Chapter Twenty-Two: Negotiations

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ah Fei cradled the small knife as if it were a priceless treasure, instinctively twirling it between his fingers with a flourish.

“What did you do before the apocalypse?” Mei asked out of curiosity, watching his smooth, practiced motions.

“N-nothing, really!” Ah Fei forced a smile, stammering nervously.

“This kid used to be a thief!” Yang Hao, who had just finished roasting some meat for Mei, interjected as he handed it over.

“So that’s it. No wonder you wanted that snake egg that looked like a gemstone!” Mei exclaimed in sudden understanding. “For anyone who doesn’t know better, that thing isn’t worth as much as a loaf of bread. Why would you take it? Turns out, it’s just your professional habit!”

She finally understood his actions. Mei harbored no prejudice against thieves—she had once dwelled on the bottom rung of society herself. Most people turned to thievery out of necessity. If possible, who wouldn’t want to live with dignity?

Glancing at her, Ah Fei noticed she displayed no contempt or disgust, and he let out a silent sigh of relief. He swiftly slit the snake’s skin with the knife, cut off a piece of meat, and then carefully wiped the blade on his clothes before returning it to Mei.

“You don’t need to do that—it’s not a real knife,” Mei said, a little exasperated by his overly courteous gestures. She made a point of letting him see the knife dissolve away before his eyes.

Unbothered, Ah Fei took his meat to the fire. Mei savored the juicy, tender roast snake as she watched Mo Chen continue his ability training. Occasionally, she glanced at Ye Jingxuan, who had managed to compress his energy into something the size of a nail, though the metallic energy remained insubstantial. He stared at the tiny nail in his hand, deep in thought.

“Brother Ye, your energy is still too scattered. You need to use your mental strength to concentrate and compact it—not just shrink it,” Mei advised, seeing that he was getting nowhere.

Ye Jingxuan glanced at her, then tried, as she suggested, to focus his mental strength and compress his ability. It sounded simple, but in practice it was anything but. Materializing energy was a complex process: too much force twisted and destroyed the form, too little failed to solidify it at all.

He stood there, attempting over and over, seemingly tireless. The other ability users gave up after a while, returning to the fire to eat and regain strength. Only he and Mo Chen persisted, though Mo Chen wasn’t as obsessed—he took bites of roasted meat between attempts.

“You seem to know a lot about abilities,” Yang Hao observed from across the fire, watching her instruct Ye Jingxuan. He found it odd—only two months had passed since the apocalypse began, and even the official scientists were still groping in the dark. Yet she seemed so adept—was it just talent?

“Who says I understand abilities?” Mei had no idea what he was thinking, but sensed a misunderstanding. She really didn’t know much about abilities—her expertise lay in magic. All she did was teach them the cultivation techniques she knew from magic. The rest, they’d have to figure out on their own.

Not wanting to be misunderstood, Mei said with complete sincerity, “I don’t know anything about abilities! Not a bit!”

Whether anyone believed her was another matter.

When she was finally full, and saw that everyone except Ye Jingxuan had finished eating, Mei got up again. With a flick of her left hand, she sliced off a large chunk of snake meat and brought it to Ye Jingxuan.

“Brother Ye, aren’t you hungry? Have something to eat,” she offered.

Ye Jingxuan paused, looking up at her. Her clear gaze held nothing but concern—no hidden motives. He took the meat in silence and sat by the fire to roast it.

Satisfied, Mei turned cheerfully toward Mo Chen. “A’Chen, help me put away the rest of the snake. It’s so big—it’ll last us a long time! It would be such a waste to let it spoil.”

Everyone present had eaten their fill, so Mei naturally claimed the leftovers for herself. She had killed the snake—nobody dared object. They could only watch as the massive serpent, not even a tenth consumed, vanished before their eyes.

Only then did Ye Jingxuan realize she hadn’t been worried about him going hungry—she just felt awkward hoarding the snake when everyone else had eaten some and he hadn’t. Once he understood this, a strange feeling welled up inside him. For the first time, he met someone who treated him with casual indifference—no flattery, no ulterior motives, no attempts to use him. To her, he was just a familiar acquaintance.

He’d lived more than twenty years and never encountered anyone like this.

