Please provide the text you would like me to translate.

Ye Yin stopped in her tracks and turned to look at them.

Under normal circumstances, especially in this kind of weather, the thickness and warmth of a person's clothing could be a clue to their status. Ever since Ye Yin awakened her full-star fire ability, the ancient cauldron floating within her often released red mists. She wasn't sure what those vapors were for, but one thing was clear—she was becoming more and more resistant to cold. Adding to that, she was going to climb a mountain today, so she only wore a gray windbreaker and sports pants, carried a hiking backpack, and had a pair of sturdy boots on her feet. She looked rather lightly dressed.

Seeing her attire, the man probably took her for someone sneaking out to scavenge firewood. “Come back here! Whose reckless girl is this, running off without a word just to pick up scraps? With so many of us not daring to go in, and you slipping away on your own—isn’t that courting death? All for a bit of firewood, you’d risk your life?”

“I’m not here for firewood, just to have a look.”

“Look at what? The mountain’s nothing but dead branches and withered leaves! Get down here!” The old man wouldn’t take no for an answer, dragging Ye Yin back into the group. “You’re old enough, why can’t you just behave?”

A round-faced woman pressed a small cloth bag into her hand. “First time out, isn’t it? That backpack of yours will get torn to shreds easily. Take this for now.”

“Old Hou, don’t do us a bad turn by playing the good guy. We only brought enough food for each person—we’re counting her share on you, alright?” The sharp-featured young man who’d suggested coming up the mountain earlier piped up.

Old Hou wasn’t one to be outdone. “How much can a young girl eat? If everyone spares a bite, we’ll manage. If you’re so petty over something so trivial, no wonder you can’t find a wife!”

With the conversation at this point, Ye Yin didn’t want Old Hou to lose face. “It’s fine, I brought my own food.”

The one called ‘Boss’ settled the dispute. “Since she has her own provisions, it’s not a problem to have one more. Everyone, gather what you can around here—don’t wander too far. The moment you hear my whistle, regroup right away—understood?”

Everyone agreed and scattered to gather the prickly oil branches.

Ye Yin pretended to search the ground, and using a moment when no one was watching, slipped quietly into the mountain.

The trees atop the mountain were as withered and yellow as everywhere else, without a hint of new green. After double-checking, Ye Yin descended, taking advantage of the way to pull out two large bags (that once held flour) from her space, and filled them with plenty of scattered prickly oil branches. The forest was overflowing with them; in no time, she’d gathered a whole sackful, likely because few people bothered to collect them.

“Where did you run off to?” Old Hou was about to scold her, when he caught sight of the two bulging bags of firewood she was dragging and his eyes lit up. “Didn’t expect you’d have such luck, girl. Wait—where did you get those bags?”

“I folded them up and kept them in my pack,” Ye Yin replied, tossing one bag to the ground. “Split this one with the lady who gave me the bag earlier.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine, I can’t carry it all back by myself.”

Unable to refuse, Old Hou called over the round-faced woman and explained Ye Yin’s intentions. The woman was startled at first, then accepted the bag with a shy smile.

“Thank you, dear. This will help a lot—I’ll get more rice porridge for my grandson.”

“Your little one’s weaned already?”

“How could he be? But my daughter-in-law has no milk, and she didn’t even get a decent meal during her confinement. It’s a sin.”

“If you want to blame anyone, blame your son. Who has kids in times like these!”

“No matter the times, we can’t let the family line die out. Ours has been single-heir for nine generations; how can we just let it end?”

The family line… Ye Yin leaned against a tree, watching the two of them joyfully divide the sack of prickly oil branches, and suddenly she understood a little more about humanity’s deep yearning to continue their bloodline.

The leader blew the whistle, and everyone regrouped. Most had managed to fill only half a bag, so the three with Ye Yin, their sacks bulging, stood out conspicuously.

The sharp-featured young man’s eyes darted. “They must’ve gone deep into the mountain! Boss, rule-breakers should be punished—make them hand over their firewood for us all to share.”

The boss smacked him sharply on the back of the head. “Old Hou and Aunt Li were with us the whole time—stop scheming!”

“What about her, then? She definitely went into the mountain!” the young man protested.

“She brings her own food, only tagging along for company. Whether she goes in or not is none of your business,” the boss replied levelly, not swayed by the young man’s prodding. “Now get the fire started and set up the pot.”

If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, Ye Yin wouldn’t have believed how powerful the prickly oil branches were. Tossing just two or three twigs into a pile of withered leaves produced a roaring fire that quickly brought the pot of water to a fierce boil, and showed no signs of dying down any time soon.

She had thought they would use the pot to make soup or noodles, but all they did was boil plain water for warmth. The boss took out coarse flatbread from a bag, giving a piece to each person except Ye Yin. They dipped the bread in hot water and ate ravenously, savoring every bite.

