After having a healer mend his physical injuries, Zhao Peng found himself utterly unable to swallow the bitter rage of losing his crystal core. He immediately went to lodge a formal complaint with his team leader.
When Xu Feiyan heard the news, a sinister, murderous gleam flashed in his dark eyes.
SLAP!
He slammed a palm down onto his desk, shattering the heavy wooden surface into splintered ruins instantly.
“Jiang Ran doesn’t show me an ounce of fucking respect!”
The moment the words left his mouth, a sudden bolt of lightning ripped open the ceiling directly above his head. Xu Feiyan reacted on instinct, diving frantically to the side.
Right where he had been standing, four or five violet lightning strikes smashed down in rapid succession.
Even as he scrambled away, several more relentless bolts pursued him, striking the floor right at his heels.
The sheer, overwhelming force pushed Xu Feiyan into a desperate, retreating scramble.
He dodged and rolled repeatedly across the floor, until a final blinding bolt forced him onto his back, leaving him sprawled helpless on the ground.
Every member of Team B witnessed the humiliation in stunned, terrified silence. Not a single person dared to breathe out loud.
The moment purple lightning made an appearance, everyone in the base knew exactly who had arrived.
Sure enough, as the residual electricity faded from the air, the main entrance of Team B’s quarters was kicked open with a loud bang.
The man’s signature black tactical boots were remarkably eye-catching—as cold, hard, and unforgiving as their owner.
Jiang Ran stood framed in the doorway, a pleasant smirk on his face as he surveyed everyone in Team B. “Team Leader Xu, it’s been a while. I missed you terribly.”
Bah! Who in the hell misses you?!
Xu Feiyan scrambled up from the floor, his face dark with fury as he glared at Jiang Ran. “What is the meaning of this, Team Leader Jiang?”
“The meaning is a threat.” A faint curve touched Jiang Ran’s thin lips, and his eyes glinted with amusement.
Yet everyone in the room knew that his smile was a blade designed for slaughter, not an offering of goodwill.
He stepped into the room, pacing forward with slow, deliberate footsteps. With every step he took, the hairs on the back of everyone’s necks stood straight up.
Very few people in Yulan Base didn’t fear this demon.
It was only because the demon hadn’t drawn blood in a while that some people seemed to have forgotten he wasn’t known for a good temper.
Stopping right in front of Xu Feiyan, Jiang Ran suddenly raised a single leg and delivered a brutal kick straight into the man’s chest, pinning him forcefully against the wall behind him.
With a muffled groan, Xu Feiyan spat out a mouthful of fresh blood. He glared at Jiang Ran with bloodshot eyes, his teeth grit in rage: “Jiang Ran… don’t push people too far!”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to strike back—he simply couldn’t.
From the very second Jiang Ran made his appearance, Xu Feiyan’s own powers had been crushed into complete submission.
A suffocating, terrifying domain of raw energy enveloped him entirely, stripping away any chance of launching a counterattack.
Jiang Ran tilted his head slightly, letting out a soft chuckle. “Pushing you too far? Hmm, well, feel free to think whatever you like. I came here today mainly to lay down two points for you, Team Leader Xu.”
“First, Lin Buyu belongs to me. If anything happens to her, I don’t care who laid a hand on her—I will take your dog’s life. Second… I genuinely don’t hold you in high regard. So… watch yourself, Team Leader Xu.”
Leaving behind those parting words, Jiang Ran turned and casually sauntered out.
He hummed a light tune as he walked, looking thoroughly content. Yet to the members of Team B, that carefree posture was far more terrifying than a high-tier zombie.
After he left, Zhao Peng—the man who had brought the complaint in the first place—was trembling so violently he wished he could turn invisible on the spot.
Meanwhile, Xu Feiyan’s face shifted rapidly from red to pale white, a truly magnificent display of humiliated rage.
While Jiang Ran was out settling scores on her behalf in a rare display of conscience, Lin Buyu was currently hiding under her bedsheets, writhing like a distraught worm.
She was utterly consumed with regret over the speech she had unloaded on Jiang Ran.
Gripping her hair in frustration, she groaned aloud in self-reproach.
This was the apocalypse!
Why on earth was she trying to lecture these hardened survivors who were completely desensitized to life, death, and oppression?
Would Jiang Ran think she was just an annoying, self-righteous pain in the ass?
