Eaten Ch.111

Chapter 111: “…miss you” (Volume 2. Multiple Paths – The Outbreak)

Wu Heng didn’t hear a word Lin Mengzhi was saying. It was only after he landed that he realized something had appeared above his head—something that really didn’t fit his usual image.

Before anyone could wax nostalgic about days gone by, the group crowded around Wu Heng, pressed him down, parted his hair, and began studying the thing’s appearance and growth mechanism.

Wu Heng squatted on the ground, feeling as if countless lice were crawling over his scalp.

The flower bud’s stem drooped downward, suspending a small bulb. The folds were faint; both the stalk and the bud were covered in tiny soft barbs.

“The thorns are soft!” Wu Zhi exclaimed in surprise.

“It kind of looks like the head of a Venus flytrap,” Shen Ping’an said.

Ruan Silian glanced at the bud on Wu Heng’s head, then at Shen Ping’an. “Why don’t you have a flower bud?”

Propping himself up on his knees and bending forward, Lin Mengzhi said, “The main body is inside Wu Heng. Shen Ping’an’s functions might not be that complete.”

“Poppies can be used medicinally. If it’s a mutated poppy, maybe it can even relieve pain—I can smell it,” Chen Meng said as he stretched his arm into the middle, about to pluck it.

“Get lost—grow your own flower if you want one!” Wu Zhi shoved Chen Meng away hard.

Wu Heng sat on moss that had already lost all its moisture, his expression blank. “We’d better determine our direction of travel first.”

After he spoke, he pulled out a map from somewhere. It wasn’t an old pre–apocalypse map—it was new.

“Where did this come from?” Lin Mengzhi sat down on the spot.

Wu Heng slowly unfolded the map, his gaze dark and unreadable. “The class monitor just stuffed it into my hand.”

There had once been rumors at their school about seniors changing their university preferences for the sake of early romance. Most people sighed that it wasn’t worth it, loudly condemning lovestruck foolishness for ruining one’s future. Wu Heng had always been indifferent to other people’s affairs, let alone judging choices that didn’t affect him.

But now, deep in the dead-silent primeval forest, Wu Heng felt that his own situation wasn’t much different from those students in the rumors—both had encountered, in their lives, a weight on the scale that could be weighed against their future.

It was strange. He hadn’t even managed to successfully take a single bite of Xie Chongyi.

How could that person make him feel so reluctant to let go?

Could it be that he, too, was like Shen Ping’an? That there was something wrong with Xie Chongyi’s blood? That he, too, would turn into an insect?

“A’Heng, what are you spacing out for? Are we really here?” Lin Mengzhi pointed to a red mark on the map.

Ruan Silian had tied up her hair. She didn’t have any special abilities, so she couldn’t see clearly like the others. The ground beneath the tree canopy was already pitch-dark, impossible to see even an arm’s length ahead.

“…There are words here. The green dot in the northwest corner is Kuhuang. We’re heading to Yaozhou—either crossing the river or passing through the primeval forest,” Shen Ping’an said, scanning their surroundings. The dense, dark shrubs were taller than a person. Ferns grew intertwined among them, and the tree trunks resembled impenetrable walls.

He pressed his palm to the ground. Vines sprouted and curled up behind everyone, forming a temporary, small safe zone so they could confidently plan their next moves.

“Are there really savages in Shenjian?” Lin Mengzhi read the words clearly and stroked his chin. “Do savages eat people? What do they turn into after mutating? Super savages? How are we supposed to deal with them?”

Wu Heng snapped out of his daze, lowering his eyes, looking calm and quiet.

“They’re just legends. Although ancient texts record them, there’s no direct evidence proving the existence—or past existence—of savages. No hair, fossils, or images. So I don’t believe savages exist.”

Wu Zhi didn’t understand. “I don’t think savages exist either.”

Lin Mengzhi still insisted, “Then are all those rumors baseless?”

“Then you can go into the mountains and check for yourself,” Shen Ping’an said, lowering his head. “For now, look at the map first.”

Everyone leaned over the map. Doctor Chen came too, but the others held their noses and pushed him away.

“It really stinks!”

“Doctor Chen, do you need to pee? Go ahead then.”

