Chapter Seventeen: Profession Level 2 (4/5)

Inside the Portrait of the Beauties was a secluded paradise, a picturesque village with several wells and a fountain pool—a perfect blend of ancient style and modern design.

“What a beautiful place,” one of the seven girls exclaimed in awe.

Indeed, beneath their feet spread vast green meadows, the sun was setting in the west, and the old town village radiated poetic charm. For a moment, Yang Fan was lost in the serenity; if only he could spend his life here with his beloved and friends, he would gladly do so.

“You’ll rest here from now on. Please bear with the lack of food for a while, I’ll find some for you,” Yang Fan said to the group.

“Yes, thank you,” the girls replied, their faces lighting up. In this post-apocalyptic world, such peace was a rare treasure.

“Greetings, Master. I am the spirit of the Portrait of the Beauties. I have detected that among these seven, one matches the criteria for the Goddess of War, another for the Goddess of Healing. I can begin preliminary training for them,” a sudden voice sounded in Yang Fan's mind, causing his expression to change. He asked inwardly, “What is the Goddess of War? What is the Goddess of Healing?”

Since the Portrait of the Beauties was classified as a legendary-grade artifact, it surely possessed many hidden abilities waiting to be discovered.

“The Portrait of the Beauties was forged by the first master, Emperor Xuanyuan. You are the second. Back then, Emperor Xuanyuan was accompanied by three thousand women, who eventually followed him in ascension, each of them extraordinarily powerful. If you choose to train them as Goddesses of War, I will bestow upon them basic combat techniques, enabling them to assist you better in this post-apocalyptic world and improve their chances of survival, rather than remain mere ornaments,” explained the artifact spirit.

“What about the others?” Yang Fan asked.

“They must wait until you grow stronger before they can undergo full training, but I can begin simple physical training for them now.”

Yang Fan considered this and, instead of answering directly, looked at the seven bright-eyed girls and said, “Let me ask you a serious question. The world has changed—it’s no longer the peaceful era you once knew. Do you wish to live here in seclusion forever, like ants merely surviving, or do you want to be trained and take your fate into your own hands?”

Living here was akin to being domesticated livestock—hardly humane. That was why Yang Fan asked.

Without hesitation, all seven rejected the idea of being caged, so Yang Fan chose the training option suggested by the spirit. The spirit then informed him that this ability required a large amount of meat and seven hundred apocalypse coins to activate for one month.

Yang Fan broke into a cold sweat—he only had two hundred coins on him. Fortunately, the spirit mercifully offered the first activation for free, with ten free training slots available.

Without further delay, Yang Fan assigned the slots to the two candidates for Goddess of War and Goddess of Healing. The rest would need to pay two hundred apocalypse coins each for basic survival training. The spirit seemed to know exactly how much money he had—when not a single coin was left, Yang Fan departed.

However, he still needed to supply five hundred pounds of meat and fifty pounds each of six kinds of vegetables to the Portrait before the training could truly begin—a frustrating requirement.

Meanwhile, outside, Zhu Liang had finally found a lighter and was relishing a smoke when the glowing doorway appeared, and Yang Fan emerged.

“1v7, not bad!” Zhu Liang joked, earning a disdainful glance from Yang Fan.

“Boss, what do we do now? I’m about to starve,” Zhu Liang, nearly forty, joked as he rubbed his stomach, easing the tension between them. Yang Fan was hungry too; now was still a chance to find food, but in a month, most supplies would be controlled by various factions.

At most, in two or three years, there would be no normal food left, only the meat of insectoids and mutated beasts. Still, that meat was quite tasty and nutritious—Yang Fan remembered eating split-tooth rat in his previous life, and it was exceptionally tender.

“Where would meat and seasonings usually be stored?” Yang Fan asked Zhu Liang.

“In the storeroom behind the cafeteria. There’s a lot in there. Can you store it all? If so, it could feed a hundred people for a hundred days,” Zhu Liang replied.

