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Ch 160: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

ARC 10: Starting Out With a Divorce Certificate in Hand

“Let’s get a divorce.”

This was the first sentence Mu Xing heard upon arriving in this world.

He froze, staring blankly at the man before him.

He found it novel—being “married” was something he had never experienced before.

His expression, in Qin Song’s eyes, looked like he had been struck hard by the words.

Mu Xing liked him. Qin Song had always known this.

A trace of guilt stirred in Qin Song’s heart. He lowered his voice and said, “We had an agreement before. This marriage was in name only. After two years, we would part ways. I know it’s not good for me to go back on my word now. But I’ve met someone I truly like, and he can’t accept me being married.”

“…Oh.” Mu Xing pulled himself out of the thought of being married and about to return to singlehood, giving only that one sound in reply.

Qin Song waited for him to say something more, but the young man before him only gave that response, then fell silent.

After a while, Qin Song couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t you… have anything you want to say?”

Mu Xing hesitated: “…Happy single life?”

Qin Song: “…”

Perhaps his pride won’t let him show even the slightest weakness in front of me, Qin Song thought.

He handed Mu Xing a bag. “Inside is the compensation for breaking the agreement.”

“If you agree, we can dissolve the marriage this afternoon. Later, my studio will release a statement.”

Mu Xing looked at the bag. “Compensation?”

“Yes,” Qin Song replied. “A property in the Imperial Capital, and a few resources I managed to secure for you.”

Mu Xing blinked, and at last, the storyline unfolded in his mind.

The original Mu Xing had lost his mother early, growing up abroad with his grandfather. Last year, when his grandfather passed away, he was brought back to his father’s side.

At twenty-one, rebellious and bent on opposing his father, he entered the entertainment industry out of spite.

Because of his good looks, he quickly signed with a company.

But before the company could plan his career, he debuted in the most shocking way possible—by becoming the legal husband of top actor Qin Song.

The two had never known each other before.

To be precise, Qin Song didn’t know Mu Xing.

But Mu Xing had been Qin Song’s fan since his teenage years.

So when Qin Song came to him, proposing an agreement that any reasonable adult would find absurd, Mu Xing agreed without hesitation.

This enraged his father, Mu Jiangtao, who nearly kicked him out of the family.

Not only that, but the sudden announcement of marriage was unbearable for Qin Song’s fans. In just half a year, Mu Xing’s Weibo was flooded with curses, his private life stalked by paparazzi, and fanatics even mailed him death threats.

One could say that in this marriage, Mu Xing received far more abuse than blessings.

The agreement had been for two years.

The reason it existed was that Qin Song loved someone else—Jiang Shengyu, a rising star known as the “Face of the Entertainment Industry.”

The two had had on-and-off scandals for years, with many CP fans shipping them, but neither side’s fandom took it seriously.

Qin Song loved Jiang Shengyu enough to risk his career by going public. But Jiang Shengyu’s feelings hadn’t reached the same depth.

Half a year ago, a major quarrel broke them apart.

In anger, Qin Song married someone else by contract—a move Mu Xing considered incomprehensibly foolish.

The reason Qin Song chose Mu Xing was simple: from certain angles, his profile faintly resembled Jiang Shengyu’s.

It was only a fleeting resemblance.

Oh, so there was even a bit of the “stand-in” element, Mu Xing realized.

Of course, Qin Song was foolish for coming up with such an idea, but the original Mu Xing was even more foolish for agreeing to it.

Still, humans always have reasons for doing foolish things. Qin Song had his, and so did the original Mu Xing.

They always liked to call that mind-clouding thing—love.

And now, clearly, Qin Song and Jiang Shengyu had reconciled.

So Qin Song came rushing to end the agreement early.

In the original story, Mu Xing was deeply hurt, but he still agreed.

That very night, Qin Song announced the divorce on Weibo.

His fans, who had never accepted Mu Xing, celebrated wildly at the news.

Not long after, Qin Song and Jiang Shengyu appeared together on a variety show. The two were dazzling side by side, their chemistry flawless, and countless CP fans rose in joy, screaming daily in excitement.

Later, fans noticed something: Mu Xing, Qin Song’s ex-husband, looked similar to Jiang Shengyu from certain angles.

They pieced together a timeline with photos: Mu Xing had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, unknown before, while Qin Song’s public image had always been spotless—never a hint of a boyfriend.

His only rumored partner had always been Jiang Shengyu.

Then, gossip accounts leaked news of their fallout.

Qin Song had married in haste.

And during the marriage, photos by paparazzi always showed him and Mu Xing at a distance—never intimate, never like newlyweds.

Half a year later, Qin Song divorced, smiling brightly beside Jiang Shengyu on a variety show, clearly disproving the rumors of their fallout.

And Qin Song’s ex-husband bore a faint resemblance to Jiang Shengyu.

Damn!

Netizens felt like they had stumbled onto a massive scoop.

They spun out a sugary “stand-in” narrative: Qin Song’s true love was actually Jiang Shengyu, but since true love was out of reach, he chose Mu Xing, who bore a slight resemblance.

Naturally, in this script, Qin Song would run back to his true love in the end. As for the stand-in—who cared if he was cast aside?

Though these were just imagined stories, netizens didn’t realize that they had in fact guessed the truth.

The CP fans felt like it was New Year’s, while Qin Song’s fans—who had always looked down on Mu Xing and insulted him at every chance—suddenly decided Jiang Shengyu was not so bad after all, especially compared with Mu Xing, who seemed like a nobody dragged into the spotlight.

As for Jiang Shengyu’s fans, they never took any of these rumors seriously, knowing their idol was a career-driven workaholic.

So all three groups were satisfied—except Mu Xing, who was ridiculed from start to finish.

He had joined the entertainment industry partly for Qin Song, and partly to spite his father.

The divorce was already hard enough. Afterwards, when he appeared on a variety show, he was in no mood to smile. Viewers scolded him for being “arrogant,” “boring and humorless,” “stiff as a board,” and “petty.”

The dramas he acted in went unnoticed as well.

What’s more, Jiang Shengyu’s fans were fixated on the notion that “this newcomer faintly resembles our idol,” and every time Mu Xing showed up at an event, they would flood the comments with insults, mocking him as nothing more than a counterfeit.

The original Mu Xing had grown up spoiled under his grandfather abroad. After returning home, though he clashed with his father, Mu Jiangtao, at most he heard harsh words—never true coercion.

When he agreed to the sham marriage with Qin Song, he endured constant verbal abuse from fans. Yet, deep down, he secretly delighted in being married to the man he admired. He even fantasized that one day Qin Song might be moved by him.

But now—divorced, slandered, doxxed, branded as a pathetic stand-in—he broke down mentally, fell into severe depression, and withdrew from the industry.

Unexpectedly, Mu Jiangtao, who had always treated him coldly, didn’t scold him. Instead, he spent a fortune hiring specialists to treat him.

Then one day, while watching a program where Qin Song and Jiang Shengyu sang sweetly together, Mu Xing saw an expression on Qin Song’s face he had never seen before. His long-suppressed emotions exploded, and he dashed out of the house into a heavy downpour.

Mu Jiangtao rushed after him, not knowing what had happened. But while stepping down the stairs, he slipped.

A stroke.

Paralyzed on one side, with doctors saying he would most likely be bedridden for life.

When his older sister returned from an overseas business trip and heard the news, she slapped him hard across the face.

Perhaps in one desperate moment, the original Mu Xing made a powerful wish. He no longer wanted to live. He wished someone could change everything.

He wished he would no longer suffer for Qin Song and Jiang Shengyu.

He wished he wouldn’t drag his father down with him.

And so Mu Xing arrived.

Though, admittedly, a little late.

He thought, if he had come six months earlier, he wouldn’t have had to be entangled in the love affair between those two at all.

But now—

He hadn’t cared about compensation at first, hadn’t planned to take anything. Yet just as he withdrew his hand, he stretched it out again and took the bag.

He opened it.

He pulled out the deed transfer agreement for the property, and tossed the rest back.

“I’ll accept the compensation,” Mu Xing said, shaking the bag in his hand. “After all, I paid too much over the past half-year for this fake marriage.”

“As for the resources—no need.”

He had no interest whatsoever in variety shows or acting.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Ch 159: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Later, Mu Xing was admitted to the best middle school and high school in Donghai City, winning the highest scholarship every year.

The children from the orphanage also did very well. At the end of each school year, they would bring back stacks of certificates, and Director Mei and the staff would smile so widely their faces could hardly close.

Little Jin was adopted by the Han couple. That too was fate.

Back then, the Han couple had actually set their sights on Mu Xing, but since Mu Xing didn’t want to leave the orphanage, in the end it was Little Jin who, by accident, stumbled headfirst into Li Mengyu’s arms—and just like that, bumped himself into a mother.

At eighteen, Mu Xing received an admission letter from the country’s top university.

By then, Hope Orphanage had already become a well-known institution in Donghai City.

At first it was because of the media report about Mu Xing, which drew a lot of public attention to the orphanage.

Later, people realized that the atmosphere here was completely different from other orphanages. The children were especially sensible and well-behaved.

The orphanage received a great deal of sponsorship. Many of the children were gradually adopted, finding new families.

Everything was getting better and better.

Mu Xing paid a visit to Capital City’s Third Psychiatric Hospital.

Xiang Shen and his wife had been living there ever since.

When the staff heard that he wanted to see Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei, their expressions turned a little strange.

They studied Mu Xing, as if trying to guess who he was, and then suddenly realized: “You… you’re that…”

Mu Xing smiled and said, “Their child, in the genetic sense.”

At once, the staff’s expression turned to pity.

When Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei were first admitted, their condition was terrible. They spent their days muttering about vengeful ghosts seeking revenge.

And unlike most other patients, they were criminals who had avoided prison only because of their illness.

Before long, everyone in the hospital knew: the crimes they had committed had something to do with abandoning their own child.

If there was a hierarchy of contempt among psychiatric patients, then the two of them undoubtedly sat at the very bottom.

The staff locked the iron gate and led Mu Xing inside, saying as they walked, “Those two… their condition is among the most severe here. You’d better… prepare yourself.”

He didn’t lead Mu Xing to a room, but instead to a large open yard outside.

It was July, and the capital was scorching hot. In the early afternoon, no one in their right mind would willingly come outside.

But the two elderly figures crouched back-to-back on the cement were the exception.

They looked like two wary, solitary animals, crouched low to the ground, their eyes darting around in constant vigilance.

The staff member sighed. He had worked here for many years. At first, when he heard about this couple, he had felt only contempt.

But very soon, that contempt turned into pity.

All these years, whenever he worked the night shift, he had never once seen them sleep through the night.

In the middle of the night, they would often break into screams, shouting about ghosts, smashing doors, running wildly through the halls.

They would wake all the other patients, throwing the entire ward into chaos.

Eventually, they were moved into a remote room with reinforced soundproofing. At night, the doors and windows were locked from the outside, and the room was monitored 24 hours a day.

They could no longer disturb anyone else—but the staff could still see their madness on the surveillance cameras.

The scenes were chilling, as if they truly saw some terrifying ghost.

