Chapter 24 Being Beaten

**Chapter 24: Facing Rejection**

Ji An quickly packed up and left the laboratory. Unlike others, he didn’t need to report his whereabouts to his superiors—making him the only one with special privileges in the entire research institute.

Back then, no one believed in his project, and no senior researcher was willing to take him under their wing. Even his application for a private lab wasn’t approved by the institute; he had to obtain it through personal bargaining. To put it simply, while the labs used by other researchers were considered institute property, Ji An’s lab was his personal asset—a distinction that carried significant weight.

As the current talk of the institute, Ji An was promptly greeted by someone asking, “Researcher Ji, you’re leaving early today. Is there something you need to attend to? Do you need a ride?”

Zhang Yi, the head of the institute’s logistics department, was responsible for all administrative and support matters.

“It’s personal,” Ji An replied curtly.

Zhang Yi smiled. “Personal or not, if it’s convenient, I can drive you there.”

Ji An didn’t refuse. Zhang Yi’s buttering-up was clearly an attempt to get on his good side. And at this stage, the only thing worth sucking up for was the spatial storage device. As long as he had enough jade, he had plenty to spare.

With a polite smile, Ji An said, “Then I’ll trouble you.”

“No trouble at all, no trouble at all.” Zhang Yi’s cheerful demeanor made it seem as though Ji An was the one begging for a favor.

As they chatted and walked toward the car, a researcher hurried over and stopped Ji An in his tracks.

“Researcher Ji, please wait! I have something to discuss with you.” Ji An had already opened the car door and settled into the passenger seat but stepped back out upon hearing his name.

“What is it?” Ji An asked.

The researcher who stopped him was no spring chicken—his appearance suggested he was in his fifties. A lifetime spent in the lab, shielded from sunlight, had left his skin sickly pale.

Overuse of his brain had left him with only a few last surviving strands of hair, which he had grown long and combed to one side, covering half of his scalp. From a distance, it gave the illusion that he still had a head of graying hair.

This was unmistakably a seasoned researcher in the field of science.

The older researcher seemed somewhat embarrassed when Ji An questioned him, his face turning red as he stammered.

“Um, Researcher Ji… does your lab have any openings? I’d like to join your team.” At first, the researcher spoke hesitantly, but once he started, his words flowed more smoothly.

With sincerity, he continued, “My name is Wu Youyang. I’m an ordinary person without any psychic abilities. Even so, I’ve been in the research field since before the apocalypse and have participated in numerous projects. Aside from the first chaotic year of the apocalypse, I’ve remained in this profession. I now have thirty-one years of experience—ample knowledge and hands-on expertise. I can independently conduct most experiments and even mentor students.”

Wu Youyang explained himself with painstaking detail, as if ready to recount every experiment he’d ever worked on. His earnestness was undeniable.

“Researcher Ji, I’m approaching you with complete sincerity. I genuinely want to join your lab and contribute to your projects.” He handed Ji An a meticulously prepared resume. “Please take a look. I’ve documented everything thoroughly. My experience is extensive, and though I don’t have a psychic ability, I’d still be an excellent assistant!”

Ji An accepted the resume and skimmed through it. Even a brief glance confirmed that this researcher was highly accomplished, with stellar credentials.

Ji An asked, “Your experience is indeed remarkable. But why do you want to join my lab? Is it because of the spatial storage device I recently developed?”

He couldn’t fathom how a greenhorn like him—with less than a tenth of this veteran’s experience—could attract such a seasoned researcher.

“From what I’ve heard, Director Han Yaokun has shared his personal spatial storage device for collective study. Many researchers are confident they’ll crack its secrets within ten days.”

Wu Youyang frowned slightly. He was aware of the newly formed research team dedicated to the spatial storage device, aiming for five but guaranteeing ten.

He had participated for a day, but while others might’ve gotten it, he was completely baffled. The research direction was entirely unfamiliar, and he doubted success in ten days—or even Ji An’s original month and a half. If left to him, it might take eight to ten years just to scratch the surface.

Not wanting to overstep, Wu Youyang simply said, “I’m not cut out for it. I don’t have a psychic ability—I’m just an ordinary person. I only want to work under a capable leader and deliver breakthroughs that help ordinary folks. For my sake, and for folks like me—striving for a better life.”

Afraid Ji An might suspect him of being a spy, he added, “I know you can implant psychic compulsion. If you don’t trust me, you’re welcome to do so. I’m willing to accept it.”

Even Zhang Yi, still sitting in the car, couldn’t help but regard Wu Youyang with newfound respect. Psychic compulsion was no trivial matter—once implanted, defiance could lead to severe consequences, from turning into a vegetable to having your head explode.

With such resolve, how could Ji An refuse? He could use the help anyway. The spatial storage device project was already well-developed, and he would be receiving more and more jade in the future. There was no way he could handle it all alone—even if he worked himself to death, he wouldn’t finish.

