WMSR – QT Chapter 125

WMSR – QT Chapter 125

By

siofra

Chapter 125: The Senior of the Apocalypse

That name contained a character borrowed from Lin Jiawen's name while evoking the concept of a sanctuary for apocalyptic survivors, and its geographical coordinate differed entirely from the original timeline, residing far closer. Had the altered trajectory occurred because Xiao Yi never encountered Lin Jiawen in this lifetime, causing him to forge a completely divergent path and ultimately rename the very safe zone he founded?

Bai Yichen pondered the hypothesis and found it logically sound. The ripple effects of the butterfly effect were monumental; absent Lin Jiawen, the protagonist-gong was entirely capable of charting a radically alternate destiny.

In reality, Bai Yichen remained oblivious to the true catalyst driving Xiao Yi's divergence from his canonical trajectory: the root cause was never the absence of Lin Jiawen, but rather the fact that at the dawn of the apocalypse, Xiao Yi had never witnessed his dream lover being torn apart and devoured by zombies. Without that ocular devastation, he possessed zero closure; without witnessing his death, he clung perpetually to a fragile filament of hope. Consequently, he had refused to venture far away or flee the region of his heartbreak to establish a distant base. Instead, he cultivated the Lingxiao Base in close geographic proximity to Z City.

The moniker Lingxiao ingeniously incorporated Ling Mengchen's surname alongside a phonetic nod to Xiao Yi's own name—a subtle tribute entirely shielded from external detection, yet serving as the anchor for his deepest, most desperate aspiration. He harbored a fierce, unwavering prayer that the safe zone he forged would one day lure back the singular person he yearned to behold. Refusing to swallow the reality of Ling Mengchen's demise, he had maintained a rigid, unyielding daily ritual of scrutinizing the new arrival registries year after year. Now, that multi-year obsession had finally yielded an astronomical return: the target of his devotion had materialized, stepping directly inside his safe zone. The sheer magnitude of exhilaration, combined with the desperate urge to deploy a foolproof strategy to reclaim him, was entirely self-evident.

While the trio navigated their individual internal monologues, dinner hour arrived. Because the elite detached villa enclave housed the base's ruling aristocracy, daily three-course dining arrangements were curated and delivered by specialized attendants. Furthermore, driven by intense agitation and a lack of constructive outlets following his return, Xiao Yi had channeled all his nervous energy into pulling rank behind the scenes, dispatching explicit instructions to the kitchens. Naturally, the culinary spread awaiting Bai Yichen and his companion on their inaugural evening in the safe zone was staggering in its abundance.

Lin Jiawen, who had spent the afternoon wrestling with a manic internal debate over whether to pack up and evacuate immediately, froze upon laying eyes on the luxurious banquet.

He interrogated his own rationale: could any operational setup outside the safe zone provide his beloved with access to such a diverse culinary array? The answer was an unequivocal no.

Though he retained the capability to secure adequate raw calories, the structural resource scarcity defining the apocalypse remained an unchangeable truth. Certain luxuries simply exceeded individual operational bandwidth. In an instant, the frantic urgency fueling Lin Jiawen's desire to flee dissolved. He recalled his foundational vow: to offer the person he cherished the absolute pinnacle of everything.

The remainder of the evening meal passed in profound, unbroken silence. As for abandoning the safe zone, Lin Jiawen did not utter a single syllable.

The following morning, Lin Jiawen intended to escort Bai Yichen on a leisurely tour across the interior sectors of the base to familiarize themselves with their new surroundings. However, moving with a velocity that thoroughly outpaced Lin Jiawen's agenda, a familiar visitor materialized at their doorstep at the crack of dawn. Confronted by that deeply irritating facial structure, Lin Jiawen's brow snapped into an aggressive, vertical crease.