Back at the base, when she had healed his wounds, he’d suspected her of hidden intentions. Now, he was certain—she truly didn’t care about him, wasn’t trying to attract his attention, and had nothing to gain from him.

His strength? Hers surpassed his, and she had an electric-type ally just as formidable. His family background? In these times, countless families were collapsing—all he knew was the Ye family might be in ruins. What did he have left? Perhaps only his face.

He shook his head at the thought; after all, she was still just a teenager—much too young to be interested in men, especially with her childhood friend always at her side.

Brushing aside these irrelevant thoughts, Ye Jingxuan continued roasting his meat, letting his mind wander as he ate.

He came to no conclusions, but decided she was someone worth befriending—a good candidate for a companion. When this was all over, perhaps he could invite her to join him at the Changyang Base.

As dawn crept over the horizon, the mess around them was a stark reminder of their current predicament.

Had they forgotten something?

When Yang Hao produced the clear, gem-like snake egg, everyone remembered—they were still being hunted by the giant pythons!

“So what are we going to do with this thing?” Yang Hao’s expression was conflicted.

Returning it wasn’t right, keeping it wasn’t right—this thing was a hot potato.

“What else can we do? Use it to negotiate with the big snake. Maybe it’ll let us live,” Mei replied absentmindedly, testing her right arm’s mobility.

She didn’t see what there was to agonize over. The worst-case scenario was a fight to the death. But if the snakes valued the egg, perhaps they had a slim chance of survival.

Unfortunately, her right arm was still weak—her combat strength was greatly reduced.

“Negotiate? You think those snakes can understand us?” Everyone doubted her proposal.

To them, animals were just animals—unless tamed, wild ones couldn’t possibly understand human speech.

“Do you have a better option?” Mei shrugged indifferently, glancing toward the woods. A rustling sound announced the arrival of five giant snakes, once again barring their way.

Here they come again!

The five snakes lined up, blocking the path completely. The leading python slithered forward, its massive green eyes locked on the egg in Yang Hao’s hand, tongue flicking restlessly.

“We’ll give it back—will you let us go?” Yang Hao asked, scalp tingling under the snake’s gaze as he forced himself to step forward.

At his words, the snake’s tongue flicked faster, and it lashed its tail, sending dust flying in a show of anger.

The moment the leader moved, the other four snakes advanced, tightening the encirclement.

Everyone tensed, gripping their weapons, ready to fight.

Egg in hand, Yang Hao hesitated. Suddenly, Ye Jingxuan snatched the egg and strode forward.

“Either we smash it and fight to the death, or you take it and let us go!” he declared, voice full of grim resolve, raising the egg high as if to dash it to the ground.

At his threat, the snakes froze.

The lead snake flicked its tongue rapidly, as if warning him not to act rashly. Still, the snakes didn’t back down—they coiled in place, hesitating between attack and retreat.

The stalemate dragged on. Ye Jingxuan dared not actually break the egg, and the snakes wouldn’t let them go.

Growing impatient, Mei spoke up. “If they won’t let us go, then fight it is!” As she spoke, a white long arrow formed in her hand—identical to the one that had killed the giant snake the day before.

At the sight of the arrow, all the snakes instinctively shrank back, sensing deadly danger.

“Brother Ye, give me the egg!” Mei called, extending her right hand. Though she couldn’t draw a bow, she could still lift her arm.

Ye Jingxuan hesitated, then handed her the egg, signaling everyone to prepare for battle.

Tension peaked; everyone watched Mei, waiting for her signal.

Mei aimed the arrow in her left hand at the egg and slowly lowered it. When the tip was less than two centimeters from the egg, the snakes finally moved!

All five whipped around and retreated to the edge of the forest, no longer blocking the path. Their tongues flicked slowly, heads lowered in obvious submission.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, nerves easing at last.

“Which way are we—” Mei began, turning to ask the group which way to go, when a crisp crack split the air, snapping everyone back to high alert. The sound had come from the egg.

All eyes turned to the egg in Mei’s hand. A clear crack had appeared on its smooth surface.

“That wasn’t me!” Mei protested, entirely innocent, sighing again.

It seemed a battle was inevitable.