Now that someone was volunteering so earnestly, Ji An naturally accepted. It’d also send a message to other eager researchers.

“Alright,” Ji An nodded. “Then looking forward to it.”

Wu Youyang hadn’t expected Ji An to accept him so easily. Overjoyed, he eagerly shook Ji An’s hand. “Looking forward to it!”

“I’ve got some urgent private matters to deal with now. I imagine you have things to wrap up too. Just tie up loose ends on your end first. No hurry—I’ll be here.”

“Three days. I’ll complete the handover within three days.” Wu Youyang asked carefully, “I’ve got about a dozen students with me now. Can they come along?”

“Sure,” Ji An nodded. “But I only want people who are all-in, not half-hearted folks.”

“I understand. I’ll ask them when I get back. Those who want to come, I’ll bring. If any hesitate, I’ll set them up with someone else,” Wu Youyang assured him, understanding Ji An’s meaning.

Ji An said, “I’ve got things to do. I’ll go ahead then. See you!”

“See you!”

They waved goodbye, and Ji An got into the car, which drove away from the research institute toward the command center.

On the way, Zhang Yi chuckled, “Mr. Ji, you’re impressive—pulling in a recruit this fast.”

Others might have responded modestly, but to Ji An, it was just the truth.

“There’ll be plenty more where that came from,” Ji An said seriously.

Zhang Yi blinked, then gave a knowing smile. He didn’t think Ji An was arrogant. On the contrary, he believed that someone like Ji An, who lived and breathed his work and had already achieved something, naturally had that kind of personality.

They made small talk about random topics for a while. When they arrived, Zhang Yi said, “I know you still have two spatial storage devices to sell at your shop. Any chance I could jump the line?”

Ji An smiled. “Sure. I’ll have the staff notify you when it’s ready, but you’ll have to come to the store yourself. After all, my shop hasn’t opened yet—it could use the buzz.”

“No problem at all,” Zhang Yi said without hesitation.

It was the kind of privilege only Ji An enjoyed—the kind where products were gone before hitting the shelves.

As soon as Ji An stepped through the gates of the command center, Kong Zhongcheng was already waiting.

Spotting Ji An, Kong grinned and gave him a sly wink. “You finally showed up! Our boss heard you were coming and told me to wait for you. Come on, let’s go catch a show.”

Ji An had expected Kong to take him to meet Chen Chen in the reception room, but instead, they turned into another room.

Inside, Wan Xueying was already seated by the TV, sipping iced tea.

“You’re here,” she greeted Ji An, even pouring him a cup herself—a favor Kong Zhongcheng didn’t get. He gave her a pointed look and poured one for himself, which he found tasted just fine.

Ji An took the tea and sat on the sofa. The TV was showing a live feed from the surveillance camera in Chen Chen’s meeting room.

The video quality was crystal clear—better than pre-apocalypse standards—with sharp audio.

“Why did you pour extra tea? You didn’t give me any earlier, but now there’s an extra cup—who’s it for?” Kong complained.

Wan Xueying had long given up on Kong’s emotional intelligence. She simply shot Ji An a knowing look. “Someone should be arriving soon.”

Right on cue, Gu Jinsheng pushed the door open and walked in. He looked busy, still flipping through documents in his hand.

Gu Jinsheng entered without saying a word, merely nodding slightly at Ji An, who returned the greeting.

Kong Zhongcheng called out, "Wan Xueying, since when can you predict the future?"

"Idiot," Wan Xueying muttered, pushing a fresh cup of iced tea toward Gu Jinsheng. "Boss, this one's fresh for you."

Gu Jinsheng nodded and took it. Kong Zhongcheng was about to say something else, but a single flat look from Gu Jinsheng shut him up.

At that moment, Chen Chen’s voice came from the TV.

"Commander Zhou, we’ve come with the utmost sincerity. Ji An is a fugitive traitor from our Third Base—without bringing him back, the people won’t stand for it."

Zhou Qin sat solemnly in the main seat, while seven or eight superpowered individuals—familiar to Ji An though he couldn’t recall their names—took side seats. All were dressed in suits, looking every bit the serious delegation. Especially Zhou Qin, whose commanding presence marked him clearly as the leader, a man who called all the shots.

This kind of authority was something Zhou Qin had never shown around Ji An before.

Zhou Qin maintained a polite but nothing more smile—not warm, not cold, just the right amount of formality.

"I fully understand Commander Chen’s position," he said. "But the Ji An you speak of has already joined our Capital Base and become one of our residents. If I were to hand over one of our own on your say-so, what kind of message would that send about the Capital Base? How could the hundreds of thousands living here ever trust us if we can’t even protect them? If a base can’t guarantee safety, how could they expect loyalty?"

In an official tone, Zhou Qin concluded, "Therefore, I must regrettably refuse your request."

