Chapter 56.1: Loyal Dog Wu Zhi
“No, no, wait—that’s not it—Shen Ping’an isn’t like that,” Du Yaoyuan’s head swung back and forth between Wu Heng and Shen Ping’an. “How come your abilities are the same?”
Wu Heng clearly couldn’t be bothered to respond to Du Yaoyuan.
Shen Ping’an answered on his own, “They’re not the same. He’s stronger than me.”
There was no way a derivative born from a branch could be stronger than its source. His power, his everything—even his very life—came from Wu Heng.
When the vines had burst up from the ground, Shen Ping’an immediately knew it was Wu Heng’s doing.
Not only because his own output wasn’t nearly that strong, but also because whenever the source’s energy fluctuated, the energy within the offspring inevitably rippled in response.
Before this, he had almost never sensed any fluctuation from the source. He’d assumed there was no direct power connection between him and Wu Heng.
But reality proved otherwise. Not only did that direct link exist—he could even faintly sense within it a kind of tether, a pull of control.
He couldn’t resist the source. He couldn’t disobey Wu Heng.
“Stronger than you?!” Du Yaoyuan’s eyes widened. He could hardly believe it—Wu Heng was stronger than Shen Ping’an? Shen Ping’an was already terrifying enough.
Shen Ping’an gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. “To be precise, everything I have comes from Wu Heng. It was all given to me by him.”
Du Yaoyuan tried to speak but nearly bit his own tongue.
“Then earlier he…”
“I don’t know the reason either,” Shen Ping’an said.
Du Yaoyuan had nothing to say after that. Silently, he climbed up from the ground, took a turn around the first floor, and asked, “How are we supposed to treat the wounds?”
Wu Heng left the noise behind and walked into the room on the first floor where Wu Zhi and Ruan Silian were.
Ruan Silian sat by the bed, clutching Wu Zhi’s hand tightly. When she saw Wu Heng’s figure appear in the doorway, she hurriedly said,
“Wu Heng, Xiao Zhi’s not doing well—she says her head hurts.”
The little girl’s hair was in disarray, the blanket had been kicked entirely to the floor, and her clothes were rumpled into a mess. Her face was deathly pale, and sweat streamed down her temples in large drops. Her eyes were tightly shut, and she had dug several bloody crescents into Ruan Silian’s hand.
“You go rest. I’ll stay with her.”
Wu Heng sat down on a stool. Unlike Ruan Silian, he didn’t try to soothe her with gentle words. He leaned back against the cold wall, the window beside him showing only a stark, wintry white outside.
Wu Zhi trembled all over from the pain. The bedsheet beneath her was soaked through with sweat.
Her neck flushed red, and veins bulged across her forehead—one could almost see the blood pulsing furiously beneath her skin.
“Brother…” she turned her head weakly from the pillow, forcing open her eyes. The two syllables escaped through clenched teeth with difficulty.
Wu Heng looked at her quietly. “You’ll be fine.”
Their gazes met in the dim room. Wu Heng’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Wu Zhi closed hers again.
She had never suffered much since she was little. Even when the neighborhood kids teased her, her parents would take her by the hand that same evening to demand justice on her behalf. Her upbringing had been nothing like her brother’s—her childhood was happy and carefree, full of laughter. Her parents loved her, doted on her, gave her the best of everything. And even if her brother didn’t seem to like her, he still treated her well.
Even if he saw her as a little dog—so what? Her brother liked dogs. That meant he liked her too. After all, he never treated anyone else like his little dog.
The searing pain coursed through every nerve in her body. She tried again and again to suppress it, but the shrill, piercing screams still broke loose uncontrollably, echoing through the entire house.
Wu Heng crossed one leg over the other. His eyes lowered slightly—just like before, he was merely an observer.
Wu Zhi had collapsed forward onto the bed, her face drenched in sweat. She couldn’t even tell whether what flooded into her eyes was sweat or tears. With a choked sob, she whispered,
“Brother, my head hurts so much.”
“My head hurts…”
“Brother.”
“It hurts.”
“Mom.”
“Mom, help me—it hurts so much.”
Wu Zhi heard her own voice mingling with her brother’s—both crying, both begging for mercy—until, at last, his voice began to overpower hers. The tear-streaked face marked with handprints gradually replaced the cold, expressionless one that loomed above her.
“Xiao Zhi,” her mother said as she straightened the girl’s clothes and gently stroked her hair, “you don’t need to be too good to your brother. Just a little kindness is enough. When you’re too good to someone, your kindness loses its worth.”
“Your brother loves you,” her mother continued softly, “but I need to make sure he only loves you.”
Wu Zhi heard her own small voice say, “Mom, can you make Dad stop hitting Brother from now on? He’s so pitiful.”
Her mother smiled—a strained, bitter expression. “Mom loves you, and Mom loves your brother too. So does Dad. That’s why Dad is just teaching him. Don’t worry—your brother’s a boy. He won’t break.”
Wu Zhi clutched the monkey plush her brother had given her. She stood not far behind him, watching as their father’s hand struck his face again and again, until one side of his cheek swelled like a steamed bun.
Sometimes it was a slap, other times the folded belt—crack, crack.
Her father was a gentle man—but when it came to hitting her brother, he never held back.
He would press her brother’s head to the floor, forcing him to say to her, respectfully and clearly, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you, Wu Zhi. You’re the one I love most in the whole world.”
