Chapter 75: Weakness
Chu Yang had no strength left to even nod; his dark lashes merely fluttered in faint acknowledgment before he let himself sink into the welcoming darkness.
Jiang Jue’s eyes darkened with concern. Wasting no time, he scooped Chu Yang into his arms and led the rapid retreat to the upper floors alongside Lin Xiao, Su Mubai, and the rest of the group.
The party dared not stop until they reached the relative safety of the sixth floor.
This level had once been the department store’s home furnishings section. The sprawling floor was filled with sample beds, sectional sofas, and display wardrobes beneath thick blankets of dust, but the building’s structural integrity remained sound and the sightlines were clear.
Downstairs, the frantic roars of the horde gradually grew muffled and distant. Confirming they were temporarily safe from pursuit, the shaken survivors sprang into action immediately.
Several men worked together to haul the heavy iron fire doors shut, grunting with exertion as they dragged solid wood bed frames and tall armoires across the entryway to barricade every possible approach.
Only when the last gap was blocked did their strength give out entirely, and they collapsed to the floor one after another.
Some slid down against the dust-coated wardrobes; others slumped directly onto the armrests of nearby sofas, chests heaving as they gasped for air.
The intoxicating relief of survival mingled with bone-deep exhaustion, sweeping over them in waves.
“That was too damn close… Too close… I survived another day,” muttered Li Wang, the middle-aged man who had fought off the zombies with an iron pipe. He lay flat on his back, staring up at the acoustic ceiling tiles, his face smeared with an unrecognizable mix of sweat, grime, and tears.
“Yeah…” Another survivor leaned against a nearby bed frame, offering a bitter, humorless smile laced with grim resilience. “In this godforsaken world, living one more day is a day earned.”
Jiang Jue ignored the murmurs around him. Scanning the area, he carried Chu Yang straight toward the deeper recesses of the showroom.
In the corner stood a sturdy, solid wood display bed still dressed in its original showroom linens.
Jiang Jue gently lowered Chu Yang onto the mattress and arranged him comfortably. After checking thoroughly to ensure the youth had sustained no new external wounds beyond his deathly pale complexion, he let out a quiet breath, the sharp tension in his jaw easing by a fraction.
“Brother Chu, are you alright?” Little Yu had followed them quietly. The boy crouched by the edge of the bed, looking up with a dirty, tear-streaked face, his large eyes full of worry.
In his groggy haze, Chu Yang seemed to catch the familiar childish voice. His eyes twitched beneath his lids, but he lacked the energy to force them open, managing only a muffled, breathy hum from his throat.
Little Yu looked up, casting an anxious, questioning glance at Jiang Jue.
Jiang Jue shook his head gently, keeping his voice low: “He needs to sleep. Go rest over there, and make sure you check yourself for any scratches.”
Little Yu gave an obedient nod. Turning around, he walked over to a single armchair nearby and sat down, though his worried gaze remained fixed on Chu Yang.
Jiang Jue stood quietly by the bedside, his eyes lingering on Chu Yang’s drained, vulnerable features. A moment later, he reached into his coat and produced the pure white crystal core he had harvested from the psychic zombie.
The core radiated a soft, milky-white luster, smooth and warm to the touch, with pure, refined energy coursing beneath its crystalline shell.
He gently placed the stone into Chu Yang’s limp, half-curled palm.
“Absorb this first. It will speed up your recovery,” Jiang Jue murmured softly.
Chu Yang’s fingers reflexively tightened around the smooth core.
A moment later, his heavy eyelids fluttered open. Though his gaze remained cloudy with exhaustion, a glimmer of clarity had returned.
Looking down at the white gem in his hand and then up at Jiang Jue, he gave a weak, hoarse shake of his head: “Save it, Brother Jiang… This is too wasteful.”
In his delirium, he had nearly forgotten the fundamental rules of this post-apocalyptic world: once crystal cores reached Tier 2 and above, they began developing distinct elemental affinities.
Only Ability Users with matching attributes could draw upon their full potential without severe resistance. Attempting to absorb an mismatched element caused massive energy bleed and could even trigger violent internal rejection.
Back when he made his initial breakthrough to Tier 2, his lack of experience had cost him five Tier 2 cores before he succeeded. The memory still made his heart ache at the sheer waste of energy.
If he, a Space-type user, were to force himself to absorb this Tier 2 Psychic core, at least two-thirds of its raw power would dissipate into nothingness. The return on investment was simply far too low.
“Keep it for now, Brother Jiang. It might come in handy for trading later. I’ll use these instead.” With a subtle flicker of thought, Chu Yang pulled a dozen colorless Tier 1 crystal cores from his spatial storage into his other hand. Closing his eyes again, he began drawing the gentle, neutral power into his parched mental reserves.
Jiang Jue looked down at Chu Yang’s pale, resolute face, clutching the returned white core as his knuckles tightened until they turned white.
A sharp pang of self-reproach and quiet heartache flashed deep within his dark eyes.
It’s because I’m still not strong enough… If he possessed greater power, if he could eliminate threats like that mutated beast in seconds, he wouldn’t have to watch Chu Yang push himself to the brink of collapse just to keep them alive.
Every time he saw the boy crumble into this fragile, drained state, a heavy weight bore down on Jiang Jue’s chest, suffocating and sharp.
Silently slipping the white core back into his pocket, his fingertips brushed against another pocket containing the Tier 3 core harvested from the Mutated Thunder Python—pulsing with dense, violent electricity.
His gaze rested on Chu Yang’s sleeping face for one last quiet moment before settling into cold, unshakable resolve.
Without a word, he turned and walked toward a secluded corner of the showroom, sitting down with his back to the rest of the room.
He drew out the deep blue Thunder core.
The stone hummed with a faint, tingling charge in his grip, raw lightning churning beneath the surface like a miniature storm.
Without hesitation, Jiang Jue closed his eyes, guiding the vast, harmonious elemental energy into his damaged meridians and depleted core.
Time slipped by amid quiet murmurs and the ambient rustle of the showroom. The survivors gradually recovered from their near-death panic, tending to minor scrapes and sharing what little food and water they had scavenged.
Having absorbed several Tier 1 cores, Wang Qiang’s pale face finally regained a healthy flush, and the paralyzing weakness in his limbs began to recede.
He let out a long, shuddering breath, the crushing tightness in his chest finally lifting.
“Brother Qiang, how are you feeling?” Li Yu sat down beside him, handing over an opened bottle of mineral water, her eyes full of undisguised concern.
Taking the bottle, Wang Qiang tipped his head back and drank greedily, soothing his dry, cracked throat.
He shook his head, his voice still carrying a faint rasp: “I’m alright. It’s just… my power was too weak earlier. I almost got everyone killed when that wall gave out.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Li Yu cut in softly, pulling a pack of bread from her backpack and pressing it into his hands. “If you hadn’t bought us all that time, none of us would have made it up those stairs. Eat something and get your strength back.”