Everyone who had witnessed those recordings could not help but develop a psychological shadow toward the room they lived in.

Their condition only grew worse. By now, they could barely sleep at all.

The staff led Mu Xing up to a balcony. From there, he could see them clearly, at a safe distance where they wouldn’t notice him.

“This is as close as we ever get,” the staff explained. “Their vigilance is extreme. If anyone comes within ten meters, they’ll go mad.”

Mu Xing calmly observed the two of them baking under the blazing sun. “Why do they crouch under the sun like that?”

The staff replied helplessly, “Because they believe the world is full of ghosts. That vengeful ghosts are coming after them…”

At that point, he cast Mu Xing a sidelong glance. In truth, the ‘vengeful ghost’ they spoke of was none other than the child they had abandoned.

The staff didn’t know the details. He only thought that the couple must have done something unspeakably cruel in the past, and their guilty conscience had twisted into delusions of their abandoned child turning into a ghost to seek revenge.

“At first they were only afraid of the dark, so they never turned the lights off at night. Slowly, it got worse. Eventually they didn’t dare to go near shadows even during the day. Then it got more and more severe…”

The staff pointed at the two figures. “Now they believe only under the sunlight do they have even the slightest sense of safety. They think vengeful ghosts can’t appear in daylight. The harsher and more blinding the sun, the better.”

So while everyone else hid inside with air conditioning during thirty-eight, thirty-nine degree heat, they squatted under the burning sun, deliberately avoiding any patch of shade.

At first, the staff had tried to stop them, but they became violently aggressive and even bit two people.

After that, no one interfered anymore.

Mu Xing turned and went downstairs, heading toward them.

The staff instinctively wanted to call him back, but then thought better of it. After all, this was their biological child. He couldn’t just watch them from a distance and leave, could he?

Mu Xing slowly approached.

Even from the balcony, he had noticed their hair was much whiter. But standing closer, he realized—it wasn’t just more white. Their hair was almost completely white.

At first, Mu Xing tried to recall their age. When they were conducting the experiments, they had just reached thirty. Now, they weren’t even fifty yet.

Their hair was a messy gray-white, clothes still long-sleeved and long-legged despite the summer heat. With their heads bowed, crouching on the ground, Mu Xing could clearly see sweat dripping from their darkened skin under the blazing sun.

Finally noticing someone approaching, the two raised their heads warily.

Mu Xing saw their faces clearly.

If he hadn’t been told, he would never have recognized them as Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei.

Their faces were lined and worn, their eyes clouded, their expressions numb.

How could they possibly look like people under fifty?

Even if someone said they were seventy, others would believe it.

Only eight years had passed.

Eight years ago, when they came to Hope Orphanage, they had been well-dressed, youthful, and full of confidence.

Mu Xing stopped in place, meeting their eyes with calm indifference.

The moment they saw his face clearly, the numbness in their eyes twisted into raw terror.

They let out guttural sounds, scrambling backward in panic.

“What are you doing here? Why are you here?”

“Even in the daytime now?!”

“We were wrong, we’re sorry, we were wrong! Please let us go, let us go!”

Clearly, they no longer knew the difference between reality and dream.

They thought the figure before them was the malicious ghost that had haunted them day and night. The ghost that grew stronger and stronger—so strong it could now find them even under the noonday sun.

Mu Xing looked at their pitiful state, and not a trace of pity stirred in his heart.

He said quietly, “Looking at you now, you’re nothing more than ordinary people. Frightened by illusions of ghosts. And yet back then, what gave you the right to think you could stand so high above, deciding the lives and fates of two children?”

They didn’t hear him. Or perhaps, they could no longer process normal words at all.

Suddenly Zhu Wei screamed, eyes wild as she stared at him.

“Kill me! Kill me! Give me a quick death!”

Mu Xing ignored her.

“I only came to tell you one thing,” he said. “I got into Huaxia University. So did my brother. We’re both going to live very, very well.”

“Your so-called experiment was nothing but garbage.”

He turned and walked away. Whether they heard him or not didn’t matter. They were still huddled there, screaming.

When Mu Xing stepped back into the shade, the staff member glanced at his face. Calm, untouched by sorrow. That was enough to know—this man felt nothing for the so-called parents who had abandoned him.

And really, why would he? They hadn’t raised him a single day.

Still, the doctors had something to say. They told him Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei’s health was failing. Years of sleeplessness had wreaked havoc on their bodies, not to mention their constant delusions and self-harm. Beyond accelerated aging, their insides were already deteriorating.

Mu Xing only said flatly, “Just treat them as usual. If anything happens… don’t bother notifying me.”

Not long after—barely half a year—Director Mei was on the phone one day.

“Xiang Shen’s dead.”

“Serves him right!” she cursed. “Scum like that—this is retribution!”

Zhu Wei didn’t last long after him.

Some of Xiang Shen’s relatives tried to contact Mu Xing—unaware there had been another child—but Director Mei chased them off with curses.

After graduating from university, Mu Xing stayed in Beijing for a few years, earned some money, then returned to Donghai for a quieter job.

He used his savings to renovate the orphanage.

Most of the children who had grown up with him had already graduated and found jobs.

Every New Year and festival, cars returned from all over, everyone gathering in laughter and noise.

Later, when Director Mei grew old, Mu Xing moved into the orphanage.

He resigned from his job and became the new director.

That was when he slowly came to understand the orphanage’s story.

Director Mei had once had a daughter. A car accident during a family trip took her daughter and unborn grandchild away, leaving her alone in the world. Broken, she happened to see a news report about abandoned children. She sold her house, emptied her savings, and founded the orphanage.

Uncle Li and Aunt Bai were her old friends. Their only son, a police officer, had died in the line of duty.

Uncle Wang’s daughter, a kindergarten teacher, had drowned while saving a child.

…

Each of them had known grief. But they chose to repay the world with love. They gathered here, in a place named “Hope,” to bring warmth to children who had also endured pain.

And there would always be someone willing to inherit their dream.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Sandy: 😭

Ch 158: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Director Mei and Xu Tingfeng, as husband and wife, were stunned when they received the news from the police.

As ordinary people, it was almost impossible for them to imagine that people like Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei could exist in this world.

“They’re just… just monsters! Not even human!” Zhou Jinnian’s lips trembled, and after a long pause, this was all she could curse out.

But the one angrier than her was Director Mei.

Because compared to the relatively luckier twin brother, her Little Xingxing was the one who had been directly “abandoned” by his biological parents from the very beginning, doomed to a tragic life.

The orphanage and the Xu couple hoped to jointly sue Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei, demanding the harshest punishment possible.

But Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei’s defense lawyer reacted swiftly.

He applied for exemption from responsibility on the grounds of mental illness.

Their previous erratic and insane behavior was cited as evidence.

The truth of the matter, however, was something Director Mei and the Xu couple tacitly chose not to tell the children.

They would rather let the two children believe that their separation from their biological parents was due to some accident, or even a case of ordinary abandonment.

But not this bloody, disgusting truth.

Xu Xiyang naturally didn’t know anything, but how could Mu Xing be fooled?

The director had been rushing out frequently lately, and every time she contacted the police or the Xu family, she would deliberately seek out a secluded spot to take the call.

But Mu Xing’s spiritual senses were so sharp that each time Director Mei communicated with the police and the Xu family, he could hear everything clearly.

Still, if they didn’t want him to know, then he would simply act as if he didn’t.

That day, he overheard Director Mei’s furious voice: “Mental illness? I don’t believe it for a second! That diary was recorded in such detail, the thoughts so clear and logical—how could they possibly be mentally ill? This is nothing but an excuse to escape punishment!”

In that instant, Mu Xing understood their intentions.

That those two would try to use such a ploy to dodge punishment or delay things didn’t surprise him at all.

But did they really think this would be enough?

Well then, since they so desperately wanted mental illness…

Mu Xing thought: after all, they did provide the genes that created him. Naturally, he ought to repay that kindness properly. Very well, let’s grant them their wish.

Because the defense kept stressing Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei’s unstable mental condition, the case was delayed.

Everyone thought it was just an excuse.

Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei also wanted it to be an excuse.

But only they themselves knew: every night, a ghost came to them—tormenting them, hurting them.

When daylight came, the ghost disappeared.

Their wounds healed.

But the bone-deep pain and terror they had endured remained etched in their minds.

They told the police, they told the doctors, but no one believed them.

Even when they told their defense lawyer, he thought it was just a ploy to shirk responsibility.

Never before had Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei felt such despair.

One day, Director Mei and Zhou Jinnian went to see them.

They found the two had lost a shocking amount of weight, their faces gaunt, their eyes shadowed with madness.

Zhou Jinnian was startled—she couldn’t connect these broken people with the polished, refined couple she had once met at the orphanage.

But she didn’t feel the slightest sympathy.

Whenever she recalled their beast-like crimes, the more wretched they looked, the more satisfaction she felt.

Between the two, Zhu Wei was the first to crack.

When she saw Director Mei, it was as though she had seen her savior.

She almost lunged forward, clutching Director Mei’s arm like a drowning person grabbing at straw. “Director Mei! I was wrong, I sinned. I admit it, and I’m willing to pay the price. Please, ask Mu Xing to forgive me! He likes you so much—you can plead for me, tell him to let me go.

“After all, I am his mother. Without me, he wouldn’t even exist. Please, let him forgive me.”

Director Mei shoved her away in disgust.

If not for her upbringing, she would have kicked this shameless woman. “Forgive you? What right do you have to ask Xingxing for forgiveness?

“And you dare call yourself a mother? You are not worthy of that word!”

Director Mei didn’t know what Zhu Wei had been going through, but seeing her in this state, her heart only filled with revulsion. “Stop pretending to be crazy here. I’ll tell you this—none of this will help you escape justice. Don’t even dream of it!”

Zhu Wei sat on the ground in a daze.

By now she could no longer tell which was worse—suffering in prison, or enduring this endless torment.

She fainted.

Zhu Wei went mad.

She could still recognize people, but to everyone she met she would mutter that her younger son had long been dead, and that the Mu Xing now alive was a vengeful ghost wearing human skin.

Every night, he came to torment them with cruel means.

She said she herself was already dead too.

Xiang Shen had still been holding on, but once Zhu Wei collapsed, she started whispering those things into his ear day after day.

And indeed, every night, he too saw that ghost with her.

The ghost’s torment grew more and more brutal.

He began losing his grip, unable to tell dream from reality.

At first, it was only at night. But soon, he couldn’t even stay in slightly dark places, shouting that ghosts were lurking in the corners, staring at him.

At first, everyone thought the claim of mental illness was just an excuse they used to escape punishment.

But now, no one could be certain anymore.

After a new evaluation, the two of them were diagnosed with severe paranoia and tendencies toward schizophrenia.

Mu Xing overheard Director Mei on the phone, cursing bitterly: in the end, those two were sent to a psychiatric hospital.

This result clearly did not satisfy Director Mei.

But watching the seed of fear inside them grow larger instead of being suppressed, Mu Xing thought lightly: if they were given another chance, perhaps those two would actually prefer prison instead.

