if he could lie down, and he even wished someone could feed him during meals,” Wu Yue added dazedly. He even thought of asking Zhuang Mingxu whether this was really the Lu Weiyi they knew.
“Hahaha…” Laughter rang from the door as Ning Yuan pushed the door open and entered. “Hey teammates, sign the debt slip and come eat!”
He held up a sheet of paper with the date marked at the top and a list of crystal cores used that day along with everyone’s names. Bai Miao and Li Dongsheng had already signed.
He looked at Wu Yue, who silently took the sheet and signed his name before turning his head away in shame, as if denying all familiarity.
Ning Yuan threw an arm around his neck. “Good brother, this is all for your own good.”
All for his own good, yet torturing him to death—meanwhile, this guy just snacked on seeds and watched like it was a show. Wu Yue remembered being mentally and physically drained, his abilities exhausted, and zombies nearly biting his neck, while Ning Yuan shouted, “Just hang in there two more minutes!” That memory made him want to strangle the guy right then and there.
“Hey, look at how much you’ve improved!” Ning Yuan said, showing zero guilt and even sounding proud. “Believe me, when you’re on the edge of life and death, your potential is limitless!”
After going through that “life-and-death” edge several times a day, Wu Yue had no words left to say.
As Zhuang Mingxu passed by to call people for dinner, he happened to overhear their conversation. Reflecting on Lu Weiyi’s current state, he thought: like a bowstring pulled taut, he could snap at any moment.
“Mingxu?” Ning Yuan looked surprised to see him sitting at the door.
Wu Yue also glanced over. “Since when did you start eavesdropping?” He peeked out to make sure Lu Weiyi wasn’t around, breathed a sigh of relief, and slumped back onto his bench.
“Haha, this guy got scared stiff,” Ning Yuan laughed, handing the logbook to Zhuang Mingxu and pushing him toward the dining area. He added, “You have no idea what your Lu Weiyi pulled off today. He didn’t even do anything flashy—suddenly, every zombie around had its head sliced off, and we didn’t even feel a trace of his spiritual power.”
Zhuang Mingxu pictured the grand scene, and with the others’ stunned faces, a smile curved his lips. “What else has he been doing lately? Training with you guys?”
He’d reviewed all the training plans, crafted with input from the elite. They were flawless.
But none of them included Lu Weiyi.
At first, everyone thought Lu Weiyi was just there to ensure the team’s safety. Only when he was carried back on someone’s back the first night, utterly drained, did they realize—he was also one of the trainees.
Ning Yuan gave a thumbs-up.
Compared to the others, Lu Weiyi’s training was more straightforward. He had begun revisiting skills from his previous life—abilities he had only mastered at high levels back then—now slowly added to his new training plan.
Day one: mental Blade.
Day two: mental Barrier.
Day three: Mental Thread Probing…
Every day brought new content. Each time, he pushed his powers to exhaustion, replenished them, and then pushed again.
“If you push your abilities twice, the body subconsciously starts rejecting it—it’s awful. Even Wu Yue, who came from a military background, maxes out at five pushes a day. After five times, he’s already dazed.” Ning Yuan glanced toward the back room and whispered, “I counted—Lu Weiyi did seven.”
Zhuang Mingxu’s hands clenched around the wheelchair’s armrests.
That boy, who had never endured hardship before, was now suffering where no one could see.
Zhuang Mingxu patted Ning Yuan on the shoulder. “I won’t eat with everyone. Bring me a portion later—I’m going to check on him.”
Ning Yuan gave an “OK” sign, then hesitated. “He’s way too strung out lately,” he said, unsure of the reason, unsure what else to say.
Zhuang Mingxu nodded and turned his wheelchair.
*
After living there for so long, the basement had been divided into separate rooms.
In the bedroom by the wall, Lu Weiyi sat at a makeshift desk, water dripping from his freshly washed hair, replaying the day’s mission while preparing for tomorrow.
The bed beside him was covered in crystal cores—C-rank and B-rank alike—almost equal in number.
This was the day’s haul, and also a sign that B-rank zombies were becoming more common.
Knock knock. A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Lu Weiyi replied without looking up.
“Loosen up those muscles—massage time.” Li Zhuang stood in the doorway, holding a bottle of medicinal oil.
“Thanks,” Lu Weiyi replied, still absorbed in redrawing the most recent map using the digital version.
Li Zhuang walked in, set the oil on the desk, and clicked his tongue. “Kid, you’re pushing too hard. This kind of pace is asking for trouble.”
