Chapter 95: Kuhuang Base Guards
Disliking insects was now an uncontrollable physiological reaction for Wu Heng.
He had already stretched himself to the limit simply by tolerating being in the same room with insects that had never appeared before in the natural world.
After a long while, Wu Heng was nearly asleep when a soft snicker came from behind, followed by the mattress sinking.
Xie Chongyi had lain down on his own bed.
But Wu Heng slowly shifted from drowsiness to alertness. His eyes, glimmering with a dull gray-green light, opened as he controlled his breathing to be slow and quiet. The poppy crawled out from his body and pressed against his cheek, its leaves soft and silky like silk threads.
In the middle of the night, the sky gradually brightened, and those still in deep sleep were drenched in sweat.
By six in the morning, the temperature quietly climbed to 48°C. The plants and animals, refreshed by the nighttime cooling, quickly began to wilt at a visible rate, the surface moisture evaporating rapidly. When the wind blew, waves of heat surged, like the ominous precursors of boiling water.
Wu Heng, however, did not wake from the heat. He woke to a stench so foul it was unbearable.
The smell of rotting, spoiled flesh filled his nostrils, as if dead pork had been fermenting in a jar for three months, a nauseating sight with wisps of green smoke visible to the naked eye.
Wu Heng crawled into a space he had not entered in a long time. The white lab coat on the zombie was messy and open; the degree of decay hadn’t changed, but the number of insects on it had increased. They were fat and plump, falling to the ground everywhere. Yet the zombie no longer bothered to pick them up to eat—it had devoured two-thirds of the fresh meat Wu Heng had stored in the space!
The poppy clearly welcomed this guest. For plants, rotting flesh itself is a highly nutritious fertilizer.
But Wu Heng had already consumed better.
Chen Meng leaned against the corner, satisfied. He waved at Wu Heng. “This diagnosis fee alone is enough to cover ten visits.”
Wu Heng’s expression darkened. He walked over to Chen Meng, silently lifted him up, and with a single punch sent him flying several meters away.
In the vast, white space, the seemingly docile green plants surged up around Chen Meng like a tidal wave.
Terrified, Chen Meng crawled frantically on the ground. “He’s gone mad!”
Wu Heng could hardly contain his murderous urge, and the poppy made no effort to stop him—it preferred to assist in cruelty rather than prevent it.
“Who gave you permission to eat my things without my consent?” Wu Heng demanded in a low voice.
Chen Meng, instead, glared back angrily. “I’m not eating! How am I supposed to examine patients?”
“You’re right,” Wu Heng paused, seeming thoughtful. “Doctor Chen… since it’s so hard for you, I’ll just send you to your death. That way, Doctor Chen, you’ll never have to endure hunger again.”
As the young man’s words faded completely, the vines twisted into a single, towering form, rising like a giant dragon, the tip sinking downward like a fishhook.
Such a plant could crush not just a single zombie but even a pile of them stacked into a hill, flattening them completely. Only the size of the flattened mass would vary slightly.
Chen Meng immediately began begging for mercy, the decayed flesh on his face trembling and falling in chunks. “…I’ll be your personal doctor from now on! Whoever you tell me to treat, I’ll treat!”
Wu Heng felt no thrill at this—he was merely curious. “Then if I let you watch someone die without helping, what would you choose?”
The instinct to survive is the ultimate drive of all living beings.
Chen Meng opened his mouth, and Wu Heng already anticipated his answer.
But Chen Meng couldn’t manage to utter a single word. The whites of his eyes, yellowed, rolled several times in their sockets and turned a moldy green, while the decay on his face accelerated dramatically.
With a hiss, he lunged toward Wu Heng at terrifying speed, foul, bloody saliva flying from his mouth.
Wu Heng was taken aback. Why had Doctor Chen suddenly mutated?
The vines coiled around the zombie’s neck, hoisting him into the air, then violently swung him twice. Yet Chen Meng did not regain his senses—instead, he roared even more furiously.
Wu Heng stood in place, thinking for a moment. Tentatively, he said, “If you want to continue treating patients, raise your left foot. If you don’t want to continue, raise your right foot.”
The zombie’s roar stalled noticeably.
Chen Meng clutched his leg and lifted his left foot.