“Doctor Chen will keep watch nearby.”

Wu Heng held the map. “The first place we’ll pass through isn’t Shenjian—it’s Yunling. After that comes Shenjian. Shenjian is bigger, but the danger level of Yunling and Shenjian should be about the same.”

“The geographic location of Yunling makes it inherently challenging. Although Liu Ning didn’t specifically emphasize it, Yunling—before the apocalypse—served as a boundary in multiple domains: geography, culture, cuisine, climate, and more. If you’re interested, we could go straight through Yunling, and you’d clearly feel the contrast in climate.”

Ruan Silian and Shen Ping’an both nodded.

Lin Mengzhi looked confused. He leaned over and tried to spread the map. “Is it really written in such detail?”

“…No, it isn’t.”

“‘The Great Barrier of the World’ refers to Yunling,” Ruan Silian said, tracing her finger over the map. She couldn’t see clearly, but she could vaguely distinguish a few differently shaded areas.

“Maybe we’ll encounter giant pandas, crested ibises, or takin,” Shen Ping’an added.

“Go, go, go! Let’s go through it! Tomorrow we go!” Lin Mengzhi didn’t understand all the species, but he knew what a giant panda was.

Shen Ping’an replied flatly, “If it’s a mutated giant panda, eating us would probably be no more difficult than chewing peanuts.”

Wu Zhi exclaimed with delight, “That would still be so cute!”

Wu Heng remained motionless. “But we’re still over ninety kilometers from Qinling. Walking twenty kilometers a day, it’ll take five days to reach the foot of Yunling.”

“Preliminary estimates suggest the earthquake hasn’t shifted the mountains. Yunling has multiple entrances. Once we arrive, the closest point is Kuyongkou. We could cross directly south, about forty to fifty kilometers,” Wu Heng analyzed calmly. “But that’s based on pre-apocalypse conditions. The map only gives a rough outline. The area and length haven’t changed, but what the terrain looks like now, or what creatures inhabit it, we won’t know until we go in.”

“Right now, we could head west to nearby towns or counties, find a car—or buy one—and drive along passable roads into Yunling. That would save us a lot of time,” Wu Heng rolled up the map. “Also, we’ll need to prepare more supplies.”

X flew above Lin Mengzhi’s head, circling. After pressing down on his hair, it seemed ready to sleep.

The others stood up as well. Shen Ping’an adjusted the straps and waist belt of his backpack, tightened the water bottle, and fastened his cap.

X, which had already been sitting, suddenly stood up. It stretched its neck in one direction, spread its wings, and remained motionless.

Something rustled through the shrubs.

A sharp tearing sound cut through the air.

Lin Mengzhi’s fireball had just appeared in his hand when Wu Heng swatted it away. He quickly muttered, “Burning the mountain will land you in jail,” and a huge green leaf appeared above his head.

The leaf looked soft, but it radiated a hard, icy sheen.

Bang! Bang! Crackle! Crackle!

After a series of explosive sounds, the disturbance outside ceased. X poked its head out.

“Wow!”

The entire bird toppled from Lin Mengzhi’s head. A spiky chestnut embedded firmly into its feathers, its sharp points piercing through.

Vines had crept along the ground, and with a loud creak, a thunderous rumble came from above—a lush chestnut tree had fallen beside them.

“It’s safe now,” Wu Heng said, retracting the leaf shield. He walked to the fallen chestnut tree and stomped on a chestnut. The spiky shell split open, revealing a nut barely the size of a peanut.

“So tiny,” Lin Mengzhi said, hugging a pitiful X closer. “Can’t eat it.”

Shen Ping’an added, “Too dry, no moisture. Hardly any chance for it to grow well.”

“Why use such a sympathetic tone? It just tried to kill us!”

“Maybe it’s also a form of new biodiversity,” Wu Heng remarked calmly.

Stepping over the fallen canopy, Lin Mengzhi and Wu Zhi bickered loudly. Shen Ping’an responded to each of their remarks, while Doctor Chen stank unbearably—being put into a pocket dimension made him much more bearable than having him around. Wu Heng walked at the front, clearing the path, with Ruan Silian following behind.

