Eaten Ch.64.1

Chapter 64.1: No matter who died, he wouldn’t shed a single tear

Wu Heng wasn’t trying to take revenge.

Revenge carries the weight of hatred toward one’s enemy—but he had none.

He simply didn’t want to die.

If Shang Moli hadn’t come to him first, then even knowing she was the one who killed Du Yaoyuan, he still wouldn’t have taken the initiative to end her life.

But seeing how serious, how utterly hysterical she was, Wu Heng still didn’t kill her right away. Instead, he used Poppy to bind her tightly from head to toe.

Poppy had many little quirks—it turned into vine strands as fine as hair, burrowing into the thick fur of the alpha wolf, carefully drinking the fresh, warm blood beneath.

Wu Heng paid it no mind. The vines at his feet thickened to the size of tree trunks, wrapping him up in an instant—and both he and the vines vanished.

At that moment, Chen Meng was rolling around in the car, starving.

Knock, knock.

Wu Heng appeared outside the car without a sound and raised his hand to tap the window.

Chen Meng jerked upright and rolled the window down, shouting, “I’m hungry! No checkups until I eat!”

Wu Heng blinked at the outburst. “Dinner’s ready.”

Whoosh—

The window slammed shut. Chen Meng got out of the car, his half-intact but pallid face suddenly solemn. “Healing and saving lives is my sacred duty. Food—no, I mean, where’s the patient?”

After returning to the village, Wu Heng put away the cage. Wu Zhi immediately rushed over, eyes brimming with tears, and threw her arms around him. “Brother…”

Chen Meng looked at the crowd on the ground, puzzled.

…Were they about to eat someone? This human, Wu Heng, was somehow even more terrifying than a zombie like him.

Well then, no need to hold back. Thinking that, Chen Meng’s pupils began to glow with a feral, bloodthirsty red.

Just then, Ruan Silian scrambled up from the ground and looked at him respectfully. “Doctor Chen, please help them! They’re injured.”

Chen Meng’s eyes cleared at once.

The villagers, upon seeing a zombie—even one in a white lab coat—were terrified out of their wits.

As the foul-smelling undead face leaned close, their entire bodies trembled; even with their jaws clenched shut, their teeth still chattered uncontrollably.

After carefully examining the woman, Chen Meng placed his palm against her chest—right between her breasts. A gentle warmth flowed out from his hand, and soon, a thin, long golden needle appeared between his fingers.

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching too closely, then, with an air of solemn professionalism—licked it.

Only after licking off every trace of blood did he speak, voice grave and steady:

“Can’t save her.”

Ji Zhelan supported the woman and asked in disbelief, “What do you mean you can’t? You—”

“I’m a doctor, not a god. Can we stop glorifying my profession?” Chen Meng tossed the needle aside carelessly. Then, after pulling out the rest of the long needles embedded in the woman’s body, he straightened up and said, “Her internal organs have already started turning to metal. My ability level’s too low. I can’t treat something this advanced.”

“How can that be?” Ruan Silian caught the woman as she slumped to the ground, horrified.

The woman’s breath was already faint. When Ruan Silian called out “Auntie,” she forced her eyes open with great effort.

Chen Meng continued extracting the long needles buried in the bodies of the other villagers. Every single one of them was in the same condition—barely hanging on, with only a few minutes left to live.

“I’m sorry,” Chen Meng said quietly. “In cases like this, please… accept my condolences.”

He could only dull their pain before death. To reverse metallization, though—he was powerless.

“I’ve long stopped wanting to live,” the dying woman murmured, strangely calm. She lifted her eyes to the night sky and gave a faint, relieved smile. “My whole family’s gone. I knew… my turn would come soon enough.”

Her son and daughter-in-law, her grandchildren—and her daughter and grandson, who’d called her that day with slurred voices, barely alive—none of them were left.

Since that day, she’d lived like a wandering ghost.

Now, if her death could save the lives of two young girls—then perhaps, just this once, she had won against fate.

Her eyes turned toward the few little children standing behind Ruan Silian in the village. Hot tears rolled down her face.

They were still so young.

How would they live on after this?

Her lips moved soundlessly—her face pale as ash—until even her voice was gone.

Ruan Silian turned in panic toward the old village chief and Uncle Zhao.

Their condition was little better than the dying aunt’s. The old chief leaned weakly against the arms of the middle-aged man behind him, his gaze unfocused.

The metallization had robbed them of speech, but Ruan Silian could still read everything they wanted to say in their eyes.

She averted her gaze from their pleading looks and lowered her head apologetically.

“The road ahead is long and dangerous. I’m afraid… we can’t take the rest of the villagers with us. And I don’t have the right to decide for everyone.”

The old chief exhaled a few ragged breaths and nodded with great effort, showing that he understood.

Ruan Silian’s eyes shifted toward the group of children standing dazed nearby, their faces streaked with tears.

