Eaten Ch.86

Chapter 86: Ant Nests

The man stopped walking and turned his head in confusion.

Wu Dian drew his knife and used the tip to lift the damp tail hanging down. The moment the blade touched it, the creature curled its tail inward, which made the other mutated leeches wriggle even faster.

By now, all the color had drained from the man’s face.

Tapping the swollen, round abdomen of one of the leeches with his blade, Wu Dian said, “Leech bites don’t hurt. At most, you feel a little itch, so he didn’t notice anything.”

As they slowly squirmed, Wu Heng peered through the gaps between their bodies. A soft suction disc the size of a fist had already wrapped around the man’s heart.

“He isn’t going to live,” Wu Heng said. “Even if we pull off all these leeches right now, his entire chest and abdominal cavities have already been cleaned out.”

“What are you talking about?” The man was still completely lost.

“You’re going to die,” Wu Heng told him gently.

“Wh—” The man grew even more confused, his face worsening by the second. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the muscles in his face twitching. He lowered his head, mouth opening as if to spit something out—but instead, a smear of yellow-green appeared inside his mouth.

“Brother Zhang, what’s in your mouth?!” The short-haired woman sitting under the shade of a tree shot to her feet.

The man called Brother Zhang puffed out both cheeks. He whipped his head around, eyes wild, desperately asking what was happening.

Wu Dian flicked his wrist, and the long blade sliced from the back of the man’s neck all the way down. Blood from the leeches splattered everywhere, their severed limbs and bodies dropping to the ground—but beneath them, there was still another layer.

The surrounding people saw what spilled onto the ground and all stood up, expressions filled with horror.

“Brother Zhang, you…”

At this moment, the man could no longer hear any sound from the outside world. The only sounds reaching him were those inside his skull:

The slick writhing and sucking.

His eyes slowly widened. He must have finally realized what he was experiencing. He then looked at Wu Dian with eyes full of pleading.

Wu Dian turned his gaze away. “I don’t have the right to kill you.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a short, sharp puchi sounded. A green vine shot straight through the man’s chest, and the mix of blood and the leeches’ mucus painted the vine a brilliant, glossy red.

The man toppled forward face-first, and his back was finally revealed to everyone. The bugs on him were even fatter than before.

Wu Dian frowned but said nothing. He lifted his hand, and a gust of wind swept past—several leeches turned into fragments in the blink of an eye.

Breaths of varying weight hung in the hot mountain air, distilled until only sorrow remained.

“Could those leeches be on us too?”

After scanning the group, Wu Dian said, “Everyone, check each other’s skin.”

There was no time to mourn their fallen companion. The group moved quickly, with men and women splitting apart.

Wu Heng sat down by the pool with X in his arms. X wriggled free, leaping into the cool water. It dunked its head in and popped it back out, soaked itself completely, then hopped out to stand beside Wu Heng, shaking off water—essentially giving itself an especially satisfying bath.

“There might be leeches,” Wu Heng reminded it.

“I ate it,” X chirped smugly. “I ate the damn thing.”

Wu Heng parted some of its feathers with his fingers and didn’t see anything strange.

He thought that even leeches chose their food. That man earlier hadn’t seemed as “strong” as X at all.

These leeches hardly had any offensive ability—they only sucked blood single-mindedly until their heads swelled round and fat. Even a mediocre ability-user should’ve sensed them approaching. Unless… had the leeches evolved the ability to numb other organisms?

Lost in thought, Wu Heng let his lids droop, looking half-asleep.

Only after he finished thinking did he lazily lift his gaze. Not far ahead, Xie Chongyi and Wu Dian had already taken off their shirts.

Wu Heng propped his chin up with interest.

Xie Chongyi’s body did not betray his face—his limbs were long and strong, muscles evenly covering his shoulders, back, waist, and abdomen. The waistband of his pants hung a little loose; his lower abdomen was firm and flat. Beads of sweat slid down his skin, youthful and unrestrained, handsome without losing sharpness.

