Apocalypse Star House Hoarding

Chapter 223

Genuinely appreciate you more than words can say! ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

To avoid being ambushed by the outside plants, Yu Xi relocated to the safer fourteenth floor. She once again accelerated the expansion of the protective net outside the building, creating an inner and outer double-layer defense.

The air was filled with scattered branches and leaves. The external plants had long since sensed her presence, resisting her attempts to soothe them while also trying to locate and directly attack her.

There was no miraculous external reinforcement, no widespread taming of the plants—only battle, defense, resistance, and more defense…

The plant battle raged from midnight until just before dawn. Several times, she thought she would have to step in personally and use fire to counterattack, but each time, the plants inside the building instinctively grew new defensive vines.

As the sky brightened, the surrounding plants finally began to retreat. Their explosive growth phase had completely passed, and they returned to a state of calm and tranquility.

After notifying Zhuo Yun and Lu Yichen via the walkie-talkie that the alert was lifted, Yu Xi teleported back to the Star House, quickly showered, and threw her exhausted body onto the large bed.

She slept until nearly noon, waking up feeling refreshed. The splitting headache from before was completely gone. She extended her senses outward and could feel the plants’ peaceful and gentle aura. Her passive plant affinity had returned once again.

This time, through the plants, she could receive even more external information.

After getting up and washing up, she had a bowl of her mother’s homemade beef rice noodles and then used her walkie-talkie to contact Zhuo Yun and Lu Yichen. Twenty minutes later, both teams arrived on the rooftop, where they saw a familiar silver RV parked on a relatively flat spot near the edge of the building.

The RV’s windows were open, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. As Yu Xi sipped her coffee, she gestured toward the small table, where disposable cups of freshly ground coffee were neatly arranged, alongside sugar packets and milk for them to adjust to their taste.

Next to the milk was a tray of soft, freshly sliced bread, also for them to help themselves and enjoy with their coffee.

The survivors had gone an entire night without sleep. Zhuo Yun’s and Lu Yichen’s teams, in particular, had been busy organizing patrols and evacuations. After dawn, the noisy environment had made it impossible for them to rest properly. Weariness was written all over their faces.

At this moment, the rich aroma of coffee was like a shot of adrenaline to them. Their spirits lifted, and they eagerly went to grab some coffee and bread.

Yu Xi had called them here to discuss the next move. The plant frenzy had passed, and the plants in the building no longer required her regular infusion of powers to remain calm, so she planned to leave for a while.

“You… are going out alone?”

“Yes,” Yu Xi nodded. “I assume the situation is similar everywhere—things are bad all over. Instead of waiting for the right rescue team to find us, we should take the initiative to find them.”

More importantly, she was worried that if they waited too long, the situation might change again. Now that the plants’ frenzy had subsided and their demand for “nutrients” was gone, the mutant animals would likely become active once more.

“I might be gone for two or three days. The Star House will be closed temporarily. I’ll leave some supplies behind, but you don’t have to deliver them daily—distribute them as needed.”

Zhuo Yun, Shen Qiu, and Lu Yichen were both expectant and worried. They asked if she needed them to accompany her, as traveling alone in the apocalypse was far too dangerous.

Their teams had plenty of experience dealing with aggressive plants and animals, so they could at least offer some support.

“No need. You’re too slow—you’d only slow me down.” She rejected them outright.

Everyone: …

Ouch, they just got dismissed by a powerhouse.

Since Yu Xi had spoken, the others reluctantly gave up on the idea of going with her.

Shen Qiu observed Yu Xi. From their first meeting until now, she had always worn a mask. Apart from her eyes, lips, and lower jaw, the rest of her face remained hidden.

From start to finish, Shen Qiu had no idea what Yu Xi really looked like or how old she was.

Now that the crisis had passed, she suddenly felt a trace of melancholy.

That evening, after everyone had finished their coffee and bread and started heading downstairs, Shen Qiu hesitated and stayed behind. She took a few steps forward and asked, “Sister, if we manage to get rescued and make it to an official shelter, will you come with us?”

Yu Xi, who was cleaning up the table, looked up. The girl’s face was simple and clean, carrying a hint of cautious expectation.

Yu Xi didn’t want to lie to her, so she shook her head.

Shen Qiu smiled bitterly. She already knew the answer before she even asked.

With a sanctuary as powerful as Yu Xi’s, there was no way she would settle for living as an ordinary survivor. In fact, if it weren’t for them, she probably wouldn’t have even bothered leaving her safe haven.

When they were finally rescued, that would also be the moment they would part ways with her.

Realizing this, the sense of melancholy in her heart grew.

She looked at Yu Xi again, hesitated, and asked softly, “Then… before I leave, can I see your face just once? I understand, I really do—I swear I won’t tell anyone anything about you…”

Yu Xi remained silent for a while, then evaded the request entirely. “Take care of yourself. Live well.”

Shen Qiu blinked. The next moment, the RV and the person inside disappeared.

She turned around and looked at the kitchen door behind her, sighing softly. That night, when she made her wish, Yu Xi had walked out from there. Even though she could no longer see her now, she knew she was still there.

