Chapter 101.2: Zombie Tide
Clatter—
“Ah!”
A rat-man dropped to all fours, smashing the window with one slap. Its tail whipped as it darted into the room.
The person sleeping on the bed was seized by the ankle and slammed hard onto the floor. Dazed and dizzy, he managed to open his eyes—only to see his abdomen already torn open.
The human-shaped rat had shoved its entire head into the man’s abdominal cavity, greedily devouring.
Its powerful front limbs casually snapped off a rib, ripping it free amid the man’s agonized screams. It stuffed it into its mouth and chewed—three, maybe five times—and the bone turned to powder before it swallowed.
Bloody, grotesque faces—half-human, half-rat—were smeared red from chin to nose, because they always started eating from the richest flesh: the abdomen or the neck.
Behind window after window, shadows of blood flashed. Rat-men leapt like ink blotting across a sheet of paper, quickly spreading to cover the entire canvas.
Inside the base, the alarms began to blare.
All guards were deployed.
Vehicles originally headed out of the base made abrupt, screeching turns—one third of them swung around and raced back.
“If casualties inside the base exceed ten, everyone responsible for today’s inspections will be held accountable.”
From a ventilation pipe, a fat-headed rat-man poked out its head.
Inside the room, a man had just shoved his companion inside a wardrobe. He spun around in panic—coming face to face, forehead to forehead, with the bloodthirsty rat-man.
With a low shout, the man swung a punch.
The rat-man leapt onto the bed, hind legs coiling, and sprang toward him.
The man drew the kitchen cleaver on his back: one slash sideways, one vertical—never letting the rat-man get close.
The rat-man crouched atop a wooden dining table. Its tail flicked, knocking over a bottle of water.
Its eyes snapped toward it, and something sparkled inside.
“You drank this water too?”
The people inside and outside the wardrobe were clearly shocked—none had expected an infected creature to still retain language.
The rat-man’s tail began whipping faster.
“Was it water given to you by a woman?”
No one answered—only tense, ragged breathing filled the room.
The rat-man muttered to itself, reading their eyes to interpret the answer.
“The water isn’t the problem. The woman who delivered it is. Which one of you went to receive this bottle? I’d like to give my new kin a nice warm welcome hug first.”
Bang! Bang bang!
Inside the wardrobe, the young man suddenly pounded the door with both fists, panic bursting in his voice.
“Open the door! Open the door!”
The man holding the kitchen cleaver froze for a second.
He shook his head—and realized colorful blotches were creeping across his vision.
Without hesitation, he tore off his belt, turned back, threaded it through the two wardrobe handles, and with trembling hands tied a dead knot.
Through the thin crack that had opened earlier, their wet eyes met.
“Open… the door…”
The youth’s lips were white, sweat streaming down his face.
His muzzle was beginning to push outward, lifting slightly like a rodent’s.
After one last look at the person collapsed inside the wardrobe, he turned around and spread his arms.
“We’ll… enjoy it together.”
The fat rat-man trembled with excitement.
Dropping to all fours, it approached the man.
Once close, it hooked a clawed toe around the belt.
“Very ceremonial—hmph!”
A flash of cold steel—
Blood sprayed from its throat before the pain even registered.
The man swung again, hacking several more times.
Standing in a pool of blood, he slowly turned around, his own face now covered in fine fur, new tendrils forming where none had existed before.
The two kissed through the wardrobe door.
As a huge bird shadow swept past the window outside, the cleaver’s edge dragged deep across the man’s neck.
Blood sprayed into the wardrobe and across the face of the person inside—but tears washed the red away immediately.
Downstairs, the utility pole was wrapped in green.
It had become a towering column of vines, layers upon layers embracing it, leaves spreading.
At the top, the thinnest tendrils loosely leaned against one another.
The youth stepped out from within the pole.
On the street, several rat-men scurried past at high speed.
Wu Heng didn’t use the vines—
That convenient method was only for playful games when he was in a good mood.
Instead, he lunged low, plunging a blade straight into one rat-man’s heart—
Then the remaining two.
“Why aren’t you using the crosswalk?”
Wu Heng lowered his gaze, sounding like a righteously offended law enforcer.
The rat-person squeaked in its small voice. Wu Heng opened his mouth and sank his teeth into its soft, warm throat.