Shadows flickered throughout the forest. The scent of plants had never been so strong—dry, bitter.

Passing through them felt as though countless eyes were watching from all sides.

Wu Heng raised a branch of a tall tree, letting Ruan Silian pass first, then set it down.

“I actually can’t protect you either.” His voice was low, drowned out by the chattering behind him, but Ruan Silian happened to hear it.

A faint smile appeared on Ruan Silian’s face. “Being by your side is safer than being with the others. It’s my own choice. If the judgment is wrong, it’s not your fault.”

“Why do you say that?” Wu Heng asked, looking at the vast, dense forest, uncertain when they would find a way out. He didn’t understand how Ruan Silian had reached that conclusion.

“Because I feel from you that rules exist to serve people,” Ruan Silian said, wiping the sweat from her face with the back of her hand, smiling gently. “When the subject becomes the rules themselves, everyone is in danger.”

“So, rather than saying I follow you, I’m following a concept. I hope that everyone can be happy, joyful, and safe.”

Wu Heng held a juvenile chestnut. Without peeling the shell, he tossed it into his mouth. It was soft, sweet.

After chewing, he nodded. “Mm. You’ve tried.”

Branches and leaves constantly brushed overhead. After walking a long stretch, Wu Heng paused slightly, calmly raising his hand to touch above his head.

The bud was still there.

Last time, he had pulled the sprout straight off. This time, he didn’t dare.

He had promised to give the first blooming flower to Xie Chongyi. If he couldn’t produce it when they met, the other would get angry.

—

“Stop watering it! If you overwater it, where are you going to find another one?” Xue Shen took the water bottle from Xie Chongyi’s hand. “Everyone else needs water, and you’ll turn a whole pot of flowers into mush.”

The plastic flowerpot was missing a chunk. The soil was damp, water spilling over the rim. The central green sprout was barely half an index finger tall—thin, fragile, and incomparable to its true body.

Xie Chongyi grabbed the water bottle back and poured the remaining water straight onto the sprout. The poppy seedling collapsed under the heavy flow.

“…”

“Childish,” Xue Qi commented from the side.

“You don’t want him to leave, you could just say so. Why blow up instead of talking?” Xue Shen said, carrying Xue Qi—who had changed into clean clothes—over to the bed.

When he turned back, Xie Chongyi was holding a flowerpot, bent over, pouring the water out the window.

Childish. Pointless.

The collar of Xie Chongyi’s uniform was half undone. After emptying the excess water, he placed the pot on the windowsill and said lightly, “If he did it only after I told him, no point.”

“If you don’t tell him, how would he know?”

“If he’s interested in me, do I even need to tell him?”

“…Then you just wait and see if you can get a grand wedding.”

Xie Chongyi’s eyelashes flickered. He used his fingers to prop the tiny sprout that had fallen into the mud. “You noticed?”

“It’s written all over your face.”

“You can already see it, and he still wants me to say it,” Xie Chongyi said plaintively, struggling to hide his frustration. “And he said I was lacking love?”

“Aren’t you?” Xue Shen sat at the desk, writing his work log as usual.

“That’s not the same thing,” Xie Chongyi replied. He took a toothpick, stuck it into the soil next to the sprout, plucked a hair, and carefully tied the sprout to the toothpick.

Watching this, Xue Shen knew there was no hope—his friend had always been stubborn and unreasonable.

Leaning over his desk, Xue Shen wrote a few lines, then paused, sighing: “Colonel Xie would be relieved to see you finally wearing this uniform.”

The boy’s uniform buttons were undone, sleeves rolled up. His stray hair partially covered his dark brows, and he said coldly, “Just for now. This outfit is easier for walking.”

Xue Shen pretended not to notice the coldness in his friend’s eyes and continued: “At this pace, the zombie tide might take over half a month to end. Then we continue on to Jingzhou. Wu Dian and Sheng Jiang are bringing Professor Ye, so they won’t move fast.”

“Professor Ye still has to bring his students and their loved ones. In short… it’s troublesome,” Xie Chongyi said, leaning against the window. He realized he hadn’t taken Wu Heng to meet Professor Ye yet.