Ye Yin had heard of this kind of coarse bread—dry, tough, full of bran, and likely to cause constipation if eaten too much. After hesitating, she pulled out a piece of dry steamed bun from her bag and chewed on it without appetite.

Before she’d even finished half, Ye Yin sensed something was wrong. Her heart was pounding violently.

“When are you all returning to the base?” she asked the group leader.

“We’ll gather firewood for another hour or two after eating, as long as we get back before dark,” he replied.

Ye Yin didn’t bother explaining further. She stood, walked over, pulled out a stack of base credits, and slapped them in front of him. “I’ll buy all your prickly oil branches. Keep the change. The only condition is that you deliver them now, understand?”

The boss stared blankly. “Deliver… deliver where?”

“Spring Snow Club, East Street, Zone B.”

Money talks. None of them had time to wonder at Ye Yin’s sudden change; they hurriedly gulped down their food and, delighted, rushed back to the base to deliver the goods. Old Hou, realizing Ye Yin was from Zone B—and likely one of the fabled ability-users—could only marvel and dared not ask her to join their group again.

As it turned out, Ye Yin’s instincts were right. Half an hour later, the sentries spotted a massive horde of zombies approaching from a distance. The base sounded alarm after alarm, both in the outer zones and the inner defenses, sending a chill down everyone’s spine.

Ye Yin soared into the sky for a look. The firewood scavengers probably guessed what was happening and ran desperately for the base, but ordinary people were too slow—at this rate, the horde would overtake them before they reached the gates.

No matter what, she had to buy some time.

Ye Yin flew above the zombie horde and, without a word, dropped dozens of thunder talismans like a bomber. In an instant, a huge swath of zombies collapsed, bodies torn apart, limbs flying everywhere. But there were simply too many—at least several tens of thousands. The talismans only slowed the vanguard a little. Zombies felt neither pain nor fear; as soon as the front line was destroyed, those behind pressed forward over the bodies of their fallen.

There hadn’t been any large-scale sweeps or exterminations lately, so where had this horde come from?

Ye Yin landed about a kilometer from the edge of the zombie tide, pondering whether to burn them all in waves or trap them with a barrier and finish them in one go, when a voice called from above: “Miss, please return to the base at once. This isn’t something you can handle—leave it to us.”

Ye Yin looked up, startled: seven giant celestial cranes soared overhead, each carrying several young men and women in Daoist robes. All were strikingly handsome or beautiful, with an air of confidence and pride.

“May I ask, you are…”

“We’re disciples of the Light Cloud Sect. The base is on full alert now; you should hurry back, or you’ll be in trouble once the gates close.”

“Thank you. I’ll go right away.” But Ye Yin still felt uneasy. These people seemed a bit too green—could they really stop the horde? She jogged off for show, then, as soon as they weren’t looking, hid behind a large tree on a small rise to watch the battle.

These disciples were using thunder talismans too, though less powerful than hers—each strike only killed five or six zombies, barely slowing the horde. One of the female disciples, growing impatient, leapt from her crane and drew her sword, slashing at the undead. Her sword was no ordinary blade; with every sweep, dozens of zombies fell. Impressive, but Ye Yin could tell this method wouldn’t last. After a dozen strokes, the girl was already breathless and sweating, nearly exhausted.

“Junior sister, hurry back up!”

“Right, Master only wanted us to scout and delay, not risk our lives!”

When she wouldn’t listen, another disciple jumped down to help with his sword, and soon the rest followed, forming a sword formation.

For a moment, sword-light blazed and the zombie tide faltered. The group looked pleased with themselves, but none noticed several zombies raising their heads within the horde.

Not good—high-level zombies!

Ye Yin was about to intervene when, suddenly, a figure appeared behind the disciples like a ghost. “Pardon me,” he said, and before anyone could react, the entire group vanished into thin air…

“Where did they go?!” Ye Yin gaped, about to rub her eyes, when the scene before her changed in a flash.

She was now at the bar of Spring Snow, facing Zhiqiu’s smiling face.

“I’ll explain later—I had to get here first,” Zhiqiu said, and promptly disappeared.

“Didn’t anyone tell you? Zhiqiu is a ninth-rank spatial ability user,” Uncle Ou said as he shelled peanuts beside Ye Yin. “Spatial teleportation is his specialty, but he’s so unassuming he rarely puts on a show for everyone.”

Ye Yin gawked. “How did he know there was danger over there?”

“The base just held an emergency meeting. This situation is more dangerous than expected, so the Light Cloud Sect and our association are working together. Those foolish kids were only sent back because their master asked Zhiqiu to bring them. Now the real elites of Light Cloud Sect must be heading to the front.”

“You’re not going to fight?”

“No need.” Uncle Ou cracked a peanut with a snap. “But if you want to go and watch, feel free. Whether you get involved is up to you.”