By the time Lin Mengzhi arrived, Wu Heng’s cheeks were still moving as he chewed, a few streaks of blood at the corners of his lips. His face was pale, like a vampire under the moonlight—not a newborn one, though.
Wu Heng swallowed the tender, juicy rat meat, letting out a sigh from his throat. What can ease one’s sorrow? Only wine and meat.
“Don’t just eat any rat meat; it might carry disease—ugh.” Lin Mengzhi could only offer a well-meaning warning, then hurriedly burned the few remaining rat-people on the ground to charcoal, preventing him from eating them.
Without Wu Heng needing to search carefully, the vines wrapping around the utility poles stretched like signal towers, reaching in all directions, breaking through windows, precisely capturing, piercing, and siphoning everything—down to the energy cores, none of which fell to the ground, all collected into the spatial pocket.
The boy only needed to move through the streets, seeking the rat-people hopping and scurrying along the roads.
Blood stained the streets, and half-eaten corpses were frequently encountered. Wu Heng didn’t bother cleaning them up; he didn’t eat the leftovers of the rat-people.
“What happened?” A fragile, surprised voice reached Wu Heng’s ears.
He slowly turned his head. On his shoulder, X had landed, cooing softly twice, alertly peering into the doorway beside him.
The girl held onto the doorframe. Seeing Wu Heng, her face lit up with delight. “It’s you?! How are you here?”
Then she noticed the bloodstains on him and the metallic tang of blood lingering in the air. “You… monsters have appeared in the base?!”
Wu Heng’s pupils didn’t twitch at all. “There are many rat-people in the base.”
“Rat-people? Are they like me?” The girl looked surprised, initially wanting to feel happy, but her instincts told her it probably wasn’t what she hoped. If they were ability users or symbionts, why would the base alarm have gone off? Why would the guards have blood on them?
Wu Heng shook his head gently, his tone calm. “They’re more like rats. You’re more like a human.”
“But how did they appear in the base?”
“That’s a question for you.” Wu Heng looked at Quan Jing and said softly.
Time flowed slowly. The building behind the boy had vines creeping out from its sides, gradually blocking the light inside, turning the faces of the two young people from a warm glow to a dim, cold white.
At their feet, two shadows flickered, their long, slender tails curling nervously.
Quan Jing stepped back half a pace, tears spilling over. “What do you mean? Are you saying… it’s because of me?”
The boy before her remained silent. Her heart tightened. “I didn’t! I didn’t do anything! I swear!”
“Then why did I smell the exact same scent on you as theirs?” Wu Heng said. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come to her door—but the expression on her face didn’t look like she was lying.
“I bought a lot of water and gave it to ordinary people who didn’t have any,” Quan Jing said. “Even though I’m a rat, I’m stronger than many humans. I’ve always set aside some of the energy cores I’ve accumulated to buy water and food for those in need. I’ve always done this.”
By her own words, she was a better… better rat than even Lin Mengzhi.
Wu Heng didn’t yet have the authority to judge or execute anyone. He hummed softly. “But I’m going to catch you. Is that okay?”
“Why? I’ve already said it wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!” Quan Jing stepped back even further. Her gaze shifted from dependence and trust to caution and disappointment. She said coldly, “You have no evidence.”
Wu Heng raised his long knife, pointing it straight at Quan Jing’s nose. “If I force you to reveal your animal form, the evidence will come naturally.”
Quan Jing’s tail swished, her skirt swaying left and right, her pupils flashing red.
She lunged toward the door, trying to keep the boy outside.
Wu Heng dodged in time, his long knife slicing toward her face. Quan Jing barely avoided it and stumbled back several steps. Books fell from the table. She cried out, “I didn’t do it!” and leapt out the window.
Wu Heng retreated into the alley, then stepped onto the street, vines following closely behind him.
Above her head, Quan Jing clung firmly to the walls with all four limbs, leaping with incredible speed and agility. Chunks of wall crumbled as she moved. With her animal instincts awakened, her lethality visibly spiked. She jumped far more lightly and swiftly than other mice. Every strike from the vines she could dodge with ease, showing a level of skill completely at odds with her usual demeanor.
Bang! Crack!
A window behind her suddenly burst open, and a rat-person appeared, squeaking excitedly at Quan Jing’s back.
