Eaten Ch.78

Chapter 78: Soft Candy

The tremors underground grew stronger. Straight, column-like objects kept pushing up through the ground. The freshly emerged shoots still carried the earthy fragrance of soil and bamboo husk, but in the blink of an eye, they shot upward and thickened, standing on the earth like the towering legs of some monster.

Wu Heng held his blades with both hands, and wherever he passed, whole swaths of bamboo shoots toppled like a collapsing forest.

Behind him, vines surged like a green ocean. They moved methodically, squeezing into the severed openings of the bamboo shoots he cut along the way. But after the shattered joints burst into pieces across the ground, the vines returned empty-handed.

They had not found the mutated bamboo’s energy core.

The two people hanging above looked like they had already stopped breathing, yet the shoots continued to grow and expand. They seemed uninterested in human flesh; killing appeared incidental — anything in their way was simply pushed aside, and anything that couldn’t be pushed aside was pierced straight through.

Standing at the root of a bamboo shoot now thicker than a streetlamp pole, Wu Heng tilted his head back. Before he had time to locate the guards’ corpses, the ground beneath his feet suddenly gave way.

“Hey! Under your feet!” A woman hiding behind a window on the second floor of a building by the street suddenly shouted.

Wu Heng didn’t waste time looking down. Vines spiraled out from his palm, slammed into the ground, then snapped straight. His body was flung upward; as he fell, he swung his blade and sliced through the giant tower beside him, landing on the newly cut surface.

He let out a small breath — just in time.

Below his feet lay the guard who had pointed a knife at him earlier. Wu Heng was less than twenty centimeters from the man’s body. The guard lay face-down, his limbs limp.

Wu Heng crouched and reached out to check for breath. Only after a long moment did he stand. As he rose, the vines beneath his feet twisted downward like a rope. The guard’s corpse was quickly wrapped from head to toe, sealed tightly without a gap.

While Poppy fed, Wu Heng lifted his gaze toward the street he had come from. Dense towers of bamboo shoots were rapidly expanding their territory. His field of vision had already turned into a dark, oppressive bamboo forest. The shoots now towered over the buildings — the base had transformed into their domain.

Fortunately for the people in the base, the mutated bamboo didn’t try to seize their houses. It only appeared in open spaces, displaying a strange sense of… principle.

The vine tightly coiled around the corpse beneath Wu Heng’s feet began to loosen. It slowly unfurled, blooming open like petals of a peony.

The guard who had previously been skewered on the bamboo shoot was now gone. Only a few reddish vines could be seen wriggling in satisfaction, along with a knife—twisted like braided dough—falling limply to the ground.

He… he was eaten?

From behind the window, the woman witnessing this scene clamped a hand over her mouth, forcing back the scream rising in her throat.

But the faint sound she failed to stifle still reached Wu Heng’s ears.

The boy turned his back to the window, slowly tilting his head. His grey-green eyes, devoid of emotion or ripple, looked straight toward the woman.

Tears slid from the woman’s eyes. She was so terrified she couldn’t move.

But he merely glanced at her—did nothing—and looked away.

When he turned back, a long blade appeared in his hand. He looked at the tricycle driver whose body was slumped not far away, cut down the towering bamboo shoot in front of him, and leapt lightly.

He carved a path for himself just like that. Not a hint of strain or fear appeared on his face, even though the street beneath his feet was split apart and the mutated bamboo around him was stirring restlessly.

Like playing a game, he hopped step by step, landing atop the bamboo tower half a stride away from the driver.

Just as before, Wu Heng crouched down and reached out to test the man’s breath.

But the man—who moments ago had shown no signs of life—suddenly raised his hand and grabbed the wrist extended toward him.

The moment the grip tightened, the blade in Wu Heng’s other hand was already pressed to the back of the man’s neck. Any movement, and that sharp edge could slice the head clean off.

“It… hurts…” The driver slurred his words. He had also lost blood, but he was undoubtedly suffering more than the first guard, because the mutated bamboo had only pierced the right side of his body—his left side was still intact.

Wu Heng said nothing and simply waited for him to die.

“Zone A… Room 6.”

The man released the wrist he held, though his gaze remained tightly fixed on it, staring as if it were his lifeline.

“A… 6…”

His lowered hand trembled as it fumbled into his pocket. A key slipped out and fell to the ground, but he clearly no longer cared. What he pulled out was an object tightly wrapped in layers of material.

He held it up toward Wu Heng. “Zone A…”

His breath was nearly gone. Before he could finish his words, his arm dropped heavily, and the unknown object plummeted with it.