As for Xiang Shen, that matter was finished.

Director Mei never told Mu Xing the full truth. After bringing him back, much later she “casually” mentioned that his biological parents were mentally unstable and had already been sent to a psychiatric hospital.

So Mu Xing didn’t need to worry about them anymore.

As for Xu Xiyang, the Xu couple never even planned to let him know those people existed.

With parents like that, it was better as if they had never existed at all.

But near the end of summer vacation, they took Xu Xiyang to Donghai City to meet Mu Xing.

They suggested adopting Mu Xing, but Mu Xing refused.

Only then did Xu Xiyang learn that he himself had been adopted by his parents. He felt down for several days. But he had been raised with good guidance, and at only ten years old, he soon returned to his usual lively self.

The two boys exchanged contact information, and from then on, every school holiday Xu Xiyang would go to Donghai City. The bond between the two grew quite strong.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Ch 157: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Zhu Wei and Xiang Shen’s psychiatric evaluations naturally didn’t reveal any problems.

But they were truly terrified and didn’t dare go anywhere.

Moreover, they discovered that on the night they stayed at the police station, they hadn’t seen any of those strange things.

That made them even more unwilling to leave.

But having two adults stay at the police station and leaving a ten-year-old child at home—what kind of situation was that?

No matter how the police persuaded them, the two absolutely refused to go back, and they were even more unwilling to see Mu Xing.

Mu Xing found his way to the police station himself.

“You want to go to Donghai City?”

Mu Xing nodded. “I originally belonged to the Hope Orphanage. I’ve been away for so long this time, the director mama and the children all miss me.”

The policeman asked curiously, “But haven’t you found your biological parents now?”

As soon as he said it, he thought of that crazy couple, and felt they didn’t seem very reliable.

Mu Xing said, “I was very happy at the orphanage. Everyone treated me well. Uncle and Auntie, they…”

He hesitated a little before saying, “I can’t feel from them the same love that the director mama gives me.”

“I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

The policeman felt a little troubled: in principle, a child this age, once they’ve found their biological parents, should live with them.

But then Mu Xing suddenly said, “I heard director mama and the uncles and aunties talking—I still have a twin brother. That day, two uncles and aunties also came to the orphanage, I think they were that child’s parents. Police uncle, can you help me find him?”

As he said this, his eyes were full of curiosity toward that unknown brother.

The police had already discovered information that Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei had another child, but they had never been able to trace him.

Now that Mu Xing mentioned it, they suddenly had a lead.

It wasn’t long before the police contacted Donghai City. Through feedback from the orphanage there, they traced it back to Xu Tingfeng and his wife.

Both were university professors, with a ten-year-old child, living in Changping City’s Moon West University Town, XX Street.

The policeman felt that this address seemed a little familiar.

He thought for a moment, and suddenly his eyes sharpened.

Mu Xing, meanwhile, returned to the Hope Orphanage.

Because she received a call from the police, Director Mei felt worried about him, so she personally rushed over from Donghai City.

When she asked Mu Xing, he roughly described Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei.

Hearing this, Director Mei’s face darkened with anger. “I originally thought little Xingxing had finally found his biological parents, that after all his suffering he could live a good life. Who would have thought that this couple would be so unreliable?”

What kind of words were those?

Calling a child a monster? A vengeful ghost?

That very day, Director Mei took Mu Xing on the high-speed rail back to Donghai City.

“We’re going back. That couple is crazy—how could I possibly entrust you to them? Even if they make trouble, even if they sue, I’m not afraid of them!”

Mu Xing sat quietly next to her, nestled in her arms, and said softly, “I won’t go with them. They’re bad people.”

Director Mei just assumed it was his broken heart speaking childlike words.

But on the police side, following the clues, they made a shocking discovery.

For the past ten years, Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei’s activity patterns had two recurring locations.

No fixed times, but every few months, or as long as nearly a year, one or both of them would always appear in the same two places.

One was the old street in the old district of Donghai City.

The other was Changping City’s Moon West University Town.

They were ordinary places—if it were anywhere else, you could say they had friends there, or maybe there was a restaurant they liked and visited every year.

But those two places—one was home to the Zhao family, who had adopted Mu Xing.

The other was home to the Xu family, who had adopted Xu Xiyang.

And Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei were the biological parents of both children.

To say this was a coincidence was far too strange.

But if it wasn’t a coincidence…

The policemen’s hearts went cold. Could it be that this couple had known all along that these were their children?

If they knew…

Xu Xiyang at least had grown up beloved, well-cared-for, according to the records.

But Mu Xing—everyone in the neighborhood knew he had been abused and beaten terribly by his adoptive parents.

And his biological parents had turned a blind eye?

What’s more, they remembered that day when Zhu Wei looked at young Mu Xing with sheer terror, saying he had come back for revenge.

Could it be that hidden within this was some darker secret?

Unaware that the police were now watching them, Xiang Shen and Zhu Wei, upon hearing that Mu Xing had been taken back to the Hope Orphanage by the director, finally felt some relief.

They no longer dared think about squeezing any benefit from him—they only wanted to stay far away from that vengeful ghost.

As for their other son, Xu Xiyang?

An ordinary, unremarkable child, he had never been on their minds.

But they were far too naïve.

Once fear is planted, it can never be uprooted.

And besides, they truly had done heartless, inhuman things. That thorn would always remain lodged in their hearts.

That night, when the couple returned home, with no one else in the house, they felt somewhat calmer.

Exhausted from those days, they quickly washed up and went to bed.

As usual, they were awakened by a chill wind.

What they saw was the grown-up Mu Xing.

He was gaunt, nothing but skin and bones, with blood-red eyes streaming tears of blood. Grinning eerily, he reached out to grab them both.

This was the image of Mu Xing that lived in their minds.

The vengeful ghost let out a hoarse, terrifying laugh. Black, razor-sharp nails sank into their flesh. “You think just because I went back, you can escape? Dream on.

“As long as you’re alive, I’ll haunt you forever.

“Dear father and mother, I want you to be with me, forever.”

Thick blood mist wrapped around them. Their mouths and noses burned with suffocating pain, their bodies pierced by those sharp claws until agony became unbearable.

Both of them woke with a scream.

It was still dark.

But they could no longer sleep.

They thought it was a dream, but when they saw the look on each other’s faces, they knew it wasn’t.

That thing had truly come, truly killed them once.

Even if it was only a dream, it left them tormented and restless, never at peace.

Hope Welfare Home.

After a night of good dreams, Mu Xing woke to sense that the seeds of fear he had planted in their minds had grown larger again.

He wondered, amused: Just how afraid of me are those two?

He had only taken a peek the first day, curious to see what those two imagined him to be.

After that, he stopped looking. He didn’t want to disgust himself with their faces, nor see the sticky, horrifying version of “himself” they envisioned.

But judging from the growth of the fear seeds, it seemed they were imagining something extremely gory and terrifying.

Ugh! Mu Xing shook his head, jumped out of bed, and got dressed.

He stepped out of his room, greeting people along the way:

“Good morning, Uncle Li. Good morning, Aunt Bai.”

“Morning, Xiao Jin.”

“Brother Hui, so diligent—reciting so early in the morning?”

“…”

“Uncle Wang, what’s good to eat today?”

Uncle Wang carried several large baskets to the stone table in the courtyard, cheerfully lifting the lids.

Billows of white steam spread out.

“Steamed buns for breakfast—big meat buns!” Uncle Wang picked one up, weighed it in his hand a few times, then passed it over. “Come on, try your Uncle Wang’s craft. Careful, it’s hot.”

Mu Xing took it and bit down. “Smells amazing!”

The children swarmed around all at once.

Uncle Wang happily handed out buns, occasionally barking, “Mei An, go wash your hands! Look at those claws, all black!”

“They didn’t wash either!”

“They weren’t crawling around in the dirt catching crickets!”

Mu Xing sat on a little stool, gnawing on his bun, thinking happily: This is what life should feel like.

As for that couple, still losing sleep over “evil ghosts”?

Weren’t they themselves just human-faced monsters?

Those two monsters, when the police came knocking, had already been tormented by the ghosts of their own imagination until they were in shambles.

There was hardly any resistance or concealment. When the police questioned them, Zhu Wei’s mind had already collapsed, her words riddled with holes.

From the study, police found the diary Mu Xing had once seen.

Some things were laid bare, bloody and undeniable.

Pressed further, Zhu Wei cracked and confessed everything.

Even though the police had suspected they might have known about both children all along, hearing the truth was still shocking and absurd.

Some of the officers were parents themselves; hearing this filled them with fury. “What did you take these children for? They’re living, breathing human beings—your own flesh and blood! Experiments? Watching them be abused, and all you did was record so-called data?”

“Even beasts know to protect their young. You’re worse than animals!”

“Whether it was surrogacy or abandonment, it’s illegal in our country. And your case is especially vile. Get ready to face justice!”

Based on their testimony, police searched another of the couple’s properties and found even more evidence.

Records of recruiting volunteers. Notes on the female volunteer’s pregnancy. Page after page of meticulous plans.

The wording was so cold, it was clear they never saw the two children as human beings—only as they themselves admitted, “experimental products.”

Because of the severity of the case, the police wasted no time. They immediately contacted the other parties involved: Hope Welfare Home, and the adoptive parents of the other child, Xu Xiyang.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Ch 65: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

People in the countryside went to bed early, and by this hour most homes had already turned off their lights.

When word spread that a wild boar had entered the village, everyone hurriedly threw on coats and rushed outside to see the commotion.

By the time Shen Qingqing arrived with Zang Lijun and Shen Mingjiang, quite a crowd had already gathered around Old Zhang’s vegetable field.

Several young men stood at the very front of the onlookers, gripping farm tools, ready in case the boar suddenly turned and charged.

Shen Qingqing found an empty corner and narrowed her eyes, following the direction everyone was pointing. Sure enough, in the darkness there was a massive, blurry shape, its long snout rooting through the stripped vegetable patch.

She was genuinely startled, and also a little dazed.

She hadn’t been lying. Her hometown bordered forested land, so she paid close attention to news about wild boars coming down from the mountains. In recent years, because of ecological changes, fewer natural predators, and food shortages caused by land development, reports of boars entering human settlements had indeed increased. Some had even run into cities, injuring people and damaging vehicles.

…But she hadn’t expected that casually mentioning it would actually summon a huge wild boar into existence.

And Grandpa had technically been right. The Shen family’s region wasn’t normally within wild boar territory. Villagers went into the mountains often and rarely ever saw one.

What a coincidence.

Still, it was a good thing. Shen Qingqing couldn’t help thinking that if there really were boars in the nearby mountains, then once the apocalypse arrived, that meant an additional meat source.

A large boar could weigh four or five hundred jin, packed with calories. Too bad she’d heard the meat didn’t taste very good.

While the villagers worried anxiously about the boar entering the village, the young woman watching among them was already calculating, with alarming practicality, how to add the animal to her future food reserves.

“Hey! Step back a little more, this thing’s vicious!”

“Back up, back up, it’s dangerous.”

The two young men holding a pitchfork and a hoe proudly directed the crowd to retreat.