Compared to him, Wu Dian was somewhat lacking—too thin, too scholarly.

Wu Heng only gave Wu Dian a brief glance; all his remaining attention was fixed on Xie Chongyi.

The two finished checking themselves quickly. Xie Chongyi pulled his T-shirt back on, turned his head, and saw one person and one bird sitting obediently by the water’s edge.

He strode toward them.

Seeing him approach, Wu Heng licked his lips and deliberately curled them into a smile. “Class Monitor.”

“Take off your clothes. I need to check you.” Xie Chongyi lowered his gaze, staring at Wu Heng’s fair, unusually clean face that stood out among everyone else.

“Oh.” Wu Heng lifted both hands cheerfully.

X flapped its wings, tilting its head left and right, unable to stop wobbling.

Xie Chongyi bent down, took hold of the hem on both sides of Wu Heng’s shirt, and lifted it upward. But he didn’t pull it all the way off over his head—he only raised it to the level of Wu Heng’s shoulders, then crouched down face-to-face with him.

Wu Heng used to have many scars of varying depth on his body, but now there were none. His skin was clean, pale, smooth; body hair sparse; his skin translucent— even there a soft pink.

He looked fragile, like someone who would break at a touch, melt into water when pressed—like a vine, except his body was snow-white, enough to make anyone forget the danger he carried.

The boy’s ruthlessness was hidden in every breath he took.

Xie Chongyi’s breath broke through the heavy heat in the air, falling distinctly on the space right in front of Wu Heng.

Wu Heng lowered his head; in his line of sight were Xie Chongyi’s straight, narrow nose bridge and slightly upturned lips. “No bugs, right?”

“No,” Xie Chongyi said. He let go of the shirt hem, then stood up to check the back of Wu Heng’s neck and back as well. He even inspected both legs thoroughly, not missing a single spot.

“I’m half plant,” Wu Heng finally remembered to inform him. “Leeches probably won’t crawl onto me.”

“Not necessarily.” After standing, Xie Chongyi replied, “They might decide to build a nest on you.”

Wu Heng frowned at that. He especially hated bugs of any kind right now.

“Let’s move,” Wu Dian’s voice sounded. After everyone finished getting ready, a small gust of wind curled around his feet and swept sideways toward the lifeless corpse nearby. In an instant, the body turned into a small pile of ash-gray powder.

Wu Dian pulled a bundle of drawstring cloth bags from his pack, took one out, opened it, and poured the powder inside.

“What’s… that for?” someone asked in confusion.

Wu Dian tied the bag and put it away. “These are specially for collecting bodies.”

“…”

A chill ran down everyone’s necks, yet they also felt an odd sense of reassurance—at least no one would be left exposed in the wilderness.

—

Under the harsh sunlight, even the bamboo crowns had begun to wilt and curl inward. The heat waves felt strong enough to roast someone alive, rising with every step, though still within tolerable limits.

Wu Heng had a canteen hanging at his waist, filled with water he’d scooped from the pond. He stopped to take a few sips and poured two bottle caps’ worth for X.

X gulped it down noisily. “My life is suffering.”

“What else did you learn from Dou Lu?” Wu Heng asked curiously.

“Oh, nothing! Life’s trash anyway—just do whatever!”

“I’m really sick of all of you.”

“Whose feet stink? Whose feet stink?”

“A’Ruan, make me a nice slicked-back hairstyle!”

“Wu Heng, give X something to eat.”

Wu Heng screwed the cap back on, expression blank. “That last line was something you added yourself.”

“Goo.”

X randomly chose the round-faced young man, landed on his head, and squatted there.

Du Weichen screamed in shock. X stomped twice on his head. “Quiet.”

Li Qing beside him burst into breathless laughter. “Even the bird b*llies you.”

“When will we get there?” someone rasped, panting heavily.

