Eaten Ch.216

Chapter 216: Suyou City

In an apocalyptic era without the internet, word of mouth didn’t seem much slower than online communication.

They heard that the group of people who had been stopping others on the road, robbing them, and harassing boys and girls over the past few days had been punished—killed in a single strike. They couldn’t help but applaud in approval. The Xianghu Base wasn’t the richest in resources, but it was far from lacking. Hardworking people could live well no matter the circumstances. So at first, when they were stopped on the road and asked for supplies, they gave them without hesitation, thinking they were newcomers and didn’t want trouble. But the next day, the demands escalated from a bit of food to a sheep, a cow, a pig—and by the third day, they started demanding people…

After all, this wasn’t truly their home. They didn’t understand what kind of person the new base leader was, or whether he would shield his subordinates’ looting like Qi Songshi did. If things escalated and they were driven out, the loss would be far more than just some food.

The survivors at Xianghu Base had too many concerns—even quietly telling others felt too risky.

If Wu Heng and Xie Chongyi hadn’t happened to run into this situation, no one knew how long the extortion and looting would have continued.

Feeling kindness and acceptance, those who had been hiding in the residential area, too afraid to go anywhere, stepped out of their homes the morning after the rain stopped. They began to wander around the city, slowly familiarizing themselves with their new home.

The sunlight was thin and faint, almost like winter.

Wu Heng, who had been sleeping deeply, was pulled out of bed by Xie Chongyi gripping his wrist. His pajamas were smoothly removed, a light shirt slipped onto him, and a crisp uniform was dressed over his back.

Xie Chongyi had gotten dressed first; only after he was neat and tidy did he start fixing up Wu Heng.

Perhaps from eating too much and too many different things—like a snake entering its digestion phase—his reactions had slowed considerably.

When Wu Heng opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was their reflection in the bathroom mirror. Xie Chongyi stood beside him, squeezing toothpaste onto a toothbrush.

He paused for a moment, feeling a bit unfamiliar with how formal their uniforms suddenly looked.

Wu Heng felt as if he were seeing Xie Chongyi again from back in Kuhuang, when he had been about to leave for Jingzhou. But back then, Xie Chongyi had been full of flamboyance—now he was far more restrained. His collar was buttoned up tightly, giving off an air of stern untouchability, yet the moment he spoke, there was still a hint of playful teasing.

“Stunned by how handsome I look?”

Wu Heng was about to respond, but Xie Chongyi stuffed a toothbrush straight into his mouth—no need to say anything unpleasant.

Wu Heng could only nod.

Only then did Xie Chongyi’s eyes curve slightly, like a young lion whose mane had been smoothed. He gently began brushing Wu Heng’s teeth, pinching his cheek as he said, “My mom designed the clothes. She thinks that aside from private moments, it’s more appropriate for us to wear uniforms when we’re working.”

The toothbrush scraped against Wu Heng’s tongue, making him uncomfortable, and he tried to push Xie Chongyi’s wrist away.

Instead, Xie Chongyi pushed the toothbrush in deeper.

“She worked on the uniforms together with a few friends, but they didn’t have enough resources or manpower, so they only managed to rush out a few hundred sets. She sent over the design drafts along with the other supplies—we just need to follow them to make more,” Xie Chongyi finally pulled the toothbrush out when he saw Wu Heng’s eyes reddening. “Spit.”

Wu Heng bent over, spat out the foam, washed his face, and wiped away the water.

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

As soon as they went downstairs, the first thing they saw was Wu Zhi rolling around on the floor with a dog and a bird. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Wu Zhi scrambled to her feet. “Big brother… I was looking for you all day yesterday…”

After she finished speaking, she blinked, as if she didn’t recognize the person standing on the stairs. There was nothing unusual about Xie Chongyi—yesterday, today, tomorrow, he would probably always look like this. But her brother, standing right there in those few strands of pale morning light, seemed different. The well-fitted uniform looked as if it had been tailored just for him, like a blade—dangerous, yet perfectly restrained.

Although both she and her brother had grown up—she was still like a little puppy—but her brother was no longer that boy who always stood quietly in the corner.

Outside, Lin Mengzhi and the others were scattered about lazily, some standing crookedly, some leaning. The sunlight turned golden in an instant, making the group of young people look like sleek, glowing silver fish.

The moment the door opened, Lin Mengzhi, his coat casually slung over his shoulders, gave Wu Heng a teasing whistle.