Wu Heng caught it with a vine.

The vine placed it gently into his palm.

Wu Heng regarded it as a keepsake.

It was the first time someone had entrusted him with a last possession. The feeling was a little strange. So he simply sat down cross-legged and carefully, gently unwrapped the paper parcel in his hand.

Layer after layer.

Layer after layer.

And another layer.

Unusually, Wu Heng did not lose patience. When he opened the final layer, he found inside two pieces of corn-flavored soft candy.

Corn soft candy?

The keepsake… was corn soft candy?

Eyes lowered, his gray-green bangs swayed slightly in the wind. He thought about the man’s last words — likely an address: Zone A, Room 6.

After a brief moment of thought, the vines slid out softly and pulled the driver’s corpse down from the bamboo tower. The right side of his body had been pierced through, its contents gone; a warm, steaming cavity remained on his shoulder.

Poppy had just fed and knew Wu Heng no longer intended to eat the man himself. It only licked away the remaining blood and fluids from the corpse’s surface.

Carrying the body over his shoulder, Wu Heng stood beneath the woman’s window.

“I have a question.”

The window was tightly shut. No response.

Wu Heng’s delicate brows knitted together. The vine slithered up the wall like a snake, then with a crash, stabbed through the window. As the glass shattered, the woman’s scream rang out—she was crouched in the corner, hands over her ears, when that serpent-like green creature invaded her home. It wrapped around her neck and lifted her upper body out the window.

“Hello. I have a question,” Wu Heng said gently, asking with polite calm.

The woman nearly went mad, but she forced herself to swallow and ignore the cold tightening around her throat. “W-what… what question?”

“Where is Zone A, Room 6?”

The woman immediately raised her hand—but then jerked as if shocked, quickly lowering it again, even hiding her hand behind her back.

“What are you going there for?” she asked, suddenly looking like she wasn’t afraid anymore.

Wu Heng didn’t know what he was going there for, either.

He simply wanted to prolong that strange feeling a little longer and figure out why it appeared in the first place.

“I think it’s his home. I’m taking him back.”

Upon hearing this, the woman didn’t give him directions. Instead, she bit her lip, her face turning deathly pale.

Wu Heng had no patience to wait.

The vine tightened immediately.

Feeling the air thinning, the woman had no choice but to lift her hand and point behind him. “Z-Zone A is right behind you, but Room 6 is farther inside. It’s the one with the brightest light.”

The vine loosened around her neck and withdrew from her sight. The boy turned away.

Clinging to the windowsill with both hands, the woman rasped out toward his retreating back:

“Room 6 is full of children!!!”

Wu Heng halted. In an instant, he understood why she had refused to tell him earlier—she must have feared he would harm the children living there.

That worry was unnecessary.

Children weren’t even enough to fill a gap between Poppy’s teeth.

…

The bamboo forest caused a tremor throughout Meili Base, throwing the survivors into panic. Aside from a handful of ability users who went out to investigate, everyone else hid inside their homes; some had even begun packing their belongings.

The narrow paths between the buildings twisted and branched. Lights glimmered sparsely from within the houses—most were unoccupied, as there simply weren’t enough survivors to fill them.

Along many of the paths, bamboo shoots had begun to poke through the ground, though they were still small, like little black nails sticking out of the earth.

As Wu Heng walked, the vines behind him uprooted the shoots one by one, dragging up even parts of the underground roots. But the root network was extensive and deeply intertwined, making it difficult to rip them out entirely.

He thought that judging by the bamboo’s growth speed, the entire underground of Meili Base was likely already covered with bamboo roots. It was only a matter of time before the mutated bamboo fully claimed the base.

When he heard human voices, Wu Heng knew he must be close.

The voices grew clearer—sweet, synchronized recitation.

“Spring slumber—unknowingly dawn,

Everywhere I hear birdsong—”

“At night—comes wind and rain,

How many flowers have fallen—”

Wu Heng stopped in front of a giant semicircular iron dome. It resembled a prison, enclosing the houses beneath it. Lights glowed inside; and among them, one room shone brighter than any he had seen that night. Inside sat more than a dozen children, holding books as they recited together, swaying rhythmically.

Sensing something, the only adult in the room—the children’s teacher—suddenly turned her head toward the outside.

Room 6 sat deep within Zone A, the safest area of the base, where the strongest ability users also gathered. Outsiders usually only ate, slept for a night or two, and left. No outsider wandered the base casually—and certainly none wandered all the way to Room 6.

