Chapter 1: Reborn Ten Days Before the Apocalypse

Xiao Yang opened his eyes—and felt alive.

A stunning flight attendant in half-buttoned uniform lay beside him, the aircraft cabin's oval window framing moonlight on clouds outside. His mind whiplashed between memories: Wasn't I torn apart by mutated leopards? The blood snow... the collapsing bunker...

Then it hit him.

This is the night. The night ten days before everything ended. The night he'd first (and last) joined the mile-high club with Su Xiao, the coy Sichuan Airlines stewardess whose name tag now glinted in his palm.

"Xiao... Xiao Yang?" Her nervous giggle snapped him back. "You're acting weird. Are we still... recording?"

He ignored her, fumbling for his phone. June 20, 2032. 11:47 PM.

Ten days. Ten days until the solar flares scrambled Earth's magnetic field. Ten days until the first frostbite victims rose as shrieking things. Ten days until every human woke with a burning mark on their left forearm—a digital countdown ticking their remaining life energy in Years-Days-Hours-Minutes-Seconds.

His fingers flew to his bare forearm. Nothing yet. But he remembered the searing pain at midnight on June 30th, the glowing numerals that dictated survival in the new world:

Life Energy = Currency: Transferable through skin contact. Steal it, trade it, hoard it.

Death Resets Clock: Kill someone, their energy vanishes. Let zombies turn them first? Their crystallized energy becomes lootable "time batteries."

Power Scales Exponentially: 10 years let you bench-press a car. 100 years made bullets tickle. 1,000? You became walking artillery.

Last life, he'd hoarded 1,023 years through paranoid isolation—enough for mid-tier strength, not enough to stop that pack of bio-engineered leopard-zombies.

But now...

Xiao Yang closed his eyes. The familiar hum resonated in his skull—spatial storage, his once-"useless" ability to conjure pocket dimensions. Last time, it manifested two days post-apocalypse as a closet-sized void. Now?

WHOOSH.

His consciousness plunged into an endless gray expanse. Ten soccer fields? A hundred? No walls, no limits—just infinite vacuum waiting to be filled.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Pre-apocalypse spatial powers changed everything. No more scavenging rotten cans while warlords traded human flesh for bullets. He could stockpile now—whole warehouses of medicine, weapons, solar panels—

"Xiao Yang!" Su Xiao's shrill voice shattered his trance. She'd pulled the emergency blanket over herself, phone aimed like a weapon. "Are you... filming?!"

A plan crystallized. He needed three things:

Wealth: Raid his stepfamily's billions before they backstabbed him tomorrow.

Supplies: Enough resources to build an empire, not just survive.

Allies: Not the sheepish survivors from last time. He'd recruit the monsters—the future warlords and geniuses currently hiding in plain sight.

Grabbing his pants, he tossed Su Xiao a wad of cash thicker than her flight manual. "Change of plans. You know any black-market pilots?"

As she gaped, Xiao Yang stared at the moonlit clouds. Somewhere over the Pacific, solar winds were already stirring.

Tick-tock, motherfuckers.