Bare Hands

The arrival of the apocalypse dealt a devastating blow to human civilization.

Electricity, running water, natural gas, and the internet—almost everything that symbolized human advancement vanished in an instant.

For a moment, it felt as if the world had returned to the primitive age.

In such an era, what was it that people desired most?

Strange and varied superpowers?

The desperate will to survive amid endless crises?

To climb to the very peak of the post-apocalyptic world?

To become strong?

When life itself hung by a thread, most people thought this way.

But Tao Wei didn’t. His ideals were far greater than that.

He wanted to go online.

He wanted to play games.

Ideally, he could queue up for a MOBA match—any kind would do.

It was too troublesome having to go to the resource station every time he needed water, and he had to ration what he got. He hated it.

The food was awful, mostly hard rations.

What Tao Wei wished for was the restoration of civilization.

What good were supernatural powers?

What good were zombies?

Was all this fighting and killing every day supposed to be fun?

Was starving one day and stuffing yourself the next supposed to be meaningful?

If he could go back to the life he once had, he would trade everything for it.

Civilization was what humanity should truly pursue. As a modern man, he couldn’t understand those who were content just to stay alive—living every day in fear of zombie swarms and wary of their own kind. How could that be a life worth living?

Wasn’t the best choice for everyone to unite and rebuild a civilized human society?

If people could simply understand one another, rebuilding wouldn’t be that hard. Zombies weren’t terrifying—humans had weapons, guns, tanks, planes, missiles. Modern firepower could wipe those brainless creatures out in one clean sweep. The strongest zombies known so far were only at the fourth tier.

Even a fourth-tier zombie couldn’t survive the explosion of a thermobaric bomb—it would be reduced to dust in the sea of flames.

And on that cleared land, humanity could build again. They still had engineers, programmers, farmers. In truth, they still had everything they needed.

If humanity could unify early on, they could rely on the military to reclaim territory step by step. Strict discipline had preserved the army’s existence. The military’s resistance to internal outbreaks was impressive—they had weapons, order, and far higher chances of survival than ordinary civilians. If everyone simply followed command, humanity could have already returned to its pre-apocalypse comfort.

But why? Why did humans insist on plundering one another? Couldn’t they see who the true enemies were—the ones harboring endless malice toward humankind?

They could have won together. Yet they chose to divide, to defy authority, even to oppose the military itself.

Because of them, the army couldn’t focus on fighting zombies.

Because of them, the army couldn’t fully devote itself to reconstruction.

They had to guard not only against the undead, but also against these disobedient factions.

Tao Wei was a smart man. He joined the army—not to seek protection, but for something greater: unification.

Even with the military as such a powerful entity, some people insisted on going against it.

Some fought to the death over a single gem while ignoring the treasure chest beside them.

Some saw the treasure and tried to claim it all for themselves.

And some simply acted on whatever whim struck them.

Tao Wei despised those “better to die than submit” groups, especially one based in a place called Su City.

Yet today, he had no choice but to go there himself—to retrieve a certain reckless individual.

Ren Anhua.

If not for her power, Tao Wei would never have bothered with such a person.

When the apocalypse came, she had claimed a mountain and crowned herself queen.

So many capable people had fled east because of her.

So many reconstruction resources had been squandered at her whim.

Wealth couldn’t tempt her. Power couldn’t move her.

In Tao Wei’s eyes, she was the most stubborn, immovable rock imaginable.

But now, he had to deal with that rock—because on it lay a power that could push the rebuilding of modern civilization a huge step forward.

“Mr. Ren, hello.”

Tao Wei looked at the petite girl standing before him, his tone sincerely polite. Though he didn’t think much of Ren Anhua as a person, he was the one making the request. Basic courtesy was due.

Besides, this “Mr. Ren” was undeniably beautiful.

If he didn’t have solid intel, he could never have connected this adorable, delicate girl to the unruly young man in beachwear from the reports.

“The army needs your power. For the sake of human civilization and societal reconstruction, we hope for an alliance with you.”

“But I have no interest in an alliance with the army.”

Ren Anhua stepped down from the vehicle alone, refusing Chen Shu’s offered hand.

The third-tier esper blocking her path wasn’t worth her concern—she could handle him herself.

And besides, he was clearly here for her.