A piercing screech rang out as a streak of snow-white burst through the window. A massive dark shadow lunged at the boy standing outside.

Wu Heng fixed his gaze on it. The vines rose in front of him to block the incoming talons, then the vine tips immediately tried to coil around the creature’s legs.

The opponent was incredibly fast.

Snap—

?

The vine-woven shield was suddenly pierced through by something. Wu Heng tilted his head swiftly, avoiding the sharp object. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of it—it looked similar to X’s mouth, except X’s beak was barbed backward, and nowhere near as thin or long.

Wu Heng stepped back two paces. Countless vines burst from the ground, casting a net toward the snow-white bird in midair.

The white bird cried sharply. It twisted back through the vines with fluid ease, its keen eyes locking onto the boy not far away.

When had such a powerful child entered the base? Why had no one told him?

After forcing the white bird back, Wu Heng realized the creature actually bore little resemblance to X aside from both having wings.

The white bird had a slender neck and long beak, its form graceful and soft. Its muscles stretched elegantly as it flew. Its feathers were white as snow, and its spear-like legs were crimson.

Under the shifting light and shadow, Wu Heng judged it to be a white crane.

So beautiful.

Wu Heng’s strikes unknowingly softened.

The white crane landed atop the roof, a few feathers drifting down.

Then its form shifted—feathers dissolving—until a man stood where the crane had been.

Tall and slim, with a temperament like that of a crane, though the air around him churned with killing intent.

“Who are you?”

Vines gathered in front of him, forming a bud-like shape.

Wu Heng could have stepped inside and spoken face to face, but he couldn’t be bothered. Instead, he bent down and placed the man he carried onto the ground.

“Do you know him?”

Yue Shanqing lowered his gaze. When he recognized the face, his expression changed—noticeably, and not for the better.

The white crane leapt down from the roof. Before it reached Wu Heng, it had already taken full human form. He hurried toward the doorway, his expression tense and anxious.

Wu Heng, however, stared fixedly at his face.

He thought the man had been more recognizable when he was still in bird form.

The door swung open. The man rushed out. He crouched beside the person on the ground, patting his shoulder.

“Old Feng? Old Feng? You—”

The cold dampness in his palm made him stop. His voice died as well. He lifted his hand to look—several faint smears of blood stained his skin. Then he reached out to check the man’s breath, and after that, leaned down to listen for a heartbeat, watching for any rise or fall of the chest.

Supporting himself with a palm on his knee, he slowly stood up.

“What happened?”

Wu Heng wasn’t here to tell a story. He simply handed over what he held.

“He told me to bring this.”

Yue Shanqing recognized the object instantly—it was candy. But he didn’t take it. Instead, he turned his head, lifting his gaze toward one of the children crowded at the window. Feng Xiangxiang seemed to have seen nothing; she was worriedly watching the teacher, unaware her father was lying just beyond the threshold, blocked from her view.

“Hello. I’m Yue Shanqing.”

When he turned back, he had regained his composure. Though his eyes were wet, his voice was steady.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

By giving his own name, he clearly expected the boy to offer his in return.

But Wu Heng had no such instinct for social convention. He lowered his gaze.

“He was killed by a mutated plant. I planned to eat him, but… this seems to have been his last wish.”

Yue Shanqing looked at the two pieces of candy. He finally reached out, took them, and closed his hand around them tightly.

“His daughter is here. All the children of the base are here. Because this is the safest place.”

Wu Heng blinked blankly.

“Safe?”

“…”

After a moment of silence, Yue Shanqing said quietly, “Maybe not… for someone like you.”

“This”—he lifted the hand holding the candy—“thank you.”

“That”—he nodded toward Old Feng on the ground—“you can eat.”

Wu Heng blinked again.

It was then Yue Shanqing finally noticed the boy’s eyes, so different from most people in the apocalypse. Gray-green, with a faint yellow sheen in the light, but the pupils were pitch black. More strikingly, those eyes held none of the desolation or fear that came from witnessing the world fall apart.

He looked as if he were still living a comfortable life—his gaze calm, his complexion rosy.

“Oh.”

Wu Heng finally understood—Yue Shanqing probably wasn’t a good person either. He nodded and quietly gave his thanks.

A vine pierced up through the ground beneath the corpse, burrowed through the skin, and entered the body cavity.

Yue Shanqing, who had not yet left, witnessed this. A jolt of shock and pain struck him, but none of it showed on his face. He merely frowned slightly and endured the increasingly heavy smell of blood in the air as he said, “Take your time eating. I’ll head in first.”

