Eaten Ch.79

Chapter 79: Disobedient Poppy

The conference room had returned to normal, and there was no longer any trace of anything unusual on the ceiling.

But Zheng Xi didn’t dare let his guard down. He grabbed a guard and threw him onto a side sofa, pressed his palm against the wall, and a surge of blue electricity erupted from his hand. The entire wall began to faintly flicker with blue light. The current spread outward, instantly coursing through the whole building.

However, a hesitant voice rang out behind Zheng Xi: “I thought walls like this would be insulators.”

The sudden voice made Zheng Xi’s heart race. His ability reacted instinctively, and without thinking, he raised his fist and struck toward the source.

Wu Heng leapt backward, landing on the conference table. The vines intercepted the electrified punch.

The moment they made contact, an electric current traveled along the vines and coursed through Wu Heng’s entire body. His eyes flickered slightly blue. Tingling, tingling, tingling!

After retracting the vines, Wu Heng squatted on the windowsill, quietly watching the young man in front of him, and finally spoke: “What are you doing?”

“?” Zheng Xi’s face filled with confusion. He could tell this was trouble, but what exactly was the other person’s intention?

“Weren’t you the one who called me here?”

“What?” Zheng Xi was even more bewildered. He didn’t even know this person.

Wu Heng lowered his eyes and spoke slowly, “The guards at your base said I killed someone.”

Zheng Xi froze for a moment, then realized who this person was. But once he understood, the network of thoughts in his mind completely collapsed.

What does this mean? The murderer came looking for him.

“So… you’re turning yourself in?” Zheng Xi asked, glancing at the guard who was gradually waking up from being frightened on the chair.

Wu Heng saw the guard sneak out through the gap in the door. He didn’t stop him. Instead, he looked at Zheng Xi and said, “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You had a conflict with Team 1. Although the conflict was started by Team 1, you were the one who struck first. Team 1 didn’t fight back. After finishing their meal and returning to the shared dorm, one of them suddenly went berserk, twitching uncontrollably…” At the time of the incident, Zheng Xi had not witnessed it firsthand.

After the incident, when several members of Team 1 carried their captain’s corpse to the open area in front of the control center building, the scene had not changed. Soft, blue-green vines bloomed from the man’s mouth, tiny shoots trembling as they extended outward.

Zheng Xi first reached out to burn them. They had life—escaping from the corpse only to retreat back inside it. Zheng Xi pulled open the corpse’s shirt. The skin on the left chest was as thin as cicada wings. The energy core, about the size of a slightly larger peanut, was attached at the base of the vine. Clearly, the vine’s nourishment came directly from the corpse’s energy core—or rather, it had forcibly grown into the corpse’s heart and was feeding on its energy.

Zheng Xi used a knife to carve out the captain’s heart and extracted the energy core, still wrapped with several vines. He wrapped it in cloth and asked Team 1 to take it to its rightful owner.

Now, the owner of the vines stood right before him. Zheng Xi had just seen the same type of vine scatter from the other person’s body—identical to those in the captain, but far, far more powerful than the small cluster inside the corpse.

The most troublesome thing about plants is how they grow wildly across the ground and expand endlessly below it. They draw energy from all directions—soil, decayed leaves, rotting animal corpses, all usable by them. And this was only the plants before the apocalypse.

After the apocalypse, although many plants were affected, only a few truly mutated into abnormal species.

Even if leaves or vines existed, one still had to be extremely cautious. People could be reasoned with, animals could be tamed or suppressed, but plants—unless uprooted completely—had to be constantly pruned and monitored.

To date, they had yet to encounter truly mutated plants, either inside or outside the base.

And this boy before him—was he human, or a plant? How could a plant possibly become human?

“I didn’t kill him,” Wu Heng said with certainty. He raised his hand, serious and composed. “I can swear it.”

Zheng Xi opened his mouth, feeling that the other person was deliberately trying to disgust him—like a murderer holding a blood-stained knife and proclaiming his innocence.

