Pain.
That was the first thing Yan Xue felt when her consciousness returned. A dull ache spread through her limbs, followed by a sharp sting across her chest. Her eyelids fluttered open, and a heavy, gray sky filled her vision.
For a moment, she lay still, dazed and confused. The sky was not the one she remembered. There were no clouds drifting lazily, no warmth of the sun. It was a flat, ash-colored void that pressed down on the land below.
With effort, Yan Xue pushed herself upright. Dust clung to her clothes, and the cracked ground beneath her palms felt rough and lifeless. When she finally took in her surroundings, her breath caught in her throat.
Endless wasteland.
The earth stretched in every direction, fractured into jagged lines like shattered porcelain. Not a single blade of grass grew, not even the shadow of a tree. The silence was suffocating—no birds, no insects, not even the faint whisper of the wind. The world was still, as though abandoned long ago.
Yan Xue sat frozen, her mind blank. Time seemed to crawl. Five minutes… maybe more.
Then realization struck her like a blow.
She had transmigrated.
Memories flooded her mind—the chaotic screams of the apocalypse, the stench of rotting corpses, the constant struggle for food and survival. She remembered running beneath a storm-darkened sky, lightning flashing dangerously close. One blinding strike had engulfed her, and then… nothing.
Her hand trembled as she pressed it against her chest. "So I didn't die…" she whispered hoarsely. "I came here instead."
But the thought brought no comfort. This place was not alive. This place was worse than death.
Her pulse quickened. She had to know if her one lifeline had survived the journey. Closing her eyes, she reached inward, calling out silently—
Her Space.
At once, the familiar vastness unfolded in her mind. Relief nearly brought her to tears.
The shimmering dimension stretched endlessly, lined with shelves stacked neatly with supplies: bottled water, canned food, seeds sealed in glass jars, tools, clothes, medicine. All of it was intact, untouched, exactly as she had left it.
Yan Xue exhaled shakily. Her heart steadied. Good… good. At least I still have this.
But she needed more than just a glance. With a thought, a clear bottle of water materialized in her hand. The cool plastic felt solid, reassuring. She twisted the cap and took a careful sip. The crisp taste slid down her throat, washing away the dryness that had been burning her mouth.
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "At least some things never change."
She put the bottle back and tried again. A survival knife shimmered into existence, the short blade gleaming faintly under the gray sky. She tested the grip, the weight—perfectly the same. She dismissed it and summoned a packet of biscuits, then stored it away again.
The Space obeyed her flawlessly.
But curiosity tugged at her. She stepped fully inside, her body instantly swallowed by the still, timeless dimension. The air here was clean, free of dust and decay. Her supplies looked untouched, as though no time had passed at all. She walked slowly past rows of food and seeds, her fingers brushing the cool jars.
Her lips pressed together. This Space was more than a storage—it was survival itself. As long as she had it, she could live.
Reappearing outside, Yan Xue stood taller. The fear that had threatened to crush her heart loosened slightly.
Still, reality remained. Closing the Space, she scanned her surroundings again. Nothing had changed. The land was still barren, cracked, and silent. No signs of water, no hint of life.
Yan Xue clenched her fists. She had survived the apocalypse before. She would not die here.
"I will live," she whispered, her voice low but resolute.
Her determination had only just solidified when it happened.
A faint sound drifted across the wasteland.
Her entire body froze.
It was quiet, almost too faint to notice, but she knew she had heard it—a dragging noise, slow and uneven, like something scraping against the ground.
Her head snapped toward the direction of the sound, her pulse quickening, her senses sharpening.
This wasteland was supposed to be silent. Empty. Dead.
Then what was moving out there?