Please provide the text you would like me to translate.

It was finally time to start cultivating the land, and the base government shifted its focus to ramping up production. Not only did they rally all available laborers to plant and harvest at full speed, but even the troops drastically reduced their usual training to join the civilians in working the fields.

With the review ceremonies no longer held, Ye Yin found herself with even less to do each day, so she made a point to keep her ears open for any ways to fend off the coming cold wave. Uncle Ou, who was well-informed, found her persistent worrying somewhat amusing.

“That’s not your concern,” Uncle Ou chuckled. “The government isn’t just sitting around doing nothing—they’ll find a solution. You, though, always like to overthink.”

Ye Yin had little faith in his reassurances. If the base government truly had a way, why had those tragedies occurred during the ten years after the apocalypse?

“There might be a way,” Ahui, an earth-element ability user, suddenly interjected. “Since it’s cold everywhere, why not create a giant brazier? I could use my powers to bury it underground and heat everything up.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Ye Yin had barely smiled before a bolt of inspiration flashed through her mind.

A giant brazier?

That night, upon returning home, Ye Yin frantically rummaged through the pile of jade slip manuals she’d gotten from Granny Camellia. The room was soon a chaotic mess, but she finally found the book she remembered: “On Taming Elemental Beasts of the Five Elements.”

Elemental beasts weren’t just valuable for their medicinal uses; those with higher intelligence could be tamed as spirit beasts or summoned creatures—reusable, eco-friendly, and convenient, truly an essential companion for life in the apocalypse. In the past, spirit beasts weren’t considered rare; nearly every cultivator had one. But now, they were a rarity, not only due to the depletion of spiritual energy in the world but also because of overhunting and the destruction of their habitats.

Take the Light Cloud Sect, for example. In modern times, it was one of the premier cultivation sects, and its four spirit beasts and the crane mounts were the envy of countless cultivators. But in the old days, such creatures would scarcely impress anyone—at best, they’d amuse a few new disciples, while more advanced cultivators would laugh out loud at their mediocrity.

“Volcanic Frog, a rare fire-elemental beast, adept at fire attacks, fears the six-horned python. Large in size, it prefers deep crevices and lies dormant for centuries. When awake, its skin radiates heat for thousands of miles. Wherever it resides, there are often hot springs and lush forests, with a climate unbearably hot…”

Ye Yin slapped her leg in excitement: this was it!

When the cold wave first hit, Old Guo had complained to her about the ever-increasing energy demands of the greenhouses. At the time, she happened to be reading this very book and had considered raising a fire-element beast to solve the heating issue. Today, when Ahui mentioned a giant brazier, she immediately connected the dots and realized this was a solution that could kill several birds with one stone.

Currently, the cost of raising a spirit beast was extremely high, and their mortality rate was terrifying. Strangely, for reasons unknown, even the fiercest beasts, once tamed into spirit beasts, retained all their other qualities but became markedly weaker at absorbing energy. To give an example, wild beasts could eat anything and thrive, but spirit beasts required pure energy. If their feed was too impure, it would trigger all sorts of bizarre diseases, slow or even reverse their progress, and with long-term consumption, they might suddenly drop dead one day—just like humans suffering a sudden heart attack.

Impurities had always been a major headache for cultivators; removing them from spiritual materials or one’s own body was incredibly difficult. Otherwise, alchemists wouldn’t be such a rare profession, and marrow cleansing wouldn’t be seen as a divine blessing. Naturally pure energy was a treasure in the cultivation world—coveted even for personal use, let alone for feeding animals.

Of course, there were exceptions. Some people valued their spirit beasts more than themselves. If they were lucky enough to find pure energy, they’d rather deprive themselves than let their little ancestor go without. But pure energy always ran out eventually. When it did, they had no choice but to revert to ordinary feed, and soon enough, history would repeat itself. After expending immense effort and resources to raise a spirit beast as one would a child, to lose it before it could be of any use was a heartbreak worse than losing one’s own child.

The Light Cloud Sect’s situation was unique. The previous sect leader, Silver Scroll, was a beast-taming genius. After a century of painstaking research, he finally developed a pill that could temporarily suppress the adverse effects of impurities, allowing spirit beasts fed on ordinary feed to survive for ten to twenty years. While their progress was slow, at least it was stable.

But from Ye Yin’s perspective, the biggest challenge in raising spirit beasts wasn’t a problem at all—because she had the Primal Cauldron. As the mother of all medicine cauldrons and weapons, the Primal Cauldron excelled at refining out impurities. Ye Yin, being adept at hunting zombies, had a steady supply of crystal nuclei for energy. Thus, her primary concern now was where to find these supposedly extinct legendary beasts.

She might have worried about other beasts, but the volcanic frog was a special case. Not only did it dwell deep underground, making it hard to catch, but it also slept for centuries without causing trouble—never attracting expert hunters. Its natural enemy, the six-horned python, had nearly died out as well, so there was a good chance of finding one.

