Elevator

After speaking, Chi Bai turned and exited, exchanging a glance with the returning Tang Hao before offering a brief greeting and departing.

Upon arriving at the athlete’s mess hall where he had eaten yesterday, Chi Bai noticed a throng of people seated near the serving counter, even more numerous than the day before.

He settled down at the same table he had shared with his mission partners yesterday, leaning in to quietly inquire about the situation.

Seated beside him was Lin Feng, who, being even more of a gossip than Chi Bai, had already gathered all the information.

After the message was sent last night, many awakened individuals had privately messaged Lei Yi.

To streamline management, Lei Yi ultimately created a large group chat, assigning his former armed police unit members as leaders to various small teams and filling the remaining slots with the newly awakened individuals, thus completing the meticulous arrangement.

As Chi Bai and Lin Feng conversed in hushed tones, the auntie (TL Note: A respectful term for an older woman, often used for canteen staff) at the serving counter behind them tapped on the glass, signaling everyone to come and eat.

The scattered individuals, who moments before had been idly chatting and yawning, immediately sprang to their feet and began to queue, their newfound vigor belying their previous lethargy.

Today’s breakfast was remarkably simple: steamed white buns, served with cold mixed vegetables and plain boiled water.

Indeed, plain boiled water.

This was the most water-efficient method; cooking porridge would have been wasteful, and the rice was reserved for lunch.

After breakfast, Lei Yi clapped his hands, urging everyone to form neat lines.

He began outlining important considerations and mission objectives, intending to send them off immediately.

Just as he finished, he slapped his forehead, recalling the outcome of his discussion with Liu Yang yesterday.

“Oh, right,” he announced, “for those of us on missions, meals at the base are free of charge, but this only applies to the individual.

This is your proof.”

As he spoke, he tapped the steel tag hanging from his chest.

These tags had been distributed during Lei Yi’s earlier address, and Chi Bai had examined his with a sense of novelty.

He had only ever seen such iron tags dangling from chains on television, typically worn by special forces soldiers.

They bore many nicknames: some called them dog tags (TL Note: Military identification tags often worn around the neck), while others referred to them as body collection tags (TL Note: Slang for dog tags, implying their use in identifying fallen soldiers), serving as a means of identification even after a soldier’s sacrifice.

He wondered how they had managed to engrave each person’s name and ID number onto them overnight.

The ID numbers had been collected during registration before entering the base, and it seemed they had proven useful after all.

Lei Yi scratched his head, confirming he had relayed all of Liu Yang’s instructions, before waving his hand to signal the group to turn and prepare for departure.

As missions were conducted in pairs and there were more people than yesterday, vehicles were in short supply.

Consequently, those assigned to distant areas were provided with cars, while those with closer destinations proceeded on foot.

After all, awakened individuals had received body-strengthening potions upon completing their novice tasks, making walking a negligible effort.

Things would improve once the national supplies arrived in the next couple of days; then, everyone could be assigned a vehicle.

Given the considerable size of their assigned area, Chi Bai and Lin Feng planned their itinerary before setting out, deciding to traverse the region in a clockwise direction starting from the base.

This area was predominantly a technology park with very few residential zones, mostly comprising tall office buildings similar to the one where their company was located.

This, of course, meant the buildings were exceptionally high.

Having been utterly exhausted from climbing stairs yesterday, Chi Bai had intended to test if his electricity manipulation could operate an elevator, hoping to ascend that way.

He looked around and soon located the elevator’s motor.

He gradually fed power into it, and finally, as the voltage reached a certain threshold, the elevator panel illuminated.

Chi Bai and Lin Feng exchanged a glance, both seeing the unspoken words in the other’s eyes: ‘This is fantastic, no more climbing stairs!’

Lin Feng stepped forward and pressed the up button, then clasped his hands together in front of the slowly opening elevator doors, exclaiming, “Electricity-based abilities are truly amazing!”

Unfortunately, as Chi Bai released his hand from supplying power to the motor, the elevator lights immediately flickered off, plunging it into darkness.

Startled, Lin Feng instinctively used a flash (TL Note: A gaming term referring to an instant, short-distance teleport or dash ability, often used to escape danger) to leap out.

He looked at Chi Bai, who spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

“There’s no way,” Chi Bai said.

“It seems to require continuous power.

Neither of us is an electrician; we can’t make it work.

Let’s just forget it.

It would be rather awkward if we got stuck inside.”

Lin Feng sighed.

“Then there’s nothing for it but to climb.”

Perhaps their novice period had ended, or perhaps another day had simply brought more infections, but today, while sweeping the buildings, both Chi Bai and Lin Feng found themselves facing a more formidable challenge.

The number of zombies was greater than yesterday, and mindful of potential survivors, they dared not be too reckless with their attacks.

Both possessed area-of-effect (AoE) skills, but Lin Feng’s was still at level one; while he could compress wind into wind blades, unleashing too many of them quickly depleted his energy.

Chi Bai devised a strategy: first, he would lure the zombies into a narrow corridor, then Lin Feng would simply blast them airborne, allowing Chi Bai to unleash an electric orb that would incapacitate them.

This method proved effective, making their task significantly easier, yet disappointingly, they still found no survivors.

Chi Bai felt a pang of confusion.

While a zombie bite or scratch carried a high probability of infection and transformation, the initial zombies were not so difficult to deal with.

Logically, there should have been opportunities for people to escape, find a hiding place to await rescue, or even counterattack and secure a small area for themselves.

Yet, an entire morning had passed without them encountering any living humans.

Chi Bai dragged all the collected food and usable daily necessities from this small area to a single spot, blocking the door with various items.

He then marked the location on the shared map Lei Yi had posted in their group chat, before signaling Lin Feng that it was time to eat.

When they had left the base that morning, they had not only eaten breakfast at the mess hall but had also taken some prepared meats, steamed buns, and flatbreads.

The aunties (TL Note: A respectful term for an older woman, often used for canteen staff) had thoughtfully packaged everything in plastic wrap, so it could be unwrapped and eaten directly—a “Chinese hamburger” (TL Note: Refers to Rou Jia Mo, a street food dish originating from Shaanxi Province, China, consisting of shredded meat, typically pork, stuffed into a flatbread) of sorts, though the meat was a bit tough.

After all, meat spoiled easily; curing it with salt extended its shelf life, and making cured pork or sausages also preserved it longer.

With a little seasoning, it was perfectly edible.

Fortunately, the system inventory (TL Note: A common feature in video games, providing a virtual storage space that often preserves items in their original state) kept items in the state they were in when stored, so the food was still warm when taken out.

As Chi Bai ate, he chatted with Lin Feng.

“Hey,” he mused, “why don’t they use their backpacks to store food?

Wouldn’t that make it last longer?”

Lin Feng rolled his eyes.

“Are you dense?” he retorted.

“Each person’s backpack only has twenty slots.

Even if you used them all, how much could you store?

Besides, the base’s freezers are still functional thanks to your and Lei Yi’s power supply, so why bother going to such lengths to store ingredients?”

Chi Bai swallowed his mouthful of food.

“I know that,” he clarified.

“I meant, the people who come to transport these things later could empty their backpacks first and then store these items.

Can’t backpacks also merge similar slots (TL Note: A common inventory management feature in video games that allows multiple stacks of the same item to occupy a single slot)?

That way, they wouldn’t need to make multiple trips with vehicles.

A few people’s backpacks would be enough.”

Lin Feng pondered Chi Bai’s idea, realizing it was indeed feasible.

He then suggested that Chi Bai mention it to Lei Yi, as it would certainly save a lot of trouble.