Chapter 005: Just Beginning

Zhou Yirong was on the verge of collapse.

He had thought that once astronaut Wang Dawei woke up, he’d be a reliable ally, but reality had proven quite the opposite. He had meticulously planned every aspect of this journey, only to discover that both his companions were utterly unreliable.

To be precise, one was always indifferent and detached, while the other was forever stubborn and rigid. The three of them were supposed to perform a play together, but the whole production lacked any main theme.

With a dark expression, Zhou Yirong glanced at Han Xue, then looked through the window at Wang Dawei lying in the back, feeling so desperate he almost wished for death.

“Um… may I ask, what does that… island nation’s film mean? Is it—”

Before Wang Dawei could finish, Zhou Yirong rolled the window up.

Han Xue clutched her stomach, giggling uncontrollably. “Looks like I didn’t come here for nothing—I’ve found a real treasure… Hmm…”

She paused, then added, “Adorably naive, that’s for sure, but not handsome enough… A pity, not my type…”

Zhou Yirong snapped his fingers sharply beside her ear.

“We’re on an important mission here. Can you please stop jumping from thought to thought? And you’re only sixteen—where did you even hear about such crude things?”

Han Xue shook her head dismissively, then held up one finger.

“First, since I’m underage, if you expect me to sit quietly like a block of wood, you might as well keep dreaming.

“Second, you might have forgotten, but I’m a graduate student in biology at Tsinghua’s Youth Program… In my view, that’s hardly something base or crude—it’s an art form about humanity’s continuation… an interesting art form.”

Zhou Yirong said with exasperation, “You even have so many excuses for watching trashy films…”

Han Xue sighed, “I can’t be bothered to explain. I’ve dissected countless corpses—who cares about surface-level things like that?”

…

In his frenzied state, little Rong Hao had gradually regained his senses, but Xu Lang was already lying in a pool of blood.

Now sober, Rong Hao could hardly believe what he saw.

With trembling hands, he reached out to touch Xu Lang’s still-warm body, shivering uncontrollably.

This was his brother.

The brother who loved him most.

And he himself had bitten his brother to death.

No! No! No!

Rong Hao broke into a heart-wrenching, childish wail, his voice so young yet bearing grief far beyond his years.

…

“There’s a child crying!”

Wang Dawei was the first in the jeep to react. Before becoming an astronaut, he had been a special forces soldier, with keen powers of observation.

Zhou Yirong and Han Xue immediately dropped their idle conversation, exchanging glances.

“I heard it too. Something must have happened over there. We should go check it out,” Han Xue said.

“No. Absolutely not,” Zhou Yirong said, fixing her with a stern look as if afraid she’d dash off on her own. “No matter what’s happening, our first priority is our own safety. The world outside is too chaotic right now…”

“In this deserted factory district, who else could possibly be out there?” Wang Dawei mused aloud.

Han Xue opened the car door, but Zhou Yirong grabbed her arm.

Annoyed, the girl turned to him. “Two possibilities: one, child traffickers abducted a kid; two, something happened to the child’s companion. And since we hear no other voices, the second is much more likely, and it’s less dangerous. We should at least go take a look.”

Wang Dawei, still inside the car, agreed. “Solid analysis. But I still side with Assistant Zhou—our mission comes first.”

This time, Han Xue was truly displeased, her face turning cold. “If you can’t muster even this much compassion, how can you talk about saving humanity? If you won’t even lift a finger to help, and can still feel justified, then frankly, humanity deserves extinction!”

A moment of silence followed inside the jeep.

Some things, though reasonable and humane, do not always comply with regulations.

Some things, though strictly by the book, are utterly unreasonable.

Han Xue, after all, was still a young girl. She could be childish, willful, or vent her frustrations—for someone her age, it was all natural.

She wasn’t bound by the strictures adults imposed on themselves. She was innocent, passionate, unafraid to love or hate, and free of any real responsibility or the need to obey orders.

But Zhou Yirong and Wang Darong were different.

They both carried the burden of their mission and could not afford the slightest mistake.

Han Xue frowned, disappointment flickering in her eyes as she looked at Zhou Yirong.

He hesitated for a moment, then let go of her arm.

Deep down, everyone carries a kernel of goodness and beauty—he didn’t want to destroy that purity in her nature.

Han Xue picked up a high-powered flashlight and stepped out of the jeep, heading toward the factory building from which the cries came. But the night was pitch black, the rain pouring, and the wind howled like ghosts—truly a terrifying scene.

She took a few steps, then paused, clearly hoping someone would accompany her.

Her long, slender legs wobbled as she walked—she looked less like someone going to help and more like someone embarking on an adventure.

Inside the jeep, Wang Dawei chuckled softly, then broke into a fit of coughing.

“Try not to talk too much,” Zhou Yirong said. “You’ve just undergone major surgery—you need to rest.”

Suppressing his cough, Wang Dawei replied, “The human fire you hope to preserve—does it belong to those selfish people, or to someone like that little girl?”

Zhou Yirong grabbed an umbrella, opened the door, and said, “A soldier’s duty is to obey orders!”

In the darkness, Wang Dawei’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I was forced to come along in the first place…”

…

Han Xue was clearly in no hurry to forgive Zhou Yirong.

She deliberately quickened her pace, refusing to shelter under his umbrella.

Still, her steps became much lighter, and her fear seemed to vanish.

Approaching the factory doors, Han Xue sniffed the air—a pungent odor stung her nose.

Though the wind was strong, the stench inside was still overwhelming… and with her keen sense of smell, she even detected a hint of blood.

Han Xue stopped abruptly. Zhou Yirong immediately moved in front of her, shielding her with his body.

In the beam of the high-powered flashlight, little Rong Hao sat curled up, squatting helplessly beside Xu Lang.

At the sight of strangers, Rong Hao scrambled to his feet, instinctively wanting to flee.

But—

If he ran, what would become of his brother?

His brother had always said there were no good people in this world, that he couldn’t trust anyone, so what was he supposed to do?

As Rong Hao’s thoughts spun wildly, Zhou Yirong had already reached his side.

The boy’s legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees.

“Please… please save my brother… He’s dying… he’s dying… sob… sob…”

He looked up, his big eyes red from crying but still streaming with tears, snot mingling with his sobs, making him look both pitiful and comical.

Han Xue rushed forward and scooped him into her arms. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, big sister is here to help you!”

They had already seen Xu Lang lying on the ground, a mass of mangled flesh—truly a horrific sight.

Zhou Yirong knelt down and checked Xu Lang’s jaw. “He’s not dead yet.”

But after examining the wounds, his expression darkened.

Quietly, he unfastened his holster and rested his hand on his gun.

“Xiaoxue, put the boy down. Let’s go back to the car for the first aid kit.”

Sensing something amiss, Han Xue nodded, setting Rong Hao gently on the ground. “Don’t worry, your brother’s still alive. We’ll go get the first aid kit—just stay here and look after him, all right?”

Rong Hao nodded obediently, then squatted beside Xu Lang.

Zhou Yirong motioned for Han Xue to hurry, and then followed her outside.

As soon as they were out the door, Han Xue spoke up. “There’s something off about that child—he’s skinny but very heavy, at least fifty or sixty pounds. I almost couldn’t lift him.”

Zhou Yirong replied, “There are scratch marks on the injured man, and bite wounds too. Judging by the bite marks, they were made by a human.”

“Didn’t they say there’d be no aftereffects from the beastization disease?”

“That was to maintain social order… I always suspected it would have severe aftereffects. I just didn’t expect to see a living case so soon. Maybe… the last outbreak was only the beginning. The truly terrifying things are just starting.”