But…

He hadn’t really cared who had killed the captain of Team 1. The base needed more valuable people, and humanity itself did too.

“I believe you,” Zheng Xi exhaled and gave a faint smile. “Come down and sit first.”

“Just like that, you believe him?!” a sharp voice rang through the conference room. The door was knocked open by an elderly man with graying hair using a cane.

Ye Zongran stepped inside, his gaze shifting back and forth between the boy and Zheng Xi. Dark clouds shadowed his face. “According to base law, anyone who kills without cause is subject to long-term detention or the death penalty, depending on the circumstances.”

Wu Heng noticed that although the old man looked thin and frail, his spirit was vigorous. The way he spoke with absolute certainty and utter nonsense reminded him involuntarily of Lin Mengzhi’s grandmother.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Wu Heng repeated the words he had just told Zheng Xi.

Ye Zongran raised his cane and pointed at him. “Save your strength for the base court to decide.”

“The Meili Base has a court for a few hundred people?” Wu Heng asked, puzzled, showing no hint of worry about his own situation.

Zheng Xi’s face stiffened. “The Meili Base was originally just a small town with a population of under 30,000. After the apocalypse, the population dropped sharply. Many of the survivors in the base now came from other places.”

“Why are you telling him all that?” Ye Zongran scowled, pacing a few steps to the left and right. His withered body suddenly froze, and he fixed his gaze on the person sitting on the windowsill. “Are you an adult?”

Wu Heng shook his head.

“Not an adult?” Ye Zongran shouted. “Where are your parents?”

“Dead.”

Hearing this, Zheng Xi’s expression did not change. In the current world, a family with all members intact was rare; missing either parent—or even both—was the norm.

But Ye Zongran was different. He had not forgotten his identity as a teacher.

Even though he spent most of his later years guiding doctoral students, it did not stop him from showing care to younger children.

But that brief moment of sympathy quickly turned into something even more terrifying—anger. He slammed his cane hard against the floor. “A so‑called strong person is defined by virtue, not by power!”

“Elder Ye, now isn’t the time for this…” Zheng Xi pulled a chair out, wanting the old man to sit down before he worked himself into a faint.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning,” Ye Zongran jabbed his cane toward Zheng Xi’s nose. “You’re trying to shield him.”

Wu Heng looked toward Zheng Xi. Why would he need to shield him?

Zheng Xi glanced at Wu Heng. Judging by how tightly the boy’s jaw was clenched, he must have bitten down hard before managing to say, in a low voice, “Elder Ye, it’s not that I want to cover for him. It’s that every human life is hard‑won now. The dead are already gone—do we really want to lose two of our own at once?”

Bitterness filled his throat. “We’ve already lost too many companions. The safety of the base hangs by a thread. You can uphold your rules—I won’t object. You’re right: no matter what, we must not lose our bottom line.”

The young man looked toward the window, the moon outside a blurred pale disc. “Do you want me to deal with him now?”

The old man’s back sagged instantly. He leaned on his cane to steady his frail upper body. On the ground, the moonlight stretched the boy’s shadow from the windowsill all the way to the old man’s feet.

His thin fingers tightened. At this moment, he desperately wanted to comfort himself with a lie like “I’m just too old to keep up with the times,” but the reality was far harsher than merely falling behind. When morality and law were forced to give way to raw ability, the civilization humanity built was quietly being devoured by barbarity. Humanity itself was on the verge of disappearing.

“Sorry,” Wu Heng spoke up when the atmosphere grew too heavy. As the two turned their heads toward him, he gave a faint smile. “I just said I didn’t kill anyone. Why are you two debating whether you should execute me?”

He rarely met anyone even more unreasonable than Xie Chongyi.

Ye Zongran jumped up like an old grasshopper. “Look at him! Look at him! No remorse at all—”

Zheng Xi’s head throbbed. He grabbed Ye Zongran and looked at Wu Heng. “Do you mind if we lock you up for now?”

