Zhao Yi: “Won’t that cause contamination?”
He didn’t want Jiang Cheng’s storage space to be used for this. His hope for the space was that it would handle critical supplies—especially loading and transporting food during times of scarcity.
He was afraid of dirtying the space and causing contamination. Then it wouldn’t be suitable for storing food later.
Jiang Cheng chuckled.
She explained, “This space isn’t like a room. It’s more like… in a void, there’s a cap placed on me. As long as I stay under that limit, I can put things in. There’s no such thing as dirtying walls or floors like in real space. And no trace of anything remains either.”
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan leaned in with their faces close. “And then? And then?”
Jiang Cheng stepped back half a pace, overwhelmed by their eagerness. “It’s not a three-dimensional space as we understand it.”
She told them about the space’s property of not restricting shape.
Their eyes lit up with fascination. They quickly agreed: “In that case, the only constraint is mass.”
“I really want to go in and see it,” Gao Yuxuan said excitedly. “Jiang Cheng, can living things enter? Can you go in yourself?”
Jiang Cheng dashed his hopes. “No. Living creatures can’t.”
She described it to them: “What I can perceive is objects floating in the cosmos—except there are no stars to see.”
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan were utterly captivated by the idea.
In the end, the corpses were still stored in Jiang Cheng’s space. It was the most convenient—no need to find a vehicle, no manpower wasted, and no sticky blood or brain matter dripping all along the way.
Zhao Yi said, “From now on, we need to incorporate superpowers into our way of thinking.”
Everyone nodded.
At the street-side park outside the west gate, there were three zombies.
A bench had snacks and drinks left on it. A stone stool had a novel lying open.
These were people who had been enjoying a leisurely moment in the sun at the park.
They took care of those three as well.
Sister Pan dug a large pit and asked, “Is it deep enough?”
The civil engineering guy caught up with them: “Let me measure!”
He had gone home to grab a tape measure.
He measured—over two meters deep. “That’s enough, that’s enough.”
He pressed the button on the tape measure, and the blade zipped back automatically with a whir.
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan flinched back. “Careful! That thing’s sharp—don’t cut anyone!”
The guy said, “Relax, I’ve got it under control.”
Gao Yuxuan cursed, “The hell you do!”
The man retorted, “I’ve been using tape measures for years—it’s all muscle memory. With a flick of my wrist, I can control which direction it goes.”
Gao Yuxuan was about to argue when Cui Haiyang came over. “Let me see!”
Everyone paused. Cui Haiyang was a metal-type user.
When he got his hands on the tape measure, it was like discovering a whole new world. Excitement lit up his face. “Why didn’t I think of that! Why didn’t I think of that! I have a tape measure too!”
The tape measure shot out from his hand and snapped back automatically, like a snake. But its range was still limited.
Currently, only fire-type users could borrow wooden rods as tracks to launch fireballs with extra speed and distance.
Next were electric-type users—Guo Jun was the strongest, able to discharge current several meters away.
Earth-type users could only work within a short range for now. Both Zhao Yi and Sister Pan had to wait for zombies to get close before using their powers—which really tested one’s composure and courage.
Metal-type users could instantly reshape their weapons or extend them for a thrust at the moment of attack, but that wasn’t considered ranged combat—just melee.
Electric-type users could barely count as ranged attackers.
But the only ones who truly deserved the label “ranged” were, for now, the fire-types.
“Chainsaw,” Zhao Yi suddenly said.
Cui Haiyang froze for a moment, then lit up. “Right! A chainsaw!”
Earlier, he’d been thinking about sharpening the edge of the tape measure, sending it out like a snake and retracting it to cut through zombie necks.
But sharpening was good for slashing and stabbing. What he needed to do was slice.
And for slicing, you use a saw.
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan both regretted that the hardware store at the intersection had closed down and been cleared out. Otherwise, they might have found a chainsaw there.
They asked, “Can you make one yourself?”
Cui Haiyang said, “I can make it, but a chainsaw would take time—mainly because I don’t have blueprints or a sample.”
The reason he could shape metal through his power was that he had a clear mental image of what he wanted to make: its shape, size, and which parts needed adjustment.
But a chainsaw was a relatively complex and delicate thing. Without blueprints, it’d be tricky—he’d probably have to experiment many times.
Zhao Yi said, “Then just make a serrated blade for now.”
That was simple. Cui Haiyang held the tape measure in his palm. A few seconds later, he flicked it out again—and the edge had turned into saw teeth.
The guys were all excited. “Try it, try it!”
They found a small sapling together.
The serrated tape measure shot out and retracted. It had cut a few centimeters deep into the tree.
Pretty damn impressive.
Cui Haiyang muttered, “I need more practice. More practice.”
The goal was to sever a zombie’s neck with one flick and retraction. Once the neck was severed, the zombie was done.
Zhao Yi gestured at his own neck. “Cut right here—two-thirds deep. I’ve observed that at that point, nerve transmission is completely severed. All that’s left connecting is skin and muscle.”
Gao Yuxuan chopped the back of Zhao Yi’s neck with his hand. “Or you could attack from behind—the target is the spine. The trachea and windpipe are useless to zombies. Just sever the spine.”
