Mid-Autumn Festival, Year 51 of the New Calendar. The Grand Yong’an Celebration was being held on People’s Avenue.
It was a magnificent annual ceremony held to commemorate the end of the apocalypse and the dawn of a peaceful, prosperous new era. For half a century, it had never once been skipped.
The head of the Federation led a group of renowned powerhouses who had achieved extraordinary feats during the apocalypse. Riding in military vehicles and accompanied by a long procession of ceremonial cannon units and honor guards, they paraded down the avenue. On both sides, crowds gathered thickly, cheering with unrestrained fervor.
“Base Commander Sheng Yinghua! My grandmother came from the Third Base—she asked me to send you her regards!”
“Corps Commander Yu Haoran! I will never forget your kindness!”
The crowd shouted the titles these great figures had once held during the apocalypse, their voices hoarse, their eyes brimming with tears. Every cry carried gratitude and reverence.
The dignitaries in the vehicles listened, deeply moved.
“So many years have passed, and people still remember old folks like us!”
An aide beside them quickly said, “Forget fifty years—even in a hundred or two hundred years, the people will never forget your achievements during the apocalypse. Without your selfless dedication, there would be no peace and prosperity today.”
Another added flatteringly, “You’re not old at all! If you walked out there, anyone unaware would think you were in your thirties or forties. Without pillars of stability like you, the world wouldn’t have developed so smoothly all these years.”
“Hahaha!” The dignitaries laughed.
And it was true. Those who had risen to fame during the apocalypse were now at least in their seventies, eighties, even nineties. Yet each still had glossy black hair and robust health, looking nothing like their actual age.
They were all ability users. Their powerful abilities had extended their lifespans, allowing them to enjoy this flourishing era in peak condition—and they would continue enjoying it for many years to come.
Though most had retired from official posts, their immense strength and accumulated merit granted them transcendent social status. Wherever they went, they were honored and revered. At every national celebration, they were invited as distinguished guests. Their families and descendants received countless visible and invisible privileges. They were, in every sense, people above others.
Achievement, glory, familial legacy, worldwide praise—what could be more satisfying than such a life?
When the procession arrived at the Martyrs’ Cemetery, the vehicles stopped. The atmosphere turned solemn as they conducted a memorial ceremony to honor the heroes who had perished during the apocalypse.
At the cemetery gates, beneath the towering and magnificent Monument to the Fallen, knelt a bronze statue of a woman.
She faced the monument and the cemetery, kneeling with her hands bound behind her back in iron chains—a posture of kowtowing in repentance.
Her body was covered in scars—marks of kicks, knife cuts, axe strikes, burns, and blunt-force damage. They were mottled and ugly, bearing witness to the vicious treatment she had endured over the past fifty-one years, and the blazing fury she had suffered.
Even around the statue and on the ground nearby were obvious long-standing stains, emitting a strange, foul stench. One could imagine how much filth had been poured over her year after year, corroding deep into the bronze.
The dignitaries looked at the statue with various expressions—some contemptuous, some complicated, some sighing with emotion.
“Jiang Fu…”
“Back then…”
“What a pity she strayed from the path…”
“This ending is what she deserved…”
Sheng Yinghua walked slowly over, hand in hand with her husband, Yu Haoran. The others instinctively stepped aside.
Even among great figures, there were ranks. Clearly, those present tacitly regarded this couple as their leaders.
Sheng Yinghua was beautiful and refined. Now over eighty years old, she still looked as if she were in her twenties or thirties. Time had left no mark on her, only added to her grace and nobility.
She gazed at the statue and murmured, “Sister Jiang…”
Then she frowned. “Didn’t we say no more acts of desecration against the statue? Why is it still so filthy?”
A staff member hurriedly explained, “We try to stop them, but people still come in the middle of the night to dump waste. We clean it daily, but some stains and odors just won’t come off—unless we completely refurbish it.”
Someone snorted. “Sister Yinghua, why bother? After more than fifty years, the public still hasn’t let go of their hatred for Jiang Fu. This is the sin she committed—this is the fate she deserves!”