“Good. Let’s go there.” Yang Fan didn’t hesitate, but instead of opening the door immediately, he used the Zombie Eye to scout the area. He found a large number of zombies gathering at the entrance, his expression darkening.

What was going on? Why were there so many zombies? According to the Zombie Eye, there were seventy or eighty zombies, including a brood mother. The door, however, was strong enough that it would be difficult to break through.

“What’s wrong?” Zhu Liang noticed Yang Fan’s frown and sensed trouble.

“Your cigarette and the blood on the floor attracted a lot of zombies,” Yang Fan said, glancing at the nearly finished cigarette in Zhu Liang’s hand.

“No way.” Zhu Liang quickly stubbed out the cigarette, embarrassed. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s fine,” Yang Fan wasn’t angry. In the apocalypse, everyone was under pressure—even he felt it. Smoking to relieve stress was understandable, and now was the time to solve problems, not assign blame. Zhu Liang, relieved that Yang Fan wasn’t upset, felt grateful.

“How many cigarettes do you have left?” Yang Fan suddenly asked.

“Cigarettes? Two packs,” Zhu Liang replied, producing two packs of premium Furongwang from his suit. Yang Fan was briefly surprised, but it made sense—a leader like Zhu Liang would carry cigarettes for socializing, with people often presenting him with extras.

“Good. Smoke quickly and spread the scent through the dance studio. This door should hold for about ten minutes, then we’ll climb up there, let the zombies in, and deal with them all at once,” Yang Fan said confidently.

Zhu Liang looked around, then at the small window above—a ventilation window, just big enough to squeeze through, though it was three meters high with nothing to climb.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you up there. For now, spread the smoke around.”

Yang Fan lit a cigarette for himself, took a deep drag, and exhaled. He did have a bit of a habit, though not a serious one, but a few puffs eased his tension.

The two of them puffed away, filling the room with smoke. After a few minutes, when the haze was thick, Yang Fan grabbed Zhu Liang and tossed him upward. Yang Fan’s strength was three times that of a normal man, and after a couple of tries, he managed to get Zhu Liang—who was nearly a hundred and sixty kilos—up to the window.

Zhu Liang clung to the window’s metal bar, barely steadying himself. Yang Fan below grew anxious.

At that moment, the door was finally breached—a pale hand punched through the iron, then another, and another.

Yang Fan grabbed the fire axe, chopping off two hands, but one was too tough—the hand of a brood mother.

“This axe is too dull. Even with internal force, I can barely cut flesh, let alone bone. I need to buy a weapon—the drop rate from these zombies is too low.” Muttering, Yang Fan called up to Zhu Liang, “Are you steady?”

“All set,” Zhu Liang replied, holding his breath. Yang Fan didn’t waste another word; he leaped up, grabbed another bar, and half lay across the narrow window. It was long but not very wide—Zhu Liang, being overweight, barely fit.

“Roar! Roar!”

The door burst open with a bang, zombies pouring in—one, two, three, ten—tripping over each other in their frenzy for human flesh. Peering out, Yang Fan saw the horde outside and knew this would be tricky.

Fortunately, the dance studio was big, and the smoke was thick, masking their scent. Even the brood mother was disoriented. Hidden by the smoke, Yang Fan and Zhu Liang waited at the small window for several minutes.

As the last zombies entered, Yang Fan ordered, “Jump down—now!”

Zhu Liang didn’t hesitate. He dropped from the window, and Yang Fan threw in an explosive talisman before following.

Few zombies blocked their way. Zhu Liang may have twisted his ankle, but Yang Fan pulled him up and dashed forward, covering several meters in a blink.

Boom!

A thunderous explosion rocked the building. The blast wave hurled Yang Fan and Zhu Liang several meters—they both felt as if they'd been kicked hard in the back, aching and battered.

...

“Congratulations, Player, you have reached Level 2,” the system’s cold voice intoned.

(The story will only get more exciting—never will the protagonist be abused! This was the fourth update today, and there’s one more tonight. I’m giving it my all—how about you? Where are your recommendations? Could you spare one for me?)