Chapter 219: Energy Crystal Weapons
“It’s my fault for not teaching you,” Zhuang Mingxu pulled him tighter and picked up the pen on the table, sketching two simple stick figure diagrams.
One was of a single person dragging a cart full of people. The other showed everyone running together.
“Which one do you think moves faster?” Zhuang Mingxu asked.
Lu Weiyi gave him a look like he was an idiot. Zhuang Mingxu burst out laughing, then pointed to the figure in the first drawing.
“That one’s you.”
“We’re a team. As the leader, your job isn’t to carry everything on your own—it’s to use people wisely, play to everyone’s strengths. Work together as a unit, and when you go out alone, you’re still the team’s sharp blade.”
“Let them grow on their own, instead of you dragging them forward.”
“But the situation outside…”
“I know it’s bad out there, but Weiyi, we’re adults. And adults have the ability and the judgment to be responsible for themselves.” Zhuang Mingxu’s tone was serious. “You can see that, and so can they. If they understand the danger but still don’t work hard, then they are the ones being irresponsible.”
“And if they won’t take responsibility for themselves—why should you be responsible for them?” Zhuang Mingxu asked.
“From the moment each of us chose to leave, we accepted the risk of death. We’re partners. Being partners means we walk together. You can help them, give them guidance—but you don’t need to carry their lives on your back.”
“Was I wrong to do that?” Lu Weiyi still didn’t quite get it.
“You weren’t wrong. Making plans, preparing resources—that’s all good. But forcing those plans on them? That’s not necessary.”
Every day had become a battle between not wanting to go and having to go. The only reason it hadn’t turned into a conflict was because their values were still relatively aligned. Otherwise, tension would’ve already torn the group apart.
“Set a time frame. Let them follow it on their own.”
Forcing yourself to grow is a willing choice; being forced by others unexpectedly becomes a burden.
At present, under high pressure, nothing has gone wrong. But if one day, someone makes a mistake while out and something happens, there will definitely be people who push the blame onto Lu Weiyi for the intense pressure he imposed.
Human nature often can’t withstand trials.
“What you need to do is tell everyone what standards they should meet. You provide the method, but you’re not responsible for the process,” Zhuang Mingxu said, pointing at the distribution map on the table. “Pick two vice-captains. Leave this kind of thing to them.”
“A leader’s role is to manage the bigger picture, not to micromanage everything. Right now, with so few people in the team, you can still handle it. But in the future, when we have a base and more people, are you going to keep working day and night without rest or sleep?”
Lu Weiyi imagined that situation and immediately felt hopeless about the future. He looked up at Zhuang Mingxu, once again tempted to ask—for the countless time—where his powers had gone.
*
Under Zhuang Mingxu’s “intimidation,” Lu Weiyi decided over the course of a single meal to pick the vice-captains soon and clearly define the team roles.
“Do you have candidates for vice-captain?” Zhuang Mingxu asked as he saw him marking things like diplomacy and vice-captain on paper.
“Antonio and Li Zhuang,” Lu Weiyi replied. These two were the strongest and could earn the team’s respect.
Zhuang Mingxu shook his head. “They’re both not talkative, have similar personalities, and lack a strong sense of justice. Choose one of them. For the other, pick someone with a stronger sense of justice to balance things out. Someone outgoing and suitable for diplomacy, so when you don’t want to socialize, there’s someone who can represent the team.”
“Then Ning Yuan,” Lu Weiyi said decisively.
Zhuang Mingxu looked at him, not sensing any awareness from Lu Weiyi that he was being pushed into a leadership role. He wasn’t sure whether to feel pleased that Lu Weiyi trusted him or disappointed by his lack of scheming.
“That works. Diplomacy could go to Xu Sa. Didn’t he want to be a diplomat before? This could be his chance to fulfill that dream,” Zhuang Mingxu added. A small smile appeared on Lu Weiyi’s lips as he wrote Xu Sa’s name down.
Zhuang Mingxu was still thinking about how to subtly suggest assigning logistics to himself when Lu Weiyi closed the notebook and handed it over.
“Not picking anyone for logistics?” Zhuang asked casually as he took it.
“Haven’t you been handling it all along?” Lu Weiyi replied, both justified and confused, as if genuinely wondering why he’d even ask.
That look made Zhuang Mingxu’s eagerness seem a bit petty. He looked at Lu Weiyi, wanting to ask what he really thought of their relationship—but also afraid of a disappointing answer.
It seemed that as his position weakened, he was also becoming the weaker party in their dynamic.
Adults are always so cautious, calculating, and trapped in trivial concerns.
Zhuang Mingxu thought back to when he’d taken Lu Weiyi away from the capital after retiring from the military—full of passion, charging ahead without hesitation. Even though the person beside him had never expressed anything, his courage alone had been enough for both of them to brave any storm.
Now, it seemed that courage—the kind that disregarded everything else—was fading.
Zhuang Mingxu looked at Lu Weiyi, who was getting ready for bed.
He hadn’t changed—still straightforward and honest.
The one who felt unbalanced was himself.
Lu Weiyi stretched his overused joints, collapsed onto the bed, and didn’t move.
His bathrobe hung loosely, barely covering him. His long legs glowed like jade under the white light, and the curve of his waist and hips drew the eye irresistibly.
Zhuang Mingxu counted how many times they’d been intimate since the apocalypse and realized that all his overthinking was probably due to boredom.