Sheng Yinghua’s delicate brows knitted slightly. She sighed. “Back then, Sister Jiang… Jiang Fu was a powerhouse who dominated the entire apocalypse, unmatched in bearing. Though her temperament was violent and she committed many wrongs… She did accomplish real things. The dead are gone. Let’s at least grant her a bit of dignity. Zhang Tong, you once worked under her—don’t be too harsh.”
Zhang Tong choked. “That was a strategic compromise! She killed my father. I endured humiliation and stayed by her side for revenge!”
Yu Haoran wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and supported her gently. “Enough. Jiang Fu has knelt here for half a century—her sins are atoned. Let all grudges end here. Let her rest in peace.”
Since he had spoken, no one could insist further. They exchanged glances and began praising the couple.
“Back then, Jiang Fu harmed you terribly! Yet you can still be so magnanimous.”
“Since the two of you have spoken, so be it.”
“The times are moving forward. Historical dust like Jiang Fu should indeed be swept completely into the archives.”
As for dignity—after fifty years, the name Jiang Fu had long since become synonymous with infamy. What dignity was left?
In recent years, as a new generation grew up, her online reputation had even begun to improve slightly. Better to let her exit the stage entirely. Let no one mention her again.
Without attention, without discussion—there would never be any reversal.
Amid the praises, a bolt of lightning flashed from Yu Haoran’s hand, shattering the life-sized bronze statue of Jiang Fu into fragments. Standing hand in hand among the scattered bronze debris, Yu Haoran and Sheng Yinghua faced the media cameras.
This “act of reconciliation” was widely reported, becoming yet another ironclad testament to the couple’s broad-mindedness and benevolence. The heroes of the old era gained another wave of good reputation in the new one.
No one saw that from within the shattered bronze statue, a wisp of soul—like a resentful spirit—floated slowly out. A pair of crimson eyes stared coldly at the couple’s backs before sweeping across the crowd.
So many old friends.
Jiang Fu thought faintly. They all seem to be living very well.
The well-dressed officials, the media, the rosy-faced and energetic crowd in the distance.
Everyone was living well.
While she had been trapped inside the statue, suffering day and night, these people laughed and celebrated, living happily ever after.
While she rotted and twisted alone, unable to live or die, they basked in bright sunshine and walked forward with hope.
While hatred gnawed at her and she howled in agony, they tasted the sweet fruits of victory and drank the wine of fame and fortune.
Good. How very good.
She began to laugh—madly, hysterically. Resentment boiled off her body, spreading in all directions like the stickiest venomous serpents, coiling around the necks of her old friends.
A malicious spirit flew out and hovered beside her, saying excitedly, “See? I told you someone would break your statue. These ten years of waiting weren’t for nothing!”
Jiang Fu didn’t move her head. Her crimson eyes slid toward it from the corners.
This malicious spirit had appeared by her side ten years ago.
It claimed to feed on human malice. It said most of the world’s ill will had poured toward Jiang Fu, and through her endless grinding torment, it had formed into an evil bone within her.
It said it could help her take revenge—at the cost that after her death, that evil bone inside her would belong to it.
Back then, Jiang Fu had already gone mad. She didn’t understand what evil bone meant. She only knew she smashed against the statue day after day, trying to break free and slaughter the world.
But the spirit had told her that even if she succeeded, most of her power would be depleted in the attempt. Her enemies were all powerful ability users. She wouldn’t be able to kill many—let alone destroy the world.
But if she waited another ten years, someone would release her willingly.
Jiang Fu waited.
Ten years passed—and today finally came.
A strand of her hair suddenly lengthened, like seaweed, wrapping tightly around the malicious spirit. Her voice was cold. “You know things about the future?”
The spirit screamed, unable to break free. “I helped you! You can’t kill me!”
“Tell me everything you know!”
The spirit shrieked, “For ten years I kept you company, talked with you—I’m the only one in this world who supports your revenge! Show mercy!”
Her hair grew longer and denser, nearly crushing it. “Speak!”
The spirit burst into tears. “I’ll tell you! I don’t know the future—I only know part of the plot! The world you’re in is a novel. Right now, this is just an extra chapter!”