Xue Shen added, “Dou Lu cried all night and hasn’t eaten. Before she goes to bed later, remind her to eat. If she doesn’t, it’s fine—she’ll eat when she’s hungry.”

“Teacher Ying really needs someone to pay more attention to him. He’s far too capable of causing people to turn on each other for no reason. Knowing everyone’s dark side and successfully amplifying it is genuinely a terrifying ability,” Xue Shen shook his head in awe, then couldn’t resist teasing Xie Chongyi. “You’re probably more easily provoked than before—you’ve just been through heartbreak.”

Xie Chongyi shot Xue Shen a displeased glance. “He didn’t reject me.”

Xue Shen had already turned away, muttering under his breath, “Maybe worse than a rejection.”

Footsteps echoed behind them. Following the sound, Xue Shen saw that Xie Chongyi had already left the room, and the door closed behind him.

…

Xie Chongyi left the inn and made his way to the outer city of Kuhuang.

Mo Xie’s supernatural protective barrier still stood, so the guards didn’t need to intervene personally. They only needed to take turns keeping watch to ensure no undead slipped through.

As Xie Chongyi crossed the barrier, his presence triggered the zombie tide into frenzied howls, all of them rushing toward his location.

A faint, almost ethereal long sword appeared in Xie Chongyi’s hand. When he swung it, the blade’s radius extended dozens of meters. Zombies fell in waves, the ever-pushing tide seemingly cleaved by some massive force.

Carelessly, Xie Chongyi swung a second strike. His face, cleaned just last night, now bore fresh streaks of blood from somewhere, making his expression all the more indifferent.

A shadow leapt into the air.

Caw!

A mutated zombie, growing multiple arms, sprang from the horde. Its mouth dripped with slime, and its dark fingers clawed viciously toward a human neck.

Xie Chongyi sheathed his blade, not even using his supernatural ability. Instead, he picked up a chipped iron sword lying on the ground. It was clearly a weapon forged by the Kuhuang base—heavy, crude, and ill-suited for combat, meant only for hacking at unresisting zombies.

Yet in Xie Chongyi’s hands, it moved as lightly as a world-renowned sword. He gripped the hilt and, with astonishing speed, struck at the mutated zombie. The three arms on its left side were cut down in unison, blood spraying like hot wind.

The zombie lunged, snapping its jaws at a human neck. Xie Chongyi remained expressionless. With a metallic clang, the tip of his sword pierced the zombie’s shoulder blade.

The zombie felt no pain, but its movements were instantly restrained, and it reared its head, letting out a guttural roar.

Xie Chongyi leaned closer. The sword’s hilt spun in his hand as the blade sank further. Against all odds, the blade bent slightly inside the zombie’s body, cutting through its neck and straight into the skull.

He released both sword and zombie at the same time.

Only after the zombie collapsed did Xie Chongyi turn back toward the protective wall. Yet, a sense of gloom lingered. His mood hadn’t lifted an iota.

He leaned against the base’s wall, rough plaster falling onto his shoulders and epaulets. He didn’t bother brushing it off, squinting thoughtfully. Perhaps this is what growing up feels like.

—

At dawn, the group trudged through scattered dew onto a mottled road. In their view lay several zombie corpses sprawled across the ground.

They had initially been still.

Sensing the scent of food, one emitted a weak growl, propping itself up and looking around frantically.

“Snap!”

Lin Mengzhi and Shen Ping’an both retracted their blades, discarding the rotting heads in their hands and quickly absorbing the energy cores from the skulls.

“Where to next?” Lin Mengzhi asked.

“A few kilometers west is a small village,” Wu Heng replied, using vines to search the roadside cabins. He found nothing inside, but behind one cabin stood a wild apple tree, laden with fruit—small, shriveled from lack of water.

When the poppy dragged out a broken tree full of red fruit, the others jumped in surprise.

“Eat,” Wu Heng said, tossing the tree into the middle of the road, in a tone like calling a dog to dinner.

Before anyone could react, he proceeded to throw out biscuits, milk, dried red dates, and an entire bucket of bottled water, one by one.

“Eat,” he repeated, in the same commanding tone.

Lin Mengzhi broke some small branches and laid them across the relatively clean road, arranging the food on top. “I’m starving to death here!”