The person was already in his bed, and yet he kept worrying about unnecessary things.
He rubbed his forehead, seriously suspecting that his brain might be as broken as his legs.
“Let me help massage your joints,” Zhuang Mingxu said as he wheeled himself forward.
In his sleepy haze, Lu Weiyi didn’t notice the restrained hoarseness in his voice.
Zhuang Mingxu undid Lu Weiyi’s robe—his frame was lean, with well-balanced muscles. Compared to before, he looked much healthier now. His fair skin was mottled with bruises, giving off a kind of abused allure that made one want to do something more.
Determined despite his disability, Zhuang Mingxu pulled himself onto the bed. He rubbed medicated oil into his hands and began massaging downwards. As he worked, Lu Weiyi’s skin turned a soft pink, like the color left after being thoroughly cherished.
Zhuang Mingxu’s eyes darkened as he leaned over him. His hands moved lower, and in Lu Weiyi’s vague murmurs, he grasped his most sensitive place.
Exhausted, Lu Weiyi only weakly resisted before gradually yielding. After the intense pleasure, he fell asleep, physically and emotionally satisfied.
Zhuang Mingxu looked speechlessly at the mess in his hands and the person sleeping soundly beside him, then down at his own rising desire. He thought maybe he was owed some benefits here.
*
When he left the room with the food tray, the lingering scent of passion was still on him—there was no water in the room, and he’d only wiped himself briefly.
The others in the hall, who had just finished eating and were cleaning up after a long day, caught a whiff of him and all looked over.
Pushing his wheelchair with the tray on his lap, Zhuang Mingxu had a rare look of satisfaction. The aura around him screamed, I just did something good.
“Zhuang Mingxu, be a decent human being,” Ning Yuan said first, pointing a trembling finger at him, but unable to come up with any harsher words.
“What did I do?” Zhuang Mingxu handed the tray to Xi Shi, who reached for it, then looked at Ning Yuan with innocent confusion. He turned to the others and said, “Take tomorrow off.”
“Damn it, you did him so hard he can’t get up?” Ning Yuan shouted angrily.
The younger ones blushed. Lin Yimu covered Zhuang Ai Yi’s ears. Antonio slung an arm around Dean with a teasing smile. The others stayed silent, looking clearly disapproving—even Wu Yue furrowed his brows.
They were all genuinely concerned for Lu Weiyi.
“I’m not a beast,” Zhuang Mingxu said, punching Ning Yuan.
Facing the skeptical stares from the rest, he said seriously, “I talked with Xiao Yi. From now on, training will follow your own pace. One-on-one sessions for a month. Stick to your current groups. For outings and rest, communicate with each other. Decide things on your own. You can draw crystal cores a day in advance.”
“The platform and path have already been laid out—how much you improve and how you carry it out is entirely up to you,” Zhuang Mingxu said. He then took out the map Lu Weiyi had drawn earlier from his spatial storage and handed it to several Grade A ability users. “This is the next location. You can choose for yourselves who goes next.”
*
Once the tasks were assigned to individuals, Lu Weiyi was pleasantly surprised to find that everyone seemed to work even harder. Previously, it felt like they were just completing assignments, pushing their abilities four to five times a day. Now, they each tacitly kept their usage to five times or more.
Lu Weiyi accompanied them on a few more outings, but after he stopped joining, he quietly observed that the Grade A ability users actually performed even better without him—injuries became far less frequent.
By the end of the one-month training period, Gu Qingji, Wu Yue, Bai Miao, and Li Dongsheng had all advanced to Grade A, and the others had made significant progress as well.
The morning after training concluded, the whole group was startled awake by Lu Xi’s noisy shouting.
“Xiao Lu Xi, what are you yelling about so early in the morning?” groaned Dean, yawning as he was carried out by Antonio, still half-asleep and unaware of any danger.
“I’ve figured it out! I did it!” Lu Xi’s hair was a mess, his face tired but eyes gleaming.
“You figured what out, you little rascal?” Ning Yuan rubbed his head groggily, thinking that if this kid were his, he’d probably have given him a good smack by now.
“Did you test it yet?” Antonio, who had helped extract various metals in the later stages, had a good idea of what Lu Xi was working on and asked with surprise.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Lu Xi’s eyes darted around until they found Lu Weiyi. “Brother, I’ve figured it out—look! It’s this!” He held up a gun as long as his arm. Mounted on the barrel was a palm-sized device with a crystal core fitted in the middle. The gun itself was pitch-black and unidentifiable in material. “Let’s test it out now!”
Zhuang Mingxu, who had been overseeing the team’s operations lately, was well aware of Lu Xi’s progress. Lu Weiyi had been solely focused on leveling up his powers and had completely forgotten about this project. Seeing the weapon now, he was momentarily stunned. He remembered that Lu Xi had been researching anti-zombie energy.
“Let’s go check it out,” said Zhuang Mingxu, patting Lu Weiyi as he spoke.
“I’m coming too,” Li Zhuang strolled over lazily, eyes locked on the gun in Lu Xi’s hand. “Crystal-core weapon?”
“Yep,” Lu Xi nodded and dashed toward the exit, occasionally glancing back to urge them forward with his eyes.
“Crystal-core weapon? I’m in!” Xu Sa, who had been about to turn back, froze in his tracks and immediately grabbed Liu Rui to follow.
The rest lost all desire to sleep and quickly joined them.
