CHAPTER 85: SUBTLE APPROACH

Ling Yu’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes hardened faintly. Memories of blood and monsters flickered in her mind, the endless tide she had cut down, the system’s relentless notifications, the weight of survival pressing on her shoulders.

"I survived," she said simply. "And cleared more than my share."

Song studied her in silence, then inclined his head once, as if to say he trusted her without needing further details.

Nie Ziyu, however, leaned forward, his curiosity unrestrained. "And that creature?" He nodded toward Fluffy, who was now nestled happily between him and Ye Qingxue, eyes half-closed in contentment. "Where did it come from?"

Ling Yu’s gaze flicked briefly to the little puffball, then back to the boy. "...A basement."

Nie Ziyu stared. "That doesn’t answer anything!"

Ye Qingxue laughed lightly at his indignation. "Does it matter? It’s clearly harmless." She glanced at Ling Yu. "You’re keeping it?"

For a heartbeat, Ling Yu said nothing. Then, finally, she nodded her head. "...For now."

The system whispered almost reproachfully:

[Host, you’re still denying it... but you don’t push it away either. That’s really something.]

Ling Yu ignored it, her focus already shifting.

"What of the supplies here?" she asked.

Song’s expression darkened faintly. "Things are rationed very poorly. And all of it are controlled by the leader’s men. Distribution favors those who flatter him. The weak survivors here suffers the most."

"As expected," Ling Yu murmured. Her eyes sharpened, a cold glint flickering within them. "So he’s already begun the game of power."

"Will you confront him?" Ye Qingxue asked softly.

Ling Yu shook her head once. "Not yet. There’s no benefit in wasting strength on him now. He’ll collapse on his own when the next wave comes. For now, we watch, gather, and prepare."

Her voice carried such certainty and quiet authority, that for a moment the three of them sat straighter, as if bracing themselves beneath her resolve.

Fluffy cooed softly, blinking at them all, and then hopped onto Ling Yu’s lap uninvited, curling into a small, warm ball.

Ling Yu stilled, her expression unreadable as she looked down at it. Its tiny body rose and fell with even breaths, completely at ease despite the storm of human tension swirling around it.

Nie Ziyu smirked faintly. "Seems like it likes you best."

Ye Qingxue chuckled softly. "Or maybe it just knows who its protector is."

The system’s voice chimed, almost teasing:

[They’re not wrong, Host.]

Ling Yu’s lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing, but one hand lifted slowly, almost against her own will, and brushed across the creature’s soft fur.

For the first time since entering the station, the cold glint in her eyes softened just slightly.

.

.

.

The atmosphere in the corner of the station was finally settling into something resembling warmth. After Ling Yu’s playful teasing, Ye Qingxue and Nie Ziyu had relaxed, though they still cast suspicious glances at Fluffy, who was sitting proudly on her mistress’s shoulder as if it had won a great war. Song, who was quiet as ever, stood nearby with his usual composed expression, though his eyes softened whenever they fell on Ling Yu.

It was in that rare pocket of peace that a voice suddenly cut through.

"Well, well. What an interesting little group we have here."

The sound carried confidence, almost like a smooth layer of honey drizzled on stone.

Ling Yu’s lashes lowered slightly, her calm gaze shifting toward the intruder.

The "leader" of the camp stood there, tall and straight, the dirty light of the ruined station catching on his sharp features. He had the kind of handsomeness that could easily turn heads: a chiseled jaw, a smile that revealed a perfect set of teeth, and eyes that gleamed with practiced warmth. In another life, he might have been the type to play the role of a charming prince in dramas.

But Ling Yu had already lived through one apocalypse. Of course, she knew better than this.

This man was a scoundrel. A sweet-talker who could draw people in with his charisma but whose heart was a pit of selfish ambition. In her past life, she remembered how this very place had crumbled under his false leadership, when his lies no longer kept people fed, his true colors had shown.

She schooled her features into neutrality, a plain, cool mask that betrayed neither hostility nor interest.

Song’s posture shifted ever so slightly, the kind of movement that only someone as perceptive as Ling Yu would notice: a subtle step closer, like a shadow ready to shield her if needed.

The leader’s eyes flickered, catching that detail. For the briefest second, the practiced smile faltered, but then returned as if it had never left.

He approached with easy grace, placing himself within their small circle without asking permission. His gaze lingered on Ling Yu, deliberately ignoring the others, especially Song.

"I don’t believe we’ve met," he said smoothly. "I’m Shen Ming, the one in charge of this camp. And you are?"

"Ling Yu," she replied simply, her voice cool, without inflection.

The name rolled off her tongue with the kind of quiet confidence that made Shen Ming’s smile widen.

’So, this one isn’t an ordinary survivor,’ he thought. The way she carried herself, the poise of her back, the neatness of her clothes despite the chaos, it was clear that she was clearly from a noble or wealthy background.

The type who could be manipulated.

"I couldn’t help but overhear," Shen Ming continued, lowering his tone just enough to make it sound intimate, though it was calculated enough for everyone around to hear. "That man there called you ’master’? Interesting dynamic. But forgive me for being bold, it feels... really wasteful, someone like you hiding in the background."

Ling Yu’s eyes remained steady, not a flicker of amusement in their depths. "Wasteful?"

"Yes," Shen Ming said, leaning in slightly, his smile brightening. "Someone as refined and graceful as you should be leading, not following. You see—" He reached into the satchel slung across his shoulder and pulled out a package wrapped in cloth.