Chen Chen was fuming inside. Zhou Qin was full of it. When Ji An first fled, they had reached out immediately. Back then, Ji An hadn’t even arrived yet, but Chen Chen had personally delivered his photo and left it with the Capital Base, promising a hefty reward in return if they detained him upon sight.

Though furious, Chen Chen knew he was out of his league here. Suppressing his anger, he replied, "Before Ji An even got here, I brought his photo myself. Our alliance treaty between bases specifically states we don’t harbor fugitives wanted by other allied bases."

Zhou Qin offered a slight, insincere apology. "My apologies, Commander Chen. The receptionist at the time was swamped and never passed it along. That’s why our base didn’t know anything about it when we accepted him."

He turned to a female superpowered individual nearby. "Xiao Meng, this was your mistake. Apologize to Commander Chen."

Xiao Meng said sincerely, "I apologize." But she didn’t even bother to nod.

Chen Chen trembled with rage but held it in. He’d endured worse during diplomacy missions. Tang Tang, however, used to being pampered and flattered, couldn’t take it anymore.

Tang Tang shot back, "Commander Zhou, isn’t your handling of this far too careless? If the roles were reversed and we harbored someone from your base, do you think your base would take it lying down?"

The moment Tang Tang spoke, Zhou Qin’s painfully fake smile vanished entirely—he didn’t pretend anymore. "If your base dares try, we’ll burn it to the ground. That’s just how big bases operate."

Zhou Qin’s presence alone was crushing. His cold stare was genuinely terrifying, like he really did consider the Third Base beneath him—like one wrong word and he’d wipe them out right then and there.

Chen Chen was terrified. Already injured and hanging onto his command by a thread, provoking a powerhouse like the Capital Base would be his end.

He couldn’t help but resent Tang Tang for her lack of tact. Immediately, he backtracked fast. "My apologies, Commander Zhou. Don’t take offense at the words of an ignorant girl. She misspoke—I apologize on her behalf."

Zhou Qin snapped coldly, "What were you thinking, dragging some clueless girl along to such an important meeting? You think the Capital Base is some joke?"

Faced with Zhou Qin’s relentless pressure, Chen Chen was about to crack. Though he knew the other man was being unreasonable, he was powerless to resist.

All he could do was lash out at Tang Tang. "Apologize to Commander Zhou—now!" he barked.

Tang Tang, cowed, mumbled, "Commander Zhou, I’m sorry."

Zhou Qin knew Ji An’s history with Tang Tang, but had no intention of escalating things further. Still, he couldn’t resist one last jab. "Learn to keep your mouth shut. Trouble comes from careless talk. I can afford to be magnanimous, but others might not. One wrong word could start a war—and the consequences would crush you."

Tang Tang instantly adopted the delicate, pitiful act that men around her usually adored. A tear trembled on her lashes, and she swayed like a fragile flower, overwhelmed by emotion.

Truthfully, Tang Tang wasn’t unattractive—her tearful gaze was moving. But Zhou Qin already knew exactly what kind of person she was, and her enmity with Ji An only made it worse. Far from being moved, it made his skin crawl.

Still, Zhou Qin couldn’t resist a final barb. "You’ve got some nerve bringing a useless chick like her along!"

Zhou Qin's eyes were filled with unmistakable envy.

Chen Chen, already suffering from internal injuries, was so angry that his old wounds nearly flared up—he almost spat out a mouthful of blood.

As for the other party involved, Tang Tang, the tear she had been holding back finally rolled down—and then more followed. She was furious enough to cry.

Chen Chen finally saw through everything: Zhou Qin had been playing with him all along. Arguing further was useless, so he laid out his offer.

"Commander Zhou, I'm willing to exchange half the supplies from our Third Base’s warehouse for Ji An. Although our base isn’t as large as the Capital Base, half of our reserves is still considerable. If you're interested, we can keep this deal between us." Meaning Zhou Qin could pocket it without any interference from Chen Chen.

Zhou Qin feigned confusion. "Commander Chen, didn't you say earlier that Ji An stole half your supplies? What's left after that? Half of nothing?"

Chen Chen's face twisted briefly before he clenched his teeth and said, "It's still substantial—enough to set Commander Zhou up for life."

Although Ji An wasn’t entirely sure about the exact amount stored in the Space Necklace, over the years he had a rough idea of how much he had secretly taken. It was nearly equal to the entire stockpile in the Third Base’s warehouse.

Remember, the base warehouse held enough supplies to sustain tens of thousands of people for at least three years.

Exchanging half the warehouse’s supplies to regain everything—including his private stash and an extra spatial treasure—was a steal for Chen Chen.

Sure that Zhou Qin wouldn’t refuse such an offer, Chen Chen even planned ahead. “If Commander Zhou finds it inconvenient to act directly due to regulations, you could send Ji An on an outside mission. Once he leaves the Capital Base, our people can take care of things. Just tell those accompanying him not to interfere.”

