Chapter 8: The Uprising of the Beastmen

After his outbreak, Old Chen was like a true beast, rampaging through the crowd and tearing into people with wild abandon, leaving screams and misery in his wake. The alleyway where the jeep was parked faced directly onto the main street, offering a clear view of the gruesome scene unfolding.

Yet Zhou Yirong still did not make a move. Han Xue did not object; without absolute certainty, she didn’t want Assistant Zhou playing the hero, which would only make things worse. She kept herself busy, however, pen in hand, quickly jotting down notes on Old Chen’s symptoms as he entered this berserk state.

His features were contorted, his skin thickened and hardened, muscles swelling all over his body, growing coarse and bulky, and his height increased by thirty or forty centimeters in an unnatural way. He looked every bit like a monster straight out of a movie.

In the margin, Han Xue scribbled: “Berserk—like a monster.”

The carnage continued. Many had already fallen to Old Chen's bites; blood was everywhere, and pieces of bodies lay scattered across the ground. Fortunately, the local police station responded promptly to the emergency call. However, Gaogang Town was remote, with only eight officers and three pistols among them.

The police car wailed its siren, and an amplified voice tried to command order. It was useless—Old Chen had lost all trace of humanity.

The veteran officer leading the team shouted, “Aim at the attacker! Watch out for civilians! Fire at will!”

The crowd scattered in all directions. After a few gunshots, the world seemed to fall silent.

Old Chen turned slowly, eyes blazing, baring his teeth at the police car as vile saliva dripped from his mouth.

“Keep shooting! Aim for his vital points! Don’t let him get close!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A few more shots struck Old Chen, who, wincing in pain, dropped the person he was holding and bent to inspect his wounds, wailing all the while.

The three armed young officers cautiously approached, forming a loose encirclement but keeping a safe distance. The others rushed to evacuate the wounded.

“Chief, what do we do? Should we take him down?”

“Take him down! Now, shoot to kill!”

More gunfire erupted. Blood gushed from new wounds, but Old Chen did not die. The bullets were not enough to finish him, and even those that hit his forehead only penetrated soft tissue—none could pierce through.

It was impossible to kill him.

Low, guttural growls rumbled from Old Chen’s throat. He seemed utterly enraged.

Suddenly, he threw back his head and howled at the sky, pounding his chest with both fists in a deafening display.

“Chief, what now? We’re almost out of ammo, and this beast won’t die!” One young officer’s voice trembled with terror—he couldn’t help it; this was beyond any normal comprehension.

If bullets couldn’t kill it, what could?

With the crisis at its peak, the veteran officer stepped forward again, shouting, “Everyone, listen to me—aim for his eyes! Blind him if you can!”

“Everyone” meant only the three with firearms, but the order was meant to boost morale.

This time, the advice worked. One officer, moving closer, emptied his pistol straight into Old Chen’s face, finally landing a shot in his right eye.

Old Chen howled, clutching his wounded eye, then charged recklessly at the shooter.

The other officers, panic-stricken, fired desperately at Old Chen’s back, but the bullets did nothing to stop him.

Just then, a bulldozer barreled down the street at high speed. Someone atop it shouted, “Clear the way up front!”

The police scrambled aside just in time, but Old Chen was not so lucky. He was upon the young officer, hand outstretched to grab him, when a tremendous force slammed into him from the side.

The bulldozer plowed into Old Chen without slowing, pushing him forward at full speed.

The young driver cursed and screamed, “You bastard, I’ll crush you to death!”

With a thunderous crash, the bulldozer slammed Old Chen against a concrete wall, pinning him tightly in between.

The driver, though belted in, stumbled out of the cab, shaken from the impact.

Police quickly surrounded the scene, and the townsfolk, sensing the danger had passed, gathered as well.

To their horror, Old Chen was still alive, though gravely weakened. A large gash at his waist poured blood, yet his gaze remained fierce. He feebly patted the bulldozer, but lacked the strength to move it.

After the chaos, the officers were left with a lingering sense of having escaped death.

The crowd hurled debris at Old Chen, and a few bold souls approached to smash bricks into his face.

At that moment, a police officer’s phone rang—then another, and another, until a chorus of ringtones filled the air.

“Help! There are three or four monsters in the west side of town!”

“Come quickly! There are seven or eight of them killing people in the center!”

“Help! The north side—!”

The voices over the phone were so loud that everyone nearby could hear. The thrill of survival had barely faded before a new terror descended.

What on earth was happening to the world?

Old Chen patted the bulldozer weakly, realizing he could no longer move the heavy machine. He lifted his head to the sky and let out a long, mournful howl.

The crowd pressed in around the officers, uncertain and afraid, while the police themselves stood at a loss.

The veteran officer spoke up, “Listen to me: everyone, go back to your homes immediately. Lock your doors and windows. Don’t go out unless you must. We’ll take care of this as soon as possible!”

The young station chief, though visibly frightened, echoed, “That’s right! Everyone, back home—it's too dangerous outside! We’ll contact higher authorities for armed support!”

Boom… boom… boom…

The ground trembled with each approaching thud, growing nearer.

The old officer’s face changed as he spun around and barked, “Hurry! We need to hide too!”

The young chief, though terrified, asked, “But if we hide, what about the people?”

The old officer shot him a glance, dragging him along as he ran. “First, we save ourselves and wait for reinforcements. Otherwise, when the higher-ups arrive, who’ll be left to guide them?”

Within moments, more than twenty berserk beastmen arrived on the scene—a jaw-dropping sight.

Each one, with their mountain-like bodies, exuded an aura of terror just by standing there.

…

“These aren’t humans anymore! They’re real beastmen,” Han Xue murmured uneasily. “I wonder what’s happening in the capital. There are so many people there—it must be complete chaos by now.”

With a snap, Zhou Yirong threw his pistol onto the dashboard.

If it were just one beastman, maybe he could follow the officers’ example and aim for the eyes. But against dozens, there was simply no way to resist—they could only hide in silence.

Suddenly, from the back seat, Wang Dawei moaned softly.

Zhou Yirong quickly opened the rear window. “Dawei, what’s wrong?”

“My heart… it’s beating so fast… cough, cough…”

It was more than fast—the ancient heart’s powerful contractions had already caused blood to foam in Wang Dawei’s mouth.

“How did this happen? He was fine the whole way here!”

In a panic, Zhou Yirong reached for the sedative and syringe, but with more than twenty beastmen just ahead, he didn’t dare get out of the car.

“Let me do it!” Han Xue took the syringe, drew up the sedative, and leaned into the back seat. “Wang Dawei, lift your arm…”