Soon, the sound of scurrying feet surged from behind, like a torrential rain pounding the ground and walls.
Rat-people converged from all directions, gathering behind Quan Jing to form a staggering army of rodents.
To the poppy, this was no different from a self-serve banquet. It surged behind its master like a wave while also searching upward for prey.
Lin Mengzhi furiously pedaled his bicycle atop the green tide, setting fire to the rat horde again and again.
But still, they pressed on, a solid black mass. The high-pitched, urgent squeaks were unbearable to ordinary humans.
“Don’t follow me!” Quan Jing had no idea where she could run. She didn’t even dare to look back. “I said don’t follow me!!!”
She leapt from the rooftop, landing in the canopy of a tree. Panic-stricken, she scrambled up—and countless red-eyed rat-people had already surrounded her.
They pressed in tightly, circle after circle, gazing up at her with reverent awe.
Bits of flesh still clung to their incisors. They squeaked incessantly, their half-human, half-rat faces revealing several familiar figures among the swarm.
Quan Jing swallowed hard. Tears still streaked her face. She couldn’t believe what she had done—or rather, what she had caused. Trembling, she reached out a hand toward one of the rat-people.
The rat-person arched its back, cautiously stepped forward, and placed its left forelimb into Quan Jing’s palm.
The suspicion was confirmed. Quan Jing shook her head in disbelief. “No…”
A few leaves wobbled and fell from the treetop above. Quan Jing and the rat-people looked up in unison.
Lin Mengzhi’s tall, slender figure stood on the thick tree trunk. Beside him sat Wu Heng, his expression calm.
One stood, one sat; one was the leader, the other the judge. It was immediately clear who held which role.
A faint smile appeared on the latter’s face—pale and seemingly weak. But was he really weak? Not necessarily. After the chase, the boy beside him was sweating profusely and panting heavily, yet Wu Heng looked far more composed, almost at ease.
“Are you still going to keep denying it?” Wu Heng asked downward.
He no longer needed an answer. His fingers traced the rough, dry bark. Vines swept downward, and the tree canopy was replaced by the sprawling poppy.
With a thunderous roar, the vines shot into the air, a hundred meters high, untouchable. Then they burst forward like a sharp, relentless sword rain. The rat-people that had followed Quan Jing were killed instantly; even attempts to burrow or flee were too late.
The poppy, full and satisfied, leisurely returned, no longer fierce. Instead, it coiled around Wu Heng like a playful young snake seeking affection.
Wu Heng brushed aside the vines seeking attention and looked down, taking in Quan Jing’s rigid, sorrowful expression. He said to her, “Mr. Mo will probably need you to report to him, so I won’t kill you.”
“I told you, it wasn’t me!” Quan Jing shouted helplessly upward.
“It’s not that we don’t want to believe you,” Lin Mengzhi shrugged. “After all, you do look pitiful and innocent. But how do you explain that they all actively followed you?”
“I don’t know,” Quan Jing said, panicked. “I want to know why too. I have no idea.”
“That’s not our concern. You should clarify it to Mr. Mo,” Wu Heng said, standing. He plucked a leaf from the tree and crushed it with his fingertip.
Quan Jing understood. None of the base’s management were benevolent. She wasn’t accusing them of evil, but in the current situation, if one wasn’t careful and didn’t act decisively, countless lives could be lost.
She understood—but that didn’t mean she agreed. She wasn’t afraid.
“They’ll definitely kill me!”
Lin Mengzhi looked at her messy hair and swollen red eyes, and a flicker of pity crossed his face.
“I’m going back to sleep,” Wu Heng said, jumping down from the tree and landing steadily on the ground.
Quan Jing stood in the midst of the lifeless rat-people, watching the two walk away. She burst into loud, anguished sobs. Behind her, Liu Ning finally arrived—late as always.
—
“Liu Ning and the others are here!” Lin Mengzhi glanced back. There stood Liu Ning in a bright red dress, curves on full display—who would believe this person was supposed to be a man?
Wu Heng, meanwhile, let out a quiet burp.
“…” Lin Mengzhi forced himself to ignore Liu Ning and turned to Wu Heng. “Can we talk about something? Could you maybe stop eating everything you see from now on? Rats carry tons of viruses. If you eat them and end up with parasites or rotting roots, where are we supposed to find you pesticide or nutrient soil?”
