Chapter 130.2: Monkeys, Little Bear
“I ate them,” Shen Ping’an said. “All of them.”
“All of them?!!! How could you eat all of them?” Zhou Shan paced back and forth in the room, breathing hard, his eyes turning red. “Those zombies—I kept them locked in the truck on purpose.”
Lin Mengzhi ventured a tentative, “Thanks?”
Zhou Shan didn’t have time for nonsense right now. He waved a hand. “No need to thank me. That’s not what I’m talking about. Those zombies were something I was deliberately raising to feed the monkeys in the back mountain.”
“Huh???”
“Those monkeys went crazy after mutating—they love meat, they’re vicious, and they hunt other solitary animals in packs. They even wipe out entire bird nests in the trees. Otherwise they’re always coming to mess with me. A hundred-plus zombies would’ve kept them occupied for a while. And now you’ve killed and eaten all of them. How can you people even eat zombies?” Zhou Shan felt both indignant and uneasy. Animals eating corpses was one thing—but humans doing it too? What kind of world was this?
“Sorry,” Shen Ping’an said. “I was worried that leaving zombies out in the open might lead to unpredictable viruses or something, so I used my ability to deal with all of them. I didn’t know you were planning to feed them to the monkeys.”
Luo Lei said, “Feeding monkeys with their own kind—only you could come up with that.”
Zhou Shan froze, looking like a mountain on the verge of collapsing.
“There was no other way. Zombies have to be killed eventually anyway. Might as well turn them into food for mutated animals—it keeps them from wreaking havoc on the mountain wildlife. Monkeys were already smart to begin with; now they’re downright terrifying.”
Liu Dongfan spoke up at this point. “You can’t feed them forever. Once they get used to it, when there’s no food left, they’ll only fixate on you. Don’t end up getting yourself killed. In our photography group, even if we capture snakes eating mice or hawks catching chickens, we don’t interfere. Human intervention can cause serious problems.”
Zhou Shan frowned, but said nothing.
Wu Heng recalled the two monkey corpses from earlier. They must not have gotten any food in time, which was why they had come prowling near Zhou Shan’s house.
And looking again at Zhou Shan’s build—wasn’t he, too, nothing more than a tasty main course after the snacks were gone?
Before Wu Heng could finish that line of thought, there was a click from outside the window. A wooden stick poked through a narrow gap between the window frames and flipped the latch open. The window was pushed aside, and a red-faced monkey cautiously stuck its head inside.
It wasn’t especially large—about half the length of a teenage boy, and with its tail included, roughly as long as a grown adult. Its head was small, and its round, beady eyes looked sharp and alert.
“Huh? It’s already here? It even looks kind of cute.” As Lin Mengzhi said this, his hand was already reaching toward the monkey.
“Don’t!” Zhou Shan roared.
The monkey opened its mouth, baring fangs sharp enough to bite straight through a human throat. It let out a hiss at Lin Mengzhi, then leapt through the window, knocking him to the ground. It hunched over him, and long strings of saliva dripped down, nearly touching Lin Mengzhi’s face.
Lin Mengzhi grabbed the monkey by the throat. Flames flared in his palm, scorching the animal’s neck until it charred. The monkey bared its teeth and, smack smack smack, began slapping Lin Mengzhi across the face.
Before Wu Heng could intervene, there were several loud bangs. One monkey after another poured in through the window. With a single swipe of their claws, they could leave deep gouges in the wooden walls of the cabin. After trashing the room, they finally turned their attention to the people inside.
What was worse, they knew exactly who would be easiest to kill. Even the monkey that had first been riding Lin Mengzhi and slapping him leapt onto a cupboard and then fixed its gaze straight on Ruan Silian.
“Don’t hurt them.” A black bear ran back and forth inside the house, trying to drive the monkeys away. “Shoo, shoo—go on, get out, get out!”
But the troop was no longer as easy to chase off as before. They wanted food.
The moment he reached the window, two monkeys sprang onto his shoulders from behind. They exchanged a glance, then brought their sharp claws down with all their strength. Thick as a bear’s hide was, blood still welled up in an instant.
The black bear’s roar made everyone in the house’s ears ring.
Rip. Rip.
The two monkeys bared their teeth and tore viciously at the thick hide on the bear’s broad back.
Just as the bear was howling in agony, a dagger flashed, slitting the monkeys’ throats one after the other. The black bear slumped against the window, panting heavily.
“They… they’re not usually like this,” he said tearfully to his crush.