Every moment of weakness and humiliation her brother—whom she once saw as a god—had ever shown was born because of her.
She didn’t know when the nerve pain had begun, but it was like something had dug up all the buried memories, turning them inside out—forcing her to face what she had ignored, or rather, what she had been too afraid to face.
When she opened her eyes again, she met Wu Heng’s gaze. Startled, she squeezed them shut at once.
A chill crept in. The screams that tore from her throat now had little to do with the pain.
She was about to lose her brother. Losing him meant losing everything. It felt like death itself.
Through the cracks of her fingers, she glimpsed her brother’s detached eyes—two bottomless, pitch-black abysses. Inside those abysses lay the corpse of his younger self, marred and bruised all over.
Wu Zhi collapsed to the floor, clutching her head, screaming like she’d gone mad.
It wasn’t until Du Yaoyuan burst in, dragging Dr. Chen behind him, that the chaos broke. “Hurry, hurry—have him take a look at Wu Zhi! After that, I’ve gotta send him out right away. If the villagers find out we brought a zombie in here, they’ll drown us all in the pond!!”
“Where’s the patient?” Dr. Chen straightened his clothes and turned back to ask.
Wu Heng sighed, moved to the other side of the bed, and helped Wu Zhi up. Her face was streaked with sweat and tears.
Up close, he could see that most of the liquid on her face wasn’t sweat—it was tears.
“What are you crying for? Sit up. Dr. Chen’s here.” His tone was gentle, but Wu Zhi’s face was filled with terror.
Dr. Chen stepped closer.
Wu Zhi’s body went rigid. The moment before Chen Meng could touch her, she suddenly leapt up—onto the bed.
“I don’t want to! Brother, I don’t want to! I don’t hurt anymore!”
The pain really was gone—completely gone. The sudden surge of nerve agony had vanished without a trace, and everything had returned to normal.
Everything except her.
“Hey, you—!” Du Yaoyuan stood with his hands on his hips. “Get down here right now.”
“I don’t want to see a doctor, I don’t want to!” Wu Zhi was on the verge of breaking down. With a thud, she dropped to her knees on the bed. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, it really doesn’t! I don’t want a doctor—Brother, please, I’m begging you, I don’t want to see the doctor…”
Something faint brushed against her ear.
Before she could react, a set of agile vines whipped out, binding her wrists and ankles, pinning her flat against the bed.
Wu Heng said evenly, “Check her. Look into that headache just now—and while you’re at it, see if there’s anything left to fix in her head.”
“I don’t want to!!” Wu Zhi thrashed desperately, her limbs straining against the smooth vines. They didn’t cut into her skin, but they held her fast—no escape possible.
Terror and despair flooded her, drowning her whole body. Tearfully, she looked at Wu Heng standing at the foot of the bed.
“Brother, please, I’m begging you—don’t let him touch me. Don’t let him look at my head. My head’s broken—it’s broken—it can’t be fixed anymore.”
Chen Meng bent down, baffled by the girl’s hysteria. Sure, he was a zombie—people tended to fear that—but not to this extent. It wasn’t like she’d never seen one before.
Besides, he’d spent most of the day in the vehicle cleaning off the yellow pus and rotten flesh from his face. At this point, even thrown into a pile of corpses, he’d look practically fresh.
“Kid,” he said lightly, “avoiding treatment isn’t a good habit, you know.”
Wu Zhi cried as she spat at him.
“Don’t touch me—get away!” she screamed, her voice raw.
But Chen Meng’s palm still pressed against her forehead.
A few seconds after skin met skin, a faint yellow glow began to spread from his hand, thin and shimmering like a film of light.
Chen Meng tilted his head, leaning closer toward Wu Zhi. Silent tears streamed down her face in a steady flood.
After a few minutes, Chen Meng withdrew his hand. He glanced at Wu Heng and said,
“The patient’s fine now. But there was a preexisting issue—some congenital underdevelopment in the brain.”
Wu Heng caught on immediately. “Was?”
Wu Zhi’s voice was ruined from screaming; her face had gone ashen. The veins across her body throbbed as though they were about to burst open.
Chen Meng, still dutiful in his role as a doctor, replied evenly, “Yes. But it’s healed. Everything’s now consistent with the normal developmental level of a fourteen-year-old’s brain.”
He paused, then added, “Also, it seems the patient has awakened an ability—fire-based. For the specifics, you’ll have to ask her yourselves.”
“I don’t!” Wu Zhi jerked up her head and rasped hoarsely, fury burning in her raw voice. “I’m not healed, and I don’t have any ability!”
“Brother, he’s lying—don’t believe him!”
Wu Heng walked up to the bed. “We’ll see whether he’s lying or not. A simple check will tell.”
Wu Zhi looked up at him, eyes full of pleading.
But Wu Heng didn’t hesitate. He placed his palm over her heart.
A few moments later, he slowly withdrew his hand, and the vines binding Wu Zhi’s limbs slipped away and retracted into nothing.
Seeing that the situation had calmed down, Du Yaoyuan immediately grabbed Chen Meng and started dragging him out.
“You haven’t paid me yet,” Chen Meng protested. “And I’m hungry.”
“What’s the rush? You’ll get it later,” Du Yaoyuan said, pulling him along.
Now, only the siblings remained in the room. Wu Heng stepped back and sat on the windowsill. He gazed quietly at the girl lying on the bed opposite him, his expression unreadable, his emotions tangled and unsettled in a rare way.
wow.