“Smells… kind of okay,” he said, picking up a bag of biscuits and sniffing it. The expiration date was fine. He tore open the package—inside was the scent of milk, but no actual flavor. The flavor, it seemed, was all on the outside.

“Doctor Chen is in the pocket dimension!” Wu Zhi shouted.

In Wu Heng’s hands was a neatly cut slab of bear meat, roughly ten kilograms. He placed it flat on a large leaf and sliced it into pieces about half the size of a fist, then divided it between himself and X for a shared meal.

The others knew Wu Heng was a carnivorous plant, so they weren’t surprised. Instead, they focused on eating heartily.

Although they still didn’t have a roof to shield them from wind or rain, the oppressive, controlled feeling of the base was gone. They could go wherever they wanted, level up while fighting monsters, and—most importantly—decide for themselves how to proceed next.

Wu Heng ate three large pieces of meat, one of which was wolf meat, along with a few slices of bamboo shoots.

Afterward, with supplies provided by Wu Heng, everyone washed their faces and brushed their teeth.

No one wanted to put their personal items back into Wu Heng’s pocket dimension, afraid they would carry a scent.

Shen Ping’an stretched nearby, performing a few warm-up exercises. Lin Mengzhi mimicked him for a moment and declared loudly, “When we reach the village, I’m taking a proper shower—stinking with sweat all over!”

Wu Zhi bit into a sweet, juicy wild apple and gazed down the bend in the road.

“Brother, someone’s coming.”

The wobbling figures appeared—it was obvious without needing to guess. But there wasn’t just one zombie; several teams streamed forward in sequence.

X, fully fed, flapped its wings. It leapt from Wu Zhi’s head, spreading its wings to cover the entire road, slashing lazily at the zombie horde. Realizing that a horizontal cut wouldn’t kill them, it drew its wings in and began stepping on their heads with its claws—one foot, one zombie—sending dirty blood flying. The energy cores within the zombies released power in streams into X’s body.

Proudly, it flew back to Wu Heng to claim credit. But Wu Heng noticed a streak of red tangled on its claw.

Vines crawled down from Wu Heng’s shoulder, pulling the object from the bird’s claws.

Unfolded, the dirty cloth revealed a flag, with the characters “Anxi” written on it.

Wu Heng’s eyes flickered. These zombies had come from Anxi—they were the third batch of survivors Kuhuang was set to take in.

Ruan Silian stood at Wu Heng’s right and said softly, “There was probably an accident on the way. They were wiped out.”

Wu Heng rolled up the flag. Before he could do anything else, a crying sound came from across the road—helpless, terrified.

A small zombie. A girl. Two messy little braids swung back and forth behind her head.

“Waaah—waaah—waaah—waaah—waaah—waaah—waaah—”

She stretched both hands forward. Her hollow gray‑yellow eyes were threaded with bloodshot veins. She could actually speak, though the words were slurred and broken.

“I wanna go… Kuhuang… find… doggie… doggie… waaah—waaah—waaah—waaah—waaah—”

She cried like a ghost wailing, rising and falling, sticky and drawn-out.

Shen Ping’an stopped stretching and walked toward the little girl.

“Wait,” Wu Heng called to him. He strode over and crouched in front of the small zombie. She immediately tried to pounce.

The boy pressed a long, slender finger against her forehead.

“Do you know how to get to Kuhuang?” Wu Heng asked, slipping the rolled-up flag into the knitted teddy-bear pouch hanging from her neck.

“Hooh hooh… Kuhuang… doggie…”

Wu Heng took a small notebook out of his canvas bag. Wu Zhi pointed at the little zombie and threatened, “Don’t move, or I’ll scoop your brain out right now!”

Tearing out a page, Wu Heng wrote a few words on it, folded it twice, tied it with an extremely thin vine into a little bow, and placed it into the zombie girl’s pocket.

He smiled softly—so faint it was almost imperceptible.

“Go find your doggie.”

The little zombie’s body stiffened noticeably. She sniffed, continued her low sobbing, and then shuffled forward.

“Hooh hooh… Kuhuang… class monitor… miss you… waaah—waaah—waaah—waaah—waaah—”

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