Wu Heng exhaled and lowered Doctor Chen to the ground.
The sudden mutation had almost left Chen Meng collapsing the moment he touched down. Much of his body had decayed further than before, his organs barely held together, and the only remaining eyeball wobbled precariously in its hollow socket.
The young man walked over, grabbed a piece of fresh wolf meat, and tossed it in front of Chen Meng. He crouched and watched as the zombie devoured it. After letting him gorge for a while, Wu Heng finally spoke, thoughtful:
“I see. For a zombie like you, Doctor Chen, your ability isn’t related to evolution—it’s tied to your personal will. Only if your personal will is sufficiently strong can you remain conscious. The moment your will falters, your awareness is instantly destroyed, and you revert to a true, unthinking zombie.”
“Doctor Chen, you just wavered,” Wu Heng said with a hint of schadenfreude, exposing the truth.
Chen Meng continued replenishing his energy and glanced irritably at the ever-talking Wu Heng. “Are you the doctor, or am I the doctor?”
Wu Heng didn’t kill Chen Meng; he simply left the space.
He wasn’t foolish enough to kill the only healer in the team. It was just… zombies like Chen Meng relied on personal will. To Wu Heng, personal will was the most unstable thing imaginable, the most prone to sudden change.
Outside the space, the world’s temperature had climbed yet another notch.
53°C.
—
A group of vultures circled above the hotel rooftop. Outside, on the white poplars, mutated crows and sparrows tore at each other, shaking the canopy. The temperature hovered at a level neither high nor low, like humans had been placed into a pot of water that was on the verge of boiling, slowly cooking them with heat.
The hot waves distorted the very air. On the base’s streets, only four-man guard teams appeared at regular intervals; nearly all other humans had hidden inside their homes.
Some were bold enough to try stepping outside, but within ten minutes, the scorching air felt like the tongue of a venomous snake, pricking their skin with sharp pain.
“Two of the wells have stopped flowing!!!” someone shouted in the street, though it was impossible to see who it was.
Wu Heng sat up on the bed. Xie Chongyi leaned against the window, a thin layer of sweat covering his face, half of it glowing under the sun.
Another shout came at that moment: “Another well has stopped flowing!”
Heavy, rapid footsteps sounded outside. Lin Mengzhi, drenched in sweat, shoved open the door of their room. “Damn it! The boss is jacking up prices. One bucket of water is now selling for ten times the original price.”
Wu Heng looked over. “Can we afford it?”
“You can buy it, but there’s no need. I’ll just go find Xue Shen. Feeding him energy cores works just as well to get water.” Lin Mengzhi finished speaking and pointed at Wu Heng. “You actually swapped rooms with Teacher Ying last night. When I saw his face this morning, I thought you’d somehow evolved some kind of face-changing ability…”
Seeing that Wu Heng didn’t respond, Lin Mengzhi rambled on and left.
“Are we continuing our journey today?” Wu Heng asked the person by the window.
“Too hot.” Xie Chongyi reached his hand outside; within minutes, the sun-exposed skin began to redden and swell.
Wu Heng walked over and stretched his hand out the window like him. “Then let’s collect energy cores outside the base.”
Now, their energy cores were mostly going out, not coming in. Aside from the large batch they gathered in yesterday’s battle against the yellow crazy ants, all of those cores were the lowest grade. They were neither valuable in the market nor rich in energy.
“I’m not going. It’s too hot,” Xie Chongyi said, pointing at his sweat-drenched clothes.
Wu Heng, however, grew suspicious. “You’re still not feeling well?”
Xie Chongyi didn’t speak. He simply narrowed his eyes, his gaze cutting through the curled branches of the tall trees, and spotted two people walking at the far end of the street.
Wu Heng saw them too and leaned forward.
“Hey.” When Xie Chongyi saw the back of his neck starting to turn red from the sun, he immediately yanked him back inside.
Wu Dian and Sheng Jiang had already moved to the base of their hotel, entering through the main door. They ascended the stairs at an unusually fast pace. Wu Heng had only just guessed that they were likely looking for Xie Chongyi when there was a soft knock on the door.
Wu Heng used a vine to hook the doorknob and pull it open.
