Chapter 14

The days after the wolf attack were a blur of work and routine. Reinforcing the villa kept us busy, and with the triplets' needs demanding constant attention, there was little time for reflection. Yet, in the quiet hours when everyone else was asleep, I found myself drawn to my space—a world of possibilities that I barely understood but felt instinctively connected to.

It started with a dream, or at least I thought it was a dream. In the stillness of the night, I found myself standing within my space, surrounded by endless stretches of barren land. The emptiness was unsettling, but as I walked, a peculiar sensation settled over me. The soil beneath my feet was rich and warm, pulsating with untapped potential. A voice—soft and indistinct—whispered in the back of my mind: This is yours to cultivate.

The next morning, I couldn't shake the feeling. While the others worked on the villa's defenses, I slipped away to experiment. Drawing on the abilities I'd begun to understand, I opened the space. The shift was seamless now, the portal a shimmering veil that responded to my will. Inside, I stood in the same barren expanse I'd seen in the dream. But this time, I wasn't empty-handed.

I'd brought seeds from the villa—simple things like lettuce, carrots, and corn we'd salvaged before the apocalypse. Kneeling in the soil, I planted them one by one, focusing my energy on the ground as I covered each seed. The effort left me winded, but there was something profoundly satisfying about the act.

To my astonishment, the seeds responded almost immediately. Within moments, tiny green shoots broke through the surface, growing visibly before my eyes. The growth was unnatural, accelerated in a way that defied logic, but I didn't question it. I watered the fledgling plants with water I summoned from the villa's reserves, then sat back to watch.

When I left the space an hour later, the first rows of lettuce were fully grown, their crisp leaves vibrant and healthy. The sight filled me with a deep sense of accomplishment. For the first time since the apocalypse began, I felt like I was building something instead of just surviving.

That evening, as I fed the triplets, Jian Ren found me in the nursery. He leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable but his golden eyes warm.

"You've been sneaking off a lot lately," he said.

"I needed some air," I replied, keeping my tone light. "The triplets might be small, but they're a handful."

He chuckled, stepping into the room. "I can imagine. You've been handling everything on your own for days now. If you need help, just ask."

"I know," I said, meeting his gaze. "And I appreciate it. But it's... easier sometimes to do things myself."

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I get it. You're strong, stronger than most people I've met. But you don't always have to be."

The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten. Jian Ren had been a constant presence since the apocalypse started—a steady force who never tried to take over but always offered support when I needed it. Our friendship had grown naturally, built on mutual respect and an unspoken understanding of the weight we both carried.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, offering him a small smile.

He returned it, his usual smirk softening into something genuine. "Good. Now get some rest. The world can wait for a few hours."

I nodded, watching as he left the room.

Later that night, I returned to my space, the memory of Jian Ren's words lingering in my mind. The crops I'd planted earlier were thriving, the first fruits and vegetables ready for harvest. I worked in silence, harvesting the produce and planting new seeds. The cycle was strangely meditative, a reminder that even in a world of chaos, growth and renewal were still possible.

By the time I left, the triplets were stirring, their tiny cries pulling me back to reality. But this time, I felt lighter, as if the weight of the apocalypse had lifted just a little. The space wasn't just a refuge—it was a lifeline, a way to ensure that we wouldn't just survive but thrive.

When I rejoined the others the next day, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The world outside might be falling apart, but within our villa—and within my space—I was building something new. And that, more than anything, gave me hope.

The days that followed brought a semblance of rhythm to our chaotic lives. Each morning, I balanced tending to the triplets with managing the villa's operations. Jian Ren and the others worked tirelessly to strengthen our defenses and scavenge supplies, while I focused on my secret project in the space.

The crops I planted were flourishing. What started as a few rows of lettuce, carrots, and corn had expanded into a thriving miniature farm. With each visit to the space, I tested its limits, planting more seeds and experimenting with new crops. Fruit trees now dotted the landscape, their branches heavy with ripe produce. The soil seemed to respond to my energy, amplifying the growth in ways I couldn't fully comprehend but was endlessly grateful for. 

The more I worked with the space, the more I realized its potential. It wasn't just a storage area or a garden—it was a sanctuary. I began constructing a small shelter within the space, using materials I brought from the villa. It was a slow process, but I was determined to create a safe haven, a backup plan if the worst happened. 

Jian Ren caught me one afternoon, sitting in the nursery as I folded tiny onesies for the triplets. His expression was thoughtful, his golden eyes scanning the room before settling on me. 

"You've been disappearing again," he said, his tone light but curious. 

"I've been busy," I replied, not looking up from my task. 

"With what?" 

I hesitated, then shrugged. "Just... planning ahead." 

Jian Ren studied me for a long moment before nodding. "You're always planning ahead. It's one of the things I admire about you." 

The unexpected compliment caught me off guard, and I glanced up at him. "Thanks, I guess." 

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "It's not a bad thing, you know. But you don't have to do everything on your own. We're in this together." 

"I know," I said, smiling faintly. "But some things are easier to handle alone." 

Jian Ren didn't press the issue, and for that, I was grateful. Our friendship had settled into a comfortable rhythm, built on mutual respect and unspoken trust. He didn't pry, and I didn't push him away—a delicate balance that worked for both of us. 

That evening, as the triplets slept peacefully, I joined the others in the villa's main hall. Mu Zu's father was reviewing the updated defenses, his strength a critical asset in fortifying the perimeter. Jian Ren's little brother, with his super speed, darted around the room, delivering supplies and running errands with effortless efficiency. The villa was coming together, a fortress against the chaos outside. 