Xie Chongyi let out a laugh.

Xue Shen reached out and dragged him away.

Twenty minutes later, at the square beside the government building, the people who had arrived yesterday were already lined up in advance. They were still wearing their uniforms from the Jingzhou Base. Some wore work clothes—just from their attire and posture, one could tell their occupations, even their military roles.

At this time of year, even when the sun was out, it wasn’t hot. Standing there for ten or twenty minutes was nothing.

In the quiet square, the distant calls of birds grew closer and closer.

A gray mutated bird swept over the neatly arranged, spacious formation like an airplane. Before anyone could see clearly what kind of bird it was, it had already stirred up a strong gust of wind, making quite a few people instinctively shut their eyes.

When they opened them again, they saw… not just a bird—it was like a beast, like a structure. It crouched at the very front, its height even exceeding Wen Yuan, who stood nearly 1.9 meters tall.

“Captain…”

“No need to worry. It’s Wu Heng’s bird,” Wen Yuan said calmly.

As soon as he finished speaking, the bird’s agile head turned to the right. Xie Chongyi walked over from not far away, politely holding a dog on a leash, with the others following behind him. The sight of this group struck the crowd so strongly that it felt as if an invisible hand had gripped their throats—not because they were too young, but because of the overwhelming pressure from high-level ability users. For a brief moment, the energy fields within everyone present became unstable.

Lin Mengzhi and the others didn’t stand together with the people from Jingzhou or the survivors of Xianghu Base. They formed two groups of their own, off to the side, completely unconcerned.

Xie Chongyi stood in front of them. Wen Yuan glanced around, then turned and walked toward him.

“Where’s Wu Heng?”

Xie Chongyi didn’t answer. Instead, he looked toward the direction they had just come from.

Wu Heng was hiding behind a wall in the distance, stuffing the last bite of food into his mouth. Before he even had time to swallow, he stepped out.

Now a young man, his short hair was slightly messy, the tips still damp from a hasty wash. Yet his sharp, pale features made it impossible to notice his casualness in daily life. The moment he appeared, the sense of pressure he brought was almost stronger than any ability user they had ever encountered.

Even more unsettling—he was so young, as young as Xie Chongyi. And more unsettling still, unlike Xie Chongyi… he wasn’t short-lived.

He drew more attention than everyone else combined—an unmatched brilliance no one could rival.

As he walked, Wu Heng wiped the corner of his mouth. When he reached the very front of all the formations, he lowered his hand and swept his gaze across the faces before him.

“I’m Wu Heng. From now on, I’ll be your…” He paused. His voice was soft, yet it carried clearly to the very last person at the back of the formation. “…lord.”

“But I don’t mind being called by my name.”

“Though I’m not your friend.”

“Pleasure working with you.” He curved his lips slightly, imitating Xie Chongyi. In his dark green eyes flickered cold points of light—no one would ever actually dare to address him so casually.

The young man’s taciturn nature left people uneasy. After that brief introduction, he simply turned and walked away.

Next, Ginger led the report, briefing him on the number of people who had arrived this time—the distribution of ability users within each team, the types of work each group was responsible for, as well as the total amount of supplies and their classifications. It was essentially the completion of the handover.

Those who still needed to return did not participate in the internal work discussions. After Ginger and Wu Dian finished their tasks, they left the square with twenty to thirty people. The remaining group was given simple temporary assignments by Jiang Xun—transporting, organizing, repairing, patrolling, species collection… By the time most had dispersed, only around forty people were left in the square.

Wen Yuan glanced at Wu Heng. “Meeting room?”

—

They switched to a larger meeting room than last time, with Wen Yuan still taking the lead in speaking.

“There are more and more people in the base. Personnel arrangements must be finalized today.”

“I have a list compiled yesterday of everyone currently in the base—5,126 people in total. Among them, 20% are ability users. Although they’re all human, the needs of these two groups have already diverged significantly in many aspects. So, we still need to establish a General Assembly for ordinary humans and another for ability users.”

“For the president of the Ability Users’ Assembly, my proposed candidates are: Xue Shen, Ao She, Pu Fei, Chen Jiandong, and Li Nong.” After listing the names, Wen Yuan looked toward Wu Heng at the head of the table. “Choose one. Once appointed, they can handle internal coordination themselves.”

Wu Heng tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “Xue Shen.”