Jiang Fu froze. “A novel? An extra?”
Her hair loosened slightly.
“Explain clearly.”
The evil spirit struggled to wrench its head free. Its pitch-black face was filled with terror as it gulped down great breaths, sucking in some of the malicious energy that permeated the air around them. Only then did it feel alive again. It looked at Jiang Fu in fear. Was this person’s power really this strong?
It began to speak cautiously.
“This is a post-apocalyptic novel. You, Jiang Fu, only appear in the sequel—the second installment—as the cold and ruthless villain. You’re powerful. You command an entire base. But you’re autocratic, harsh with your subordinates, and ruthless in your methods—iron-blooded and merciless. That’s why you became the notorious ‘tyrant.’”
Jiang Fu’s expression was blank. “Get to the point.”
The evil spirit hurriedly skipped over long stretches of plot and jumped to the ending. “In the thirteenth year of the apocalypse, zombies are on the brink of extinction, mutated beasts are no longer a real threat. Only one Zombie King remains—the greatest threat to humanity. Aside from you, no one can match it.
“You fight the Zombie King several times and finally kill it at an enormous cost. The apocalypse officially enters its countdown phase. What follows is the establishment of a new era. With your achievements, you should unquestionably become the first leader. But given your past conduct… no one wants you in that position.
“So they join forces. While you’re gravely injured, they kill you. They heap crime after crime upon you, brand you a sinner, and make you kneel before the cemetery to atone. That’s the novel’s ending.”
Jiang Fu’s expression darkened.
The evil spirit took a breath. “Now here’s the key point. You died full of hatred, your resentment reaching the heavens. So you didn’t completely disappear. You revived within a bronze statue. But according to the novel’s setting, you must die. You can’t break free.”
“Until the very last extra chapter. The original male and female protagonists—Yu Haoran and Sheng Yinghua—smash your bronze statue to let you ‘rest in peace.’ I realized this was your only chance at freedom. That’s why I told you to wait.”
It glanced at the resentment swirling around her like a mushroom cloud. “But you won’t exist for long. If you want revenge, you’ll probably only have a single strike.”
“Why?” Jiang Fu asked.
“Because of the novel’s setting. The version I just told you is from your perspective. From the protagonists’ point of view, killing you was eliminating a future tyrant—a hidden threat to peace. They’re righteous. Justified. Correct.”
“In the extra chapter, you’re a great villain who’s been dead for fifty years. As for your enemies—Yu Haoran and Sheng Yinghua aside—they’re the male and female protagonists, the pillars of the story. The others are all successful victors, people blessed with fortune. The whole world stands on their side. How can you possibly fight them?”
“So your only chance is to strike without warning, at any cost—even perish together with them!
“And if even that fails, you have one more option: a curse. The greatest use of resentment is to curse. You’ve accumulated fifty years’ worth—enough to fill an ocean. If you burn your soul to ashes to curse them, it should take effect.”
It rambled on, but received no response. When it looked up, Jiang Fu showed no reaction at all.
The evil spirit had expected her to collapse. No one, upon learning they were merely a character in a novel, their fate nothing more than a program set by an author—especially with such a tragic end—could remain calm.
But Jiang Fu did. Not only did she not collapse, she wasn’t even particularly shocked. Instead, she suddenly became extraordinarily calm.
And it was precisely that calmness that made her seem more dangerous.
The heavens themselves seemed to sense the approaching crisis. The sky began to change color. Dark clouds gathered. The powerful figures present all sensed danger in the air and quietly grew alert.
The evil spirit panicked. “What are you standing around for? Hurry!”
Jiang Fu said, “So whether I kill them or not, I won’t last long. If I kill them, at best I perish with them, with no strength left to kill more or do anything else.”
The evil spirit felt its head ache. “You’re not thinking of destroying the world, are you?”
Jiang Fu gazed at the roiling sky and said calmly, “This isn’t fair.”
The evil spirit: ?