Wu Dian stood with his arms crossed, his expression unchanged from yesterday, and glanced indifferently at Sheng Jiang. “I won.”
Sheng Jiang hissed and pulled an A-grade metal energy core from his pocket, tossing it over.
“We were making a bet,” the loser grinned. “He said you two must be together; I said you two definitely aren’t together.”
Wu Heng wanted to bet too, but their stock of A-grade energy cores was practically zero.
He liked good food and, of course, wanted to grow stronger—just like a tyrannosaurus in the world of dinosaurs, only the strongest could stand atop the food chain.
Xie Chongyi leaned against the wall, nonchalant. “You came all the way here just to make a bet?”
“Of course not,” Sheng Jiang shrugged, his upturned eyes narrowing in a friendly smile. “The survivors from Shisanhe and two other bases will gradually arrive at Kuhuang today. We’d appreciate it if you and your friends could lend a hand.”
“Is there a reward?” Wu Heng asked.
“Of course,” Sheng Jiang said. “One C-grade energy core per hour, and one B-grade energy core for twelve hours of work.”
B-grade was not bad, Wu Heng thought.
“No A-grade?”
“What are you thinking, kid? Do you think A-grade energy cores grow on trees?”
“What exactly do you want us to do?” Xie Chongyi asked.
Wu Dian replied, “There are roughly three thousand survivors. I want you to handle the security work at the Kuhuang base—conduct safety checks, screen and eliminate infected individuals, and ensure the base remains secure.”
“Simple, low-level work,” Wu Heng thought.
Sheng Jiang added from behind, “The Kuhuang Base has a total of 300 guards. In just the first few hours after sunrise, nearly 30 guards suddenly became infected, and almost 100 guards suffered heatstroke from the unbearable weather. Nine of them died outright. On top of that, the survivors who came from the Meili Base yesterday haven’t been fully settled yet—Kuhuang is severely understaffed.”
“Suddenly infected?”
“The current temperature is still far below the level needed to disinfect or sterilize, but it’s just right to accelerate virus mutation and spread.”
Sheng Jiang went door to door, picking out Wu Heng as well as Xue Shen, Dou Lu, Shen Ping’an, Ying Liuquan, and Lin Mengzhi.
It wasn’t surprising that Ruan Silian, an ordinary human, was left in the hotel—but Wu Zhi was also left behind.
Wu Zhi rushed out, only to be pushed back into the room. Her eyes reddened quickly. “You’re b*llying me.”
Sheng Jiang shook his head, smiling. “Ice-type ability users have a higher mortality rate than ordinary humans in this kind of weather. Leaving you behind is for your own good.”
“How do you know that?” Wu Zhi didn’t believe him.
“Of course, our allies risked their lives to gather that information.”
Lin Mengzhi raised his hand. “What about me? I’m already afraid of heat. My mortality rate should be even higher.”
“Wrong again. Fire-type ability users are actually the most suited to living in extreme heat.”
Lin Mengzhi opened his mouth to speak again, but Sheng Jiang pointed at him. “I know what you’re about to ask: why you also feel fine in extreme cold. Extreme cold and extreme heat are the same kind of environment for you. The former locks in your body heat, allowing it to form a positive cycle. The latter is your natural environment—you’ll feel uncomfortable, but only because your level is too low. If your level reached S, even if you were thrown into a raging fire, you wouldn’t feel anything. On the other hand, the environment where you’d truly feel discomfort would be one that is excessively humid.”
The group gradually turned to leave.
Sheng Jiang draped himself over Xie Chongyi’s shoulder. “I thought you’d refuse.”
“Do you think I went to Jingzhou to catch up with old friends?” Xie Chongyi pushed him away. In the past, he wouldn’t have minded flirting or joking with friends, but now a strange, indescribable sense of self-awareness had emerged.
It wasn’t until Wu Heng’s figure disappeared around the corner that the near-breakdown Wu Zhi collapsed into Ruan Silian’s arms. “Sister Ruan, will my brother abandon me someday?”
Ruan Silian patted her back. “Xiao Zhi, your abilities are so strong, who would ever give you up?”
“And if I didn’t have abilities?” Wu Zhi released Ruan Silian, frowning.
Ruan Silian smiled. “I don’t have abilities. I don’t have a brother. But I haven’t been abandoned either.”