“We’re already here.”

Wu Dian took out the detector. The dial, which looked almost like glass, emitted a faint blue light—though the sunlight was too bright, making it appear unchanged.

The pointer slowly rotated, the blue light flickering nonstop, while the parameters above constantly shifted.

“This is a terrestrial environmental magnetic-field detector. Its coverage isn’t very large, but its accuracy is high.” Wu Dian’s expression didn’t fluctuate.

“Earth’s magnetic field originates from within the planet, so that part has nothing to do with us for now. Our task today is to identify the factors that are disturbing the regional magnetic field and causing abnormalities. The causes of environmental magnetic-field anomalies are also the results of geomagnetic disruptions. If we don’t clear them in time, they’ll evolve into biological entities far beyond human imagination.”

“No—they’re monsters!” someone in the group shouted.

“What do you think we came here for?” Wu Dian replied calmly.

“To find treasure.”

Wu Dian took a long breath. “Rest here. I’ll scout the area.”

He walked a few steps, then stopped again. Turning back, his gaze found Xie Chongyi.

“Xiao Xie…”

“I know,” Xie Chongyi answered, voice cool.

After Wu Dian left, the group seemed to suddenly lose their backbone. They huddled together, and of course they could all tell that the mushroom-headed leader had entrusted their safety to this “Xiao Xie.” But that Xiao Xie looked like he was still in high school—and that high schooler didn’t seem interested in guarding them at all.

Wu Heng hid in the shade. Leaning against a bamboo stalk, he used vines to snap down several giant bamboo shoots nearby, then cut them evenly into long strips and constructed a tightly covered bamboo canopy overhead.

Bored, he then had the poppy-vine braid a few long swords like the ones in TV dramas, sharpening the tips until they were extremely keen. Testing their sharpness using X’s tail feathers—when X wasn’t looking—he shaved one of its tail plumes shorter by about a centimeter.

“…”

Wu Heng blinked and patted X’s head. “Good girl.”

X stared at Wu Heng in confusion, unable to understand why its owner was suddenly praising it.

The extra crafted items Wu Heng generously handed out to the others, and they thanked him while squeezing eagerly into his bamboo shelter.

“What’s your name? I’m Li Qing.”

It was the short-haired female guard from Meili Base—bright and energetic, utterly unfazed by the heat.

“Wu Heng.”

The round-faced young man leaned in as well. “I’m Du Weichen. Is your ability wood-type? Can you control plants?”

“No.” Wu Heng responded passively; he had no interest in chatting.

“But you’re so strong. How did you awaken your ability?” Du Weichen asked curiously.

“When I was about to turn into a zombie.”

“What about the bird? Is it your pet?”

“I kidnapped it.”

“It’s pretty obedient, though,” Li Qing observed the gray parrot and fell into reminiscence. “My best friend used to have a parrot—super jealous. If my friend got close to me, it would get upset. Later, when she started dating, the parrot refused to eat or drink in protest. My friend was desperate and sent it to her grandma’s house, but she still visited weekly with lots of snacks. Then the parrot started a hunger strike. It literally starved itself to death.”

Wu Heng looked at Li Qing. “And then?”

“There is no ‘then.’ My friend never dared keep a pet again—not even cats or dogs. She only looks at them online. Anyway, I’m warning you: parrots live long lives, they’re delicate and sensitive. It might treat you like its mother, or even like its mate. You need to pay attention so it doesn’t get depressed.”

Wu Heng slowly turned to X. “Do you see me as your mate?”

X tilted its head, then without warning spread its wings and charged at Li Qing with all the majesty it could muster, cursing loudly: “Idiot! Idiot idiot!”

Li Qing screamed and started running, laughing as she fled. “Fine—mother! Its mother, okay?!”

In the sweltering, irritable heat, a scene that could almost be called cute finally appeared.

Everyone relaxed. A short man stood up from the ground. “I’m gonna go take a piss.”