Since they were the only ones holding “weapons,” and perhaps because villagers instinctively felt young men brought a sense of security, everyone obediently stepped back.

Some older villagers even sighed admiringly to the young men’s parents.

“Big young fellows like that are dependable.”

“This is when having sons really pays off.”

The praise made the young men puff up with pride. One of them replied readily, “Of course. Hailin’s built solid muscle from working every day. That boar doesn’t even look that big. We’ll see if we can find a chance to kill it and share the meat.”

Someone seized the chance to give Zhao Hailin’s arm a squeeze. He quickly tensed his muscles beneath his padded jacket.

He immediately earned another compliment. “Yep, those muscles are real firm.”

“Wonderful!”

Listening to this, Zang Lijun and Shen Mingjiang grew quieter and quieter. Even the rare New Year excitement lost its appeal.

But while they stayed silent, others deliberately stirred trouble. Spotting them with Shen Qingqing, someone called out with a grin, “Oh! The college student’s back!”

When Shen Qingqing’s exam results had come out, plenty in the village had been jealous. But in a moment like this “crisis,” it was still boys who stood at the front. Didn’t this just prove the value of having sons?

Zhao Hailin’s parents straightened proudly and joked along. “Qingqing, they don’t teach pig killing in college, do they?”

Laughter erupted around them, and people glanced sideways at Shen Qingqing.

Unexpectedly, instead of looking embarrassed as they anticipated, she burst out laughing at the remark.

Because, honestly, college really had taught her that.

She laughed for quite a while before finally composing herself and putting on a serious expression. “Aunt Wang, wild boars are classified as protected wildlife with important ecological, scientific, and social value. Under the Wildlife Protection Law, private hunting is illegal. If you’re caught, you can face criminal charges. We should call the forestry department and have professionals handle it.”

As she spoke, she glanced at the pitchfork in Zhao Hailin’s hand.

It looked intimidating enough, fine for show, but the handle was still wood. How could it possibly withstand a wild boar charging at forty kilometers per hour?

Forget fighting head-on. If the boar actually charged, Zhao Hailin would be doing well just not to panic and run.

And he wanted to kill it? What a joke.

Although Shen Qingqing’s village lay close to the mountains, most residents were farmers who had worked the land for generations. Even when they went uphill, they stayed near the foothills. Very few truly understood how dangerous wild boars were.

If wolves, tigers, or bears had appeared, everyone would have fled instantly. Yet with a boar, they dared to stand at a distance and watch, even though a boar almost never lost in a one-on-one fight with a wolf.

Shen Qingqing sighed inwardly.

Her words frightened some people, but others remained skeptical.

“No way, right? Since when did a pig become a protected animal?”

“But Qingqing is a top student. What she says should be right…”

“Why call the police? If we can’t kill it, just have Hailin and the others drive it out of the village. It’s such a hassle this late at night.”

Zhao Hailin felt the focus of attention had suddenly been stolen by Shen Qingqing. He frowned slightly, looking at the thin girl next door, and said, “Yeah, Qingqing, you all should stand farther back. Leave this to us.”

Shen Qingqing raised a brow and said kindly, “Alright, Hailin-ge, but be careful. Don’t let the boar ram you into a fracture.”

That remark practically insulted the well-verified muscles everyone had just praised.

Zhao Hailin didn’t take it seriously. “I’m not like you. It’s just a pig…”

He turned casually, only to meet the wild boar’s gaze in the distance. He blinked. “Huh. It’s looking this way.”

A bad feeling flashed through Shen Qingqing’s mind.

Without thinking, she grabbed Zang Lijun and ran, urgently calling for Shen Mingjiang to follow. “Run!”

The moment her words fell, the boar locked eyes with the frozen Zhao Hailin for two seconds. Then its forelegs scraped the ground, head lowered, tusks forward, and it charged straight ahead.

The charge exploded with the force of a massive cannonball. To the crowd, it looked like a streak of black lightning tearing through the night, arriving before anyone could react.

Up close, they realized the boar was far larger than expected. Its sharp tusks made Zhao Hailin’s heart lurch, fear spreading rapidly through him. His hands trembled so violently he could barely hold the wooden shaft of the pitchfork.

In the blink of an eye, the beast crossed an entire field, reached the ridge, and without slowing leapt upward, jumping two or three meters into the air.

Who would have thought such a bulky animal could jump so high? Wouldn’t that mean it could easily clear the fences of a rural courtyard?

Fortunately, boars running at full speed could not turn easily. The people directly in its path had already screamed and scattered. The animal charged forward blindly and slammed straight into a tree trunk as thick as a bowl.

The trunk was already partly rotten. Under the tremendous impact, it cracked in half with a sharp snap and collapsed with a thunderous crash.

The boar staggered, temporarily stunned, shaking its head dizzily.

Seeing the ferocious beast so close, Zhao Hailin finally lost control of his fear. His calves trembling, he backed away two steps, suddenly shouted, “I’ll call the police!” and bolted toward his house without looking back, pitchfork on his shoulder.

His fleeing figure was astonishingly agile.

In moments he left behind the slower elderly villagers.

Shen Qingqing, still pulling Zang Lijun along, ran quickly but couldn’t match the young man’s speed. She sighed, “So Hailin-ge’s muscles are for running away.”

The Zhao parents, who had just been proudly praising their son: “……”

Zang Lijun smacked her daughter’s hand lightly. “This isn’t the time for jokes. Run!”

Back when Shen Qingqing lived at home, she never joked like this. Zang Lijun felt her daughter seemed more cheerful this visit, and it secretly made her happy.

But happiness would have to wait until the boar problem was solved.

Up close, the animal was terrifying, destructive like a small car crashing wildly through everything.

Zang Lijun deeply regretted coming out to watch the excitement with her daughter.

After recovering from the collision, the bad-tempered boar grew enraged and charged toward the nearest courtyard wall, smashing into the brickwork with a loud bang. Someone inside screamed, and Shen Qingqing heard panic creeping into people’s voices around her.

“Help! Help!”

Their small group had fled in the same direction as Zhao Hailin. Because he had drawn the boar’s attention first and fled so noisily, the animal ignored others and pursued them instead.

With nowhere to hide, nearby residents slammed their courtyard gates shut in fear. They dared not stop and had nowhere to shelter, forced to keep running blindly forward.

Even Zhao Hailin’s parents began to resent their son.

The crowd’s constant screams agitated the boar further. It showed no sign of stopping. Realizing the situation was worsening, Shen Qingqing decisively released Zang Lijun.

“Mom, Dad, you go first.”

As she spoke, she spotted an axe resting atop a pile of firewood by a wall. She grabbed it and weighed it in her hand.

Zang Lijun and Shen Mingjiang skidded to a halt. Even the usually quiet Shen Mingjiang couldn’t stay silent. “Qingqing, what are you trying to do?!”

He reached to pull her back, only to find he couldn’t move her at all.

“Dad, don’t worry about me. I’ll try to draw the boar’s attention. You two find somewhere safe to hide.” She didn’t bother explaining further. Under a nearby porch light, she examined the axe and realized it was dull, reluctantly setting it down.

She would need another plan.

Shen Mingjiang couldn’t understand what his daughter was doing. The way she examined the axe didn’t resemble someone handling a familiar farm tool. It looked more like a warrior judging a weapon.

The calmness in her eyes felt strangely unfamiliar.

Zang Lijun panicked. “Are you crazy? Come home with me!”

She tried to stay behind to help cover her daughter’s retreat, but Shen Qingqing pushed her away. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Don’t you trust me?”

Shen Qingqing was never talkative and had no intention of wasting words convincing them. After saying that, she ran toward the boar, placing her thumb and forefinger in her mouth and blowing a long, piercing whistle.

The boar turned toward her, snorting heavily. The fleeing villagers couldn’t help stopping in shock.

Seeing her run toward the beast, they clutched their chests in disbelief.

“Has she gone mad?”

“Studied so much she broke her brain!”

“But… she’s buying us time to escape…”

After running a distance, Shen Qingqing stopped. Fighting the boar head-on gave her no advantage, and she had no intention of being reckless. Running the opposite direction was simply to create distance between the animal and her parents.

Once the gap was wide enough, she slowed, observing the boar while calmly analyzing the situation.

Dangerous as it was, it was still just an animal. Compared to the brute-type zombies she had faced, it was far less terrifying.

She had once fought alone against a brute zombie in the simulation chamber for over ten minutes. Facing a boar alone did not frighten her.

More importantly, this was her hometown. Every blade of grass and every tree was etched into her memory. Here, she held far more advantage than inside any simulated battlefield.

Here, she moved like a fish in water.

Animals possessed sharp instincts. Translated on Hololo novels. After confronting Shen Qingqing for a moment, the boar seemed to realize she was not afraid. It grew wary instead of attacking immediately, snorting and pawing the ground, its agitation obvious.

The murmurs among the villagers gradually quieted.

They stared at Shen Qingqing in disbelief.

She was only a young woman, yet her calm composure before a wild beast filled even neighbors who had watched her grow up with shame.

The girl who had always been quiet, serious, and buried in her studies… had this side to her?

So… she hadn’t been lying. She truly could draw the boar away.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 64: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

When Lu Yan lined up the severed limbs he and Hao Zhenye had brought back neatly across the autopsy table and proudly presented his “trophies” to everyone, Bai Tang was the first to lose it. She bent over and retched to the side. “Ugh—!”

“These aren’t from our students, right?” Zhao Yunxiao’s pupils trembled in shock.

“No. They’re from infected,” Hao Zhenye replied honestly after a brief pause, puzzled.

He had no idea why Zhao Yunxiao would imagine something so brutal. It was only an exam, after all. No one would go so far as to kill classmates.

Zhao Yunxiao patted his chest in relief. “That’s good, that’s good…”

Grandma Liu had been kept out of the operation and was still asleep. Xu Mingyue was also absent. After returning to campus, she had unloaded both the bodies and the students, then hurried off again to pick up the principal.

Lu Yan expressed professional concern for Bai Tang, telling her to go ahead and vomit if she needed to, then calmly took twenty filled blood samples from his waist pouch and arranged them neatly in a test tube rack.

Zhao Yunxiao had already heard from Hao Zhenye about how the infected died tonight. Looking at the twenty tubes, all taken from Lou Han, he asked weakly, “Teacher Lu… be honest. That guy didn’t actually commit suicide, did he? You drained him dry, didn’t you?”

Lu Yan looked up at the ceiling. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Zhao Yunxiao: “?” What happened to medical compassion?

At that moment, Fu Qing entered with Xu Mingyue. Seeing everyone gathered, she nodded. “Good, you’re all here. Zhao Yunxiao.”

He answered reflexively, “Yes?”

Fu Qing said, “We brought back four bodies this time. Three died on the spot during combat and are currently in the parking lot. One was found later during cleanup in the forest, likely succumbed to injuries while fleeing. It’s still in the trunk. Arrange a cart to bring it over.”

“You and Lu Yan will work harder over winter break. Perform dissections on all four bodies and see if you can discover anything.”