Cleaning up a corpse took Wu Heng less than half a minute.

When he turned to leave, he pretended not to see Yue Shanqing inside the wall, vomiting until he was nearly faint. The vine withdrew from the earth, its bark splitting open to wrap around Wu Heng’s body. Once enclosed, it sank back into the ground.

—

Inside the base’s control center, in the meeting room.

Zheng Xi and Ye Zongran were staring at the magnetic field variation data collected during the day, both vexed. The magnetic fluctuations were completely irregular—sometimes fast, sometimes slow—with no clues from the magnetic poles whatsoever. With changes this chaotic, even if the north and south poles suddenly reversed overnight, they wouldn’t be surprised.

“The temperature will probably keep rising,” Ye Zongran said. Since the apocalypse began, he’d been working three days’ worth of effort into every one. Even though Zheng Xi had never let him go hungry, the strain of monitoring the climate and worrying over the base’s future had worn him into a half-human, half-ghost state—his head a wild mess of white hair, like he had a ball of over-fluffed cotton sitting on top.

“We can figure out food, but we can’t lack water. I’ll have someone check on the new wells later,” Zheng Xi said.

A moment later he sighed again.

“We don’t have enough ability users. Not only are there too few, their powers are weak, and they advance too slowly.”

Ye Zongran tried to reassure the young man carrying such heavy responsibilities on his shoulders.

“Evolving abilities requires a huge amount of energy cores. It’ll take time.”

The meeting room fell quiet.

When Zheng Xi spoke again, his tone was noticeably brighter.

“Didn’t the captain of Team 1 say a really strong ability user arrived at the base? If we could convince him to stay…”

“Zheng Xi.” Ye Zongran’s expression shifted sharply, turning grave. “This ability user killed one of our base’s guards. Yes, he is very powerful, but he violated Meili Base’s laws. He should be dealt with according to the rules.”

Zheng Xi opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“If we allow people to be pardoned for their crimes simply because they’re strong, then what is the meaning of establishing a base at all?” Ye Zongran’s voice was firm, ringing with conviction.

Zheng Xi pressed his fingers against his temple, saying nothing.

“Bang!”

The meeting room door suddenly slammed open. The crash startled both men, and before Zheng Xi could explode in anger, a guard—drenched in sweat—collapsed at their feet.

“A lot of mutated plants have grown into the main streets of the base! Team 1… two of them died while on patrol!”

“What?”

“Was the magnetic field disturbance earlier caused by those mutated plants appearing?”

Ye Zongran grabbed his cane, snatched up his thermos. “I’m going to take a look.”

“Old Ye! Old Ye!” Zheng Xi hurried after him, but after only a few steps, he turned back. Bending down, he questioned the still-shaken guard.

“The person I told them to bring back—where is he?”

The guard wiped his face.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Teacher Zheng, when Team 1 returned, they were so terrified they couldn’t speak. We questioned them for ages, and only their vice-captain managed to explain what happened. That ability user jumped off the vehicle.”

The guard lay flat on the floor, voice certain.

“With plants like those able to invade our base… and that ability user dared to jump off the truck? He’s most likely dead. There’s no way he could’ve survived.”

Zheng Xi’s brows knit tightly. He staggered two steps, heart filled with regret—but in the end, could only tilt his head back and release a long, drawn-out sigh.

But halfway through that sigh, he noticed something strange—the ceiling looked different today. Softer. As though it was… rippling.

An earthquake?

Zheng Xi glanced around, then immediately dismissed the idea.

Only the ceiling above him and the guard showed the anomaly.

A faint layer of pale blue light spread across the young man’s palm. Seeing this, the guard scrambled to his feet as well, though he had no idea why the person in charge had suddenly shifted into combat mode.

At that moment, at the very center of the rippling ceiling, a speck of green appeared out of nowhere. The green stretched horizontally like liquid, then tore open—forming a dark, eerie fissure. Something seemed to be surging behind it.

A snow-white face abruptly appeared.

The sharply defined, beautifully sculpted features—more delicate than most humans—suggested he probably was human. His pitch-black eyes rolled once, landing on the two men below.

The guard had never witnessed anything like this. His eyes rolled back and he fainted on the spot.

The boy himself seemed startled as well. His face withdrew back into the fissure, muttering,

“You messed up. Wrong location. Do it again.”

—————————————————————

Author’s Note:

Poppy: Wrong? We’re already in their meeting room. How is it wrong? What part of that is wrong??

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