“You underestimated their survival instincts—and their animal nature,” Wu Heng said. As soon as he finished speaking, he turned and drove his blade straight through a monkey that was leaping at him. The monkey collapsed to the floor, letting out shrill, humanlike babbling screams. Its claws raked across Wu Heng’s wrist, carving a deep, blood-gushing groove. Wu Heng shifted the angle of his blade and severed its entire neck.
Half an hour later, two-thirds of the monkey troop lay dead or wounded. The remaining third scrambled out through the windows and fled into the forest, vanishing without a trace.
Wu Heng summoned Doctor Chen to treat the injured. Doctor Chen took his “payment”—several monkeys—and returned to the space, thoroughly satisfied.
Zhou Shan had no mood to marvel at a zombie who could understand human speech and heal people. He locked himself in the study and didn’t come out for a long time.
“Humans always like to project their feelings onto things,” Liu Dongfan said as he wiped blood off his pants. “Back when we used to go hiking, we ran into people like this all the time. They’d rescue birds, only for the mother birds to throw them out of the nest afterward, smashing them to pieces. They’d rescue foxes, making them lose their wariness of humans, and then the foxes would end up skinned and turned into bags or coats. Or people would save rats and end up catching diseases themselves. Don’t interfere with animals’ lives. Don’t intervene. That’s what’s best for them.”
“I’ll go cook,” Ruan Silian said. “When it’s ready, I’ll call Zhou Shan to come eat with us.”
—
At that moment, the underground exchange at the Northern Base was hosting a lively auction.
Compared to the surface, it felt like an entirely different world.
Earthquakes, tsunamis, zombie swarms, and the painstaking relocation of survivors seemed to have left their lives untouched. They still dressed in elegant finery, clinked glasses, and exchanged cups in a polished display of social ritual.
The air smelled of expensive cigars, and custom perfumes—luxuries both before and after the apocalypse—were in no short supply. In the trash bins, a few slightly sour fruits had been tossed aside, while the small cakes on the tables remained untouched since they were set out.
Narrow aisles divided the seating into six sections, labeled A through F, and almost every seat was taken. On the stage, the auctioneer was introducing the day’s item.
“Everyone, take a guess—what might our next lot be?”
A little girl, picking at her nails, leaned against her mother. “I’m sleepy—”
The woman in a gown bent down and kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Almost, almost. Do you want a symbiont for a little fish? I heard there’s one today.”
A male voice came from behind. “Stop teasing us.”
A huge object, covered in red cloth, was pushed onto the stage. Two young men in suits grabbed either side of the cloth and heaved it off with all their strength.
A bear stood in the cage, front paws gripping the bars. The stage lights made it squint, and when it reopened its eyes, it let out a terrified roar.
“This is an underage female bear, captured from the forests at the border of Hanzhou and Kuhuang. She is unusually friendly to humans and can understand human speech, making her very suitable as a domestic pet.”
“Starting bid: 50 A-grade energy cores.”
“Ah, do you see the value? Buying something like this is just wasting food.”
“Mom, I want it.”
Someone raised a paddle.
Another person raised theirs.
“55!”
“60!”
“63!”
“Roar—roar—” The little bear shook the cage.
“75!”
Bang!
The main doors of the venue suddenly swung open. A gust of cold wind rushed in, toppling the buffet table. Beneath the dim, voice-activated lights, a black figure seemed to blur and seep through the empty corridor like ink.
The young man, lips curling into a faint smile, raised his hand to shoulder height, palm facing forward, and shook it. “At any time, auctions like this are strictly forbidden.”
Silence fell over the hall.
The first to react was the auctioneer. She flashed forward, spreading wings dotted with black spots behind her.
Xie Chongyi squinted, raising the gun toward her. He tilted his head slightly, mouthing, “Bang…”
No bullets were fired. Yet the auctioneer, already airborne, was suddenly flung backward by a tremendous force. She slammed against the wall behind her; her powerful wings collapsed, and she fell to the floor, coughing and vomiting blood.
Boots still slick with seawater stepped into the aisle, one stride at a time. The crowd had never seen this young man before. He was startlingly young; his proud, clear eyes made it feel as if they were witnessing someone straight out of a pre-apocalypse college.
“Excuse me, coming through.”
At the same time, he radiated menace.
He climbed onto the auctioneer’s platform. The lights shone down on him, turning his almond-shaped eyes into twin pools of icy water. He lifted the hammer with one hand, scanning the room. “Anyone else want to raise their bid?”
