AFTCKCTCKATD - Chapter 55

Chapter 55

“You... What Are You?”

That childishly furious roar ripped through the air, and in that instant, the entire world seemed to freeze, then fall silent.

Ji Yanqing’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat pushing him past his limits. His hands and arms screamed in protest from the relentless assault on the mall doors, his mind a blank canvas for a heartbeat.

The next moment shattered the silence. Before Ji Yanqing could even register what was happening, the zombies that had been clawing and throwing themselves at them from all directions suddenly recoiled, as if a switch had been flipped in their rotting brains. They forgot their hunger, forgot their prey, and whirled around, scrambling away from the mall as fast as their decaying limbs could carry them.

They moved with unnatural speed, a grotesque parody of flight. It was as if they had discovered fear for the first time, and the revelation had driven them mad. Outside, the mob vanished into the skeletal embrace of the city’s alleyways and half-destroyed buildings. Inside the mall, trapped by the four locked entrances, the remaining zombies became a surging, panicked mass, desperate to put as much distance as possible between themselves and whatever unseen terror had gripped them.

The plate glass doors groaned and spider-webbed under the crush, the very walls of the mall shuddering with the force of their frenzied retreat. Feeling the tremor beneath his feet, Ji Yanqing’s instincts took over. He glanced down at Ji An and Ji Le, still huddled protectively at his front.

The boys’ faces were paper white, tear-streaked and pinched with fear. But their usually clear, black and white eyes were now marred by flecks of faint gold radiating from their pupils. It was a gold tinged with raw, childish fury. They looked like a pair of cornered cubs, teeth bared in silent snarls.

A low hum resonated through Ji Yanqing’s skull.

“Ji Yanqing.”

He turned towards Feng Yimo, who stood over the fallen Awakened Zombie, drawing his blade slick with viscous black blood from its throat. A similar fleck of gold flickered in Feng Yimo’s own eyes.

Ji Yanqing’s lips parted, but his lungs seemed to have forgotten how to draw breath.

“Whoosh…” The sound of something immense and fast moving ripped through the sudden quiet of the receding zombie tide.

Instinctively, Ji Yanqing’s gaze snapped to the world beyond the mall’s shattered entrance.

The echoes of the fleeing zombies’ panic spread outward, rippling through the city. The eerily silent streets, once smooth as a frozen lake, now churned and vibrated as if a colossal stone had been dropped into its center.

More and more zombies, stirred from their mindless stupor, began to converge, their shambling forms drawn towards the cause of the spreading ripples of chaos. It wouldn’t be long before they were surrounded again.

The realization hit him, and Ji Yanqing’s body reacted before his conscious mind could catch up. He leaned out through the hole he’d hammered into the door, wedging the axe head between the remaining iron handle and the door frame. With a brutal wrench, he tore the handle clean off the metal, twisting the door just enough to force it open. He shoved it wide and lunged out.

Almost as he cleared the doorway, movement caught his eye in the alleyways opposite the mall, across the open space of the parking lot and the road. Figures emerged from the shadowed gaps between buildings.

Ji Yanqing’s eyes snagged on a still form not far from the entrance. Su Luo.

Su Luo’s eyes were wide open, but utterly empty, devoid of any life. He lay sprawled on the ground, soaked in his own blood, his sightless gaze fixed, unfocused, in the direction of the mall entrance. He was still; a final, irrevocable stillness.

He must have been so scared.

A wave of nausea, cold and bitter, flooded Ji Yanqing’s throat, his mind still reeling. He pushed off the lingering paralysis and strode towards Su Luo.

He crouched beside him, a useless gesture, knowing instinctively that whatever he tried, it would be too late. He fought to control the tremor in his hands, picking up the pistol clutched in Su Luo’s lifeless fingers.

He allowed himself one last look at those vacant eyes, eyes he’d always avoided looking directly into when Su Luo was alive. Then, he pushed himself to his feet and broke into a run towards the buildings across the street.

Seeing his decisive action, Feng Yimo and the boys were instantly at his heels.

In the scant seconds it had taken him to reach Su Luo, the open space around the mall had already begun to fill. Dozens, no, hundreds of figures materialized, a mindless tide of undead, drawn by movement, now converging on their position.

Ji Yanqing moved like a man possessed. The hundred-odd meters to the buildings across the road vanished in what felt like a single stride. He plunged into the narrow alleyway opposite the mall, swinging his axe in a wide arc, sending the first zombie that stumbled into his path sprawling. He sprinted forward, head whipping from side to side, scanning for a defensible building, a fox-hole in this maze of concrete and decay.

