Chapter 80: Exchange—A Video for Treatment (Part 1)

Returning a favor, Bian Changxi waved her hand and handed over a can of eight-treasure porridge.

She knew that Zhang Bubai had very little food allocated to him: a steamed bun for breakfast and dinner, a bowl of rice and two dishes for lunch, all packed into a flat lunchbox. For a young man like him, it seemed barely enough for a meal. She couldn’t do anything about the army’s rations, but because she found Zhang Bubai honest and easy on the eyes—and for the sake of safety while he was driving—she wanted to help him out. Unfortunately, the guy’s pride was a bit much; if she wasn’t careful, they’d both end up embarrassed.

She privately complained: Is pride really more important than a full stomach?

Sure enough, Zhang Bubai shook his head and waved his hands again. Bian Changxi smiled and said, “I know you’re not doing this for the food. Here’s the thing: I have a few friends who’d like stools like the one you made. It’s hard work, and I can’t just let you do it for free.”

Only then did Zhang Bubai accept it. Bian Changxi rolled her eyes inwardly. Is it ever easy to be a good person?

She mentally searched for which “friends” she could give the stools to. After thinking it over, it was really just Chen Yisha and Lin Rongrong.

What she didn’t know yet was that this small gesture would land Zhang Bubai a little side job, and his days would finally start to look up.

Time slowly ticked toward seven o’clock. Everyone gradually settled down to sleep—after all, it had been a long, tiring day, and there was more traveling tomorrow.

Bian Changxi still slept in her car. She didn’t have a tent, and even if she did, she’d be too lazy to set it up. Zhang Bubai, on the other hand, managed to snag a spot in the tent set up by the men at the back of the convoy. Alone in the car, Bian Changxi pulled up her homemade curtains, wrapped herself in a blanket, and listened to the chorus of snores outside. The campfire crackled, and above her stretched a vast sea of stars. Patrols wandered the perimeter with torches, occasionally blowing their whistles to signal that all was well.

Everything seemed so peaceful, but Bian Changxi didn’t dare let her guard down. Nights in the apocalypse were the most dangerous, especially in a wild camp like this. If something happened, there’d be nowhere to run, and with no organization, a panic could easily turn deadly. In times like these, personal vigilance was crucial.

Still, she sneaked into her farm space once more.

Thanks to the large number of white cores she’d invested over the past few days, time in the farm was almost in sync with the outside world, just as she’d hoped. The vegetables were growing faster and looked crisp and delicious—soon, she’d be able to harvest them. The chickens and ducks were thriving, and to her delight, two hens had even started laying eggs. She decided to start gathering straw tomorrow to make nests for them to brood.

She piled up all her food stores and did a quick count, not including the two big bags of raw chestnuts. Eating normally at every meal, she’d have enough for about twenty days—barely. And who knew how long it would take to reach the Sucheng base? They’d said it would take a week, but that was hard to believe. At first, they’d claimed it would only take three days, but two days had already passed and they were still crawling through the wilderness.

The huge convoy took ages to set out and settle down each day, and all sorts of unpredictable incidents happened on the road. Sometimes just a few vehicles breaking down could slow the whole group. There was no way to pick up speed. In her previous life, she’d heard from Bian Kuang that it had taken them nearly half a month.

The looming food crisis made her plant even more cabbage and greens—these grew fast. She’d also grabbed a few potatoes and sweet potatoes from the supermarket, cut them up, and buried them in the soil—good for staving off hunger.

As for the fruit she’d planted—even the kiwis and bananas had sprouted. This farm soil was practically invincible; anything she planted would grow, so she didn’t bother with technique—just buried the seeds and that was that.

While working, she had to keep popping in and out to check on things, sneaking around like a thief and working up a sweat.

Finally done, she lay back in her seat, catching her breath. She chuckled silently to herself—this is what it means to have food in hand and no worries in your heart. Satisfied, she closed her eyes, still thinking she needed to find a chance to raid a few more big supermarkets and malls for industrial goods.

Half-asleep and half-awake, it was nearly midnight when a scream suddenly tore through the night. She jolted awake, pulled back the curtain, and saw trouble brewing in the woods.

She threw on her clothes and got out of the car. Whether they were sleeping in cars or on the ground, everyone was startled awake as if hit by a wave, all looking toward the woods, watching the flashes of gunfire, hearing the rising shouts and screams, and the howls of wild beasts.

As everyone shivered and whispered anxiously, an administrator suddenly appeared—not Yang Xiaowen this time, but her colleague, a man with glasses. “Everyone, don’t panic! It’s just a minor incident. Commander Qu and his excellent troops will handle it. They’ll give us a safe environment to live in! They’ll protect us! All we need to do is—”

He went on and on, full of righteous fervor. Bian Changxi figured he was a plant from the military, sent to sing their praises and build up their heroic image.

People calmed down a bit. After a while, gunfire suddenly erupted from the woods, accompanied by shouts and what sounded like an argument, then everything went quiet. A communications team sent someone over to report that several mutant beasts had been killed.

But soon after, a few people in military uniforms hurried over. “Which one of you is Miss Bian Changxi?”

Bian Changxi raised an eyebrow and called out, “That’s me.”

“Could you come with us? Someone’s been seriously injured and needs your help.”