“I’ve already mutated. What you’re talking about doesn’t affect me,” Wu Heng frowned.
“Then how come that girl can turn people into rats? She really looked like she didn’t know anything about it.”
“You just said it—rats carry all kinds of viruses. Infecting ability-users might be impossible, but infecting ordinary people should be easy,” Wu Heng said lightly.
Lin Mengzhi smacked a fist into his palm. “Right! No wonder she didn’t know anything!”
“What do you think the base will do with her?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“No idea.” Wu Heng found Mo Xie hard to read, but he wasn’t interested enough to bother analyzing him.
“If it were you, what would you do?” Lin Mengzhi asked quietly.
Without even thinking, Wu Heng replied, “Kill her.”
“That’s very you, but I think it’s a bit heartless. She didn’t know—how can you blame her?” Lin Mengzhi rotated his head thoughtfully. “I think… they should lock her up. How about that?”
“She’d have to be locked in a completely sealed room filled with ethylene oxide.”
And even ethylene oxide might not work.
“What’s ethylene oxide?”
“…”
Walking through the inner city streets, still about ten kilometers from the outer city, faint glimmers lit the distant horizon. The zombie tide had not yet ended—perhaps it would last several days, or maybe even longer. With troubles both inside and outside, there was no place in this world that was truly safe.
After several dozen steps, the path suddenly opened up.
A real Peach Blossom Spring couldn’t be found in reality; one could only create it oneself.
“X,” Wu Heng instructed softly, “go find the class monitor.”
“No.” It refused immediately, pressing itself firmly into Lin Mengzhi’s hair.
Wu Heng stopped walking, shadows sliding across his eyes. Before he could speak, the sound of wings flapping reached his ears.
X spread its massive wings, casting a huge shadow as it streaked across the base from above.
Parrots weren’t naturally strong fliers—not particularly skilled—but that was before its mutation. Now, it was the undisputed ruler of this airspace.
Below it, the base looked like a toy city made of blocks—old, dilapidated, teetering, and utterly defenseless.
“Watch out for the mutant bird!!!” a guard shouted in alarm.
Many had seen its normal form, but aside from a few insiders, almost no one could connect the two. Normally, X mostly just talked back and demanded to eat.
“That’s the mutant bird?!” a guard pointed skyward, shouting.
“Oh my God… it’s like a pterosaur.”
“It’s even more beautiful!”
The flapping of its wings drew closer, accompanied by a shriek. The giant bird swooped in from the side of the zombie horde, slicing through them like a scythe through wheat. After several passes, it let out a long, proud, excited cry.
Dou Lu, perched on the watchtower, saw the scene and retracted her ability, shaking Shen Ping’an and Xue Shen harshly. “Look! It’s Fork Baby!!!”
Shen Ping’an was jostled so much that his ability went haywire. “You don’t normally call it ‘baby.’ Just now you were calling it our karmic retribution.”
“Shh, don’t let it hear,” Dou Lu warned.
X put on a display for everyone, circling in the air, its red eyes scanning below, until finally it spotted Xie Chongyi sitting atop a mountain of zombie corpses.
Around Xie Chongyi, zombies climbed over bodies that had already been reduced to limbs and fragments. Their eyes were grayish-white and yellow, constantly sniffing, driven only by the irresistible aroma of food.
Xie Chongyi rested his chin in his hand, twirled his wrist, and a blade spun in a circle. The heads of the zombies with gaping mouths tumbled down in succession.
Having confirmed its target, X folded its wings and dove toward him with a fierce, long scream.
Xie Chongyi had already seen it, giving only a subtle glance afterward. His expression remained calm, yet he extended his hand in the direction of the giant bird.
As it neared, the bird spread its wings, stretched its talons forward, and simultaneously shrank in size.
Then, to the disbelief of everyone watching, it landed steadily on Xie Chongyi’s arm. Its chest swelled proudly, eyes sharp and alert, exuding the pride of a creature ready to fight alongside humans.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Author’s note:
X: Handsome, right? Huh? Say it! Handsome, right?
X could only accept denial from Wu Heng and Xie Chongyi, then proceeded to poop on everyone else’s heads.