Eaten Ch.190

Chapter 190: Bamboo Huts

In the end, the sailfish escaped being eaten—mainly because Wu Heng had already eaten quite a lot early that morning.

As the sun gradually rose, the seawater slowly receded. Most of the marine creatures stranded on the beach, unable to return to the ocean, were already dead. In less than half an hour, as the air temperature climbed, the smell of rotting shrimp, crabs, and fish began to spread along the shore. They decomposed much faster than they had before the apocalypse. By the time Wu Heng and the others left, mosquitoes and flies the size of ping-pong balls had already developed from their corpses, which had softened to a tofu-like consistency.

Yao Donghai and his family had thought the group would stay a few more days.

“Where are you planning to go? There’s not much further south… oh! There’s still Deathlands, but that’s no place for people to stay.” At the mention of Deathlands, Yao Donghai hugged his arms and shook his head.

Yao Yue added, “Changzhou is a necessary stop on the way to Deathlands. On average, two or three teams head there every month. Some leave with seventeen or eighteen people and come back with less than a third. Some never return at all—maybe they made it inside, or maybe they all died. You should think it through carefully.”

Xue Shen focused on something else. “There are other teams too?”

“Even though Deathlands is hard to enter, it’s always been recognized as unclaimed territory. Compared to being under someone else’s control, claiming a place for yourself and becoming your own ruler is obviously more appealing.”

“But I don’t know if any of them succeeded. If Deathlands has already been taken over, then if you go now…” Yao Yue trailed off.

“It’s fine. We’ll go take a look,” Xue Shen said. “Consider it broadening our horizons.”

While they were talking, Li Qin had already arranged for people to load even more dried supplies into their already crowded vehicle.

“Alright then—safe travels.”

From Changzhou to Deathlands, there was less than a hundred kilometers left. Along the way, the aftermath of the typhoon stretched endlessly, showing no signs of easing. Massive trees that would take ten people to encircle had been snapped clean in half and lay scattered everywhere. For these giant trees, it meant destruction—but for the jungle as a whole, it was not necessarily so.

As long as the sun was out, even the most miserable conditions still revealed a faint trace of life. The sunlight had already climbed to the top of the sky, like the compassionate gaze of a bodhisattva looking down upon the earth, illuminating everything.

About two-thirds of the route toward Deathlands ran along the coastline. The asphalt roads had been mostly destroyed in the apocalypse, so they could only follow the paths trampled out by various creatures.

As the temperature rose, it felt as though they were racing through a damp, stifling tropical rainforest—yet they didn’t dare roll down the windows. The southern jungle was clearly more eerie and unpredictable than the north, with all kinds of strange and unusual plants appearing.

“False sterculia—its fruit is edible, but now… who knows if it might eat us instead.”

“Palm trees—almost a hundred meters tall.”

“Giant ferns.”

“Spider lilies. As soon as the sun came out, they rushed to bloom. Their flowers used to be delicate and small, but now…”

“Ivy.”

Having seen what poppies could do before, the moment Ying Liuquan mentioned vines, Xue Shen chose to detour. The banyan tree completely wrapped in dark green vines was quickly left behind, but there were many more along the way. The ivy had linked the entire forest together, forcing all other plants to grow and breathe beneath its cover and entanglement.

Faced with the drastically changed world, everyone else reacted with amazement—only Wu Heng curled up in Xie Chongyi’s arms, fast asleep.

The warm, humid climate was irresistible for plants—it practically invited drowsiness.

It had been a long time since any of them had experienced the natural cycle of the sun rising and setting. Before sunset, they parked the vehicle on a stretch of coastline that jutted out into the sea.

The blood-red glow of the setting sun pierced through the ocean, the jungle, and every pair of eyes present. The scent of the apocalypse spread once again.

“So beautiful,” said Lin Mengzhi, his face slightly flushed and warm from the sun.

“If only we could see a sun like this every day,” Xue Qi said from atop the truck. “This kind of weather feels like what’s most suitable for human survival.”

Xue Shen glanced back at him. “You’re dreaming. In this kind of hot and humid environment, it’s basically no different from a breeding ground for bacteria.”

Ruan Silian rested a hand on her slightly rounded belly. “What Xiao Qi means is probably that he hopes every day in the future can be as full of life as today.”

Wu Heng sat down on the soft grass, his legs dangling. The sea below him was hundreds of meters beneath. He leaned forward, stretching his vines downward. The gray shadows under the water were startled and scattered in all directions, but none escaped—a whole school of sardines was cleanly strangled.

The well-fed “child” put away his utensils, lifted his head with a rosy complexion, and, in a good mood, looked toward Qiu Li beside him. “Can you move freely in the sea?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Qiu Li tensed slightly and nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Water-type ability users should all be able to,” Qiu Li replied.

Wu Heng said nothing more.

At that moment, the force of the waves crashing against the rocks felt gentle—like a dragonfly lightly touching the surface of the water with a kiss. The waves rolling in from afar resembled crumpled sheets of gold foil. Even though beneath the surface lurked dangerous, massive mutated sea creatures and hidden currents, at least on the outside it was beautiful—so beautiful it seemed harmless, like a tender, hopeful poem.

Everyone admired the scene from the bottom of their hearts—even Wu Heng, who usually only appreciated food, and Lin Mengzhi, who only appreciated good-looking people. Even if one couldn’t fully appreciate it, it was still enough to leave them speechless.

