Chapter 5: A Restful Saturday

So, Mu Yin’s current plan was to focus on cultivating her abilities, improving herself until she was strong enough to journey to the planet’s core. Once there, she would attempt to open a small fissure and release a portion of the planet’s primordial energy, thereby accelerating the evolution of humanity and all living things on Blue Star. Only then could they hope to stand against the alien invaders.

This wasn’t just Mu Yin acting on her own whims. If she didn’t take action, history would eventually repeat itself, and all her efforts in being reborn would be for nothing.

“A Yin, what are you doing every day? We never see you around!” After school, as Mu Yin was packing up to go home, two of her friends cornered her. Lily spoke up directly.

“Yeah, you’re never around,” Bailing agreed with a nod.

“Uh, there are things at home I need to help with,” Mu Yin offered as an excuse.

“Nonsense! What could there be at your house that your little brother couldn’t handle?” Lily immediately saw through the feeble cover.

“Heh, heh.” Mu Yin was at a loss for words. Although she’d been over thirty in her past life, perhaps because she had truly been reincarnated, even with her memories awakened, her temperament was more like that of her current life. Of course, she hadn’t forgotten the responsibilities from before.

Seeing her like this, the two didn’t press further but changed the subject. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Let’s go pick wild fruit on the mountain together.”

“I…” Mu Yin had intended to refuse—she was racing against time to cultivate. Though her talent had followed her soul, the energy she could absorb was pitifully small. Even after more than ten days of practicing the most suitable cultivation method, her power had only increased by a sliver. At this rate, it would take a year to become a true level-one psychic. And to reach the planet’s core, she’d need to be at least level three. She really had no time to waste. But as she looked into their expectant eyes, her resolve melted away. “Alright, I’ll go.”

Mu Yin decided that missing a day or two of cultivation wouldn’t make much difference. That night, after practicing the body technique she would create a century later, and cultivating her Genesis Method for a while, she went to sleep. She couldn’t yet replace rest with cultivation; doing so now would not only be ineffective but harmful to her body. At the very least, she’d need to reach level three before she could consider such things.

Body technique was a set of fist and palm forms, not primarily for attack but for strengthening the body. It wasn’t complicated, but it could maximize a person’s physical potential. It was developed after technological advancement led to humans neglecting their physical health, nearly resulting in disaster. It became an essential course to be practiced from childhood.

After the apocalypse, Mu Yin suspected that the body technique might have originated from cultivators, since it was remarkably effective at developing the body’s meridians, tendons, and bones. It made post-apocalyptic cultivation easier, and even those who hadn’t awakened psychic abilities could, by mastering the body technique, become as powerful as level-nine psychics.

Psychics generally had weak constitutions, and Mu Yin had suffered for it before—once her power was depleted, she was at others’ mercy. Not to mention, her ability wasn’t even an offensive type. All her destructive power came from things she created, inventions that once existed only in fantasy, like energy guns, machine guns, and even small but powerful spacecraft. But against aliens, these were woefully inadequate, and too few to matter.

Besides, she hadn’t brought any of those back with her. Relying solely on her powers was fruitless; it would be better to inspire others to research and develop as a collective. Only then could everyone advance together.

The next day, once the dew had dried under the sun, she picked up her basket and prepared to leave.

“Going to the mountain? Remember to come back early,” Zhou Qi reminded her, knowing exactly where she was headed.

“Wait for me! I’m coming too,” Mu Shao called, hurrying out empty-handed.

“Brother, don’t you want to bring a basket?” Mu Yin asked, noticing his empty hands.

“No need for all that trouble. Look,” Mu Shao replied carelessly, pulling out a set of pockets—several plastic bags, brightly colored.

Mu Yin hesitated. Ideally, food should be carried in white bags, but these were just reused bags from groceries, and the family didn’t have any others. She swallowed her words.

The siblings ran to Bailing’s house on the opposite hill. Their home was at the very edge of the village, and the back mountain was full of wild fruit. They usually gathered at Bailing’s place.

Bailing had an older sister and a younger brother. Everyone in their village shared the surname Mu; they were all from the same clan. Most families had two or three children; only children were rare. Although there was a population policy, in the countryside, if the first child was a girl, they were permitted to have another. Rural folk believed strongly in passing on the family line, so having a son was essential.

Families like Mu Yin’s, with a boy followed by another child, or a sister-brother pair, existed, but there were more like Bailing’s, with two or three sisters and a younger brother.

Today, children from the upper village gathered here, ranging from eleven or twelve down to six or seven. They were all heading up the mountain together. Don’t think it was dangerous; this was the south, where the mountains, though plentiful, had few large predators. Even wild boars were rare. The children grew up climbing trees and roaming the hills, so the villagers didn’t worry about their safety.

With a group of ten or twenty, the adults were even less concerned. Once they had assembled, they were ready to set off. It was late October, just the right time for wild fruit—everyone brought plastic bags, except for Mu Yin, who carried a basket.

No one minded, though. After all, it was Mu Yin who’d be inconvenienced—her basket, with its wide opening, was less practical than the bags, especially while climbing, since fruit could spill out. Still, she didn’t leave her basket at Bailing’s house; instead, she asked her brother for a plastic bag to line it, planning to pack the bag away when climbing.

The wild fruits here were mostly red myrtle, wild rice berries, and wild hawthorn. There were two types of wild hawthorn: one black, one yellow (sea buckthorn). The black ones were sweeter, but neither was exactly the same as true hawthorn.

They’d also find hazelnuts, though these weren’t edible varieties, just toys. The children would stick the stem of an ironweed through the shell and spin it like a top.

These were the treasures they set out to find that day.