Chapter 143: Execution of a Murderer
“Jiang Yi, are you out of your mind?!” Jiang Xun took a step forward, her eyes bloodshot. “Have you forgotten what headquarters said? Women, children, the elderly, the weak—only when the weak can survive will civilization not perish, will humanity not truly go extinct. Life is equal. Everyone is equal!”
Jiang Yi replied, “Civilization is born of savagery. When one civilization dies, another will naturally sprout. I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about. Right now, the most important thing is to stay alive.”
“Even if only one human can safely survive this crisis, we—”
“One human?” Wang Ruixiang cut him off impatiently. “Jiang Yi, do you even know what you’re saying?”
“You think I’m not clear-headed? No—I’m perfectly clear.” Jiang Yi shook his head.
He was clearly out of control—or rather, his savior mentality had been pushed to a terrifying extreme by the mutated plants.
Yet in terms of path, goal, and motive, none of this deviated from Jiang Yi’s original intentions, so the young man believed everything he was doing was still within bounds.
And if it was still within bounds, how could it be called losing control?
“Jiang Yi?” A weak, uncertain voice came from behind the crowd. It belonged to a short, dark-skinned person, but with strikingly bright eyes.
“Do you remember in college, when we went together to visit the families of fallen martyrs? You said your hands would only ever be stained with the blood of those who kill. You said you would cherish every living life, even if that life had only three days left.”
“I remember. Why?” Jiang Yi asked.
Zhou Yi fell silent.
“Then what about your ideal—protecting all of humanity? Aren’t the weak part of all humanity?”
Jiang Yi smiled. “When they die, they completely become a part of all humanity.”
Yang Xiaoyun rolled his eyes. “If you ever get the chance to take back control of your consciousness, you’d put a gun in your mouth and pull the trigger over those words.”
“I hope I can die in a more meaningful way.”
The moment Jiang Yi finished speaking, his entire body was sent flying by a heavy blow.
Midair, the broad, powerfully grown leaves of the dieffenbachia unfurled layer by layer behind him. Beneath his feet, the fortress-like native root system burst up through the soil, allowing him to land firmly on top of it.
He stood there, confusion and disappointment in his eyes, along with a faint but visible anger.
“Shenjian is my homeland. This place is safe. I only want you to live well.”
Jiang Yi’s utterly unreceptive attitude was infuriating—and sent a chill down everyone’s spine. It was far more terrifying than zombies gnawing on human bodies.
The young man was clearly standing right in front of them, yet in such a short span of time, they no longer recognized him.
“What did you do with the others? Damn it, Jiang Yi, don’t do something stupid!” Yang Xiaoyun was on the verge of breaking down. “It’s not too late to turn back now!”
“Jiang Yi, even if Jingzhou finds out about what you’ve done, there’s still a chance they’ll give you an opportunity to atone. A lot of places are short on people right now. As long as you reform, I can help you write the report, you—”
Jiang Yi waved his hand impatiently. “Only the guilty need to atone. I should be considered meritorious.”
“……”
“Stay here. There’s nothing bad about this place. Once the troubles outside are resolved, you can leave.” As he finished speaking, the ground around them surged. Dieffenbachia as massive as giant trees burst up from the earth, blotting out the sky.
Wu Heng handed these people off to Shen Ping’an and charged straight toward Jiang Yi.
Vines pierced through layers upon layers of enormous leaves before their tips, like snakes probing forward, reached Jiang Yi in the blink of an eye. The instant Jiang Yi raised his hand, the vines coiled around his wrist, the green tendrils inch by inch transforming into human limbs.
Jiang Yi’s wrist was seized tightly by Wu Heng.
Wu Heng’s lashes were pitch-black against the sea-tide green around them, his gray-green eyes nearly golden. The vine threads in his palm burrowed into Jiang Yi’s skin, slipping beneath the surface and writhing their way up to his upper arm.
And at this moment, the dieffenbachia had long since given up resisting. Sensing the wood-element power, it even seemed eager to offer itself up willingly.
“Do you want to be grafted by me?” Wu Heng asked him. He didn’t actually feel any particular aversion toward someone like Jiang Yi—having a goal was better than having none. Food that struggled actively and strove upward often had better flesh and spirit, perhaps.
“After I graft you, you’ll lose your own life, your human will, your lofty ambitions. But I might be able to achieve what you want to achieve,” Wu Heng pressed his lips together, feeling as though the words that followed weren’t even coming from his own voice. “Protect humanity. Protect the homeland.”
Seeing the smile at the corner of the other’s mouth, Jiang Yi felt his temples throb violently; it was unbearably glaring.
And yet, he couldn’t ignore the surging tide in his heart when he received the boy’s invitation.
Behind Wu Heng, countless strands of dieffenbachia had already begun to draw closer of their own accord.
“Do you want it?” Wu Heng lowered his gaze to the other man’s hand. It was covered in calluses—worn through and grown again—pale on the back, but the palm was full of cuts and scars.