“If they die now, it doesn’t change the fact that they’ve already enjoyed fifty happy years. It won’t shake their fame, their fortune, their celebrated status. They’ve had everything. Gained everything. Enjoyed everything. Lived to nearly a hundred in peak condition, then suddenly die—that’s practically a celebratory death. Even after they’re gone, their descendants will continue to benefit.”
“And me? Fifty years of torment. Fifty years of humiliation and degradation. I lost everything. Endured and waited all this time for a single moment of eruption—only to die on the same day, the same moment, as those pieces of trash.”
The evil spirit sensed something. Whether it was excitement or something else, it trembled slightly. “Then you mean…”
Flames ignited in Jiang Fu’s eyes as she looked at the sky, as if she would burn through it.
“You say I can’t beat them in the extra chapter. I admit it. This is no longer my world. Not my era.”
“But what about returning to the main story?”
She glanced at the familiar faces around her, watching cautiously yet oblivious to the resentful tendrils coiled around their necks, and sneered. “When I was alive—at my peak—how many of these nobodies dared act presumptuous before me?”
Besides, if she went back to before they rose to power—when they were still struggling—destroyed everything they had before they could succeed, crushed them so they could never rise again… wouldn’t that be far more satisfying?
The evil spirit’s guess confirmed, its breathing quickened. Jiang Fu’s sudden surge of domineering aura made it dizzy.
Yes—this was the bearing of the apocalypse’s strongest powerhouse, who had ruled for nearly a decade. Even if knocked down, crushed, trampled into the dust, soaked in filth—give her one more chance to stand, and her pride would remain unbroken!
It rubbed its hands anxiously, pacing through Jiang Fu’s floating hair. “How will you do it? There’s a barrier between the extras and the main story. It’s not just a matter of reversing time. And there’s another you in the main story. A king cannot meet another king—let alone when you’re the same person. If you meet, one of you might die… though the novel’s world rules aren’t that complete…”
Before it could finish, Jiang Fu had already withdrawn the tendrils from everyone’s necks. All her resentment retracted into her body. She faced the sky and shot upward like a cannonball.
The evil spirit only felt something flash past. Before it could react, a strand of hair wrapped around it and whisked it into the sky.
“Ahhhhhhh!!!”
The speed was like a rocket.
In the next instant, Jiang Fu smashed through the mass of dark clouds.
Resentment solidified around her in layers—her armor, her spear.
How would she do it? By defying fate itself. By piercing through the sky that had trapped her.
Carrying fifty years of accumulated pain, hatred, resentment—carrying her anger and challenge to this world—she surged forward unstoppable.
Faster and faster she went. Everything around her became afterimages—then sheets of paper covered in text.
This was the novel.
She was traveling through the “Extras.”
Extra Seven. Extra Six. Extra Five…
Pages flipped forward. Each extra was like a small room, containing figures—mostly Sheng Yinghua and Yu Haoran.
Jiang Fu smashed through each room’s walls, pressing onward. Finally, she crossed the title of Extra One and plunged into the “Main Story.”
She saw herself being killed—her head severed and hung at the base gates. She saw people cheering her death, cursing her “crimes.”
Jiang Fu swept past without a ripple in her heart, pushing forward with all her strength.
The plot began to rewind. Time reversed with it.
Year Thirteen of the apocalypse. Year Twelve. Year Eleven…
Her eyes suddenly lit up. If she could return to that time—before that turning point!
Mother! She might see her mother again!
Year Nine. Year Eight. Year Seven…
The resentment around her burned like fuel—evaporating, consuming itself. The evil spirit clung tightly to her ankle, stretched thin by the terrifying speed like a long, scrawny black rat.
It screamed, “Enough! Stop! If you keep going, you’ll burn out—you’ll die!”
Jiang Fu ignored it, thinking only of going faster, further back!
Year Six. Year Five…
Finally, she saw the plot after her mother’s death. Overjoyed and excited, she charged forward—only to slam violently into an invisible barrier.
The impact nearly shattered her. Her strength drained away as she fell into the vortex of the plot.
Before losing consciousness, she heard the evil spirit cry out:
“We’ve reached the beginning of the second installment! We can’t go any further!”