Sigh…
She let out a long, pathetic sigh. Fate really had a cruel sense of humor.
Her entire mission was to soften Jiang Ran’s heart and stay on his good side! How could she go around lecturing him like a schoolteacher?
Now what? What on earth could she do to make Jiang Ran treat everything she had just said as nothing more than a pile of garbage?
“System, System, get out here, quick!”
Sensing that her thoughts were focused on Jiang Ran, the system instantly chimed in her mind: “Host, please go ahead.”
Lin Buyu said, “Can you give me some details on Jiang Ran’s personal preferences? If I’m going to reform him and stay on his good side, I need to know what he likes, don’t I?”
The system remained silent for a long moment before digging up some archival records: “According to available data, post-apocalyptic Jiang Ran has almost no personal preferences to speak of. He is entirely free of worldly desires.”
“What about before the apocalypse?”
“There are a few records prior to the outbreak. He liked sunflowers because he felt they represented hope; he liked spicy food because the heat made him feel alive; and he liked cotton candy because it was the very first snack his mother ever gave him…”
Listening to the system’s summary, Lin Buyu lapsed into silence.
Why did it sound like the main villain’s life before the apocalypse was completely miserable?
Like a dying person who couldn’t see any hope, clinging to subtle comfort foods and symbols just to fool himself into dragging on.
Was he abused in his past?
Whatever—the priority now is to get on his good side first. But where on earth was she supposed to track down sunflowers, cotton candy, and chili peppers in the middle of a wasteland?
Right now, even her basic meals depended entirely on Team A’s charity; she was practically living like a glorified beggar.
Just as her mind was spinning, the bedroom door suddenly swung open, and Jiang Ran’s strikingly handsome face appeared in the doorway.
Wrapped up tight like a giant silk cocoon, she blinked her wide eyes and stared straight at him.
Jiang Ran cast a brief glance at her bizarre posture, taking long strides toward the bedside. “Are you putting on a worm-crawling performance?”
Worm-crawling performance? What kind of terrible metaphor was that?
Lin Buyu waited until he took a seat on the right side of the bed before giving a soft cough and inching closer to him. “Team Leader… about those things I said downstairs earlier—please don’t take them to heart. I really didn’t mean to lecture you.”
Who did she think she was? She was currently just a fragile dodder flower relying on him for survival!
Daring to preach to the boss—talk about having a death wish.
Jiang Ran unbuttoned his outer jacket, leaving only a crisp black shirt underneath.
Hearing her apology, his expression remained unreadable, though his movements as he shed his jacket slowed down slightly. “Regretting it?”
“Yep, totally regretting it,” Lin Buyu nodded vigorously, regretting it to her very bones. This damn mouth of hers just couldn’t keep quiet.
Jiang Ran turned his head toward her, meeting her clear, bright eyes, a subtle trace of mockery touching the corners of his lips.
“So, do you now realize your thinking was flawed and that you shouldn’t meddle in other people’s affairs? Or do you finally understand that a wise person adapts to circumstances and simply goes with the flow? Hm?”
“Well, no, I still don’t think I was meddling,” Lin Buyu’s stubborn mouth shot back as usual—her attempts at being submissive never lasted more than a few seconds.
“No matter how many times it happens, as long as I have the ability, I will definitely step in to help. I will never believe that powerless people deserve to be meat shields for disaster or deserve to be trampled on. However!”
She shot a cautious, flattering smile toward Jiang Ran and added softly: “However, I shouldn’t have judged your perspective so harshly. Everyone comes from a different background, which shapes different ways of thinking. My views only represent my own stance.”
“You’d still step in no matter how many times it happens?” Jiang Ran stared into her clear eyes, feeling a sudden urge to light a cigarette.
“Yup, that won’t change—though provided I can protect myself first, of course.”
Jiang Ran suddenly felt that Xiao Jingcheng’s assessment earlier had been spot-on after all.
She really did behave like an innocent, sheltered little princess—otherwise, how could she spout such hopelessly naive nonsense?
“Once you’ve suffered enough painful lessons, perhaps you won’t think that way anymore.”
Lin Buyu blinked. How many more painful lessons was she supposed to suffer?
Climbing all the way from nothing to the status of a special forces captain, she had endured more hardship than an average person had drunk water.
What a sinister guy!
He actually wished more suffering upon her!