Ye Yin carefully studied the book’s notes on the volcanic frog’s habitat and discovered that the nearest mountain range was near the First Army District. She immediately began to scheme…

“No,” Uncle Ou refused flatly. “I promised to take you to headquarters for a visit, but not now. They’re busy producing grain over there—no time to entertain you. Wait until it snows.”

“I don’t need anyone to host me. I’ll just wander around, really.”

“You think it’s so easy to requisition a helicopter? Out of the question.”

“Oh, come on, Uncle Ou…”

He shot her a disdainful look. “If any other girl tried that tone, I’d melt. But you? It just sounds like a threat.”

Discouraged, Ye Yin grabbed her coat and slouched out of Spring Snow. Just then, Zhiqiu returned and, seeing her dejected state, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Uncle Ou must be a level ten taunt ability user,” Ye Yin said. “If he played that online game, he’d be the perfect tank—drawing all the fire and taunting everyone in sight.”

Zhiqiu laughed. “Don’t take everything he says to heart. Just pick out what you like.”

“Has he ever said anything I’d like to hear? I wish he’d at least say, ‘Yin Yin, you’re so good, I’ll take you to headquarters right away.’ Even if he repeated afterward that I look like a man a hundred times, I could tolerate it.”

“Do you really want to go?”

“Do you have a way?”

“Yes,” Zhiqiu replied. “But I have a condition.”

“What is it?”

“I haven’t thought of it yet. I’ll tell you when I do, how about that?”

“No problem.” Knowing Zhiqiu’s personality, she doubted he would ask anything outrageous.

“Then it’s settled.” Zhiqiu smiled warmly.

“I won’t go back on my word.”

Late that night, Ye Yin snuck out of the base and climbed to the mountaintop Zhiqiu had told her about, furtively glancing around like a thief. After half an hour, with still no sign of Zhiqiu, she began to worry that something might have happened to him. With his teleportation skills, there shouldn’t have been any travel delays.

“Little one, you’re really here.” A familiar voice came from behind. Ye Yin turned to see Zhuo Chenglan—no, Zhuo Zhelian—approaching in military uniform.

She had once thought it would be impossible to distinguish the Zhuo brothers when dressed alike, but now realized she was wrong. Though they had identical figures and faces, Zhuo Zhelian managed to wear the stern uniform with an air of casual insouciance, like a poppy in the moonlight—both alluring and dangerous. Under the moon, he seemed insubstantial, as if a breeze could blow him away.

“Why are you here? Where’s Zhiqiu?”

“How tragic…” Zhuo Zhelian looked troubled. “Are you saying you prefer that guy over me?”

“Now’s not the time for jokes,” Ye Yin protested, genuinely perplexed. “Don’t tell me you’re a spatial ability user too?”

“No,” Zhuo Zhelian shook his head, “but I can pilot a helicopter.”

Ye Yin didn’t ask why Zhiqiu had entrusted Zhuo Zhelian to take her to the First Army District base. The outcome was the same, regardless of the process.

Zhuo Zhelian was charming and witty, unlike his stone-faced brother. A single gesture or glance from him could lift anyone’s spirits and make them laugh, so long as he wished to.

“How long will you stay at the First Base this time?” Zhuo Zhelian was in good spirits. “The Old Man has heard about you for ages and always wanted to meet you.”

“Heard? From whom?” Ye Yin was wary.

“My brother,” Zhuo Zhelian smiled. “He said you saved his life at great risk. And it’s true, isn’t it?”

Ye Yin replied vaguely, “If you insist. By the way, don’t tell your father I’m here this time.”

“Too late, I’m afraid. I sent a telegram before we left.”

“…”

They arrived at First Base before dawn, but Commander Zhuo was already prepared. As soon as they landed, Zhuo Zhelian half-coaxed, half-dragged Ye Yin into a lavish-looking building. The moment she stepped inside, Ye Yin was petrified.

She and Situ Fei had once mocked Qiao Xinran’s extravagant welcome banquets, but now, the tables had turned—she was the guest of honor at one herself. Her feelings were impossibly complicated.

A splendid, luxurious restaurant; waiters in tailcoats gliding about with trays; a crowd of elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies, fine wines, gourmet dishes, and a live orchestra…

Zhuo Zhelian, all smiles, offered his arm for Ye Yin to take and led her confidently to the center of the banquet hall, where a man in his fifties, resplendent in a commander’s uniform and surrounded by admirers, awaited.

Zhuo Zhelian’s military attire suited the occasion, but Ye Yin’s outfit was woefully out of place. Sweat poured down her face, and she dared not lift her head.

A navy blue waterproof coat that reached her knees, pale jeans, canvas shoes decorated with three-leaf clovers, and her hair haphazardly tied up—a stark contrast to the elegant women around her.

A young woman standing beside the commander couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

Ye Yin sneaked a glance. The girl wore a white strapless mini-dress, her softly curled, seaweed-like hair styled into a side chignon, her makeup flawless and sweet—outclassing Ye Yin by far.

Ye Yin looked away and sighed gloomily.

Could she curse out loud? If not, she really had nothing more to say…