Ch 95: The Farmer Ger in the Apocalypse

As the sun set behind the western hills, Song Kaiji watched as Zhuang Ye’s yellow-haired subordinate quietly slipped away from the service station. Only then did he bring out their vehicle, preparing to leave.

Zhuang Ye noticed immediately and quickly approached them. “You’re leaving now? At this hour? It’s not safe out there. The later it gets, the more active the zombies become. Not to mention, in the pitch darkness, if some mutated plants suddenly pop up and tangle up your tires, you’ll be in real trouble.”

He wasn’t lying—this was a fact. That’s why Shen Qing and his group had never traveled at night. His sudden concern wasn’t entirely out of place.

That is, if they didn’t already know what kind of person he really was.

Right now, to them, Zhuang Ye and his people were far more terrifying than zombies or mutated plants. Song Kaiji made up an excuse. “I’m from Zizhou myself. I want to get into the city before it gets too dark and check if my parents might have returned home. If they did, we’ll just stay at my place for the night.”

“How could they possibly go home? I already told you, they went out searching for supplies. Do you think the city is some kind of playground? Zizhou fell a long time ago—it’s crawling with danger. You guys don’t have the numbers or the firepower to survive in the city,” Zhuang Ye argued, his frustration showing.

His yellow-haired subordinate had already gone up the mountain to notify the main group. If these people left now, how was he supposed to explain this?

But for some reason, these people were dead set on leaving. Zhuang Ye even started to suspect they knew something. Yet, he couldn’t figure out what mistake he had made, what clue he might have accidentally let slip.

No matter how much he tried to persuade them, Song Kaiji only insisted on going. If he kept pushing, it would only make things more suspicious. Thinking of the new convoy that had arrived earlier, Zhuang Ye had no choice but to step aside, though reluctantly.

“Make sure you come back soon,” he warned. “Your parents will return here as soon as they’ve found supplies. Don’t miss your chance to reunite with them.”

Song Kaiji let out a small breath of relief. He had honestly expected Zhuang Ye to try something—maybe even attack them. After all, who would just sit back and watch a sure catch escape?

But what he didn’t know was that the newly arrived convoy had unwittingly served as a distraction, drawing away some of the heat that should have been on them.

They drove toward Zizhou City for a while, ensuring they were completely out of sight from the service station before circling back toward the factory at the foot of the mountain.

From a distance, they could see faint lights flickering in the factory and wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys.

Not daring to get too close, they parked the car in the middle of the road, hiding between two overturned vehicles.

In winter, the sky was fully dark by six or seven in the evening. They crouched inside the car, waiting in silence for midnight to arrive.

“Get some rest and save your energy,” Shen Qing said as he adjusted Song Kaiji’s seat and placed a blanket over him. “I’ll keep an eye on the time and wake you when it’s time.”

Song Kaiji nodded and closed his eyes.

But in reality, who could truly sleep?

Not just him—everyone else, too, had their eyes closed, but none of them were actually resting. The silence in the car was heavy, filled with unspoken tension.

Song Kaiji had spoken so lightly, as if teleporting in to kill the psychic ability user would be as easy as breathing. But everyone knew the truth—what he was about to do was extremely dangerous.

It was a gamble between life and death.

Lying there, unable to sleep, he started feeling a twinge of regret.

He shouldn’t have confessed to Shen Qing…

At the time, he had only thought—if he died the next day, he didn’t want to leave behind the regret of never telling Shen Qing how he felt.

But he hadn’t thought about this—what if he really did die tomorrow?

How much pain would Shen Qing be left with?

At that time, he had only been thinking about his own feelings. But now, when truly facing death, all he could think about was Shen Qing’s future.

Love should not be just a momentary impulse. Love is responsibility. Love is the constant feeling of being indebted.

As the minutes passed, approaching midnight, the factory on the mountain suddenly became brighter, and a commotion broke out. One by one, a dozen or so people left the factory, boarded a bus, and headed toward the service station.

Qu Weiwei was excited, lowering her voice. “They left! Could it be that their information is delayed, and they still think we’re at the service station? Are they going there to kill us? That means there should be fewer people left in the factory now, right?” If there were fewer people in the factory, Song Kaiji’s chances of success would be even higher.

She quickly turned to Song Kaiji. “You should go now! Once they reach the service station, they’ll soon realize we’re not there and will have wasted their trip. We have to take advantage of this time gap!”

Chen Jiaxi, however, knew that those people wouldn’t return so quickly. Even though they had fled, another convoy was still there to delay them.

In the darkness, Shen Qing suddenly felt warmth approach him, followed by a gentle kiss on his forehead. Then came Song Kaiji’s voice. “If I don’t come back, forget about me. I’ve left everything for you in the car. It’s too dangerous here—if I don’t return, don’t ever come back.”

He froze, instinctively reaching out to grab Song Kaiji, but caught nothing but air.

Only Song Kaiji’s last words remained in the car. “If I don’t return in an hour, leave without me. Kill Li Liang for me. Protect Shen Qing.”

The car fell into silence.

Shen Qing sat still, his fingers clutching the blanket and seat that still carried Song Kaiji’s warmth. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

---

Yang Sen stood at only 1.62 meters tall. While others had simple minds and strong bodies, he was the opposite—thin as a matchstick, easily winded by climbing two flights of stairs, yet possessing an exceptionally sharp mind. When the apocalypse came, he awakened a psychic ability.