He barely gave it any thought.

Wen Yuan drew a line under Xue Shen’s name. Before he even lifted his pen, Wu Mo, who was seated in the middle, frowned in disapproval.

“That’s too careless. You should appoint someone suitable, not someone close to you.”

Wu Heng leaned back in his chair, looking at Wu Mo with a strange, subdued gloom in his eyes.

“That’s none of your business.”

The meeting room fell into immediate silence. Wu Heng and his few friends might not have realized it, but everyone who came from Jingzhou knew—Wu Mo’s status among human society was on par with Xie Yi’s. Whenever people spoke to him, they would first respectfully address him as “Director Wu.”

“Continue,” Wu Heng urged Wen Yuan.

“Next is the Human Assembly…”

The sun outside the window climbed higher. Three hours had already passed. The base’s major affairs—from security and infrastructure to research and resources—had been divided, with survival as the top priority, into six clearly defined departments. Each unit had been assigned tasks for the coming month. Once those were completed, they would be further subdivided, step by step, to achieve the reconstruction of the base.

The highest administrator of the Human Assembly was assigned to Jiang Xun. The infrastructure unit was put under Yang Xiaoyun. The security system was overseen by Mo Zhaohong. Resource coordination was handled by Su Zhouyu from Jingzhou and her team. As for the medical field, there was no question—only Doctor Chen was capable of taking charge.

Finally, Wen Yuan proposed that the position of Chief Executive—second only to Wu Heng—be given to Xie Chongyi. Aside from him, no other candidates were suggested.

Wu Heng didn’t speak, but Wen Yuan continued on his own.

“First, Xie Chongyi has undergone professional training in Jingzhou. He understands how to manage a base better than I do.”

“Second, this position must be held by the strongest ability user aside from you.”

“Third, he’s sharp-minded—he can handle a dozen conflicting opinions at once without issue.”

“Fourth, your relationship.”

“In summary, this position can only be held by Xie Chongyi.”

“I object.” Wu Mo spoke again, leaning forward slightly. “Xiao Xie is still so young. Being Chief Executive would be too much for him.”

Wu Heng countered him once more.

“I’m young too.”

Wu Mo could faintly sense a restrained but unmistakable hostility coming from him.

The position of Chief Executive was second only to Wu Heng. It could be said that when Wu Heng was absent and unable to preside over affairs, the Chief Executive held over 90% of the base’s administrative authority. Even when Wu Heng was present, the role still carried immense power—executing his decisions and ensuring they were implemented.

Wu Mo had spoken with Xie Yi countless times; they understood each other very well. Others here might not know, but he was keenly aware that Xie Yi had already planned to transfer all survivors into Deathlands. This might become humanity’s last base—and the lord and Chief Executive of that base would, in effect, be the lord and Chief Executive of all humanity.

Furious, Wu Mo stormed out, his two assistants leaving with him.

Wu Heng lowered his gaze, unmoved. “Continue.”

Wen Yuan opened his mouth, about to speak, when in a corner, a young man—around twenty, with black curly hair—raised his hand. His eyes were a clear blue, his features deep-set, giving him the look of mixed heritage.

“I have a suggestion,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention. A few gazes were especially exasperated, but he showed no sign of backing down. “We’d better change the base’s name. ‘Deathlands’ is too inauspicious.”

After he spoke, Xue Shen covered his forehead and lowered his head. Why had Xie Yi sent him here? He was just as troublesome as Teacher Ying.

At least Teacher Ying didn’t mean it—this one was completely deliberate.

“What’s your name?” Wu Heng had only remembered those striking blue eyes, clearly not altered by any ability.

It was the first time someone had seriously listened to him and then asked his name. The young man flashed a bright grin. “Rui En. My mom is Irish.”

Rui En’s point about the name being “inauspicious” did resonate with Wu Heng. He had never forgotten that death could descend upon the class monitor at any moment.

“Fine, we’ll change it. To what?”

Lin Mengzhi, who had been dozing on the table, suddenly jolted upright. Seriously? Superstitions like this?

Besides, was this still the same childhood friend who didn’t believe in fate or heaven?

Rui En perked up, about to share his idea, but Wu Heng spoke first, his voice light:

“‘Suyou City.’ How about it?”

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**TN

Suyou / 溯游 comes from classical Chinese, most famously from the Book of Songs. It means “to travel upstream” or “to journey against the current.”