Eaten Ch.60.2

Chapter 60.2: He’s Dead

No one in the group was in the mood to care about anything—or anyone—else.

“Wu Heng, how do you know Zhao Mingxiang is an ability user? Don’t tell me you—”

Wu Heng shook his head, cutting off Xue Shen’s speculation. “I overheard it.”

It wasn’t some new power or special skill—just a simple, practical method.

“You all get some rest. I’ll go ask him myself.”

Xie Chongyi had been staring up at the ceiling for a while; once he’d apparently seen enough, he stood up abruptly.

“Wu Heng, you’re coming with me.”

Wu Heng blinked. “It’s cold outside. I don’t want to go.”

“…”

But the cold-averse Wu Heng was still dragged away by the arm.

The ones left behind in the room didn’t sleep, either.

They’d just lost a classmate—quietly, without warning. Who could close their eyes after that?

They still hadn’t adapted to this new world—a world where humanity had fallen from the top of the food chain to somewhere near the very bottom.

Humans could no longer call themselves “indestructible cockroaches.”

There was nothing on earth easier to kill than a person now.

—

Xie Chongyi was in a foul mood.

Wu Heng wasn’t much better.

He thought Du Yaoyuan’s death was a waste—wasted potential, wasted effort.

“When I talk to him, stay nearby,” Xie Chongyi said.

Wu Heng had both hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his nose red from the cold. “Freezing.”

Xie Chongyi ignored him. “Did you hear me?”

Wu Heng said nothing. He was too cold to even open his mouth.

Up on the pavilion, Zhao Mingxiang watched the two of them approach.

He rubbed his fingers together for warmth, glanced at Zhao Rui sleeping beside him, then bent down to pick up the corner of the blanket that had slipped to the floor and tuck it back over him.

Only then did he stand and step away.

The staircase connecting the pavilion to the ground had been built by the villagers themselves.

As Zhao Mingxiang descended, drawing closer to the ground, a sudden gust of force struck out of nowhere—his body reacted before his mind did, raising an earthen shield that flared up just in time to block the attack.

Xie Chongyi lowered his hand and watched as the gathered earthen shield crumbled apart, revealing Zhao Mingxiang’s expressionless face beneath. He gave a short laugh, eyes sharp.

“You’re an ability user.”

Zhao Mingxiang showed no trace of embarrassment or anger at having his secret exposed. “What’s that got to do with you?”

“Of course, nothing,” Xie Chongyi rubbed his fingers together lightly. “Where’s Du Yaoyuan?”

“…What do you mean?” Zhao Mingxiang stayed calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Exactly as expected.

Which meant Xie Chongyi hadn’t come here for an answer.

The air grew heavy. Zhao Mingxiang suddenly felt suffocated—as if something massive on both sides was squeezing his body with crushing force.

His eyes sharpened. He took a step back, and the ground beneath him trembled. Sharp earthen spikes, like icy ridges rising from a frozen plain, burst upward one after another, surging toward Xie Chongyi’s position.

Xie Chongyi’s figure vanished. The next moment, he appeared right in front of Zhao Mingxiang and punched him square in the face.

“Honestly, I don’t like using abilities. It just feels better to hit people with my own hands.”

Zhao Mingxiang’s body flew back, slamming hard into a courtyard wall. Without hesitation, he tore up a hundred catties of solid frozen earth, shaping it into a massive fist that he hurled straight at Xie Chongyi.

Boom—

The huge earthen fist smashed against an invisible wall of air and exploded apart with a thunderous crash.

Zhao Rui was jolted awake. He leaned over the railing, hair sticking up like a bird’s nest, not even stopping to think about why Zhao Mingxiang would expose his ability in front of outsiders.

“What the hell are you guys doing?!” he shouted.

Perched on the eaves, Wu Heng lazily swung his legs to avoid the stray shockwaves. Hearing Zhao Rui’s voice, he glanced over, eyes narrowing slightly as if turning something over in his mind.

With countless rumbling noises, the ground had already been torn to pieces. Zhao Mingxiang could manipulate everything beneath his feet—tiles, soil, even the houses around them.

His power wasn’t weak, and his combat skills weren’t bad either. But he couldn’t match Xie Chongyi’s endurance. After several rounds, sweat streamed down his face in thick rivulets.

