Chapter 287 - 9.33
"I’m hungry!"
Jiang Jiamian glanced lazily at Ling Zhuang, then pointed at the broken table and scattered dust on the floor. "Hey, you, clean that up, and bring the table from Room 305 over here! After that, stew this chicken for me. I want chicken soup!"
As he spoke, he casually pulled a plump chicken out of his spatial space and tossed it straight toward Ling Zhuang, who had just changed into a spotless white lab coat.
The small apartment wasn’t bad at all: a modest kitchen, a private bathroom, even a balcony. Before the apocalypse, such a place would have been considered shabby. But now, this was luxury. Within the base, most homes stood empty, but few were truly habitable, water and power were precious commodities.
Ling Zhuang caught the chicken leg midair with precise timing, lifting it cleanly without a single stain touching his coat. He gave Jiamian a half-smile. "Cleaning? Moving furniture? Why don’t we just move into Room 305 instead?"
They owned both rooms anyway, it made little difference. But did that mean Jiang Jiamian intended to stay here with him?
Jiang Jiamian: "..." You’re so shameless, I don’t even know how to answer that.
Ling Zhuang flicked his wrist. His hand seemed to vanish, and when it reappeared, a wet wipe was between his fingers. He carefully wiped them clean before walking to the bedside. "I’ll carry you over."
Jiang Jiamian’s gaze sharpened. "You already have space abilities?"
Ling Zhuang nodded. "Of course. You already know my ability, it’s replication. Any power that exists in this apocalypse, as long as I have three seconds of contact with its owner, I can replicate it."
He’d acquired the space ability long before meeting Jiang Jiamian.
"However..." Ling Zhuang’s expression shifted, his tone unreadable. "There are two people whose space abilities I can’t copy. Isn’t that strange?"
Jiang Jiamian’s heart skipped. He immediately knew who he meant. One was himself. The other could only be Chen Ran, who possessed the jade pendant’s space from his rebirth.
Ling Zhuang didn’t understand why, but Jiang Jiamian did.
Ling Zhuang’s power replicated biological evolutions, the kind of supernatural abilities born within this world. But his and Chen Ran’s spaces belonged to something far older, beyond biology.
His own soul space was born of cultivation, condensed from his spiritual essence. Chen Ran’s jade pendant, infused with his blood from a past life, was likely another relic of that same ancient system.
But this world, already deep in apocalypse, could no longer sustain such cultivation treasures. Chen Ran’s pendant space, though remarkable, couldn’t compare to the one Jiang Jiamian had forged himself.
"I’ll carry you to Room 305." Ling Zhuang repeated, voice casual, as if the suggestion were a passing thought rather than a test.
Jiang Jiamian waved him off. "No! I’m lazy. And my back hurts."
Jiang Jiamian stood there as if he hadn’t just been the one radiating murderous intent and shattering a table with a flick of his finger. Now, he looked like a fragile, helpless little thing.
He dropped into a seat with the attitude of a spoiled young master and pointed toward the kitchen. "Go stew the soup. Bring it when it’s done. I’m thirsty!"
Ling Zhuang sighed. "..."
Still, he rolled up his white sleeves and obediently walked to the kitchen.
"Oh, and by the way..." He added, halfway there, "I’m not making Jiang Qing’s portion too."
He already knew Jiang Jiamian’s plan to have the three of them dine together, avoiding the Gale Squad’s invitation.
Not that he wanted to see Jiang Qing at all. The woman was a bright light bulb between him and Jiang Jiamian, and he had no patience for it.
Ling Zhuang reached for an apron, where it came from, no one knew, and tied it neatly around his waist. "How about this? I’ll give her some ingredients. She can make her own soup."
Jiang Jiamian smirked. "Good. You’re learning."
The next day, in the administrative office of City A base, Fang Jing slammed a document onto the table.
"Forming a team!?"
Old Liu, the administrator in charge of missions, flinched at the outburst.
Fang Jing’s eyes blazed. "He dares to apply for his own team the moment he arrives? Does he think that because he scored a 98, he can do whatever he wants?"
Old Liu hesitated. He’d only brought over a simple team formation request, something normally approved without issue. The applicant clearly had the capability. Never had he expected the usually composed base leader to react like this.
Yesterday, Fang Jing had been enraged enough by the Fang Geng incident that he had almost moved against Ling Zhuang. Only the Jiang siblings’ connection to him had kept his anger in check.
This couldn’t be handled rashly.
After all, he still hadn’t quite grasped what kind of relationship Jiang Jiamian had with Ling Zhuang.
If he suppressed Ling Zhuang too soon, Jiang Jiamian could certainly retaliate. A man with that kind of power was not someone he could afford to provoke head-on.
Jiang Jiamian was the sharpest blade in the City A base. A weapon that deadly couldn’t be wielded recklessly, but neither could it be allowed to go unclaimed.
If he didn’t control the hand that held that blade, it might turn on him.
No, he would first test him: appease, observe, and if necessary... destroy.
"So what should we do now?" Old Liu finally ventured, voice careful.
"Leave the application with me." Fang Jing said coldly. "I’ll handle it personally."
His fingers tapped the desk rhythmically, his thoughts dark and calculating.
Jiang Jiamian, he’s bolder than he thought. Yesterday, he offered him benefits, even command authority, and he refused. Fang Jing assumed he was cautious.
A thin smile curved his lips.
But it turns out he was preparing to go independent all along.
Fang Jing stood, turning to the window. Beyond it, the sprawling ruins of City A shimmered faintly under the dying sun.
He already has the Gale Squad giving him headaches. He won’t allow another restless faction to rise within his walls.
His reflection in the glass darkened, eyes glinting with malice.