“The rest of you continue preparing lessons during the break. When you’re free, help Xu Mingyue and the students staying on campus dig tunnels.”

At the principal’s orders, Zhao Yunxiao agreed without hesitation, then suddenly realized something. “I… don’t know how to perform dissections. I can assist, but is Teacher Lu experienced in this?”

Xu Mingyue cut in, “Experienced? He majored in forensic medicine.”

Seeing no reaction, she looked around uncertainly. “Wait, didn’t the principal tell you before?”

The other teachers: “…”

So their school doctor was actually a forensic pathologist?

…Putting everything else aside, their principal truly had a talent for using people well.

Only a few months remained before the virus outbreak. The teachers had no mood for celebrating the New Year and did not mind the tasks Fu Qing assigned, but the students still had to return home for the holiday.

They even had to act completely normal to avoid arousing suspicion from their families.

Some students injured during the assessment racked their brains for excuses. Bicycle accidents, sports injuries, roughhousing with roommates. Every explanation imaginable was used, barely fooling their families.

Of course, some parents still grabbed their children by the ears demanding explanations about how “friendly horseplay” could possibly result in three broken ribs.

…

Since the semester began, the four girls of Dorm 1111 were separating for the longest time yet.

After agreeing to check in daily in their dorm group chat with training updates, they each carried their luggage and reluctantly set off for home.

Song Rushuang was the first to message that she had arrived safely. Her parents, Song Jianguo and Xu Mingyu, had driven to pick her up. Travel time: forty-two minutes.

The last to arrive was Shen Qingqing, whose journey took nearly thirteen hours.

She flew to the nearest provincial capital, transferred to a high-speed train, then a long-distance bus. After the exhausting trip, she finally spotted Shen Mingjiang waiting by a three-wheeled vehicle at the station, nearly dozing off.

The father and daughter, not especially close, reunited awkwardly, unsure what to say. Shen Mingjiang stepped forward to help with her luggage, but she refused.

She lifted the oversized suitcase onto the tricycle herself. Its weight made the vehicle tilt sideways.

Only then did Shen Mingjiang show a hint of surprise. “You go to the city for school and somehow come back stronger than before?”

She had left the dorm before seven that morning. By the time she arrived home, night had already fallen.

Seeing the lone light glowing in the courtyard of her old home, Shen Qingqing felt as if a lifetime had passed.

For the first eighteen years of her life, she had lived in this old house with her parents and grandparents, a family of five.

Her hometown favored sons over daughters, and the Shen family was no exception. When she was born a girl, her grandparents reportedly showed disappointment immediately. Throughout her childhood, she watched her parents try countless remedies, desperate to give her a younger brother.

But the family seemed destined otherwise. Shen Mingjiang himself had been an only child, and after two miscarriages, Shen Qingqing’s mother, Zang Lijun, eventually gave up the hope of a second child.

Her parents’ constant hospital visits and her grandparents’ sharp scolding became village gossip. Every day walking through the village with her schoolbag, Shen Qingqing kept her eyes fixed forward, because if she glanced sideways she would see looks mixed with pity and mockery.

Only after her college entrance exam results came out did the rumors fade, replaced by jealous whispers that still lingered in her dreams.

“What’s the use of such high scores? She’s still just a girl.”

“Just wait. After spending all that money sending her to college, she’ll leave and never come back.”

Shen Qingqing did not care about their words. But one thing they said was true.

If she had not accidentally entered Fangzhou and learned about the coming apocalypse, she truly would never have planned to return.

Among her roommates, Zhang Han and Song Rushuang were both cherished only daughters. Song Rushuang was independent, and her parents were proud of that independence. Zhang Han proudly labeled herself a mama’s girl and called home every night without fail. Sun Wei’s parents were busy with work, and she herself focused on her social media side business, rarely contacting home, yet she always received generous holiday pocket money from family elders.

Only Shen Qingqing was different.

On orientation day, when Song Rushuang asked whether they believed the apocalypse was real, Shen Qingqing said she was willing to believe.

The woman standing on stage, calling herself their principal, looked strong and self-reliant. She had reached out her hand and asked them to face the apocalypse together.

No one had ever chosen Shen Qingqing before.

She wanted to believe. In that moment, she even longed desperately for it to be true, that she was someone the principal had chosen.

Zang Lijun was bent over the small courtyard’s bench, scraping scales from a fish. When she saw Shen Qingqing, she hurriedly wiped her hands on her apron and stood up. “You’re back?”

Shen Qingqing answered with a soft “Mm,” and carried her luggage inside.

“You must be hungry. Dinner’s almost ready, I’ll make another fish.” Zang Lijun studied her daughter’s face carefully. “You’ve lost weight.”

The note of worry in her mother’s voice made Shen Qingqing’s throat sting. “I’ve been working out with my roommates at school. It’s healthy weight loss.”

Her grandmother, head down picking vegetables nearby, snorted without looking up. “If you’ve got the energy for that, you’d be better off getting into the fields and doing some real work.”

Inside the house, her grandfather smoked. Through the swirling haze, he coughed twice at just the right moment, a reminder that he was there.

Shen Qingqing acted as if she hadn’t heard. She opened her suitcase, took out the local specialties she’d brought back, and handed them to her mother. Then, as casually as possible, she asked, “How was the harvest this year?”

Past the old house and along the small path toward the hills, the Shen family had a plot of land.

Usually Zang Lijun and Grandma tended it. The vegetables fed the family, and whatever was left could be sold in town for a little cash.

Shen Mingjiang’s construction wages, plus the money her mother and grandmother made from selling produce, barely kept the household going and raised Shen Qingqing.

Sometimes Shen Qingqing felt that the love she’d received from this family was like the money they earned: not too much, not too little, just enough to raise one person.

And only enough for that.

“It’s fine. Same as always,” Zang Lijun said, not understanding why her daughter asked. She lowered her voice. “Are you short on money? I knew I should’ve sent you some living expenses.”

From inside, Grandpa barked loudly, “If she’s short on money, she can go work! We haven’t even asked her to send money home, and she’s already putting her hand out.”

“No, I’m not short,” Shen Qingqing said, not mentioning that she hadn’t worked at all these past six months.

The principal didn’t allow them to take jobs. They were supposed to pour everything into training.

Students who struggled could apply for hardship aid and eat free in the cafeteria. Fangzhou didn’t have a separate charity window. Each meal came with a fixed allowance you could spend however you wanted on dishes. Because of that, aside from her roommates, no one even knew she was on aid.

She’d only just arrived, yet she already found herself missing school.

After putting away her things, she wandered the courtyard in a couple slow circles.

Before break, the principal had said that once the new semester began, some shelter slots would be released for students to exchange with points.

Shen Qingqing felt she’d done pretty well on finals, but the exchange rate for slots hadn’t been announced yet. She wasn’t sure how many she could afford.

If she could only exchange for one slot, she wanted to take her mother. But would her mother be willing to leave this family?

If she could exchange for four slots, would she be willing to take everyone?

All semester, Shen Qingqing had wavered.

Sometimes, thinking of all the cold looks she’d grown up with, she wanted to never come back. Other times, she remembered the last miscarriage. Waking in the night, she’d seen her mother quietly pounding her own belly.

Two strikes, then she’d wrapped her arms around it and cried without a sound.

Shen Qingqing didn’t know if she’d been crying for her daughter, for the unborn son, or for herself.

Whenever Shen Qingqing remembered that scene, she felt that she really was her parents’ daughter, inheriting their stubborn, muddled foolishness. Unable to see clearly, unable to let go.

In the end, she came back anyway.

If she couldn’t take them with her, then at the very least she couldn’t leave them here to die.

A repayment, not too much, not too little, for the not-too-much, not-too-little care that had raised her.

The courtyard wall had been built before Shen Qingqing was born, brick by brick, by Shen Mingjiang.

Years of wind and rain had powdered the mortar. It was no longer sturdy. A section had even been blown down during last year’s heavy rains, and it still hadn’t been repaired. The bricks were stacked neatly at the base to this day.

According to Shen Mingjiang, everyone in the village knew everyone else, roots and history included. There were no thieves to speak of. Besides, the Shens had a small local dog tied up in the yard. It would bark if strangers came. There was no need to rebuild the wall.

As for the parts most likely to collapse, they simply propped them up with a thick, long wooden pole picked up from the mountain. The family just walked around it, muddling through year after year.

Shen Qingqing had agreed with that once. And since she planned to leave after college anyway, she hadn’t bothered.

But now, it wouldn’t do.

With a wall this broken, forget mid-level zombies. A couple basic ones would be enough to breach it. Once the wall was gone, the whole family would just be waiting to die.

A rural courtyard and a vegetable plot was an enormous advantage in the apocalypse. She couldn’t abandon it.

If something went wrong later and she couldn’t return to campus, she might have to stay home for a while.

She didn’t want to imagine that kind of accident, but with incidents happening so often lately, she had to prepare anyway.

She made up her mind. “Dad, this wall needs fixing.”

She pushed lightly on the brick wall. She barely used any strength at all, yet bits of crumbling brick pattered down, making her skin crawl.

“Dead girl, you come back and the first thing you do is start tearing the house apart!” Grandma snapped again. “Stay away from that wall!”

Zang Lijun hurried over in three quick steps and pulled Shen Qingqing away, terrified it might collapse onto her. “Don’t repair it. I heard the government’s about to roll out a new policy, moving us into resettlement housing. They’re building it already, brand new. Don’t waste effort on this old place.”

“The new place won’t let you keep chickens or grow vegetables. You’ll have to pay for food. Move? I don’t agree,” Grandma said.

Usually Shen Qingqing let her grandmother’s scolding go in one ear and out the other, but this time she felt she was right.

The countryside was sparsely populated, less likely to run into zombies. And the Shen home even had a cellar, perfect for stockpiling and storing vegetables. They couldn’t move.

“I’ve heard about the village consolidation too, but even if we move, we’ll still be living here for at least a year or two first. Spring’s coming, then rain season. Last time, everyone happened to be inside, so no one got hit. But what if next time…” Shen Qingqing tried to persuade them. “We should fix it before the rains.”

Zang Lijun hesitated. “But your dad… his health hasn’t been great these past two years…”

Hard labor left him with aching lower back and knees whenever it rained. Rebuilding the wall was heavy work.

Knowing this wouldn’t be enough to convince them, Shen Qingqing searched her mind for something else, and suddenly thought of what happened on the mountain during the recent assessment. Inspiration struck.

“Didn’t a wild boar run into the village in the next village over last year? And there’ve been more and more news reports these past two years about boars coming down the mountains and injuring people. Mom, most days it’s just you, Grandpa, and Grandma at home. If something really happens, you have no way to fight back. A boar isn’t a thief. If one actually runs in, Da Huang won’t be able to help.”

Da Huang was their little local dog. About the size of a palm. Didn’t eat much, but barked loudly.

At last, Shen Qingqing’s grandfather came out of the house, frowning as he scolded her. “You finally come home and all you do is talk bad luck! First the wall collapsing, then wild boars. Where do you get all these problems, day in and day out?!”