The hall remained utterly silent. Everyone’s faces were dark and uneasy as they stared at him on the stage. They had no idea who he was, what his background or abilities were, or what his intentions might be.
Outside the corridor, Xue Shen and Dou Lu led a group of ability users inside in orderly formation.
A fierce battle was inevitable. Even the little girls present were ability users.
The entire venue was wrecked—walls and floors alike, scarred and broken, with the dead and injured scattered everywhere, blood pooling and spreading.
But the mission was accomplished.
Xie Chongyi rolled up his sleeves, wiped the blood off his cheek with the back of his hand, and returned to his previous position. He lifted the hammer, looked down at the ability users pinned to the ground, and brought it down. A light chuckle escaped him as he said, “Sold.”
Then he began the cleanup.
The number of executors was fewer than twenty. Most of those accompanying them were military personnel—including Wen Yuan and others he had met briefly before. By now, only Yang Xiaoyun and Jiang Qian remained by Wen Yuan’s side from that original group; the rest were nowhere to be seen.
Wen Yuan clearly hadn’t forgotten Xie Chongyi and the others, but he showed no resentment at following Xie Chongyi’s arrangements. He carried out the iron rule of obedience as if it were his sacred duty.
Standing before Xie Chongyi, Wen Yuan, now bearing a scar across his face, reported expressionlessly, “Twelve S-class ability users, nineteen A-class, twenty-six B-class, the rest are C-class. One leopard-moth symbiont.”
Xie Chongyi smiled at Wen Yuan. “Good work, Captain Wen.”
“It’s my duty.”
After Wen Yuan and his subordinates escorted all the ability users away, Dou Lu rushed onto the stage. She stood outside the cage, murmuring, “I feel like I’ve seen this bear before.”
Dou Lu met the little bear’s gaze. The bear let out a series of hoots and howls, offering its fluffy ears toward her.
“This is the little bear we helped deliver in that village!” Dou Lu exclaimed, then her voice turned angry. “How did it end up captured here? These people aren’t human. What kind of world is this, still eating, drinking, and playing while all this is happening?”
“People like that are never in short supply,” Xue Shen said, scooping up several candies from the ground and putting them in his pocket to bring back for Xue Qi.
“Captain, can I keep it?” Dou Lu asked.
“You’d need to submit an application. But it probably won’t be approved.”
“It will be approved!” Dou Lu carefully reached her hand into the cage. The little bear clearly remembered them; it licked the back of her hand and happily patted the inside of the cage.
Besides the bear, the backstage storage held various birds, insects, fish—and even humans.
Moreover, Yue Shanqing was also confined in a cage—a white crane symbiont, the teacher from the Meili Base.
Yue Shanqing was freed and pointed out several humans who were symbionts. Among them was a strikingly beautiful young man, almost doll-like—slender to the point of fragility, with a face like a peach blossom and skin that seemed to glow.
Dou Lu’s eyes went wide. “What are you?”
The young man frowned. “Fighting fish.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“You’re ordinary.”
Xue Shen stood at the doorway. “Symbionts must be documented before leaving. All others are registered and confiscated, then handed over to their respective associations.”
Xie Chongyi was eating cake outside and overheard the entire process of Yue Shanqing being captured and auctioned off. In short: he was sold, and by the former head of Meili Town at that. This person not only sold Yue Shanqing but also his pregnant wife.
“Expected,” Xue Shen commented. “That’s just how he is. So what do you plan to do next?”
“Are you still recruiting?”
Xie Chongyi carried a piece of cake and left the foul-smelling venue. The hallway and stairs were dimly lit, but he was unaffected. Step by step, he made his way to the ground level, where the sea breeze hit him.
Rain fell like cotton, and few people walked the streets. He stood under an eave, taking bite after bite of cake. He didn’t really need food—he might have felt hunger earlier, but now there was none.
Wu Heng, however, loved to eat.
When he finished, the young man pulled a syringe from his pocket, tilting his head slightly to expose his neck. The cold-glinting needle pierced the skin, and a flash of crimson swirled in his eyes. He then retracted the syringe.
At the doorway, he pulled a notebook from his jacket, scribbled a few rough lines, and pasted it on the most conspicuous stone pillar at the entrance.
Then his figure streaked across the street. His boots splashed through puddles, but before the water even settled, he had already vanished into the next intersection. A minute later, he reached the helipad.