“I don’t really mind.”

Zheng Xi looked back. “Someone come.”

Wu Heng hopped down from the windowsill. Zheng Xi, supporting Ye Zongran, instinctively took a step back. Wu Heng didn’t spare either of them a glance. He walked straight toward the guard who had just pushed the door open.

The guard froze when he saw the boy approaching—this was the same boy who had slapped him across the face on the bus that afternoon.

Zheng Xi knew nothing about the grudge between them. He simply instructed, “Take him to the basement and lock him up for now—and be polite.”

Hearing the words of the base leader, the guard froze again.

Lock him up and be polite… those two terms didn’t seem very compatible.

But he was a quiet man, not the type to question his superiors. He silently turned around, waited until the boy followed, then headed out.

Wu Heng walked behind him at a leisurely pace. He didn’t recognize the guard at all—he simply assumed that relations among base personnel were mediocre at best, and perhaps they slapped each other in private.

—

Clang—

As soon as Wu Heng stepped into the base prison cell, the iron door was slammed shut.

Wu You stood outside, silently locking three separate locks. After checking their sturdiness one by one, he lifted his eyes to the dim interior. “Meals are delivered three times a day. Water three times. Use the bucket in the corner for… everything else.”

Wu Heng sat quietly on the wooden bed. “Alright.”

His calmness—plus the fact that he clearly didn’t even recognize the person he had slapped—sent a surge of anger through Wu You. He let out a cold snort. “You just forget the things you do that easily?”

“No,” Wu Heng replied, assuming the guard was referring to the incident where he had cut open a guard captain’s stomach outside the barbecue shop.

Wu You hooked the prison keys onto his belt. “Good. Don’t forget.”

The prison was two rows of tiny, matchbox‑like rooms with a corridor in the middle leading to the stairs up to the first floor. As the guard walked through the corridor, several whistles sounded.

“Captain Wu, got a newcomer? What’d he do? Tell us so we can have some fun—I’m dying of boredom here.”

“Captain Wu, give us a smile! C’mon—say cheese—”

A flash of white light appeared, and a blade shot out from the prison. Wu You caught it barehanded and tossed it to the ground. “I told you, don’t play these little tricks in front of me.”

“Just playing a bit, it’s boring,” came the reply.

After Wu You left, the criminals in nearby cells started shouting to the newcomer across several rooms, “Come on, come play with us!”

Wu Heng didn’t react. He was focused on one thought: why, if he hadn’t killed that captain, did the man still die? And the plant that appeared in the corpse—yes, it was indeed a poppy. So the base personnel assuming he killed the captain wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

But he couldn’t figure out why. Even parasitic strangulation would require the poppy to obey him—unless the poppies were acting on their own initiative.

Sighing, Wu Heng focused his gaze and finally noticed three figures who had somehow appeared in front of him.

A tall, thin man, like a stick insect, pressed his forehead against the prison door. “Called you and you didn’t hear?”

A short man, squat as a stool, looked ferocious but spoke in a surprisingly sweet voice, “My throat’s gone hoarse from shouting!”

The one in the lead looked like a normal person. “What did you do to get locked up here?”

“Killing.” Wu Heng sat in the shadows, amused that the prisoners could wander around inside the prison.

“You? Killing? The toothless old zombie granny, or a little zombie crying in a stroller?” The tall thin man laughed heartily. As he waved his hands, he looked even more like a stick insect.

“Why are you talking nonsense? Killing zombies isn’t a crime. That stinking bitch Zheng Xi would be thrilled if you killed one.” The squat man snorted coldly, a look of utter disdain on his face.

“Don’t swear,” the normal-looking man frowned. Wu Heng then noticed a several-centimeter-long scar at the outer edge of his eyebrow, curling like a centipede.

“Come on, tell us! What exactly did you do to end up here?” the squat man pressed, his breath so foul that Wu Heng could smell it from several meters away.

“Killed someone from the Guard Team.” Wu Heng repeated, this time stating the identity of the victim.