Jiang Yi frowned, the crease growing deeper and deeper. His body suddenly began to tremble. He nodded, then quickly shook his head again. He tried to break free of Wu Heng’s restraint, his eyes sharp and fierce.
“You don’t want it?” Wu Heng asked uncertainly.
Those dieffenbachia had grown to Wu Heng’s feet; even the tree roots that had arched up through the soil carefully shifted from below, instead moving to support Wu Heng’s body.
“It’s already agreed,” Wu Heng said, grabbing Jiang Yi, whose gaze had gone blank. “What about you?”
Before the last note of his words could fall, a green spear pierced through Jiang Yi’s chest from behind.
The spearhead, stained with the heat of Jiang Yi’s heart’s blood, softened, nestling against the cheek of the boy opposite him.
Drop after drop of blood drifted down from above the crowd—more and more—until Jiang Yi spat out a mouthful, as if expelling something filthy. His eyes cleared, becoming gentle and lucid.
“Jiang Yi!” Zhou Yi cried out hoarsely from below, only to be pulled into Jiang Xun’s arms.
“What does this mean? Wu Heng wouldn’t kill someone casually,” Xue Qi said with certainty.
Who was trying to frame his leg-saving benefactor?
Yang Xiaoyun’s expression was heavy. He turned his face away, unable to bear it. “The mutated plant defected.”
For humans who lived in symbiosis with them, a mutated plant’s defection was a catastrophic disaster—but for the plant itself, it was only natural.
Survival of the fittest. If it had no choice, it would be nothing more than a spore drifting in the air, putting down roots wherever it landed and staying there until death. But now it had a choice. Of course it could select soil richer in nutrients for itself.
It wished its former partner a bright future—then rose to success ahead of them.
—
“If we can find a new mutated plant in time and form a new symbiotic body, he’ll live.” Yang Xiaoyun stopped the bleeding for Jiang Yi first, then looked back. “Groups of three. Go search.”
After the team members entered the forest to look for mutated plants, only a handful of people remained. Zhou Yi crouched beside Jiang Yi, holding his hand. “Jiang Yi, Jiang Yi, it’ll be okay. We don’t need that ungrateful traitor. There will be new plants. We’ll survive—live until the day the disaster ends.”
Jiang Yi lay with his face tilted upward. The blood at the corner of his mouth had already dried.
“Zhou Yi, it’s snowing.”
The others lifted their heads; Zhou Yi lifted his too.
Xue Qi leaned against Shen Ping’an. “Damage to the optic nerves?”
“Winter is coming soon.” Jiang Yi felt so cold, as if he were tightly wrapped in layers of ice and snow. His root system had completely rotted away. His spring would never come again.
“Zhou Yi, kill me.” He lowered his eyelids and slowly looked at Zhou Yi. “Just like I killed those people.”
Wu Heng sat opposite Jiang Yi, squeezed together with X and the greyhound like a little imp. After Jiang Yi had been pierced through the left side of his chest, Wu Heng had accepted the dieffenbachia’s surrender. The jungle-like stems and giant leaves were useful to him—though he was still surprised that the dieffenbachia was willing to abandon its own consciousness and be grafted by the poppy.
Plants were, after all, plants. They didn’t weigh things the way humans did. They only wanted to live well.
Actually, so did Wu Heng.
He bit into the jerky he had taken from his bag, and amid the desolation around him, he imagined a future with Xie Chongyi—just like when he used to sit in his uneasy cage, imagining what his grown-up life would be like.
But now, he felt just a little happier than back then. The future in his school days had been vague and uncertain, but now he could reach out and touch the substance of his imagination.
Even a little happiness made him care less about food.
Boldly, X snatched the jerky from Wu Heng’s hand. By the time it was swallowed, Wu Heng hadn’t noticed.
X leapt away from Wu Heng, leaving only the greyhound lying across Wu Heng’s lap.
Across from them, Zhou Yi’s face suddenly streamed with tears. He scrambled and tumbled forward, running toward Wu Heng.
Seeing that he was coming for him, Wu Heng pocketed the jerky and stood up from the ground.
Though Zhou Yi was one of Wen Yuan’s people, his timid, refined demeanor reminded him somewhat of Ying Liuquan. He stood in front of Wu Heng. “Can you save Jiang Yi? Just keep him alive.”
“I heard what you said. He doesn’t seem very eager to survive,” Wu Heng replied. He neither agreed nor refused, but he didn’t think he could save Jiang Yi.
“But I don’t want him to die,” Zhou Yi sobbed. “He’s such a good person.”
“You should respect his choice,” Wu Heng said, instinctively glancing around for Ruan Silian. She was best at comforting and soothing others; he didn’t know Zhou Yi well enough to do it himself.
Zhou Yi forcibly pulled Wu Heng to Jiang Yi’s side.
Shen Ping’an said, “Without the mutated plant, he’ll die soon.”