The surrounding buildings were mostly commercial – offices, shops – and all of them, he knew, would be infested. The earlier commotion had already roused them, and now, stirred by the fresh influx of approaching zombies and his own frantic movements, they began to spill out of darkened hallways and shattered doorways, an echoing, moaning pursuit.

Ignoring the rasping symphony of the undead closing in, Ji Yanqing kept running. Five minutes of lung-burning, desperate flight later, he finally spotted it – a stairwell entrance tucked away at the end of an alley, still bearing a door.

He veered sharply towards it, his boots pounding on the cracked pavement.

Feng Yimo and the boys were right behind him, their smaller forms keeping pace with his own. As Ji Yanqing slammed through the stairwell door, the three of them piled in after him, squeezing into the cramped space just as the first of the pursuing zombies reached the entrance.

The undead surged against the metal door, their momentum and mindless strength making the entire frame shudder and vibrate. A deafening clang of metal against metal echoed through the stairwell, each impact like a hammer blow against their eardrums.

Ji Yanqing stumbled back a couple of steps, his gaze flicking nervously upwards, half expecting to see more zombies spilling down the stairs from above. He watched the steel door rattle in its frame, the sound of the assault rising to a frantic crescendo.

Within a minute, the doorway was a writhing mass of undead flesh. Howls and snarls, the sickening thud of bodies slamming against metal, the scratch and scrape of claws on the steel – a cacophony of horror erupted just inches from them.

A cold dread prickled at Ji Yanqing’s scalp. He glanced over his shoulder, then back up the shadowed stairwell. He tightened his grip on the axe in his hand and started to climb.

Despite the deafening chaos from below, there hadn’t been a sound from above. Logic dictated the upper floors were clear, or at least, zombie-free. But logic felt thin and fragile in this new world. Ji Yanqing forced himself to stay vigilant, every nerve screaming, and moved cautiously up the stairs.

The second and third floors held open doorways leading to empty apartments, devoid of any zombies. Ji Yanqing chose the third floor, quickly ducking into the nearest apartment and slamming the door shut behind them.

This section of the city had been residential, spacious apartments designed with families in mind: three bedrooms, two living rooms, two bathrooms. The apartment Ji Yanqing had chosen was large, and clearly, the previous occupant had been a dedicated fan of games and animation. Glass display cabinets lined the walls, crammed with delicate figures.

Ji Yanqing didn’t understand the appeal of these figurines, but even he could see the craftsmanship, the delicate detail, the air of expensive fragility. Now, tragically, most of them lay scattered across the floor, victims of toppled cabinets and careless zombie feet.

Axe still in hand, Ji Yanqing quickly checked each room, confirming they were indeed empty. Then, satisfied, he found a spot in the living room and sank down, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The earlier roar had stirred every zombie for blocks. They would be swarming the streets, aimlessly wandering, driven by their insatiable hunger. Even though they were no longer at the mall, stepping back outside was still suicide.

Feng Yimo, Ji An, and Ji Le settled down opposite him. Ji Yanqing, still panting, studied them.

All three seemed to have returned to their normal state. The unnatural gold had vanished from their eyes. If not for the fact they were now miles from the mall, Ji Yanqing might have dismissed the whole terrifying episode as some shared hallucination, a trick of the desperate mind.

Feng Yimo watched him steadily, his gaze unreadable. Ji An and Ji Le were pale and trembling, their small faces etched with anxiety. They wouldn’t meet his eyes directly, only darting shy glances at him every few seconds.

Silence descended, thick and heavy. Ji Yanqing’s lips moved, shaping silent words.

The first time, nothing came out. His throat was tight, dry, and scratchy. The second time, he managed to force sound past his constricted vocal cords, the words emerging hoarse and rough. “What… what are you?”

“Papa…” Ji Le, restless and anxious, crawled towards Ji Yanqing, scrambling to his side, reaching out a hesitant hand to grasp Ji Yanqing’s.

The faint warmth of small fingers brushed against his, and Ji Yanqing instinctively flinched back, pulling his own hand away.

Ji Le froze, his outstretched hand hovering in the air. His wide, innocent eyes, still starkly black and white, instantly welled with tears. A choked sob escaped him, and a fat tear splashed down his pale cheek. “Wuuuuuu…”

Ji Le looked towards Ji An, his small face crumpled with heartbroken confusion. Did Papa not want them anymore? Now that Ji Yanqing knew something was wrong with them, had he decided to abandon them?