“I’ve lived in this village nearly fifty years. The last time a boar came down into our village was twenty years ago! If you don’t want to stay here, then get back to school…”

Shen Qingqing turned away, resigned, as if she hadn’t heard.

In her mind, she even started calculating. If it didn’t work, then fine. When the time came, she’d exchange however many slots her points allowed. Take her mother first, then her father and grandmother, and lastly her grandfather… depending on what remained.

Now that she had choices, and the ability to survive on her own, Shen Qingqing was startled to realize that her grandparents’ curses and her parents’ timid silence could no longer stir her emotions.

Thinking of school, so far away, gave her a strange steadiness.

She was just about to say calmly, fine, forget it, we won’t repair it, when several beams of flashlight light appeared outside the courtyard.

Someone shouted in panic, “Oh hell, a wild boar! There’s a huge boar in Old Zhang’s vegetable patch!”

The four members of the Shen family froze, then all turned at once to look at Grandpa Shen, who had been cursing at full volume, spit flying.

Grandpa Shen: “…”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 63: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

A strange sensation came from beneath Fu Qing’s hand, as if some force were pressing against the dagger, trying to push it outward.

Newly regenerated flesh was repeatedly sliced apart by the blade buried deep inside her body. From her fight with Skull, Fu Qing had learned that although these people had been transformed by the virus and enhanced in many ways, they still retained a small capacity for pain.

Yet the woman’s expression remained as calm as stagnant water.

Judging from her earlier speed, the woman moved almost as fast as the high-level zombies Fu Qing had encountered in the late apocalypse, though her combat ability lagged behind.

Fu Qing guessed that her evolution lay primarily in flesh regeneration.

The woman paid no mind to being pinned down. Remaining nailed to the ground by the dagger, she continued speaking.

“You’re from S City, aren’t you? Then you should know about the fire in the urban village eight months ago.”

Fu Qing frowned slightly.

Eight months ago meant around May, before her rebirth.

In her previous life, that May felt like nearly six years in the past.

She struggled to recall the incident.

There had indeed been a large urban village in S City. Ongoing financial disputes had delayed demolition for years. Buildings stood so close together sunlight barely reached the ground. Sewage flowed openly, trash bins constantly overflowed, and tangled electrical wires hung overhead like a web pressing down on everyone who lived there.

Late one night in May, a household fire started when an electric scooter was charged indoors. The flames spread rapidly. Fire trucks arrived but were blocked more than two hundred meters away by illegally parked cars and could not enter in time. The disaster became a major fire, leaving dozens dead or severely injured.

Looking at the burn scars on the woman’s face, Fu Qing understood.

She said nothing, and the woman continued on her own.

“The fire that night was enormous. They said most victims died from smoke and toxic gases. But not me. The flames followed clothes hanging on the balcony into my home. I’d worked all day and slept too deeply. When I woke up, the fire had already reached my blanket… and my legs.”

“When they rescued me, they said seventy percent of my body was burned. I wouldn’t survive a week.”

“That week was hell… If you had experienced that kind of pain, you’d lose your sense of pain too,” the woman said softly, touching her leg. “But I didn’t die. On the seventh day, He came to the hospital and saved me.”

“That was the day I was reborn. He turned me into a zombie. I no longer screamed day and night from pain, and I would never die from burns again.” Her voice grew increasingly excited. “He didn’t just give me a new life. He gave me power. In our organization, even rich heirs like Liu Yong have to kneel at my feet and beg for favor.”

Her smile widened as she coaxed, “Identity, status, wealth. None of it will matter in the new world. Even ordinary people like us can break free from the shackles of birth and rise to the top. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“The fire destroyed my flesh, so He granted me rebirth.”

“Those who suffered from being weak or small, He made their bodies indestructible.”

“And you? What do you desire? If you pray sincerely, He can grant you anything!”

Fu Qing realized that although the Zombie King was no longer human, it understood human weakness remarkably well.

No wonder those trapped in suffering and despair might cling to belief in it.

“What do I want?” Fu Qing let out a soft laugh under the woman’s expectant gaze. “I want every one of you erased from this world. Can it give me that?”

“You…”

Still straddling the woman, Fu Qing straightened, pulled the dagger free, and wiped the blood from its blade with her thumb.

“You’ve said so much, but I don’t think you’ve actually convinced yourself.”

She recalled the woman’s earlier reactions. The dagger piercing her eye had caused no response, yet losing her only unscarred hand had driven her into emotional turmoil.

“You crave respect. You crave equality. You want your efforts to matter. Even after becoming a zombie, you still long to be a complete human being.”

“But that’s something it can’t give you.”

A trace of pity appeared in Fu Qing’s expression. “I sympathize with you. But I’m sorry. I still need you to die.”

That faint pity seemed to completely enrage the woman.

“How can you be so… ungrateful?!”

Tremendous strength erupted from her thin body. With one hand braced against the ground, she surged upright. Her upper lip curled, faint fangs showing.

Fu Qing had already dodged aside before being thrown off. Watching the woman’s twisted face, she felt this was finally her true appearance. The woman must have truly wanted her to join, to keep up the façade for so long.

But why? Surely killing Skull alone wasn’t enough to convince them she had great potential.

“Die…!” the woman spat, so furious she could barely form words.

“I’d rather not,” Fu Qing replied.

The woman stopped talking entirely. She kicked off the ground and rushed forward at blinding speed, drawing a long blade from behind her waist.

“Would’ve been better if you started with this,” Fu Qing remarked as their weapons collided. “I hate wasting time talking.”

System: 【……】

It couldn’t help thinking that its host had been doing quite a lot of talking just moments ago.

When Lu Yan and Hao Zhenye noticed something wrong on the map and rushed over one after the other, Fu Qing and the hooded woman had already been fighting for five or six minutes.

Broken limbs were scattered across the ground. Just the two of them had managed to hack off three arms, seven hands, and more than forty fingers.

Since clothing could not regenerate, the hooded woman’s long sleeves had effectively become sleeveless.

Lu Yan stared in shock for a long moment before blurting out a solemn criticism, “This is really not environmentally friendly.”

Hao Zhenye, who should have known better than to expect anything sensible from him: “…”

The constant clang of weapons echoed through the forest. It was too dark for either fighter to bother with a light, so Lu Yan and Hao Zhenye could only track them by the sparks bursting from colliding metal.

Hao Zhenye was still debating whether he should step in to help when he suddenly noticed the space beside him felt empty. Turning his head, he realized Lu Yan had already bent down and started collecting the severed limbs on the ground.

Cradling two arms and a leg in his arms, Lu Yan frowned when he saw Hao Zhenye staring blankly at him. “Don’t just stand there. Help pick them up.”

Hao Zhenye: “…”

Was he idle? Shouldn’t the priority be helping the principal?

He hesitated and glanced toward Fu Qing. Aside from two tears in her clothes, she appeared completely fine. Only then did he reluctantly go help Lu Yan.

In the middle of fighting, Fu Qing even had the leisure to notice what they were doing. Passing by them mid-battle, she casually asked, “Need more?”

Lu Yan did not stand on ceremony. “If possible, yes.”

Fu Qing hummed in acknowledgment. Her blade flashed, slicing off half an ear.

Like shaving noodles off a block of dough.

Hao Zhenye could not help thinking that comparison.

Fu Qing’s dagger had long since bent from repeated chopping. Taking advantage of the woman’s momentary distraction, she pulled a military knife from Hao Zhenye’s lower back and raised it with a loud clang to block an incoming strike.

Hao Zhenye barely registered what happened before feeling the weight at his waist lighten. Reaching back and touching empty air, he silently retreated farther away to pick up fingers so he would not interfere with the principal’s performance.

Thank goodness he had not listened to Bai Tang’s provocation during the monthly exam and challenged the principal. He would have lost miserably.

The two stopped worrying about Fu Qing and quickly gathered most of the scattered remains. Fingers, ears, and eyeballs went into Hao Zhenye’s bag, while Lu Yan carried the arms and legs, looking like someone hauling home a bundle of baguettes from the supermarket.

He weighed each piece thoughtfully and finally confirmed his suspicion.

“Fu Qing! Her limb weight is decreasing. Regeneration consumes internal energy. The more times parts are severed, the lighter her overall body becomes.”

Then he muttered, “No matter how unreasonable things get, conservation of energy should still apply.”

Body weight affected many aspects of combat. In battle, it was a decisive factor.

Fu Qing did not respond. Hao Zhenye wondered if she had heard when she suddenly dashed forward, kicked off a nearby tree trunk for leverage, and launched a flying kick that sent the hooded woman five meters back into a tree with a heavy crash.

Hao Zhenye: “…”

Landing lightly, Fu Qing nodded. “I thought her blocking strength felt weaker just now. Turns out she’s gotten much lighter.”

The woman spat out a mouthful of blood, crimson mixing with her lipstick in a strangely alluring smear.

She stared at the three of them, eyes dark and unreadable, then suddenly turned and ran.

Fu Qing froze for a moment.

Just seconds ago the woman had fought to the death, yet now she fled without hesitation.

Fu Qing started to chase, but Lu Yan called out sharply, “Look over there.”

In the distant forest, a raging wildfire had ignited, flames lighting half the night sky.

“That direction. A runner-type infected escaped. The simulated zombies couldn’t catch it,” Hao Zhenye said after thinking for a moment. “It probably started the fire.”

Simulated zombies had operational limits, while the hooded woman’s group were clearly elite members of their organization. Not only powerful, they were fiercely loyal. Once captured, they committed suicide without hesitation. In the end, the only gains were the twenty tubes of blood Lu Yan collected and the hooded woman’s severed body parts.

Still, aside from injuries to Yu Cheng, Qin Yufei, and a few others, the students suffered no major losses, while several of the Believers had died. The clash was undeniably a major victory for Fangzhou.

“If firefighters run into a huge crowd of us in the forest, that’ll be impossible to explain. We should call the students back,” Lu Yan advised.

Fu Qing watched the direction the hooded woman had fled, then finally gave up pursuit and instructed the system to send a notice.

The examination would end early. All students were to gather immediately at the mountain’s base.

She also assigned several physically strong students to carry the corpses down the mountain and escort teams to guard them along the way.

The hooded woman was too busy escaping to interfere this time.

Given how elusive these enemies were and how much commotion tonight had caused, Fu Qing decided not to dispose of the bodies as she had before. Instead, she brought them back to the school for Zhao Yunxiao and Lu Yan to study.

As for whether storing them at Fangzhou was safe, she did not even consider the question.

With the system in place, before the apocalypse arrived, this was the safest location in the world.

It was already deep into the night. Everything slept. No one noticed the disciplined group descending the mountain.

Xu Mingyue had already driven Fu Qing’s car back, loading the limping student and the food-poisoned students first. After squeezing everyone closer together, she tossed three corpses into the vehicle with loud thuds.

“It’s a little cramped. Bear with it.”

The five students: “…”

After securing the bodies, Xu Mingyue worried that forest rangers might not notice the fire in time and called the fire department. Since she had no official identity and used a SIM card acquired through the system, she had no concern about being traced.

One group rattled back toward school packed together with corpses, while Fu Qing remained behind to finish cleanup.