It was the first time Wu Heng had seen someone after being separated from their symbiotic plant: frail and pale, skin lacking luster, eyes yellowed—like withered, bent stalks of late-autumn grass in a fallow field.
Those dead stalks might still sprout next year—but Jiang Yi never would. Mainly because he had little desire to survive.
Zhou Yi crouched beside Jiang Yi again, wiping his tears, gently coaxing him as if he were a child.
“Jiang Yi, let’s live, okay? I’m begging you—let’s live. Let’s not die.”
When they set out from Jingzhou, everyone had been mentally prepared for sacrifice. The mortality rate of missions into Siwangzhidi was unfathomably high. But Zhou Yi never imagined that someone would fall halfway through—and that it would be Jiang Yi.
For plant symbionts, the mortality rate was one hundred percent. Still, miracles could happen at any time. Zhou Yi believed that with Jiang Yi’s abilities, he would surely survive the battle with a mutated plant.
But Jiang Yi did not become a miracle.
It was too cruel. This should not have been the ending for someone who had been outstanding since high school.
Zhou Yi even began to cling to superstition, hoping that heaven, in light of all the people Jiang Yi had saved, would grant him a way to live.
Jiang Yi leaned back calmly, watching the tears stream down Zhou Yi’s face. “For who I am now, dying is the only way to live.”
The mutated plant had left his body. He was himself again—but those deeds were still deeds he had committed.
The mutated plant seemed clever to an excessive degree: it had committed crimes, yet bore no responsibility. It hadn’t directly made anyone kill or break the law—everything had been done willingly.
“But, Jiang Yi…”
“Give me the gun.”
Seeing Zhou Yi’s terror reach its breaking point, Xue Qi hurriedly said, “Wait a little longer. Yang Xiaoyun and the others will be back soon. As long as they bring back a mutated plant, you won’t have to die.”
Jiang Yi didn’t respond to Xue Qi. He looked at Zhou Yi, spread his palm, his gaze steady and resolute, without a trace of hesitation.
“Zhou Yi, when we entered the unit, do you remember our oath?” he asked, his voice low.
Zhou Yi pressed his hand to the gun, tears blurring his vision. “Never commit evil. Never betray. Overcome all difficulties. Fight for equality for life.”
“And after that?”
“Obey orders.”
“Give me the gun.”
Under the urging in Jiang Yi’s eyes, Zhou Yi took down the sidearm. His whole body trembled like a sieve, tears streaming down in thick drops. When the gun finally landed in Jiang Yi’s palm, he pleaded with him again, his voice trembling: “I’m begging you.”
Jiang Yi held the gun with one hand, spun slowly, and pointed the barrel at himself.
He looked at Wu Heng. “Actually… I’m grateful to you.”
“No need to thank me.”
“Don’t you want to know what I’m thanking you for?”
“Thank me for stopping you in time, for not letting you go further astray.” Wu Heng’s gaze was steady. He even understood why Jiang Yi, once clear-headed, could no longer survive. If Jiang Yi had been a petty man—sordid or righteous—he might have had a chance to live. But Jiang Yi clearly was not.
Jiang Yi had killed relentlessly for ideals—and in doing so, betrayed the very ideals he pursued.
Jiang Yi gave a bitter smile. “When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you. Extreme good and extreme evil are not so different. I hope that day never comes for you.”
“It won’t,” Wu Heng replied. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of jerky, and casually bit into it in front of everyone.
“So far, no symbiotic plant has escaped being consumed,” Zhou Yi said, thinking Wu Heng meant he would not be overtaken by a mutated plant—a comforting thought, but unrealistic. His expression darkened.
“No,” Wu Heng said. “Even if a mutated plant causes me to veer off course, I will never give up my life.”
Though Wu Heng’s eyes seemed lifeless, they were unshakable. “Because whether the path is correct depends on how I choose to walk it.”
Jiang Yi stared at Wu Heng for a long moment. His gaze softened, then he looked at Zhou Yi. “You’re older than him, but your temperament is far weaker. Be stronger in the future.”
Zhou Yi lowered his eyes, nodding repeatedly.
Above them, a gunshot rang out.
Bang!
Not just Zhou Yi—everyone’s eardrums rang with a deafening buzz, and the entire mountain seemed to shudder for a moment.
Zhou Yi, realizing what had happened, clutched Jiang Yi and sobbed uncontrollably. Xue Qi buried his face into Shen Ping’an’s shoulder.
Wu Heng, however, didn’t blink. He stared at Jiang Yi, now completely lifeless. The bullet had entered through his throat and exited the back of his head. In truth, even if Jiang Yi hadn’t pulled the trigger, he wouldn’t have survived much longer. Whether the mutated plant would have accepted him was also uncertain.
The boy paused from chewing his jerky and tossed the remainder to the greyhound beside him. He thought to himself—he probably understood why Jiang Yi had chosen to take the bullet.
In Jiang Yi’s mind, this was not s**cide. It was the execution of a murderer.