Wu Zhi quieted down, though her eyes still lingered with thought. She murmured, “People who are on the road don’t necessarily leave their burdens behind… but getting rid of an annoying teammate is perfectly normal.”
—
Wu Heng donned a steel helmet, the brim pulled down so that only his small, fair nose and pale lips were visible. Among the group, his delicate build was about the same as Dou Lu’s, though Dou Lu’s movements were even rougher; Wu Heng looked fragile in comparison.
Resources were scarce. Even properly fitting clothes were hard to come by. The Kuhuang Base made garments according to headcount, and any extras were stripped from the dead.
Wu Dian went around, adjusting helmets, belts, and armor for everyone.
“Ah, come on, don’t be so picky,” Lin Mengzhi tugged at his helmet, which tilted again.
Wu Dian straightened it. “In your position, with your duties, absolute discipline equals absolute safety.”
“Then, when we get to Jingzhou, can you make us two sets of properly fitting clothes?” Lin Mengzhi asked.
Wu Dian replied indifferently, “The guards in Jingzhou must pass three levels of assessment.”
“?” Not just Lin Mengzhi—everyone else looked puzzled as well.
Shen Ping’an muttered, “No wonder Jingzhou is full of talent.”
“Things aren’t like they used to be. Being a guard isn’t some coveted job anymore. Whether you’re assigned to local security or sent on external missions, people die every single day. So, to lower the mortality rate, the guard corps only recruits ability users at B‑level and above, and anyone going on external missions must be A1 or higher.”
Wu Dian handed each person a booklet titled Mandatory Regulations for Guards of the Kuhuang Base.
“When facing the infected, you must eliminate them immediately.”
After speaking, Wu Dian’s gaze landed on the bird perched on Wu Heng’s shoulder. He pressed his lips together, lowered his head, and rummaged in his satchel for a long time before pulling out a tiny steel helmet. He walked over and placed it neatly over X’s head.
It fit perfectly.
“Ahahahahahaha!” Lin Mengzhi leaned in close to X’s face. “Salute!”
X instinctively straightened up, looking solemn and dignified.
Wu Heng, meanwhile, looked at Wu Dian. “Why do you have something like that?”
Sheng Jiang heard him and was just about to change the subject, but Wu Dian answered calmly: “I raised a bird too. It died.”
Wu Heng wasn’t like the others whose expressions practically spelled out my condolences. He simply nodded in acknowledgment.
“So that’s how it is.”
Wu Dian unexpectedly felt relieved.
“Everyone, skim through the regulations first. Memorize the bolded sections at the front.”
Sheng Jiang looked at the group of young, tender‑faced kids and sighed inwardly. He took a copy of the regulations from a drawer and opened the first page:
“Personal safety is the top priority.”
“What is it we’re protecting? Humanity and our home.”
“In cases where no rescue is possible—zombies, peers bitten by zombies, peers infected and mutated—I guarantee that I will carry out elimination immediately. I will stop all disasters at the sprout, but I will not be a wanton killer or a slanderer.”
“I pledge to place the interests of humanity above all else. I pledge to protect every inch of the human homeland.”
Most of the time, Sheng Jiang seemed a bit unreliable. His untidy bun made it hard for anyone to take him entirely seriously. Yet at this moment, as he spoke slowly, he managed to bring a strange sense of calm to everyone enduring the scorching heat.
But the feeling of calm likely came from more than just his words—perhaps it was the solid, broad land beneath their feet, or the comrades who faced disaster together with them.
The realization that they were part of a single whole seemed to happen in an instant. They were each other’s hands and feet, and also each other’s minds.
Wu Heng was lost in thought for a moment. Seeing everyone else so moved as they held the rulebook, he was about to open his own copy when the simple changing‑room door was pushed open.
A woman, whom they had met briefly before, stood outside the door, looking striking. She wore a tight-fitting dress, her high heels striking like warships. She smiled and said, “The survivors from the Shisanhe Base are less than five hundred meters from Kuhuang. Are you ready?”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Author’s note:
Hands and Feet: Lin Mengzhi, Xue Qi, Dou Lu
Brains: Wu Heng, Xie Chongyi, Xue Shen