“We should get moving. It’s dangerous after dark,” the practical Ao She said as he stepped out of the vehicle.

“Oh, alright.” Xue Qi leapt down from the truck. A blue, slightly furry figure slipped in through the jeep window and into the passenger seat. He sprawled lazily. “I thought this was the kind of scene you get at the end when the savior completes the mission.”

As the engine started, X—who had circled the sea—returned, its mouth glistening with grease from its feast.

Xie Chongyi leaned against the rear car window and, seeing Wu Heng getting up and walking over, said with a smile, “Like mother, like son.”

He hadn’t missed Wu Heng’s little act of sneaking a snack just now.

Wu Heng climbed into the car and sat down beside him. “So what?”

X jumped down from his shoulder. “So what.”

Xie Chongyi gave X a light slap on the head, then with the same hand pinched Wu Heng’s cheek and pulled him into a deep kiss that stole all his breath.

—

As the last trace of sunset faded, a massive frog covered in yellow spots dropped from the sky, crushing a dent into the roof of the jeep.

X darted out through the window, its claws tearing the mutated frog to pieces. It returned to the car and wiped its claws clean on Shukui.

Night fell, and all kinds of mutated creatures began to stir.

Faced with this situation, the group decided not to continue traveling at night. Instead, they drove back a few kilometers and stopped near several bamboo huts they had passed earlier.

However, before the humans even got close—just as their footsteps approached—the “bamboo huts” suddenly began to tremble. Their originally smooth, green surfaces visibly turned rough and dark. Feather-duster-like crowns of leaves sprouted across the rooftops, and a black cat leapt out from among them, landing lightly on the ground. Its dark green eyes stared at these “uninvited guests” with both vigilance and disdain.

“This cat isn’t that big—just a bit larger than normal. It’s not a human, right?” Lin Mengzhi said, holding Wu Heng.

“It’s not human. It’s my pet.” A woman’s voice rang out. Soon after, a graceful beauty appeared, her presence matching her voice—though her expression was far from pleasant.

Before the smooth-talking Xue Shen and Ruan Silian could step in, she spoke first:

“If you’re here to ask for shelter, you’re not welcome. If you’re here to cause trouble—then go ahead.”

This time, she didn’t give anyone a chance to react.

The cat in her hand dropped to the ground. Its body softened and elongated, coiling up along a pillar. From within the crown of leaves above, a massive triangular viper head emerged—it was a pit viper, its enormous body still hidden in the darkness, its true size impossible to tell.

It flicked its tongue constantly, and the voice that came from its mouth was the same as that of the beautiful woman from before.

“I’ve always lived here because I didn’t want any conflict with people. But groups like yours—I’ve already hosted quite a few. Aside from a rare few who still act like humans, the rest are no better than beasts.”

Xie Chongyi looked at the pair of crimson snake eyes on the roof. “You were betrayed by them?”

Her gaze fell on the speaker’s face—no, on his eyes. The scales all over her body nearly bristled. It wasn’t about strength; there was a kind of bloodline suppression coming from him.

“Be-betrayed? Not really. I didn’t even know them,” she had to answer. “I just kindly provided them with shelter and food. In the jungle, food is the least scarce thing—but what’s rare is a kind and beautiful woman like me.”

“…”

As she spoke, her massive snake body shifted with a soft rustling sound. The elegant yet chilling snake head lifted high.

“But just last month, I paid the price for my kindness. One group stole all the supplies in my storage and my livestock in the middle of the night. My cat tried to take them back—and they killed it with a single strike.”

“They… killed the cat?” Dou Lu didn’t understand. “Then what about this one?” She pointed at the black cat perched on the pillar.

“This is the kitten of the one they killed. It hadn’t even reached one month old yet—the mother was still nursing when she was slaughtered.”

The snake slithered slowly across the rooftop, its body coiling around several of the huts while much of it still stretched deep into the forest. Its triangular head hung above the group.

“After that, anyone who comes asking for shelter—I make them leave. If they insist on barging in, I kill them all.”

After saying that, her tail swept out from somewhere unseen. A sudden gust of wind rose and fell, and a door was slammed open. Inside the hut, several human bodies hung from the beams—half-dried, withered.

“If you don’t leave now, I’ll hang you up too—turn you into dried meat to feed my cat,” the woman said as she slowly withdrew her snake head and settled back onto the roof.

“Feeding your cat with humans?”

“My cat was killed by humans.”

“I just don’t want to offer help anymore.”

“Alright.” Since she was the boss here, it was her call. Xue Shen shrugged. “Sorry to bother you.”

Just as everyone turned to leave, Wu Heng didn’t move.

His eyes remained fixed on one of the long-dead, dried corpses hanging inside the hut—a body with a filthy, shriveled monkey plush toy hanging from its waist, something only he and Lin Mengzhi would probably recognize.

His hands slowly clenched inside his pockets, then loosened as if in relief—only to tighten again. When he finally spoke, his face had already turned pale, and sweat had formed at his temples without him even noticing.

“Among the groups that passed by here… was there a white-haired girl?” He looked calm, even forcing a slight smile.

More than half the group turned back at once. In Lin Mengzhi’s mind, it felt like something exploded with a loud bang.

The woman caught the change in scent and body temperature from the boy and the others.

She lazily flicked her tongue and raised her tail. “She was very beautiful. I remember her. My tail pierced straight through her mouth—she didn’t even have time to make a sound.”

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