Maybe… even if they made it to the official shelter, Yu Xi would still be nearby, watching over them, waiting to step in if they ever found themselves in danger again.

Would she?

She hoped so.

Shen Qiu turned back and carefully walked across the rubble-strewn rooftop toward the stairwell.

At that moment, she had no idea that this would be the last time she ever saw Yu Xi.

Farewells often came suddenly, without warning, leaving people unprepared.

**

That night, a thick, dense “green sea” opened up a small passageway some distance from the building. A fully glass-encased, low-hovering vehicle rose from the ground and, under the cover of darkness, flew swiftly above the towering tree canopy toward the south.

On the morning of the third day, Shen Qiu was abruptly awakened by the sound of helicopter rotors.

In the vast, uninhabited ocean of plants, any trace of industrial machinery was a shock to the surviving humans.

She snapped her eyes open and, within two or three seconds, confirmed that the sound was real. Without hesitation, she shook Zhuo Yun awake, quickly threw on a coat, and rushed toward the stairwell.

There were already others in the stairwell—people who, like her, had heard the sound of the helicopter blades. They were panting, but no one dared to slow down.

Unlike the fighter jets that had occasionally passed overhead before, this aircraft was flying much lower. It had to be a helicopter. As long as they reached the rooftop within its line of sight, they would be seen.

They sprinted all the way from the upper residential floors to the rooftop on the twenty-fifth floor. Out of breath and unable to speak, they immediately began scanning the sky. When they spotted the dark green helicopter, they erupted into excited shouts.

They waved their arms frantically, terrified that the people onboard might not see them.

But in reality, their fears were unnecessary.

Not only had the helicopter come specifically for them, but the building itself—standing tall and intact amidst a wasteland of destruction, surrounded by an endless green ocean—was already conspicuous enough.

What the rescuers hadn’t expected was that, in the depths of this mutated plant-infested zone, there would still be survivors.

The building stood like an isolated island, cut off in a sea of vegetation—yet this very island had saved countless lives.

The rescue operation took a long time. The rescue team hadn’t anticipated that the data they had received was completely accurate, so they had only sent a single helicopter. In reality, their mission had been to confirm whether there were indeed survivors.

Across the entirety of Huaguo, the land had been overtaken by plants, leaving it ravaged and devastated. Many official shelters had only survived the plant frenzy because of military firepower keeping the mutated flora at bay.

Even well-equipped official shelters had struggled to endure. No one had expected that, in a desolate, abandoned city with no official protection, so many survivors could have made it.

Helicopters were stretched thin and constantly on missions, so it took time to mobilize additional resources for a full evacuation. By the evening of that same day, the last wave of waiting survivors finally boarded the aircraft.

Shen Qiu was among them. Even as she sat in the helicopter, her eyes remained fixed on the landscape outside, searching for a figure she knew she might never see again.

Everyone assumed she had been selfless—rather than following the official protocol prioritizing the evacuation of women, children, the elderly, and the wounded, she had repeatedly yielded her place, choosing to stay behind until the very last group.

The final wave of survivors had waited the longest. Many had been restless, pacing back and forth on the rooftop, too anxious to sit down even for a moment of rest.

But she alone had remained still, leaning quietly against the door of that abandoned kitchen, lost in thought.

Was it her who had sent out the rescue signal?

Where was she now? Was she safe?

Had she made it home?

Or was she still out there, navigating the dangers of the dense and treacherous jungle?

…

The sun was setting, painting the horizon in breathtaking hues of red, orange, and pale blue. The sky was filled with cascading golden light.

It was beautiful.

Stunningly beautiful.

Inside the helicopter, the survivors clasped hands once more. But this time, their expressions held no fear—only smiles.

Someone happened to glance at Shen Qiu’s face and gasped, “Shen Qiu, are you crying?”

She blinked in confusion and only then realized that her vision had long been blurred with tears.

Sitting beside her, Zhuo Yun seemed to understand what she was thinking. He reached over, ruffled her hair, and said, “No matter where she is, we know she’s safe.”

“…Yeah.” She nodded. Her voice was soft but resolute.

Even if they never met again, she was certain that Yu Xi would be safe.

The large transport helicopter gradually faded into the distance, becoming just a small dot in the sky.

As dusk settled, atop the “island” in the endless green sea, a lone, slender figure stood at the very edge of the building.

Yu Xi raised a hand and gently removed the mask from her face, watching them leave.

The wind brushed against her cheek—a crisp, refreshing breeze, carrying the scent of grass, earth, and the vast, silent solitude of freedom.

So many goodbyes, one after another.

Some people, once parted, are lost forever.

At that moment, she suddenly thought of her friends from another world, another time.

Those memories, deliberately suppressed for so long, surged forth in an overwhelming wave.

Were they safe? Were they still caught in the endless cycle of missions?

How long would it take? What would it take to finally end this fight for survival?

[When I, or someone else, replaces the System Tower.]

The voice of Xing Min echoed in her mind, providing a clear answer to her sudden, wandering thoughts.

But it was the wording that caught Yu Xi’s attention. “You… or someone else?”

[Yes. After the last mission world, I realized… there may be someone who gets there before me.]