Yan Shuang was silent for a moment, then repeated uncertainly, “An ability that can understand what zombies are saying?”
Tu Sanqi’s eyes widened slightly, and she nodded eagerly.
But Yan Shuang shook her head.
“I’ve never heard of that,” she added. “But every person’s ability has all sorts of possibilities. Currently, there’s no technology to predict or interfere with the type of ability someone has.”
“Maybe such an ability user will appear in the future,” Yan Shuang said, feeling slightly amused at the thought.
Middle-level and above zombies can disguise themselves as humans, so communication is no problem… but understanding zombies’ speech? That would only work with low-level zombies.
And compared to other abilities, understanding low-level zombies’ speech is… honestly kind of boring.
Tu Sanqi had expected this answer.
Since entering the Fifth Special Sector, she had always been recognized as human… yet her pupils showed neither the traits of an ability user nor those of a zombie.
For a moment, she didn’t know what she even was.
Seeing this, Yan Shuang thought Tu Sanqi was anxious about her future ability, and comforted her: “No rush. Your physical and mental strength haven’t reached their limit yet. Abilities can’t be forced. Build your foundation first.”
“…Okay!” Tu Sanqi shook her head and continued eating. “Wait for me—I’ll grab another bowl of rice.”
Later, she would join Yan Shuang in the training pod, which would also be very physically taxing.
Yan Shuang: “…”
Yan Shuang: “Go ahead.”
**
9:30 p.m.
The two of them helped each other out of the training room.
Compared to the sensory suits from the afternoon, the training pod focuses more on mental strength.
Today, Tu Sanqi’s training was still the breath-holding exercise, and she still felt that uncomfortable sensation of water in her nose.
“You may have overexerted yourself,” Yan Shuang said. “Next time, set the parameters to the lowest and start adapting from scratch.”
Tu Sanqi nodded. “I’ll try that tomorrow morning.”
They talked some more about training, but mid-conversation, Tu Sanqi suddenly stopped in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Yan Shuang turned around.
A hand was reaching toward her hair.
Startled, she instinctively furrowed her brows.
But Tu Sanqi, quicker to react, slapped the hand away.
“Yo,” the person said nonchalantly, shaking his hand, eyes glinting mischievously at Yan Shuang. “Looks like the loser finally found some help.”
Not exactly a flattering greeting.
Looking at Yan Shuang’s expression, Tu Sanqi immediately realized this person was not a friend.
“Ignore him,” Yan Shuang said, pulling Tu Sanqi to walk away.
But the boy stubbornly followed, trying again to grab Yan Shuang’s hair. “What, leaving already? I kindly came back to give you some special training to unlock your potential, and you’re ungrateful?”
As her hair was yanked, Yan Shuang instinctively closed her eyes.
But unlike before, there was no sharp pain on her scalp.
The force on her hair vanished.
Before she could react, she saw Tu Sanqi slap the boy’s hand away again.
“What loser?” Tu Sanqi said, exasperated. “Why do you talk so rudely?”
“Sanqi,” Yan Shuang’s eyelid twitched. She stepped forward and grabbed Tu Sanqi’s hand, her voice low. “He’s an ability user.”
Tu Sanqi’s confusion deepened.
Ability users? Aren’t they supposed to protect humans?
Then why had this one come over to bully Yan Shuang?
The boy, Han Fei, finally noticed Yan Shuang standing next to Tu Sanqi. His gaze darkened, and he stepped forward. “And who are you, loser?”
“What? You want me to give you special training too?” Han Fei crossed his arms, eyes full of contempt.
Tu Sanqi: “…”
She had no idea what he was looking down on.
With a blank expression, she tugged on Yan Shuang’s hand and left.
Behind them, Han Fei’s laughter echoed. “See you tomorrow night, Yan Shuang. Don’t be late.”
“Is he threatening you?” Tu Sanqi asked, turning back and raising her fist as if ready to confront him.
Yan Shuang’s eyelid twitched, and she quickly pulled Tu Sanqi along.
Once back at the dorm, Yan Shuang explained with a complicated expression, “That boy is Han Fei, same year as me.”
“He was considered a promising potential like you. Less than six months in, he awakened his ability and was sent to a special sector.”
Tu Sanqi sat cross-legged, puzzled. “Then why did he bully you?”
Yan Shuang’s expression was calm. “Not bullying… superiority complex.”
“He’s always liked comparing himself to me… I still haven’t awakened my ability, and he constantly comes to show off.”
Tu Sanqi looked even more confused. “Show off… what?”
Yan Shuang: “Abilities.”
Tu Sanqi: “What’s so impressive about abilities?”
Yan Shuang: “…”
She was taken aback by Tu Sanqi’s bewildered expression.
“Ability users aren’t supposed to protect humans?” Tu Sanqi said, lying on the bed upside down. “And protecting humans isn’t a job only ability users can do.”
Her brother had said that in the sector, many humans hadn’t awakened abilities but excelled in other fields.
Yan Shuang was silent for a moment. Her two years of solitary persistence seemed to soften slightly.
“You’re right,” she said, hugging her knees, somewhat lost in thought. “I almost forgot.”
“Forgot what?” Tu Sanqi asked.
Yan Shuang shook her head.
Tu Sanqi asked again, “So what did Han Fei mean by giving you special training?”
Yan Shuang scratched her head. “He was attacking me unilaterally, trying to trigger my potential under dangerous circumstances.”
That’s how Han Fei had awakened his own ability.
Tu Sanqi: “…”
Wasn’t this… bullying???
**
The next night, Yan Shuang didn’t show up for the appointment.
Tu Sanqi stayed close, unwilling to leave her side, wary that Han Fei might jump out from some corner to cause trouble.
Yan Shuang felt something unusual.
Since entering the school, people around her could leave at any time. Except for team training, everyone acted independently, even roommates rarely interacted.
But Tu Sanqi clearly wasn’t that type.
Yan Shuang smiled—a rare sight—and seemed in good spirits.
“Don’t worry. Their training camp isn’t idle; Han Fei should have gone back to the sector for training today,” she said, guiding Tu Sanqi toward the infirmary.
Tu Sanqi paused, relaxing slightly.
Still… she eyed Yan Shuang curiously. “Why are we going to the infirmary?”
Yan Shuang said, “Have you used a healing pod before?”
Tu Sanqi shook her head; she had never heard of it.
“After training, any leftover strain or damage can be fixed overnight in the pod,” Yan Shuang said with a sigh. “In two years, I’ve only had to lie in one twice.”
Both times were due to overtraining that left her body damaged.
Hearing the first part, Tu Sanqi was immediately tempted—she’d only been at school a week and was already exhausted enough to feel glued to the bed.
But the second part tempered her excitement. “Why? Is it expensive?”
“Not really… I’ll treat you,” Yan Shuang explained. “But after using a healing pod, you can’t train for three days.”
“The teachers keep records; during training, they’ll make you rest.”
Tu Sanqi: “!”
Lie down once, rest for three days! Now that’s a deal!