“You’ve seen what it’s like out there.” Zombies evolved faster than humans. If they ever stopped, they risked being left behind—at the cost of their lives.
And… The next stop after Pingjin City was the capital.
They could reach it by spring. That was where he had died in his previous life. Lu Weiyi had a clear sense of the tangled forces operating there. It was only now that he truly realized—he was responsible for this team.
Every decision he made affected their future lives—even their survival.
The weight of that immense responsibility pressed down on him, leaving Lu Weiyi uneasy, and more than that, at a loss.
He could only force himself to keep growing stronger—to hold up a sky for them.
A dozen meters away, Zhuang Mingxu’s mind was spinning.
Lu Weiyi was growing—it was obvious. He was starting to shoulder the responsibility of the whole team.
Maybe it was for protection. Or maybe it was because he was simply falling behind. But Zhuang Mingxu felt like he had been placed aside on Lu Weiyi’s path forward.
Among the three support-type ability users in the group, Li Dongsheng and Bai Miao were busy accelerating plant growth; Gu Qingyue manipulated water and occasionally offensive techniques. As for Zhuang Mingxu—aside from handing out energy crystals, there was nothing else he needed to do.
Xi Shi, Lin Yimu, and Dean were constantly cooking up meals, while Zhuang Mingxu found himself adrift in uselessness.
He couldn’t find his role in this team. In fact… he felt a little redundant.
This kind of sentimental, wistful emotion—like a melancholy woman grieving spring—on him, was laughable. But sometimes… he really did think that way.
Expecting Lu Weiyi to notice and comfort him? Forget it. That guy was born without that radar.
He’d have to take the initiative. Otherwise, the two of them would only grow further apart.
Zhuang Mingxu chuckled quietly to himself, instinctively running his hand over his slack muscles. It’ll get better, he silently told himself.
Li Zhuang’s voice drifted from the bedroom. Zhuang Mingxu frowned slightly.
He couldn’t get a read on Li Zhuang. The man was vague—his intentions unclear. Sometimes, Zhuang Mingxu felt something, but there was never evidence.
“Weiyi?” Zhuang Mingxu pushed open the door, acting as though he’d only just noticed Li Zhuang. He nodded a greeting. “Time to eat.”
Li Zhuang’s fake smile snapped into place as his gaze passed over Zhuang Mingxu. Zhuang Mingxu calmly met it, then turned to Lu Weiyi, who was tidying up. “I asked Ning Yuan to bring a plate over. I need to talk to you.”
Only then did Lu Weiyi look up, a flicker of question in his clear eyes before he nodded and turned back to spread out the map again.
“I’ll head out first, don’t forget to use this,” Li Zhuang tapped the bottle of medicinal oil as a reminder.
“I was wondering why I couldn’t find it,” Zhuang Mingxu noted the extra bottle. “I’ll help him apply it. Thanks.”
Li Zhuang gave a hollow laugh and left the room.
Once the door shut, Zhuang Mingxu glanced at the map, counted the days since their last break, and turned to Lu Weiyi. “Let them rest tomorrow.”
Lu Weiyi frowned.
Zhuang Mingxu didn’t wait for a reply—he grabbed Lu Weiyi’s hand.
“They haven’t had time to recover from their injuries. The constant drain on their physical and mental strength—without proper rest—one moment of distraction, and something will happen.”
“Li Zhuang wasn’t wrong just now. You’re pushing too hard, and you’re wound too tight. Can you talk to me? What are you thinking?”
Seeing that Lu Weiyi pursed his lips and didn’t speak, Zhuang Mingxu softened his tone but kept his optimism.
“I may not be able to help you physically—but mentally, I should be able to share some of your burden.”
He’d chosen his words carefully—“should.”
It was a word with ambiguity, leaning toward either affirmation or denial—left for the other person to decide.
“At the very least,” Zhuang Mingxu lowered his stance even further, speaking seriously, “I can panic with you.”
Lu Weiyi let out a deep sigh, and his straight back seemed to slump a little.
Sensing that he’d relented, Zhuang Mingxu pulled him onto his lap. “Talk to me, hmm?”
Lu Weiyi rested his forehead against Zhuang Mingxu’s neck for a while, then spoke a little about what had been weighing on his mind.
Carrying the team forward alone—that’s a mistake every rookie makes.
But Lu Weiyi had been born into a wealthy, powerful family. If he’d had a normal upbringing, these things would’ve been taught to him, step by step. He wouldn’t have made such mistakes. And Zhuang Mingxu, who prided himself on taking good care of him—realized now that it hadn’t been enough.