Her intuition had been right—the army had shifted its deployment zones. It was inevitable. In fact, this being her first interception was already remarkably lucky.

Something about this “Mr. Ren” made Tao Wei uneasy, though he couldn’t explain why.

According to the analysis, her ability should be purely restorative—a healing power, with no offensive capacity at all. Otherwise, the army wouldn’t have sent a team of third-tier espers to capture a fourth-tier powerhouse.

Compared to Zhao Sanyan, who was under Wan Xingbang’s suspicion, Tao Wei knew much more. The First Research Division had already completed a detailed simulation of Ren Anhua’s power.

Their conclusion: her ability was most likely entirely non-aggressive, perhaps even automatic healing beyond conscious control.

The analysis was probably right—except that the ability’s wielder was Ren Anhua.

“Such an excellent ability,” Tao Wei said, tightening his grip as if holding a weapon, though his hands appeared empty to an observer.

“It’s wasted on you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Wouldn’t it be wasted if I handed it to the army?”

Ren Anhua unfastened the watermelon knife from her waist.

Left hand on the blade, right hand on the handle, she drew it in one smooth motion, smearing her own blood across the edge.

It was a new technique she’d developed recently. Against weaker enemies, she didn’t need a constant blood supply from her wrist—one blood-coated strike was usually enough.

That’s why, in recent battles, she often used this reverse draw instead of activating the spike bracelet on her wrist. The bracelet was cumbersome and left her hands filthy.

This method still dirtied her hands—but at least it didn’t drench them completely in blood.

“You guys sure took your time,” she said with a mocking grin. “I’m practically at Su City’s gate already, and you’re only now showing up. Not very welcoming, are you?”

“Since I’ve come this far, how about letting me through?”

A sudden surge of force struck Tao Wei’s hand, the shock numbing his arm and driving him several steps back.

He’d been watching Ren Anhua carefully, but seeing didn’t mean dodging—she was too fast. Ten meters vanished in an instant.

Healing ability, huh? Those idiots in lab coats! Tao Wei had no doubt that single blow could have killed him outright.

“What the hell?”

Ren Anhua glanced at her watermelon knife, now chipped, then at Tao Wei’s seemingly bare hands, confusion crossing her face.

She was sure she’d hit something solid—but he didn’t appear to be holding anything.

Well, not exactly nothing—his stance implied he was gripping something invisible.

“Yeah,” Tao Wei said lightly, though his heart was pounding. “What the hell indeed.”

His ability was called Air Condensation.

He could solidify air into weapons and shields at will.

Its greatest advantage was flexibility—his opponent never knew what he was wielding until it was too late.

But against Ren Anhua, that advantage meant little. She could heal from any wound instantly.

Disabling her was meaningless. The only effective way to subdue her was restraint.

Unfortunately, his weapons dispersed the moment he released them, reverting to air.

They were durable, yes, but limited in size—something like an airtight air box was beyond his capacity. He could form air shackles, but only while maintaining contact himself.

Judging by her strength, he figured she could probably drag him into the ground while still cuffed.

His mission was to stall Ren Anhua, not defeat her.

He knew he faced an unkillable opponent. Only strong control-type powers could hold her—nothing else mattered.

He shifted into a dual-sword stance—but in reality, he held a single blade and a shield.

“Playing tricks?”

Ren Anhua lunged again, the slash carrying terrifying force.

Just as her strike was about to land, Tao Wei raised his hand to block, deflecting the blow with his shield before feinting an attack with his right.

Ren Anhua wasn’t afraid of injury, but she still preferred not to be hit—it did hurt, after all.

Though she didn’t fully understand his ability, she had a guess—it likely involved some invisible weapon. She leapt back to dodge, thinking she was safe, when something coiled suddenly around her neck.

Tao Wei had already reshaped his blade into chains, trying to bind the pink-haired menace.

Ren Anhua’s eyelid twitched. It didn’t actually affect her, but being tricked irritated her deeply.

She reached out, grasping the air—and caught something. But before she could snap it, it vanished.

She looked up to see Tao Wei again posing with two invisible blades.

“Cute trick,” she muttered, thumb pressing down on the metal rose embedded in her glove.

She was ready to give this smug little show-off a very big surprise.