Ji An, who had witnessed Ji Yanqing’s involuntary recoil, felt his own lip tremble. The unease that had been building within him since they’d fled the mall finally shattered his fragile control. He’d tried so hard to be brave, to be strong for his younger brother, but now, he too, broke. “Waaaaah…”

Ji Yanqing had decided he didn’t want them anymore.

Seeing Ji An also start to cry, Ji Le, already teetering on the edge of despair, dissolved into even more heartbroken sobs. “Dad…”

Ji Le turned back to Ji Yanqing, his vision blurring with tears. Even through the watery haze, he could see Ji Yanqing wasn’t going to reach out, wasn’t going to hold them, wasn’t going to offer comfort.

Before, if he or Ji An cried, Ji Yanqing would instantly be there, his heart aching for them, ready to scoop them up in his arms. The realization of this change hit Ji Le like a physical blow, amplifying his fear and insecurity. He cried even louder, a desperate, keening wail of “Daddy…”

Ji An, startled by Ji Le’s escalating distress, scrambled to his feet. He rushed to Ji Yanqing’s side and threw his arms around Ji Yanqing’s right arm, clinging with desperate strength.

Afraid Ji Yanqing might pull away, he squeezed with all his might, his small arms a vise so tight that Ji Yanqing actually wondered if his arm might snap. He couldn’t break free. Feeling the almost painful grip, the unexpected strength in those small limbs, Ji Yanqing’s heart twisted into an even tighter knot of confusion and dread.

Ji Yanqing turned his gaze to Feng Yimo. “You knew all along…”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Ji Yanqing realized he’d chosen his words rashly. He’d just seen it – the gold flicker in Feng Yimo’s eyes, just like the boys’.

Feng Yimo didn’t just know about Ji An and Ji Le, Feng Yimo was like Ji An and Ji Le.

“What… what are you?” Ji Yanqing heard the tremor in his own voice, the raw rasp of fear.

A terrifying guess was forming in his mind, but it was too insane to accept.

Feng Yimo’s eyes, black and intense, bored into Ji Yanqing. He saw Ji Yanqing flinch away from Ji Le’s touch, saw the raw panic in his eyes. A sharp, unfamiliar pang shot through Feng Yimo’s chest, a sudden ache that felt… wrong.

It was like being wounded, a deep internal injury, centered right in his heart. And it hurt. It hurt in a way he hadn’t anticipated, a hollow, agonizing throb that seemed to spread outwards, consuming him.

Instinctively, he tried to heal it, to unleash his regenerative power, the force that mended flesh and bone as easily as breathing. But this… this was different. His healing power, usually so readily available, remained stubbornly inert, useless against this unseen wound.

Ji Yanqing held Feng Yimo’s gaze, unwavering, waiting for an answer, a truth, no matter how terrible.

“Corpse Kings,” Feng Yimo said, his voice flat, devoid of inflection. “All three of us.”

Ji Yanqing’s breath hitched in his throat. His pupils contracted.

Corpse Kings?

Ji An and Ji Le?

Ji An and Ji Le were Corpse Kings?

The shock was immense, but in its wake, a flood of understanding surged through him. Suddenly, so many inexplicable things clicked into place.

At Zhang Guxian’s village, why had that Awakened Zombie abruptly stopped its attack? At the hospital, why had that car, hurled by the Corpse King, veered off course to crash into a nearby shop? When Xue Gang had died, what was that roar in the forest, the powerful presence that vanished as quickly as it had appeared? Even yesterday, why had that mutated beast zombie been so terrified at the mere sight of him that it had fled?

Ji An’s quickly healed wound, their inexplicable high fevers…

Everything. All the baffling, disconnected pieces of the puzzle, slotted into place with sickening precision.

Ji Yanqing broke eye contact, unable to bear the chilling inhumanity in Feng Yimo’s gaze any longer.

He’d always sensed something… detached about Feng Yimo, a strange otherness. He seemed oblivious to the simplest human things – what was edible, how humans interacted, even basic emotions.

It wasn’t just a feeling. It was the truth.

“I’ve never seen… Corpse Kings like you,” Ji Yanqing began, then trailed off. Their knowledge of Corpse Kings was patchy at best, gleaned from fragmented whispers and terrified rumors. Even the little they did know, some of it had been revealed to them by Feng Yimo himself.