Their dark eyes shone all the more brightly after being washed clean by weeping—still filled with fear, yes, but also with a faint, unextinguished curiosity and hope for the world.

In her arms, the woman had gone still—Ruan Silian didn’t know when her breath had stopped. She stared blankly for a moment, trembling fingers brushing the strands of messy hair from the woman’s face.

The woman was about her parents’ age. And just like them, the thing she had held onto until the very end was the same—the wish to live, and the even stronger wish that the ones she loved might go on living.

When love and death appear together, the sight is the most stirring thing of all.

Tears streamed silently down Ruan Silian’s cheeks. She bent forward and held the woman’s cold, lifeless body tightly in her arms—as though clinging to the parents she had once tried, and failed, to save.

Her whole body was trembling with chill and grief, but in the depths of her heart she made a vow:

She would live.

Even if it meant crawling like an ant.

Even if it meant surviving by chance alone.

Through her tear-blurred vision, Ruan Silian caught a final glimpse of the boy, the girl, and the zombie in the white lab coat walking away.

Among the massive corpses of mutant wolves, the zombie was half-buried in flesh, devouring greedily. The interwoven red-and-green vines spread through the carcasses like a nest of giant pythons.

The girl holding the filthy stuffed monkey had a pale, delicate profile. There was no fear of the apocalypse in her eyes—because she leaned on her brother, who sheltered her from hunger and death alike.

Her entire heart and soul depended on him.

Dependence is the most fragile of things—unless the one you depend on is named Wu Heng.

Wu Heng drew his knife and moved among the mountain of wolf corpses, skinning them one by one.

There were dozens of them in total—about as many as Zhao Mingxiang had said—and every single wolf was massive.

He wasn’t very skilled at butchering; what should have been a cleanly sliced haunch of meat turned into something like a shredded flower, tendons and muscles scattered everywhere. The sight made his brow furrow in pain. He decided he’d leave this part for Shen She to handle later.

“Brother…” Wu Zhi stepped carefully through the pool of blood, still clinging close to him.

Wu Heng tossed the peeled hides aside, onto a dry, clean spot. They’d make fine blankets or coats later.

“You’re hurt,” Wu Zhi whispered. “You should let Doctor Chen treat you first.”

Wu Heng replied simply, “No rush.”

Doctor Chen, nearby, agreed there was no need to hurry—it wasn’t a fatal wound, after all. Let the boy eat first.

Poppy seemed to share the same opinion. It lay sprawled on the ground, feeding contentedly, hollowing out each mutant wolf’s abdomen until not a single drop remained; even the blood on the ground was slurped up clean.

Wu Heng sawed off a wolf’s leg.

Not far away, Xie Chongyi’s form came together out of the air—and what met his eyes was this:

A blood-soaked boy, his face and neck painted red, surrounded by endless white snow. Beneath him rose a hill of gray wolf pelts. He was crouched down, cheeks puffed full, chewing in slow, deliberate bites. His gaze swept calmly across the battlefield—like a young warrior conducting the final inspection of his slaughtered domain.

Then Wu Heng’s and Xie Chongyi’s eyes met.

There was nothing between them—no veil, no shadow. The boy’s pupils, uncovered and unguarded, were like two black planets devoid of life. No air. No water. Only the bare, unyielding terrain of stone.

Wu Heng’s round, bulging cheeks froze for a heartbeat—then resumed chewing, slow and methodical, bite by bite.

He should be fine now—at least, he looked fine.

Just as Wu Heng swallowed his last bite, Xie Chongyi turned around. Before Shang Moli could even finish drawing a breath, his figure appeared abruptly before her eyes.

Shang Moli lifted her head to face him. “I—ugh—”

She had just opened her mouth to negotiate when a hand closed around her throat.

Her pupils widened in disbelief. She had thought the boy’s behavior earlier was already incomprehensible—but this man…

“I don’t understand why he didn’t just kill you,” Xie Chongyi said softly, fingers tightening. Beneath his dense lashes flickered the faintest trace of a smile. “By his nature, you should’ve already been processed into his digestive system.”

“Or did you think that by coaxing him not to kill you, I wouldn’t?”

Shang Moli’s body began to metallize involuntarily. Her eyes rolled upward, eyeballs bulging as if they’d burst from their sockets—but Xie Chongyi never stopped tightening his grip.

Crack—

His fingers loosened.

Wu Heng, by then, was nearly done eating—and nearly full.

A headless corpse landed at his feet with a heavy thud.

Xie Chongyi looked down at the boy, smile bright and pleasant. “Eat more. Don’t go hungry.”

More than half an hour later, the rest of the group finally arrived at what was once the village—now leveled to the ground.

Lin Mengzhi called out frantically, searching for Wu Heng’s figure, terrified that the wolves had torn him apart. When he finally spotted him, he rushed forward and pulled him into a tight hug.

“You scared me half to death!!!”

Wu Zhi sniffled. “Mengzhi—what about me?”

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