After confirming every student had left West Mountain, she still circled near the fire site twice, ensuring no civilians were trapped. Just as she prepared to leave, urgent shouts from firefighters echoed nearby.

She climbed into a tree and watched fully equipped firefighters rush uphill carrying hoses.

If any of them had looked up, they would have seen a blood-stained figure standing among the branches.

Only after watching them disappear did Fu Qing finally relax enough to review the night’s events alone.

“System,” she suddenly called.

【I’m here.】

Rarely, Fu Qing seemed distracted, staring at the military knife in her hand, now bent from repeated strikes.

“In my previous life… did any zombie ever have regenerative flesh like that?”

【…In your previous life, until the moment of the host’s death, no zombie with similar abilities was ever discovered.】

Both fell silent at the same time.

An uneasy premonition slowly spread through them.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Sandy: I’m getting so stressed with these stupid mutants group ughh

Ch 62: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Ding ding ding!

Almost every few minutes, the system alerts rang out urgently.

System: [Student Fan Xingye has sent a distress signal from the southeast direction. Straight-line distance: 482 meters. Tap to view coordinates and notes.]

System: [Student Xu Chi has sent a distress signal from due west. Straight-line distance: 237 meters. Tap to view coordinates and notes.]

System: [Student Ke Xinyi has sent a distress signal from due west… no notes were left…]

Fu Qing’s interface was already filled with incoming distress messages from students.

Many of them had likely encountered the same mutant, but the fact that multiple signals were sent simultaneously showed just how urgent the situation was.

She organized the information and marked each location on the map with bright golden points.

A preliminary estimate suggested that at least six or seven mutants were currently rampaging across West Mountain.

With the campus intelligence network shared, she quickly saw nearby blue markers converging toward the golden ones, gradually forming an encirclement.

The students, fearless like newborn calves unafraid of tigers, or perhaps simply worried about their classmates’ safety, relied on their numbers and rushed toward the mutants one after another.

Fu Qing ordered the outer teams to hold position to prevent gaps in the perimeter, then dispatched simulated zombies toward locations teachers could not reach in time.

A real-time battle was forcibly turned into a strategy game.

Only a few minutes later:

System: [Student Sun Wei has canceled distress signal. Teacher Lu Yan arrived on scene. Infected individual subdued and committed suicide. Twenty tubes of blood samples collected before death. No student casualties.]

System: [Student Wang Huai has canceled distress signal. Teacher Hao Zhenye arrived on scene. Infected individual resisted violently and died during combat. Two students injured, require hospital transfer.]

System: [Student Fan Xingye has canceled distress signal. Three simulated zombies arrived on scene. Infected individual suffered critical injuries during combat and died. One student injured, hospitalization unnecessary.]

System: [Students Ke Xinyi and Xu Chi have canceled distress signals. Nearby students arrived to assist. Infected individual fled due to exhaustion. Pursuit ongoing…]

As reinforcements arrived one after another, reports of resolved crises followed in steady succession.

The system delivered updates smoothly, emitting cheerful buzzing sounds.

The fighting across multiple locations was so intense that its informational threads split into thousands of streams, distributed through student and teacher wristbands as it busily coordinated and relayed data. It did not even notice that its host had remained wandering within a single fixed area the entire time.

After committing the surrounding terrain firmly to memory, Fu Qing simply stopped, found a tree, and leaned against it with her arms folded.

The system lagged briefly, hesitating.

[…Host?]

At first, Fu Qing had struggled to accept the presence of a voice inside her head that could hear her thoughts.

But after realizing the system was not malicious and had worked hard to help her, her resistance gradually lessened. When bored, she would even chat with it to pass the time.

“Don’t you think this is going too smoothly?” she asked silently. “It feels… too smooth.”

The system sounded puzzled.

[Isn’t this proof of the students’ improvement?]

It began listing reasons:

[These infected individuals are even stronger than previously seen specially evolved zombies. They possess intelligence, and their evolution patterns and attack methods are far more unpredictable. In the apocalypse, countless people would die at their hands. The fact that the students held out without severe casualties must mean the past half year of training has paid off.]

[Besides, teachers and simulated zombies provided timely reinforcements.]

The system was optimistic.

But as it spoke, it suddenly realized something.

Up to this point, Fu Qing herself had not gone to support a single team.

She had only been dispatching simulated zombies and redirecting students while allowing Lu Yan and Hao Zhenye to handle most of the mutants.

“Haven’t you realized yet?” Fu Qing said helplessly.

The system abruptly awakened and opened the map.

Centered on Fu Qing, an empty zone had somehow formed.

No markers existed there. No students, no teachers, no simulated zombies, no mutants. For various reasons, all had either deliberately or unintentionally moved away from this area.

[What is happening?] it asked in shock.

Fu Qing straightened and brushed dust from her clothes.

“I’ve been thinking about why the person hiding in the tree didn’t attack Lu Yan and that poisoned student.”

“One of them was tied up and delirious. The other was focused on caring for the patient. It would’ve been easy to ambush them then. If the attacker were fast enough, they could have escaped before we arrived.”

“But that person didn’t act. They didn’t even move. Someone as alert as Lu Yan only sensed something vaguely wrong. Compared to the mutants currently rampaging through the forest, that level of caution was excessive.”

“So I think the person hiding in the tree wasn’t targeting the passing teacher and student at all.”

She paused.

“The real target… was someone in the nearby camp.”

The mutants were not attacking students randomly. On the contrary, while Fu Qing tried to trap them within an encirclement, they were deliberately drawing every source of reinforcement away from her position.

Both sides had a commander hidden behind the scenes. The difference was that Fu Qing stood in the open, while her opponent remained in the shadows.

So she chose to follow the opponent’s arrangement and draw the one hiding in the dark out into the open.

The winter night stretched endlessly. The system had no senses, yet even it felt a chill in the air.

A faint rustling of fabric came from the pitch-black forest. As if she had been waiting all along, Fu Qing calmly turned her head.

The woods were dense, moonlight reflecting off the snow. The newcomer wore a bright crimson hood, the only vivid color amid black shadows and white frost.

The bold, flamboyant appearance made Fu Qing raise an eyebrow in mild surprise. At that moment, the figure abruptly lifted her head.

Their eyes met, and even the system’s constant electric chatter faltered.

From her cheeks down to her neck, every inch of exposed skin was covered in twisted, grotesque burn scars. Translated on Hololo novels. Her entire face resembled weathered tree bark, shriveled and uneven, completely hairless. Her nose was little more than two holes. Only her lips were painted a vivid red, the color exaggeratedly extended outward from the corners like a clown’s smile.

Anyone could tell she had survived a fire that should have killed her. To Fu Qing, those marks looked less like scars and more like flesh that had forcibly regrown from a withered body, forming jagged ridges like colliding tectonic plates.

The last time she appeared, the woman had concealed nearly her entire body. The eyewitness auntie had remembered only the scar on the back of her left hand, and Fu Qing had instructed everyone at Fangzhou to search based on that clue.

Now it was clear that had been only a tiny fragment of the scars covering her.

Only the smooth, unblemished skin of her right hand revealed that she was no more than in her twenties or thirties.

The woman smiled, her split clownlike lips widening. “I’ve finally met you.”

Finally.

Fu Qing remained expressionless. “You wanted to meet me that badly?”

“Mhm.” The woman’s tone was gentle, but her voice was rough and hoarse, either from mutation like Skull’s or from damage to her vocal cords in the fire.

Yet outwardly she looked nothing like the other mutants who had appeared tonight. There were no obvious signs of zombification.

“After recovering Skull’s body, I’ve been searching for you.”

An ill-timed thought flashed through Fu Qing’s mind: so the guy wearing the skull mask really was named Skull.

She asked, “Why were you looking for me?”

West Mountain was far from peaceful tonight. Three mutants were already dead, and more were still fighting throughout the forest. Yet the instigator behind it all stood here as calmly as if she had only come for a casual conversation.

“Someone asked me to meet you. I was happy for the chance to fulfill His request. Unfortunately, over the past few months, I never found a suitable opportunity.”

“But tonight, you finally appeared. And I finally have the chance to ask you on His behalf.”

The woman looked at her with eager anticipation and extended a hand.

“A new era is coming. Haven’t you ever considered joining us?”

Fu Qing lowered her gaze. The woman had extended her uninjured hand.

Ignoring the question, Fu Qing tilted her head toward the forest. Powerful flashlight beams crisscrossed through the darkness like a midnight light show.

“Another one died,” she said, listening for a moment before smiling faintly and looking back. “Did you hear its scream?”

In truth, Fu Qing had heard nothing. The distance was too great. The system had relayed the update.

But she believed a mutant’s heightened hearing would not miss a companion’s dying cry.

The woman’s breathing suddenly quickened. After a pause, she seemed to restrain her emotions.

“To obtain you, these sacrifices are worth it.”

“Join us. If you’re willing, you’ll have a place in the new world that is about to descend.” Her eyes burned with fanatic devotion.

At last, Fu Qing’s expression changed. She lowered her eyes, as if recalling something. When she looked up again, her entire presence had transformed.

Gone was the calm façade. What remained was coldness and cruelty.

She asked softly, “Someone once said I outlived the last human on Earth by three months. Do you know what I thought about during those three months?”

She still hadn’t moved.

“I thought that if time ever reversed, and I met that woman who worshipped zombies again, then even if I had only my last breath left, I would kill her and drag her down to hell with me.”

“…You’re refusing me?” the woman said in disbelief.

She suddenly laughed strangely. “You still want to kill me. But you can’t.”

Fu Qing moved.

Sensing danger, the woman retreated instantly. Translated on Hololo novels. Her body, moments ago indistinguishable from a normal human’s, exploded with terrifying speed, blurring into an afterimage.

But Fu Qing’s blade was faster.

The woman felt a sudden chill in her arm as something flew into the air.

It was her only unscarred hand.

A clean cross-section remained at her wrist. Bone, tendon, and flesh severed at once. Blood sprayed outward, flooding her vision crimson as rage twisted her expression.

She tried to pull away, but Fu Qing gave her no chance.

The world spun. With a heavy crash, her back slammed into the ground, pinned beneath Fu Qing.

“You—”

The dagger plunged into her eye socket, shredding her brain. Her words cut off instantly.

She lay sprawled on the ground, limbs spread wide, expression vacant.

Then, from the severed wrist, countless writhing strands of flesh began to grow.

They squirmed and competed, expanding rapidly, regenerating the missing limb almost instantly. Only now, the new hand’s skin was no longer smooth.

“You see? I told you,” the woman said softly, the dagger still embedded in her face. Lying there, she gazed up at Fu Qing, an oddly tender expression appearing on her grotesque features.

“You can’t kill me. This is a miracle granted by the Lord.”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 61: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Translator has something to day

Hey everyone! Quick update about the novel 🙏

It looks like this novel listing got merged with another translator’s version on Novel Updates, so a lot of the ratings and reviews I had before disappeared.

If you’ve been enjoying the story so far, I’d really appreciate it if you could take a moment to leave a 5-star rating again. It helps more readers find the novel and supports the work I’m putting into it.