He headed toward the empty area behind them.

Deep in the forest, the sound of urination could be heard.

Li Qing stopped walking, turned, and yelled, “Can’t you go a little farther away to pee?!”

“I—”

The man’s retort and the sound of urinating vanished together—completely, instantly, almost in the same breath.

At any other time, no one would have found this strange. But things weren’t like before—now that his voice had suddenly cut off, everyone stood up at once and turned toward the direction where the man had gone to relieve himself.

“I’ll go check.”

A soft black shadow appeared around Li Qing’s wrist. She pushed through the group and began walking forward cautiously.

She had barely taken two steps when the man suddenly jumped out. “Hey!”

“…”

Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief, then began cursing at him for the prank, but at least nothing dangerous had happened.

“Bang!”

“Crash!”

The bamboo canopy above them suddenly shook violently, thick clusters of bamboo leaves rustling overhead.

Li Qing, who was outside the shelter, exchanged a glance with the man who had gone to pee. Before either could even shift their gaze away, a large, uneven shadow fell over them from the side.

“Tap.” “Tap.” “Tap.”

Li Qing’s body went rigid as she slowly turned toward the sound. The first thing she saw was a pair of guillotine-like mandibles snapping open and shut beneath a massive, smooth golden head. Its chest and back plates were like armor; its tail end curled slightly upward, bristling with sharp spines.

Its eyes glowed black-red. Long, powerful legs clung to the top of the bamboo shelter, while droplets of clear, sticky fluid dripped from its mouthparts.

“It’s a monster! Run!”

The creature twitched its antennae, its eyes shifting. Li Qing could tell it was about to attack. She rolled across the ground.

As expected—just as she ducked low, the creature spat a thin, translucent thread from its mouth.

Li Qing dodged successfully, but from where the man stood came a bloodcurdling scream.

Xie Chongyi flashed into view, grabbed the man by the arm, and was about to drag him away when—crack—the thread sliced straight through the man’s neck.

The monster chomped on his head, red and white fluids spilling down its mouthparts. Its compound eyes flickered, its six legs trembled—it was getting excited.

“It’s an ant.”

Xie Chongyi pressed his fingers together; the ant’s head exploded instantly. Its body collapsed atop the bamboo shelter, leaving behind a red energy core, more saturated than any they had seen from previous mutated creatures.

Trouble.

This was clearly the thing Wu Dian had been searching so long for.

Wu Heng stepped out and looked at the corpse of the yellow creature—bigger than a medium-sized dog. “Aren’t ants supposed to be black?”

“It’s a yellow crazy ant,” Yue Shanqing said, having appeared beside the two at some point. He hadn’t spoken once during the journey, but now he spoke quietly. “Yellow crazy ants are usually found in hotter regions. Their coloration is mostly rusty red or orange. Something this golden… it must’ve mutated.”

As if realizing something, Yue Shanqing suddenly halted. His brows slowly knitted together, and as they did, he raised his gaze upward—toward a part of the bamboo forest no one else had taken note of. Unlike the surrounding canopy, the tops of the bamboo here did not splay outward; instead, one after another, massive green spheres clustered together.

His voice sounded again, low and steady. “A yellow crazy ant colony is usually in the thousands—sometimes tens of thousands. And they don’t live on the ground. Their nests are typically built up in trees, using leaves and branches.”

People began filing out from under the bamboo shelter, instinctively lifting their heads. Under the shimmering light overhead, the enormous spheres finally came into view.

They hung densely from the tops of the mutated bamboo; quiet, unmoving—like oversized fruits growing from the stalks. A breeze swept through, stirring the crown leaves. As the canopy swayed, shadows rippled across the spherical masses—and from within those dim nests, ants began to stir. Countless pairs of deep red compound eyes stared down at the humans below.

Wu Heng also tilted his head back, narrowing his eyes. “Those… all of those are ant nests?”

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