Xie Chongyi moved with smooth precision, but his patience was wearing thin. He stopped playing around—his empty hand traced a circle in midair, and the air itself began to twist and surge.

Before him, space solidified into a blade. After a brief pause—swish—it shot straight toward Zhao Mingxiang.

Zhao Mingxiang raised wall after wall of packed earth. Bang! Bang! Bang!—each one was pierced clean through.

In the blink of an eye, a figure suddenly stepped in front of him—Zhao Rui, arms spread wide, blocking his way.

Whoosh!

The blade of space collided violently with something unseen.

The earthen walls had created a blind spot in Xie Chongyi’s line of sight, but from above, Wu Heng could see everything clearly.

A green vine pierced through the air, curling tightly around the space blade just in time. Then, with a flurry of slicing sounds, countless more vines erupted into view, shredding the surrounding space into tatters.

As the earthen walls collapsed one after another, Xie Chongyi’s expression turned cold when he saw Zhao Rui standing protectively in front of Zhao Mingxiang.

The vine that had completed its task softened, swaying lightly in midair.

Zhao Mingxiang couldn’t spare a thought for counterattack anymore. His mind was blank. He grabbed Zhao Rui by the shoulders and threw him hard against the wall, his eyes full of panic.

“Are you insane? Who told you to come down here?!”

“You’re the one who’s insane! It’s the middle of the night and you’re fighting—you’re all crazy!” Zhao Rui shouted back, face flushed with anger.

But before he could finish yelling, something suddenly wrapped tightly around his waist, squeezing until pain shot through his body. He looked down—and saw it was that same vine that had just saved him.

Zhao Mingxiang saw it too.

Only then did the two of them remember to look for the source of the vines.

Following the trail of green, they saw a lone figure perched on a nearby rooftop—a pale boy sitting in solitude beneath the eaves, watching them like a ghost from the shadows.

Before Zhao Mingxiang could react, Zhao Rui vanished from his sight. The vine had yanked him upward, lifting him straight into the air—three, maybe four stories high.

“WAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Zhao Rui screamed in terror, completely disoriented. “You lunatics—what the hell are you doing?!”

A soft vine morphed into a long, slender needle, silently pressing against the back of Zhao Rui’s head.

All the color drained from Zhao Mingxiang’s face. “Let him go!”

Wu Heng wasn’t good at talking. He lowered his eyes and looked toward Xie Chongyi. “Class Monitor, hurry up and ask. I’m cold.”

There was no need to ask—Zhao Mingxiang couldn’t stand seeing Zhao Rui’s life in danger because of him. The moment Wu Heng finished speaking, he started spilling everything.

According to Zhao Mingxiang, the leader of that pack of mutant wolves was a woman. She wasn’t a wolf that had turned into a human, but a human who had turned into a wolf. That made her far more intelligent—and far stronger—than ordinary mutant wolves. She also possessed a metal ability. Under her command, the pack’s growth had been terrifyingly fast. Normally, wolf packs wouldn’t number more than twenty, but the one entrenched near their village had over sixty members.

Zhao Mingxiang had first encountered them when he secretly went up the mountain to hunt behind the villagers’ backs. The alpha hadn’t killed him; instead, she gave him a task—to help supply the pack with food.

A pack that large naturally needed enormous amounts of food. Its hunting efficiency was nowhere near that of humans, and the alpha couldn’t be bothered to catch prey for the others. She simply gave orders—and when they came back empty-handed, she beat them mercilessly.

Until one night, the alpha came to Zhao Mingxiang again. But this time, what she wanted wasn’t food—it was people.

She said a group of humans had killed and eaten one of her wolf pups. Thanks to that pup, she learned that most of those humans were ability-users. And she wanted them.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Zhao Mingxiang said, finally slumping against the wall as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His eyes were vacant as he stared up at the sky. “Do whatever you want. Kill me if you want—just let Zhao Rui go.”

His gaze shifted to Zhao Rui, who was frozen stiff in shock. A faint light flickered back into his eyes.

Xie Chongyi stood with his hands in his pockets, nudged a chunk of snow with his shoe, clicked his tongue, and suddenly asked something completely out of place:

“So… are you gay?”