“Ah—so you really did kill someone~” The stool man covered his mouth. “Oh dok, oh dok?!”

Wu Heng was curious. “What about you guys?”

The stick insect rolled his eyes. “While scavenging for supplies outside, we ran into a group and got into a fight. I killed all of them, and then I got locked up. That old undead geezer Ye Zongran—at a time like this he’s still talking about humanity and morality? Half his body’s already in the grave, and he still wants to control everything.”

The stool man said, “A few slutty chicks tried to steal my man. The chicks were slutty, but the man was even worse. I tricked all of them into going to feed the beasts. It should’ve been foolproof, but bad luck—someone in the Guard Team has an ability that lets them locate everyone. When they saw those people running all over the mountains in the middle of the night instead of coming back to base, it eventually led back to me.”

The scarred man said, “I was framed.”

Two seconds passed before he suddenly reacted violently. He grabbed the prison bars with both hands and shook them hard. “I was framed! Ahhhh!! I was framed!!!”

Wu Heng stared at him blankly.

“Come out and play, come out and play. There’s four of us—we can ask Wu You to get someone to bring us a mahjong set so we can play a few rounds.”

“I don’t know how.”

“If you don’t know mahjong, we can jump rope!” The stool man enthusiastically promoted the stick insect. “His body can stretch and contract freely. When he stretches out, it even has elasticity—perfect for jump rope!”

Wu Heng: “I see…”

Why didn’t anyone in his own team have an ability like that?

But that wasn’t the main point. He wasn’t here to play. “Normally, where does your base store the corpses?”

The three men were stunned, not understanding. Wu Heng muttered to himself, “Forget it. I should be able to find him on my own.”

“You’re not gonna play with us?” The stool man blinked rapidly. His waxy-yellow face and waxy-yellow eyes stared straight at the boy. Seeing Wu Heng unmoved, he even threw him a wink.

“You’re ugly,” Wu Heng said calmly.

“What? Who’s ugly?” The stool man was incredulous, cupping his own face with both hands.

“You,” the stick insect emphasized, lowering his head.

The two immediately started wrestling in front of Wu Heng. As the stool man had said, the stick insect could freely stretch and contract his body. He wrapped around the stool man like a strip of cloth. But the stool man was clearly no ordinary human either. His arms broke free, muscles bulging as if inflated, and he swung a round blow straight at the stick insect’s forehead.

The stick insect’s head bounced forward and back like it had a spring inside. Its tongue suddenly shot out, licking the stool man’s face from bottom to top. The stool man’s face went wet and flushed, the muscles in his face swelling. He cursed, “Slut!” and started pounding the stick insect’s head with wild fury. The stick insect’s head squeaked and squealed in response.

Wu Heng didn’t bother watching the scene to the end. Green shoots began appearing on the wooden floor beneath him. They crawled upward, soft and entwining, climbing along his thighs, waist, back, and shoulders.

“What’s that?!” The scarred man shouted.

“Hey, monster! Aren’t you running?!” The stool man assumed the boy had no ability to escape. He heaved with all his strength and tore a section of the prison door off. “Get out here!”

By now, the vines had completely enveloped Wu Heng, and he simply vanished from the prison.

“What is this? What the hell is this?” The stool man still clutched a piece of the door. “What is it? My meal’s gone? My butt itches like crazy!”

“Idiot, that’s his ability. What’s gone? He ran away.” The stick insect kicked the stool man in the rear. “Still itching?”

The scarred man appeared much calmer. “This kid isn’t simple.”

“How can you tell?”

Scarred man: “When have you ever seen Wu You deliver someone into the prison?”

…

The morgue was in the control center. Moss had already grown along the walls, rippling like waves. A long-fingered hand suddenly emerged from the wall, the vines tearing open a gap. Its shadow twisted on the floor like a ghostly figure. Wu Heng stepped out from inside.

