Chapter 4: The Future Nine-Star Evolver

"My name is Mu Xinfei. I don't hide who I am!"

The woman in the nightgown glared defiantly, her teeth clenched.

Ye Zhongming stared at the stunning beauty—her face a perfect nine out of ten, her figure a flawless ten—and felt his mind spin.

If this woman truly was who she claimed, then Ye Zhongming knew her.

Or rather, he knew of her.

In his previous life, the name Mu Xinfei had been legendary. Known as Crimson Thorn, she was one of the rare Nine-Star Evolvers—a title that placed her among the apex predators of the apocalypse. Hailing from the same city as Ye Zhongming, her exploits had been the stuff of nightmares: single-handedly annihilating mutant hordes, razing Dead Zones, and toppling warlord regimes. To a Six-Star Evolver like Ye Zhongming, she had been an untouchable myth.

Yet here she stood—a far cry from the godlike figure of his memories—wielding a fruit knife with comical seriousness, her pretty face scrunched into a poor imitation of menace.

Ye Zhongming nearly laughed. Had she somehow sensed his earlier murderous impulse? Women's intuition in the apocalypse was notoriously sharp.

"Relax. I won't hurt you." He forced his voice into an awkward approximation of calm. "Are you… hungry? Want something to eat?"

A decade of survival had conditioned Ye Zhongming to weigh every interaction through the lens of self-interest. While part of him still fantasized about eliminating a future threat—or worse—he quickly dismissed such thoughts. Killing her now would gain him nothing but fleeting satisfaction.

Instead, three options emerged:

Kill her. Gratifying but pointless.

Drive her out. Claim the roulette for himself.

Befriend her. Secure an alliance with a future titan.

The choice was obvious.

Yet diplomacy had never been Ye Zhongming's strength. His attempt at small talk landed like a lead balloon.

Mu Xinfei studied the sharp-eyed man with his stiff demeanor and sudden offer of food. Then, inexplicably, she giggled. The knife lowered slightly. "Just tell me what's happening."

Ye Zhongming sidestepped to keep her in his periphery. Even now, her fingers stayed white-knuckled around the blade. No wonder she became Crimson Thorn, he thought.

"This is an Apocalypse Roulette," he explained, gesturing to the glowing wheel. "You insert Magic Crystals to spin for rewards."

He moved to the doorway, unsheathing his machete as screams began to echo across the neighborhood. "As for the rest… it's the apocalypse."

Mu Xinfei's face paled, yet something like relief flickered in her eyes—a reaction too complex for Ye Zhongming to parse. His attention was locked on the three security guards outside, their bodies contorting grotesquely.

Transformation was never pretty.

Skin grayed and cracked like ancient parchment. Blood vessels bulged black beneath the surface. Eyes hemorrhaged crimson as fingernails lengthened into claws. Hair fell in clumps, revealing mottled scalps. Within seconds, the men became parodies of humanity—hungry, mindless, and lethal.

"Z-zombies?" Mu Xinfei whispered, retreating as decades of horror movies collided with reality.

"Zombies," Ye Zhongming confirmed, his voice edged with anticipation.

Three gray crystals glinted on the creatures' foreheads. Level 1 Magic Crystals.

He lunged forward.

Though his current body lacked the enhanced reflexes of his Six-Star prime, decades of combat instincts took over.

First target: The lead zombie. Ye Zhongming drove his machete horizontally into its neck, severing cartilage and spine with surgical precision. A twist of his hips dodged a swiping claw from the second as he wrenched the blade free.

Second target: Pivoting, he slammed his shoulder into the second zombie, sending it stumbling. The machete flashed upward, piercing the third's jaw and skewering its brain.

Third target: The remaining zombie lunged, only to meet a vertical slash that cleaved its skull from brow to nose. Brains oozed onto the pavement as the body crumpled.

Four seconds. Three kills.

Mu Xinfei retched audibly from the doorway, fleeing to the bathroom. Ye Zhongming ignored her, methodically prying the gray crystals from the corpses.

Three down, he thought, wiping bloodied blades on a zombie's uniform. Four more to spin the roulette.

Memories surfaced unbidden—of his past self cowering for months, scavenging crumbs while others grew strong. This time, he'd seize the early advantage.

Screams crescendoed nearby. More crystals awaited.

He glanced at the villa where Mu Xinfei hunched over a toilet. Let her vomit. Let her adapt.

The apocalypse spared no one—not even future legends.