Zhao Mingxiang paused, then said no.

His gaze stayed fixed on the long needle pressed against the back of Zhao Rui’s head. He could faintly sense the sharp contrast between the two boys before him—the one on the ground could still communicate; the one on the roof clearly couldn’t, or didn’t want to. It was like talking to someone who simply refused to understand human speech.

Sure enough, the long needle pierced into Zhao Rui’s scalp. Zhao Rui let out a cry of pain, and Wu Heng looked down at Zhao Mingxiang, his tone flat and cold.

“You didn’t tell the truth.”

“I already did,” Zhao Mingxiang said through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t.” Wu Heng’s voice was stubborn, unyielding.

The words had barely left his mouth before his patience snapped. He was freezing—literally freezing—and he didn’t want to stand there any longer. The needle in his hand dropped, shifting shape midair into a blade. Before anyone could react, it plunged straight into Zhao Mingxiang’s abdomen.

Even Xie Chongyi hadn’t seen that coming—though, frankly, it was entirely in character for Wu Heng.

Zhao Rui stared as Zhao Mingxiang crumpled to the ground, his voice breaking. “No!”

Zhao Mingxiang gasped, his breath steaming in the cold, melting the snow in front of him into patches of water. He flexed his fingers, realizing he wasn’t dead—the vines were still hanging midair, unmoving.

He lifted his gaze upward. Zhao Rui was still hanging there, crying and shouting. For an instant, Zhao Mingxiang saw the village chief’s face before his eyes.

“When I die, I’ll leave the people in the village to you,” the old man had said. “They all watched you grow up—and you watched them grow up, too.”

Zhao Mingxiang blinked once. His raised palm turned toward the ground, his sleeve splitting open along his arm. A low growl rumbled from his throat as gray fur crept across his face and hands, and a flash of gold flickered in his eyes.

A massive mutated wolf leapt up from beside the wall.

In one motion, it snatched Zhao Rui from midair, clamping him in its jaws. Its powerful limbs pushed off the ground—two, three great bounds—and it was already atop the wall, vanishing agilely into the dark forest beyond the village.

Zhao Rui’s frantic “holy shit holy shit holy shit!” disappeared along with it.

The wolf’s strength was immense—like a small mountain set in motion. Even though the vines retracted quickly, the pull was too strong. Caught off guard, Wu Heng was yanked off balance and fell straight from the roof.

After landing—despite the vines helping—Wu Heng still staggered, nearly plopping down onto the ground. Xie Chongyi caught him from behind just in time and steadied him.

“How did you know he was a wolf?” Xie Chongyi asked, still remembering how insistently Wu Heng had been pressuring Zhao Mingxiang until the latter revealed his true form.

“I don’t know,” Wu Heng said, his lashes clumped together from the cold. He was nearly frozen; when he spoke his voice was barely more than a whisper. “The first time I saw him I just felt… attracted. The next few times I felt the same. And I kept smelling a scent on him that felt familiar—like something I’d eaten somewhere before.”

Xie Chongyi recalled: Wu Heng had eaten wolf a few days ago.

Wu Heng was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “It’s because of me that the wolf pack took an interest in us—so it’s my fault…”

“No,” Xie Chongyi cut him off in time. “Even if we hadn’t moved into this village, the pack would’ve noticed us sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.”

Seeing Wu Heng go a little dazed from the cold, Xie Chongyi shrugged off his own coat and wrapped it around him. “Let’s go back first.”

Wu Heng obediently slid his hand under the hem of Xie Chongyi’s coat and rested it on Xie Chongyi’s abs to warm it.

“Wu Heng.” Xie Chongyi flinched when he felt the chill and suddenly remembered something important. His voice dropped, roughening. “Whether you’re stroking me or putting your hand inside my clothes—if you do it with me, you can’t do it with others anymore. Hear me?”

“Oh.” Wu Heng didn’t really understand.

Xie Chongyi looked down at his indifferent face, then up again; though his tone was calm, there was a current of emotion beneath the surface. “If I ever see you do that with someone else, I’ll chop your hand off.”

Wu Heng said nothing. Deep down he felt even less worried—his hand would grow back anyway.

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