It was during one of these quiet moments that the first signs of trouble appeared. 

The power flickered, plunging the villa into darkness for a heartbeat before the emergency lights kicked in. Everyone froze, the sudden stillness amplifying the tension in the air. Jian Ren was the first to react, his lightning power sparking faintly around his hands as he moved toward the window. 

Outside, the moonlight illuminated the forest surrounding the villa, casting eerie shadows across the landscape. At first, everything seemed calm. But then, in the distance, I saw movement—shadows shifting unnaturally, too fast and too fluid to be human. 

"They're here," Jian Ren said, his voice low but steady. 

We didn't need to ask who "they" were. The mutated animals had been growing bolder, their attacks more frequent. This time, it wasn't wolves. A pack of mutated panthers emerged from the treeline, their sleek forms gliding through the darkness with predatory grace. 

The villa erupted into action. Jian Ren's sister, with her fire abilities, positioned herself near the main entrance, ready to repel the attackers. Mu Zu melted into the shadows, her powers giving her an edge in stealth and surprise. The others took their positions, each contributing their abilities to the defense. 

I stayed inside with the triplets, my heart pounding as I listened to the chaos outside. The sounds of battle were brutal—snarls and growls mingling with shouts and bursts of energy. Despite the fear gnawing at me, I trusted them to hold the line. 

When the battle finally ended, the silence was almost deafening. Jian Ren returned to the villa, his clothes torn but his expression triumphant. "They're gone," he announced, his voice firm but weary. 

Relief flooded through me, but it was tempered by the knowledge that this was just the beginning. The world outside was changing, becoming more dangerous with each passing day. But as I looked around at the people who had become my family, I felt a renewed sense of determination. 

the battle with the mutated panthers left the villa eerily quiet. The ground outside was littered with scorched earth and claw marks, a stark reminder of how close the danger had come. The panthers had been terrifyingly fast, their muscles rippling with unnatural strength, and their glowing eyes filled with predatory hunger.

When the first wave attacked, Mu Zu's shadowy figure darted through the darkness, striking with precision and disappearing before the beasts could counter. Her father, with his superhuman strength, had taken on two of the creatures at once, slamming one into the ground so hard that the earth cracked beneath it.

Jian Ren's sister, flames roaring around her, was like a walking inferno. She stood her ground near the villa's gates, creating a wall of fire that kept the panthers from breaching the perimeter. Jian Ren's lightning lit up the night, each bolt striking with deadly accuracy, and his metal powers formed sharp spikes that pierced through the panthers' thick hides.

Despite their efforts, the pack was relentless. For every beast taken down, another emerged from the shadows, their snarls echoing like thunder.

Inside, I couldn't just sit and wait. The triplets were asleep in the nursery, their soft breaths a reminder of why I couldn't falter. My plant powers flared to life, and I concentrated on reinforcing the villa from within. Vines grew thick and strong, twisting around windows and doors, creating an additional barrier between us and the outside world.

Chen Na, her healing powers glowing faintly, stayed close to me, ready to assist anyone who made it back injured. The rest of the group was scattered across the villa's perimeter, holding their own as the battle raged on.

It was Jian Ren's little brother who tipped the scales in our favor. His super speed allowed him to weave through the battlefield, distracting the panthers and drawing their attention away from the others. At one point, he managed to grab a fallen weapon—a machete—and used it to slash at the creatures with surprising effectiveness.

As the fight dragged on, exhaustion began to take its toll. Jian Ren's strikes slowed, his breathing heavy, and even Mu Zu's shadows seemed less precise. It was Mu Zu's mother, with her water powers, who finally turned the tide.

Summoning every ounce of her strength, she created a massive wave that swept through the battlefield, disorienting the panthers and forcing them to retreat. The creatures snarled and snapped, but the water pushed them back into the treeline, leaving a drenched and battered villa in its wake.

The survivors regrouped near the main entrance, their faces pale but determined. Jian Ren looked around, his golden eyes scanning for any signs of lingering danger. "Everyone okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

There were nods and murmurs of agreement, though it was clear that everyone was running on fumes. Mu Zu's father leaned against a broken fence post, his knuckles raw and bleeding. Jian Ren's sister extinguished the last flickers of her flames, her hands trembling from the effort.

"We need to burn the bodies," Jian Ren said, his tone grim. "The last thing we need is for them to attract more."

The group set to work, dragging the mutated panther corpses into a pile and igniting them. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air, and I covered my nose, trying not to gag.

As the flames consumed the bodies, a strange sound echoed through the night—a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down my spine. Jian Ren stiffened, his lightning sparking faintly as he turned toward the source.

But nothing emerged from the shadows. After a tense moment, the growl faded, leaving only the crackling of the fire.

"We need to stay alert," Jian Ren said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't over."

Back inside, the group collapsed into the living room, their exhaustion palpable. I brought out water and towels, doing what I could to help them recover. Jian Ren sat on the couch, his head in his hands, while Mu Zu's father inspected his injuries with a grimace.

"You fought well," I said softly, sitting beside Jian Ren.

He looked up at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "We all did."

The night had been a brutal reminder of the dangers we faced, but it had also proven something important: we were stronger together. As I glanced at the others, I felt a flicker of hope. The mutated panthers were terrifying, but we had survived—and we would keep surviving.

For now, though, I just wanted to hold my babies and remind myself why we were fighting so hard to build a future in this unforgiving world.