Thank you so much for your support 💙

…

Lou Han was genuinely startled by Zhang Han’s unexpected reaction speed.

When the blade tip neared her face, he had clearly seen her pupils contract in fear, yet she shook it off almost instantly, managing to stay calm enough to call for help while escaping.

She was clearly not the ordinary person he had assumed.

—but so what?

Lou Han sneered inwardly. Since he was already exposed, he abandoned stealth altogether and leapt out of the bushes.

Zhang Han had already gained some distance when she suddenly heard heavy footsteps crushing fallen leaves behind her. She glanced back and nearly swore aloud in shock.

At first, the middle-aged man had seemed utterly unremarkable to her. Short, with clouded eyes and weathered dark skin carved by years of hardship, he looked like any ordinary laborer one might pass on the street, far less threatening than a zombie.

If not for the principal’s instruction to immediately report enemies, she might even have tried fighting him herself.

But now, that same forgettable man was charging toward her like some grotesque aberration, running on all fours at terrifying speed.

Every joint and tendon in his body seemed impossibly flexible. His soft-looking limbs pushed off snow, tree trunks, rocks, anything solid enough to grant leverage, rapidly closing the distance between them.

Like a crawling spider, except his head remained perfectly still, that weathered face staring expressionlessly at Zhang Han.

The sight delivered a massive psychological shock. Her footing faltered, and she tripped over an exposed tree root, crashing to the ground as Sun Wei shouted nearby.

Song Rushuang and the others were not far away, but Lou Han was closer. He struck again, the dagger thrusting forward. Zhang Han twisted and rolled on the spot, narrowly dodging once more.

The posture was ugly, but effective.

She was not good at fighting, but half a year of relentless physical training, weekly simulation pods, and monthly holographic exams had forced her into direct confrontations with hundreds of zombies. At the very least, she had learned how to survive.

As Zhang Han summarized it herself: survive first, then look for opportunities. As long as you stayed alive, the enemy would eventually make a mistake.

Eager to kill her before reinforcements arrived, Lou Han struck with great force. The dagger sank halfway into the mud. Seizing the moment, Zhang Han, lying on her back, kicked him hard in the shoulder.

It felt like kicking a stuffed doll. Translated on Hololo novels. She barely sensed bones beneath her foot and immediately realized the force had been dispersed.

He was unharmed. Instead, he used the moment to yank the dagger free with startling speed. Zhang Han scrambled to raise her hand axe just as the blade swung toward her.

Metal clashed against metal, numbing her arm, yet she couldn’t help letting out a surprised “Huh?”

“Hanhan!” Shen Qingqing rushed over, confirmed Zhang Han was unharmed, and immediately slashed at Lou Han with a firewood cleaver.

Lou Han, who had been crouched on all fours, suddenly darted aside like lightning. He sprang upright, dashed toward the nearest tree, and within seconds slithered up to the treetop like a snake.

Even his running looked unnatural, as though his body weighed almost nothing.

Sun Wei and Song Rushuang pulled Zhang Han to her feet, all four staring up at him warily.

Judging by his speed alone, Song Rushuang already knew they were no match.

“He’s faster than a mid-level zombie,” Shen Qingqing whispered. “A special evolution type.”

Basic classification divided zombies into three stages: low-level, mid-level, and high-level.

Mid-level zombies appeared roughly one year and three months after the apocalypse began. Their defining feature was the ability to climb, along with overall enhancements to physical attributes.

These mid-level zombies were not particularly difficult to handle. Their behavior patterns remained largely unchanged from low-level zombies, and students adapted to their increased strength within three months. With coordinated group hunting, they could be eliminated quickly. Some elite students could even defeat ordinary mid-level zombies alone.

However, as mid-level zombies became more numerous, humanity began discovering variants with special evolutions.

Some were gigantic brute types, larger, tougher, and stronger than others, like monstrous versions of the Hulk.

Others were small, thin-limbed runners with incredible speed.

There were also blind night-stalker types whose hearing was terrifyingly sharp.

These special zombies were extremely rare and usually solitary. According to Zhao Yunxiao, early human theories suggested such mutations stemmed from unique genetics or personal experiences prior to infection.

But later appearances of toxin-bearing zombies and ones with limbs hardened into blade-like weapons overturned that theory entirely.

Humanity could no longer explain zombies through biological science, and this realization drove many surviving scholars into psychological collapse.

The Lou Han before them was clearly one of these specially evolved “zombies.”

“A runner?” Shen Qingqing guessed.

“No. His joints are even more flexible than a runner’s. He’s a type we’ve never encountered,” Song Rushuang corrected.

Lou Han bared his teeth in a grin, revealing sharp, uneven fangs. Whether caused by evolution or natural structure, the sight churned their stomachs.

“You know more than I expected,” he mocked.

So Skull’s death truly had not been simple.

Song Rushuang said coldly, “More than that. We also know many things you don’t.”

Lou Han scoffed dismissively.

Sun Wei, who had remained silent until now, suddenly said in a low voice, “Done.”

She had already transmitted the four of their positions, along with an approximate classification of the zombie type.

Shen Qingqing and Song Rushuang’s earlier discussion had not been casual chatter. They were explaining details for Sun Wei, who was responsible for sending the report.

Her words acted like a signal. Without needing to discuss it, the four girls instinctively moved closer together, stopping at distances that allowed mutual support while still leaving room to swing their weapons freely.

This coordination was born from countless assessments and simulation pod exercises. Their goal was simple: hold out until reinforcements arrived.

Lou Han showed no concern that the four girls could cause him trouble and watched them with interest.

His abilities were best suited for forest terrain. Even if he failed to eliminate them quickly, he was confident he could escape.

Feeling the breathing, heartbeats, and warmth of her roommates beside her, Song Rushuang gradually steadied herself.

Gripping her blade, she focused completely on the attack she knew was coming.

Rustle—

Leaves trembled as Lou Han leapt down from the tree.

His figure expanded rapidly in her vision. His limb movements were too fast for the eye to follow. For a moment, Song Rushuang felt she was facing something that should not exist in this world, neither human nor beast, triggering an uncanny, instinctive terror.

Her nerves stretched to their limit. Every cell screamed.

Can’t win. I want to run.

But the sound of her roommates’ hurried breathing filled her ears.

She couldn’t retreat.

Gritting her teeth, she narrowed her eyes and finally caught the trajectory of Lou Han’s high-speed strike. She raised her blade to block.

Clang!

The weapons collided, but the tremendous downward force still pushed the blade three inches closer to her throat.

Just as blood seemed inevitable, Zhang Han slashed in from the side.

Metal shrieked as it scraped together. Lou Han was knocked aside, flipping once before landing steadily, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Knew it!” Zhang Han blurted. “I already thought it was weird I could block him one-handed! He’s fast, but his hits feel soft. His strength’s probably only a little higher than mine. That means his body durability isn’t that high either—”

Before she finished, the enraged Lou Han charged her again. Zhang Han raised her axe to block, but just before the blades met, his dagger flicked upward, sliding along the axe’s surface.

“So what if my strength is lacking? Humans can’t keep up with my speed!” Lou Han snarled.

The heavy axe could not adjust fast enough. Zhang Han’s neck lay completely exposed beneath the blade.

The other three felt their minds explode with alarm.

“Zhang—!”

“Move!”

Their shouts overlapped as a figure suddenly burst from a blind spot, slamming into Lou Han like a cannonball and sending him crashing to the ground.

The two bodies rolled several times across uneven snow. Dizzy, Lou Han finally broke free and flipped the attacker beneath him, raising his dagger high.

Then his hand froze midair.

The attacker beneath him had blood-red eyes, mouth wide open to reveal sharp canine teeth. Completely indifferent to the dagger above, it thrashed wildly, trying to bite him.

“You… you—” Lou Han stammered in shock and fury.

The thing beneath him was clearly a mindless zombie.

“If humans can’t keep up with your speed,” Lu Yan said calmly as he stepped through the foliage, “what about zombies?”

Seeing the four girls shaken but unharmed, he subtly relaxed. He motioned for them to stand behind him, then smiled faintly at Lou Han.

“Are you going to attack your own kind?”

Before leaving earlier, Fu Qing had modified the commands of all twenty simulated zombies, changing their target priority from students to zombies. They were dispersed evenly throughout the exam area, and teachers were granted control authority.

After receiving Sun Wei’s distress signal, Lu Yan, being closest, had rushed over with one of them.

He had adjusted it into a “runner-type” zombie, increasing speed while lowering defense, barely arriving in time to save Zhang Han.

Lou Han’s face darkened as he drove his dagger into the simulated zombie’s eye socket and rose from its limp body, thoroughly enraged.

Lu Yan sighed, pulling a surgical scalpel from the strap at his thigh.

“…Troublesome.”

Bang!!

Qin Yufei staggered backward after taking a punch to the shoulder, barely regaining balance. Half his body went numb as cold fear surged through him.

The punch had originally been aimed at his temple. If it had landed…

The man before him stood over two meters tall, broad-shouldered and massive like a wall. Yu Cheng circled from behind and stabbed toward the man’s side with a knife, but the blade sank only a few centimeters before locking firmly between dense muscle.

Yu Cheng: “…”

Realizing the danger too late, he failed to retreat and was kicked squarely in the chest by the brute-like man, sent flying as blood burst from his mouth.

“Yu Cheng!” Wang Huai and another roommate froze mid-charge, unsure whether to attack or check his injuries first.

Lying on the ground, Yu Cheng felt stabbing pain through his ribs with every breath. Tears streamed involuntarily as he gasped, forcing out, “Go… help Qin Yufei.”

Only one minute had passed since they sent the distress signal. They would not last much longer.

Through his fading awareness, he heard distant shouting.

“Over there!”

“Hey! We’re here to help! Hang on!”

Flashlight beams shook through the trees as figures rushed closer.

Nearby squads were arriving.

Just as Yu Cheng began to relax, Qin Yufei failed to evade the next attack. The giant man grabbed his collar and lifted him effortlessly with one hand.

A tall young man over six feet suddenly looked fragile, feet kicking helplessly in midair as oxygen deprivation turned his face crimson.

The massive hand pressed against Qin Yufei’s head, as if intending to twist it clean off—

Yu Cheng’s breathing quickened, eyes wide with terror. “No!”

Whoosh!

An axe spun through the night, gleaming coldly, carving across the man’s arm with tremendous force. Translated on Hololo novels. His hardened flesh split open instantly, blood and tissue tearing apart.

The man screamed in pain and released Qin Yufei, clutching his injured arm as he staggered back.

Hao Zhenye stepped forward through fallen leaves, his gaze immediately locking onto the man’s pale face.

A face bearing unmistakable zombie traits.

After nearly half a year, in a world that still seemed peaceful, he had encountered a real zombie again.

Hao Zhenye’s brows rose sharply. His chest heaved from sprinting, yet as he looked at the man, a slow grin spread across his face.

Perfect.

He hadn’t killed enough yet.

Yu Cheng suddenly felt that…at this moment, Instructor Hao looked far more like a dangerous beast than the monstrous zombie standing before him.

₊˚.🎧📓✩