She noticed their uniforms were stained with blood, but they stood tall and upright, their epaulets showing at least the rank of captain. She agreed, “Alright.”

They didn’t go far—just to a large tent at the front of Convoy Five. A massive piece of equipment squatted at the entrance. Bian Changxi took a closer look—it seemed to be a solar generator. She was staring at it when someone suddenly came out, bumping into her and making her stumble back a couple of steps.

A big hand caught her shoulder and steadied her. She looked up. “Gu Xu?”

Gu Xu’s face was cold, his body spattered with blood, a flicker of pain between his brows. As soon as he saw her, he grabbed her and pulled her inside. “Hurry.”

Bian Changxi instinctively tried to pull away, but couldn’t.

Inside, the first person she saw was not a stranger, but Su Chensi, slumped on a stool, trembling, clutching a blood-soaked arm, her face deathly pale.

Su Chensi looked up, her eyes haunted and filled with a tangle of negative emotions—guilt, shame, relief, madness—all swirling together. Even Bian Changxi, who’d seen all kinds of strange people, felt a chill.

Looking closer, Su Chensi didn’t seem to be looking at her, but rather staring off into space, unfocused.

What kind of shock had she suffered? Bian Changxi wondered. Then she noticed, on the other side, Wu Dalang slumped in a chair, his face red and contorted, drenched in sweat, enduring excruciating pain. Qiu Yun was anxiously circling him. Several soldiers and civilians stood nearby like guards, tense and alert, while Qiu Yun and Gu Pei were bent over Wu Dalang’s injured leg.

Qiu Yun exclaimed in relief, “Miss Bian, you’re here! Please, take a look at Old Wu. That Lu guy says he needs to amputate.”

Gu Pei quickly made room. Bian Changxi hurried over and looked down. Wu Dalang’s right leg, just above the knee, was gushing blood, the whole limb twisted at an odd angle. Qiu Feng had tightly bound the upper thigh with cloth and was pressing a towel to the wound, but it wasn’t working—the blood kept flowing.

Without a word, Bian Changxi pressed her left hand to the wound. The moment her wood-type power touched it, she was shocked. “Was he wounded by a spatial blade?”

Spatial blade wounds had a unique feature—the area would feel empty, something only a wood-type user could sense, even if it wasn’t visible to the naked eye.

Gu Xu, standing behind her, pressed, “Can you heal it?”

Bian Changxi shook her head gravely. “It’s basically already an amputation. The spatial blade cut right through the femur—only a bit of flesh is holding it together, and the nerves are likely damaged. With my current ability, I can’t fully heal it. But… it’s not impossible to save the leg.”

Everyone despaired at her first words, but hope flared at the last. “So you can heal it?”

Inside the tent, Gu Xu’s people reacted with a mix of surprise, joy, and frowns.

Behind a curtain, Lu Shaoyang, who had just finished amputating another patient, burst out, still holding his electric saw.

Bian Changxi didn’t waste time. She pulled a first-tier crystal core from her pocket. “Hold his leg steady. I’ll try to fuse the bone and flesh, but the healing will be fragile. He’ll need a wheelchair, and the leg must be immobilized. I can’t predict what’ll happen with the blood vessels and lymph—he might have atrophy or swelling. It’s all uncertain.”

This was nothing like Zhang Bubai’s chest wound, which had been lucky—minimal tissue damage, easy to repair. Wu Dalang’s entire leg was severed.

Wu Dalang struggled to speak. “Don’t… bother… Just cut it off.”

Bian Changxi glared at him. “I said I can’t heal it now, but you have to keep that leg no matter what. In half a year, as long as I’m alive, I’ll give you back a healthy, working leg.”

Hearing this, no one objected. Gu Xu personally helped Qiu Feng lift and adjust Wu Dalang’s leg. But as Gu Xu squatted down, he moved a little sluggishly. Bian Changxi glanced at him, took a deep breath, and pressed the crystal core to the wound. Instantly, a soft green light formed a halo, encasing the injury like a protective shield and quickly seeping in.

Wu Dalang’s body tensed violently, but soon relaxed, the pain easing from his face.

Most people present had never seen Bian Changxi use her healing power before. They stared, transfixed, their expressions varied. Even a few people who’d come to the door stopped in their tracks, silent.

Nearly ten minutes passed before Bian Changxi finally withdrew her hand. “Splint it, just like a regular fracture. Keep the whole leg straight at first. After a few days, when it’s healed a bit, he can start bending it.”

Lu Shaoyang immediately ordered the nurses to bring splints and bandages, looking at Bian Changxi in amazement. “You can even do this? That’s incredible.” He knew that even with the best facilities, this kind of injury would mean amputation. He’d discussed her powers with her before and had a rough idea of her limits, but she’d surprised him again. He was even more excited than when she’d saved those other seriously injured patients—those could have been saved in a proper operating room, but this…

Bian Changxi wiped her sweat and turned to speak, only to be startled. “Dr. Lu, you look a bit too much like a horror movie villain right now.”

Lu Shaoyang gave an embarrassed laugh, putting down the blood-soaked electric saw, his eyes full of wonder as he looked at Bian Changxi.

Clap, clap, clap. Applause sounded as someone entered the tent. “Miss Bian, your abilities are truly astonishing.”"