Faced with Lin Jiawen's blatant hostility, Xiao Yi maintained an awkward yet impeccably polite smile. Granted, he fully recognized that gate-crashing a residence at sunrise bordered on egregious social overreach; yet having endured a night of agonizing, sleepless torment, his psychological threshold had shattered. Furthermore, he had fabricated a bulletproof pretext for his visit. Before Lin Jiawen could levy a verbal strike, Xiao Yi intercepted him: "I trust Mr. Lin enjoyed a restful night. Given your recent arrival, I assumed you remain largely unacquainted with the internal grid and operational protocols of our base. Hence, I carved out time from my schedule to personally guide you on a comprehensive tour."

Xiao Yi's opening pitch was structurally immaculate. Even harboring boiling fury, Lin Jiawen lacked a socially justifiable rationale to slam the door in his face—particularly considering the visitor was the absolute executive administrator of the compound. Moreover, having privately discarded his impulse to abandon the base the previous evening, Lin Jiawen forced his temper down, offered a stiff, reluctant nod, and accepted the courteous invitation.

Yet the moment his preliminary objective achieved tentative clearance, Xiao Yi failed to suppress his deepest, most consuming craving. Shifting his intense, reverent gaze past Lin Jiawen toward the silhouette lingering in the background, a brilliant flash of fierce emotion ignited deep within his irises. Sporting an inviting smile, he initiated a probe: "This is your designated dependent follower, he—"

Before Xiao Yi could complete the inquiry, a sharp, unyielding declaration cut him off mid-sentence: "He is not going!"

Author's Note:I did my absolute best...

Chapter 64: The Senior of the Apocalypse (20)

The severed sentence hung abruptly in the air, choking Xiao Yi off balance. Yet Lin Jiawen's absolute, uncompromising posture signaled an unmistakable message: the wielder actively intended to isolate Ling Mengchen from his sphere of contact.

Maintaining his superficial mask, Xiao Yi smoothed his expression, offering an indifferent, placid shrug: "Very well. Then let the two of us proceed first."

Beneath that placid exterior, however, Xiao Yi's internal alarm bells were screaming. He registered an alarming anomaly: Lin Jiawen's treatment of Ling Mengchen completely defied the behavioral baseline expected between an independent wielder and a standard dependent subordinate. A typical wielder would never guard a mundane follower with such obsessive territoriality. If their relationship transcended the boundaries of a standard master-subordinate dynamic, what became of his foundational strategy—establishing an amicable diplomatic rapport before tactfully negotiating a transfer?

Beyond that structural headache, a far more agonizing suspicion gnawed at Xiao Yi's composure: if the surname-Lin wielder and Ling Mengchen shared a bond distinct from standard dependency, what precise classification did their connection occupy? Were they relatives? Their surnames differed entirely, and their physical features shared zero structural overlap. Were they old friends? Ling Mengchen's staggering pre-apocalyptic campus popularity had resulted in every intimate associate being thoroughly documented by gossiping peers; based on Xiao Yi's exhaustive tracking of Ling Mengchen's life, no such individual had ever populated his inner circle.

With familial and platonic avenues systematically eliminated, what alternative relationship category could possibly explain the hyper-protective priority Lin Jiawen allocated to Ling Mengchen? Xiao Yi zeroed in on a specific, terrifying possibility—an outcome his psyche violently rejected. The mere mental projection of that hypothesis flooded his veins with an acidic surge of unspeakable bitterness and unadulterated jealousy.

Yet no matter how agonizing the internal toxicity, Xiao Yi possessed the emotional maturity to recognize that the scenario was an unavoidable probability. After all, Ling Mengchen was an unpowered ordinary human possessing zero independent survival metrics in the wasteland, paired with a visual perfection that naturally magnetised attention. Whether interacting with male or female ability wielders, crossing paths with predatory interest was an absolute statistical certainty. Indeed, viewed objectively, he owed gratitude to that reality: had it not been for the very variable he now resented, the devastating survival mortality rates governing the wasteland would have ensured he never laid eyes on Ling Mengchen five years down the line.

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