But halfway out of the wall, Wu Heng’s gaze froze. He turned his head, not quite knowing what he was looking at, yet he was speaking silently to the poppies: “Not here.”

This was just an abandoned room, filled with moldy debris. The air was thick with a foul, musty smell, and patches of mold clustered in damp corners into small grayish-white mounds.

Sensing the presence of a living being, the mold and fungi scuttled across the floor like a living carpet, moving rapidly toward the source of the scent.

Wu Heng retreated back into the wall.

The vines carried him again, this time to a corridor. It didn’t resemble the control center, which was just an office building—rigid, orderly, walls plastered with notices. This place, by contrast, felt warm and welcoming. A soft carpet ran underfoot.

The corridor wasn’t long. Four or five meters ahead, stairs led up and down. The lights along the lamp posts glowed softly on the handrails, casting a gentle warmth.

“You brought me to someone else’s home,” Wu Heng said, eyelids half-lowered, his pale face emotionless.

The vines curled around his slender waist and crept up, finally brushing his face as if acting cute and playful.

They were no longer young vines. Back then, the tendrils had been tender yellow shoots, with only sparse stipules along the stem—or sometimes none at all. The white fuzz that only juvenile plants had had now turned black, giving the thicker sections a dark, shadowy green hue.

They had grown stronger, smarter, and more independent.

The summer night air was hot and humid. Wu Heng breathed softly, his eyes flickering a gray-green. He roughly grabbed the vine off his shoulder and pinched it in his hand. “Lying to me?”

The vine stiffened for a moment, then struggled violently, twisting and writhing. But it depended entirely on its host; every bit of its resistance was powerless against Wu Heng.

At his feet, the vines suddenly exploded outward, wildly whipping to the left and right. Green waves filled the entire corridor. The already humid air became stifling and oppressive, thick with life and growth.

At the center of the vines, the boy’s face was dark and indifferent, his pale, moist eyes radiating a chilling cold.

“You think you can do as you please,” he said, “so when I acted, you parasitized the guard’s body without my permission.”

“You killed someone, so you don’t want me confronting the base leader.”

“The base leader clearly had no intention of pursuing it, yet I kept chasing,” Wu Heng said, each word punctuated by a tightening of his fingers.

The sense of oppression he radiated over the plants was terrifying and inescapable. The emotions transmitted through the main vine cascaded into every tendril. They writhed in panic. Even many leaves that hadn’t yet unfurled trembled as they opened prematurely.

Wu Heng couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sometimes you must feel unfair too, right? Why do you die immediately when I leave, yet I’m the one who controls you?”

The main stalk of the poppy lay limp in the boy’s hand, trembling, its tendrils swaying back and forth.

Wu Heng’s fingernails sliced through its body. Even his own brow ached at the sensation; the poppy felt it far more intensely.

Cool, damp sap flowed into Wu Heng’s palm, a sweet-tinged metallic taste filling his mouth. He said calmly, “You’ve grown up, become disobedient, and now want to replace me.”

The poppy collapsed completely in Wu Heng’s hand. Pain was secondary. Mentally, it had lost all capacity to resist. It simply wanted to press closer to its host, nestling against his cheek, seeking the care and protection of its master.

Wu Heng wouldn’t actually kill it. This wasn’t some twisted, sadistic romance between him and the poppy—he was simply issuing a warning.

After receiving the signal of submission, he released his grip and wiped the sap off on the edge of his clothes.

The poppy rested on his shoulder as its branches slowly retracted.

With the dense vines no longer blocking the corridor, Wu Heng finally noticed a stranger standing at the top of the stairs.

The woman clutched her stomach, clearly startled. “Who… who are you?!”

“…Lost. Sorry.” Wu Heng slowly stepped backward, as vines emerged from the walls.

His figure vanished into the corridor, his final words lingering in the air: “This time I’ll let it slide. Behave from now on.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Author’s note:

Ye Zongran: Plants can’t be tamed—what a headache.

Poppy: That old man’s talking nonsense. How am I supposed to be tamed?!

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