With this power, he became the second-in-command of his group. Their factory, nestled in the mountainside, was like a den of ancient bandits ruling their domain. Among them, he was the unquestioned strategist.

His psychic ability granted him immense control—not only did it satisfy his obsessive need to oversee everything, but it also allowed him to indulge in carnal desires that his frail body couldn’t otherwise satisfy. As long as he closed his eyes, he could mentally view every obscene scene playing out in the next room from all angles.

However, tonight, the entertainment next door ended unusually early. By 11:30, a half-dead girl was thrown into his room. The gang’s leader, cigarette between his lips and pants barely tied, appeared at his doorway.

“We’re heading out for a while. I left four people to guard the place—you watch over them,” the leader said. “Two new convoys arrived at the service station. There are some really good catches. We’ll bring them back to have some fun.”

Then, a hint of regret flashed across his face. “I heard there’s a particularly beautiful wood-type ability user. Her level isn’t too high. What do you think? Maybe…”

Yang Sen frowned. “You don’t have enough women already? There’s a whole room of them, isn’t that enough for you?”

“It’s not the same.” The leader glanced at Yang Sen, feeling that he was being overly cautious. What was the fun in playing with the same women over and over? The thrill was in new, beautiful, and powerful prey. Wasn’t that the reason they had built their killing and cannibalistic empire in this factory—to chase after that rush?

Yang Sen snorted. “If you want to play, do it at the service station. Don’t bring them back. I will never allow another ability user into the factory.”

The leader smacked his lips and kicked the half-dead woman toward Yang Sen. “Fine.”

The girl didn’t even have the strength to whimper. Curled up on the floor, she tumbled twice toward Yang Sen like a discarded rag.

Yang Sen looked at her with disgust.

He didn’t have a particular fetish for broken women—he was simply overly cautious. With his weak physique, even an ordinary woman could potentially kill him. He never felt safe, even if their hands were tied.

But if he personally beat them into submission, it was a wasteful loss, which could lead to discontent among the men.

Better to just deal with it as is.

Yet, the filth of others still disgusted him, so he called out.

Dragging her crippled leg, Zhang Sujuan slowly hobbled inside.

“Wash her clean before sending her back,” Yang Sen ordered, kicking the girl toward Zhang Sujuan.

Zhang Sujuan kept her head down, moving like a lifeless puppet, slowly dragging the girl away.

She had been planning an escape for days. Tonight was the perfect chance.

Much like Song Kaiji, Zhang Sujuan had reached the same conclusion—if they could kill this psychic user, they could escape.

They didn’t even have to go far. With her injured leg, she couldn’t run fast. But if they just hid in the mountains, the remaining men—without the psychic to guide them—would struggle to track them down.

But how could she kill Yang Sen? He was too cautious. Men like her husband, Li Aiguo, who had access to knives, weren’t allowed to leave the kitchen. Yang Sen also forbade any strong-bodied “slaves” from coming near his quarters. Only someone like her—crippled, old, seemingly on the verge of death—could be allowed to move freely.

The girl she was washing let out a weak, broken whisper. “Aunt Zhang… just kill me. I can’t take this anymore… I’d rather die. Please kill me—I won’t blame you…”

Zhang Sujuan remained silent, her face devoid of emotion. She carefully wiped the girl clean, wrapped her in a long towel, and slowly dragged her back to Yang Sen’s room.

The entire scene had not escaped Yang Sen’s psychic surveillance. Pleased with Zhang Sujuan’s obedience, he grabbed the towel and threw it to the floor. Then he viciously slapped the girl across the face.

“You want to die? Your life belongs to me. I decide who dies and when. You dare have such thoughts? I’ll make sure you suffer more than death!”

Behind him, Zhang Sujuan slowly bent down and picked up the towel.

Could she kill Yang Sen now?

If she wrapped the towel around his neck and strangled him, would it work?

But if she didn’t smother his mouth first, wouldn’t he scream for help?

How long would she have to strangle him before he died?

Would the half-dead girl help her, or would she be a burden?

Everything was uncertain—but tonight was the best chance she had.

Clenching her teeth, Zhang Sujuan made a desperate decision. If she failed, she would run straight into the wall and end it quickly. It was better than being tortured to death.

Yang Sen had already undone his pants and mounted the girl.

Now.

With adrenaline surging, Zhang Sujuan—who had barely eaten in over a month—summoned all her strength and lunged at Yang Sen, knocking him over. She pressed the bundled towel tightly over his face.

The girl on the bed was stunned. Having suffered too much abuse, her sluggish brain took several moments to process what was happening.

Then, shock turned into resolve.

She let out an exaggerated, pained wail, rolling over to press her frail body down on Yang Sen’s limbs. She had no strength, but at least she could help block any movement.

What now? Zhang Sujuan had never killed before—her mind was in chaos. Could suffocation kill him? Should she wrap the towel around his neck? But if she let go now, wouldn’t he scream?

Just as she hesitated, she saw a sudden flash out of the corner of her eye.

A figure appeared in the room.

It was over.

Despair filled Zhang Sujuan’s heart.

Had the factory’s other ability users noticed something wrong?

She was about to release Yang Sen and slam her head into the wall when she heard a voice she had longed to hear—one that haunted her dreams.

“Mom!”

She froze.

Before she could react, the figure had already taken two steps forward—

—and drove a knife straight into Yang Sen’s heart.

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