“Commander Chen, you’ve thought of everything,” Zhou Qin said with a grin, before his face went cold.

“Commander Chen, what exactly are you trying to achieve by pushing me into this? Are you trying to drive a wedge between me and my base? Is your goal chaos inside our walls so your people can slip in and take over our Capital Base?” Zhou Qin narrowed his eyes slightly, a dangerous glint in them. “Looks like I’ll have to detain you until I get to the bottom of this!”

Zhou Qin was impervious to persuasion—neither soft words nor hard threats, nor even material gain could sway him. Seeing that the negotiation was going nowhere, Chen Chen realized they needed to stop before things got out of hand and he ended up detained in the Capital Base.

Chen Chen quickly explained, “We don’t mean anything like that. We came only to retrieve a traitor from our base. If your base really finds it inconvenient, we can discuss this again later.”

Afraid of being detained, Chen Chen hurriedly took his leave. “Commander Zhou must be busy with important matters. We won’t disturb you further—we’ll just be on our way now. If you change your mind, feel free to contact me anytime.”

Tang Tang had come for the Space Necklace and wasn’t ready to return empty-handed. She hesitated, unwilling to leave. Chen Chen kept giving her urgent signals, surprised he’d never seen her so clueless before.

In the end, Tang Tang was dragged away by Chen Chen. Zhou Qin made no move to forcibly detain them—he hadn’t intended to in the first place. He just wanted to scare them off and shut them up.

Just before they left, Zhou Qin added another warning. “Commander Chen, as a guest, I should’ve arranged accommodations, but since you arrived unannounced, I had no time to prepare. Sorry, but there’s nowhere to put you up tonight.

You’ll have to find your own lodging. And as a friendly reminder—avoid the East District. The locals there don’t take kindly to strangers and especially enjoy picking on outsiders like you.

If something goes wrong, the area is chaotic. Even I might not be able to investigate right away.

For your safety, I suggest staying in the West District.”

Chen Chen burned inside but managed a smile. “Thank you for the kind advice, Commander Zhou.”

After leaving the command center and stepping onto the street, Tang Tang finally dared to express her anger.

“Chen-ge, how can the Capital Base commander be so unreasonable? He wouldn’t listen at all!”

Chen Chen, equally frustrated, snapped, “What can we do? The strong call the shots.”

“But we didn’t get back…” Tang Tang trailed off vaguely. Although the two who came with her were Chen Chen’s trusted men, they knew nothing about the Space Necklace. “Now what?”

Chen Chen growled, “What do you expect me to do?”

Tang Tang seethed with jealousy and anger. She couldn’t figure out why Ji An always seemed to have someone protecting him—first Chen Chen, now Zhou Qin.

"I really don't know why Zhou Qin wouldn't even trade Ji An for half the base's supplies," Tang Tang said with feigned innocence. "Could it be that Ji An is in a relationship with him, just like he was with Brother Chen back then? That would explain why Zhou Qin is so protective of him—otherwise, it makes no sense."

Tang Tang stole glances at Chen Chen’s face, and as she continued speaking, his expression grew darker. The more she saw this, the more secretly pleased she became, and she kept needling him further: "Otherwise, considering Ji An’s abilities—a common, dime-a-dozen Level 1 power in the apocalypse, even if it is the rare mental type—it's still only Level 1. What could possibly make him so valuable? More valuable than half the warehouse supplies?"

The thought of Ji An giving himself to someone else, maybe even already belonging to them now, made Chen Chen’s face darken. He snapped, “Enough!”

Tang Tang didn’t push further, secretly pleased with herself.

They walked on in silence for a while before Tang Tang finally spoke again. “Brother Chen, how about we don’t leave right away? Let’s stay in the Capital Base for a few nights. There might still be an opportunity.”

The Space Necklace was crucial—especially now that both he and Song Pengcheng were seriously injured. It was one of the key things keeping him from being overthrown.

Chen Chen hesitated briefly, then nodded. “Fine.”

They searched along the streets of the western district for somewhere to stay. After asking at several places, they found the prices outrageously high.

Some inns clearly advertised rates of only 100 base credits per night, but when they offered to pay with supplies instead, the owners immediately jacked up the prices.

After all, supplies were supposed to be worth more than credits!

Chen Chen frowned, but in the end, he was forced to choose one of the overpriced hotels. They couldn’t very well sleep on the street.

As soon as they checked in, Zhou Qin received word. In fact, this whole situation had been orchestrated by him—he’d arranged for shopkeepers along Chen Chen’s route to be warned in advance.

Zhou Qin smirked, clearly satisfied. “Ten level 1 peak zombie cores per night—Chen Chen must be loaded. That kind of price? Way out of my league.”