“There’s still a good tall stump from the tree that Jiangbing chopped down in the neighborhood. Go practice on that.”
Truly, three cobblers with two masterminds among them—they could actually give useful advice.
Cui Haiyang turned and ran off.
Sister Pan grinned and said to Jiang Cheng, “These young folks…”
Sister Pan enjoyed spending time with these young people. In a world where zombies killed and ate people, the neighborhood still buzzed with vibrant life—enough to make you forget your sorrows.
The pit was dug; now it needed disinfection.
The hardware store at the corner was gone, and so was the quicklime. The quicklime they’d hauled from there back then had all been used up.
But chlorine-based disinfectants would work too. These were common in daily life—the bleach powders, bleach liquids, effervescent tablets, and disinfectant solutions sold in supermarkets were mostly sodium hypochlorite or calcium hypochlorite.
During the last disaster, Zhao Yi had directed the systematic clearing of stock from Duododuo’s inventory, batch by batch.
It had all piled up in the clubhouse and been used up over time.
After the disaster ended, quite a bit remained. The clubhouse owner came back cursing and had Manager Wang dispose of it all, restoring the original gym layout.
Though Manager Wang hadn’t handled the gym restoration directly, he loved taking advantage of things. He had the leftover disinfectants moved to the property management’s storage room.
Now it was perfect—no need to haul anything from Duododuo. They just brought it straight from the management storage.
Using large amounts of it was a bit troublesome. People had to protect their mouths and noses—otherwise, it was easy to choke on the fumes, and it was somewhat harmful to the body.
This was where Li Jiangbing came in handy.
Everyone just unscrewed the caps of the disinfectant bottles and stacked them in front of him.
Someone else turned on the sprinkler system for the park’s green belt and ran a plastic hose to bring water over.
Li Jiangbing drew both the disinfectant and water into the air, mixed and diluted them, then let them “rain” down into the pit like a sprinkler.
Gao Yuxuan started giving Li Jiangbing a nickname: “Rain God!”
Li Jiangbing, while keeping both hands busy controlling the spray of the mixture, kicked out with his leg.
Gao Yuxuan jumped aside to dodge.
Everyone shouted, “You’re spraying off-target! Gao Yuxuan, get lost—stop messing around!”
After the pit was disinfected, Jiang Cheng transferred all the zombie corpses from her storage space into it.
Then they sprayed another layer over the bodies.
Finally, Sister Pan and Zhao Yi controlled the soil from both sides to backfill the pit.
The crime fiction enthusiast reminded them from the side: “Make sure to tamp it down firmly.”
The compaction of the soil was crucial. If it wasn’t tamped tight enough, the ground would settle and create air pockets, allowing the stench of decay to leak out—and then animals with sensitive noses would detect it.
Gao Yuxuan: “Buddy, you’re sure you’ve never killed anyone and buried a body before?”
The crime fiction enthusiast looked pleased. “Being suspected of that is my honor.”
“Let’s handle the trash the same way,” Jiang Cheng said. “Landfill.”
Zhao Yi glanced at Jiang Cheng, then pulled out his phone to check the time, murmuring, “It’s already this late—still no announcement?”
Last time, the temporary solution of stockpiling trash in the clubhouse swimming pool had been chosen under the assumption that “we’ll endure for a while, and the state will come to rescue us and restore our old lives.”
And sure enough, the state did come, and life returned to normal.
Garbage trucks reappeared and hauled all that trash away for disposal.
Everything went back to normal.
But this time, Jiang Cheng had directly abandoned the temporary stockpile approach.
Sometimes Zhao Yi was afraid of Jiang Cheng.
Because he trusted her too much.
And precisely because he trusted her so deeply, he was afraid of the predictions hidden in her words.
He was fascinated by superpowers, curious about the spatial dimension, and constantly coming up with wild ideas about how to apply various abilities to daily life.
But in the end, he still wanted to live an orderly, normally functioning life.
If returning to the old life meant having to trade in their superpowers, Zhao Yi—no matter how obsessed or reluctant—would still hand them over.
Jiang Cheng didn’t pressure Zhao Yi either.
After all, there were only a few hundred people in the neighborhood now—far less waste produced than before. There was no rush.
She gave him time to digest and accept it.
Li Jiangbing looked around. “Where’s Jingshuo?”
Jiang Cheng: “At Jixiang Jiayuan.”
Li Jiangbing: “What’s he doing over there?”
Song Jingshuo was playing the role of Elderly People’s Best Friend over at Jixiang Jiayuan.
No, actually—he was humbly exchanging tips on wood-type superpower usage with Aunt Lin and Aunt Qian.
“I tried three plants last night,” Song Jingshuo said. “Each one grew to about this height, put out about seven or eight new leaves, and then just stopped growing any further.”
Aunt Qian found it odd. “That shouldn’t be. I force-grew one yesterday, and it produced over twenty fruits. I ripened them fully—bright red and really tasty.”
Aunt Lin: “Same here.”
So what was going on with Xiao Song?
Song Jingshuo had already accepted his fate. If he was destined to farm, then he’d farm well.
He’d been a top student his whole life, never imagining he’d hit a wall with this. He had no choice but to consult the aunties.
Both aunties enthusiastically insisted he come to their homes to see for themselves.
The old men: “Hmph.”
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