The realization tightened the knot in his chest, making it even harder to breathe.

“Third evolution,” Feng Yimo stated, as if answering the unspoken part of his question. “It’s like this after the third evolution.”

Third evolution Corpse Kings?

Ji An and Ji Le were third evolution Corpse Kings?

Something they’d never encountered, creatures that existed only in terrifying speculation, the apex predators of the undead.

Awakened Zombies were the first stage of evolution. Corpse Kings, the second stage, were already terrifying, practically invincible. What kind of horror awaited them in the third stage?

Against beings like that, did humanity even stand a chance?

Despair, heavy and suffocating, settled in Ji Yanqing’s lungs, stealing the air, crushing his spirit.

He didn’t look at Feng Yimo’s unsettling eyes. He didn’t look at Ji An and Ji Le, who were still clinging to his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “What, how.. are they… your…?”

An unsettling, icy sensation was spreading from where Ji An and Ji Le were touching him, particularly from the arm Ji An was clamped onto. He’d never known such strength could reside in such a small body.

“My subordinates.”

“No! That’s not true!” Ji An instantly denied it, his voice choked with tears. “I’m Ji An! Just Ji An!”

They weren’t subordinates. They were Ji An and Ji Le, Ji Yanqing’s children.

“Papa, no…” Ji Le whimpered, his eyes fixed on Ji Yanqing, pleading for reassurance.

Ji Yanqing looked back at Feng Yimo, his brow furrowed in confusion. He couldn’t understand how Ji An and Ji Le could be Feng Yimo’s subordinates. He was the one who found them.

The bewilderment overshadowed even the shock of Feng Yimo’s revelation.

He knew Corpse Kings could create subordinates by sharing their blood, but the subordinates he’d seen so far were only Awakened Zombies, at best. Feng Yimo had just said Ji An and Ji Le were third evolution Corpse Kings.

If Ji An and Ji Le were third evolution Corpse Kings, and if they were Feng Yimo’s subordinates… what, then, was Feng Yimo himself?

“They were dead,” Feng Yimo continued, his voice toneless. “Beaten to death.”

That day, he’d wandered into that half-constructed building, simply seeking shelter. But inside, he’d quickly sensed the lingering traces of human life – discarded trash, the ashes of a fire.

He’d been about to leave when he’d noticed two small bodies tossed carelessly on the ground.

Their frail limbs were smeared with blood and dirt. Their tiny faces, already drained of life, were frozen in expressions of terror. They were curled into tight fetal balls, their skinny arms and legs instinctively shielding themselves, even in death.

He had picked them up, one in each hand, gently brushed away the grime, and laid them on a slightly cleaner patch of floor.

He’d taken their hands, so small, barely large enough to encircle two of his fingers, in his. They were limp, utterly without strength.

A strange, unfamiliar sensation had stirred within him. Then he had shared his blood with them.

He’d never created subordinates before, but he’d witnessed other Corpse Kings do it. The genetic memory, the ingrained instinct, was there. He knew these two tiny, broken things, barely bigger than dolls, would become his subordinates. Especially as he watched the deathly pallor slowly recede from their faces, replaced by a faint flush of returning life. The strange feeling intensified, settling in his core.

He knew they would wake up as they were, still human, still needing sustenance. Humans died quickly without food. So he watched over them for a while, then decided to find them something to eat.

Before leaving, he’d tucked their small, fragile forms, curled up like newborn kittens, deep within a pile of discarded materials in a shadowed corner. He even scratched a mark on the wall to remember the spot.

But after leaving, he’d never been able to find his way back to that building.

“There’s something wrong with that city,” Feng Yimo stated with certainty, his voice heavy. He still couldn’t understand what was so strange about that city, what had happened to him there.

“Later, I searched for them, everywhere. But I couldn’t find them. They were too weak then, their presence almost undetectable. Until I met you.” Feng Yimo turned his gaze back to Ji Yanqing.

Ji Yanqing had stopped him, held him back. And in doing so, Ji Yanqing had led him to Ji An and Ji Le. Ji An and Ji Le, who had awakened, but called Ji Yanqing ‘Papa’.

They were his subordinates. And yet, they recognized another as their ‘Father’.

“No, that’s not true…” Ji An sobbed, shaking his head vehemently. He looked at Ji Yanqing, desperately wanting to explain, to deny it all, to say he hadn’t died, hadn’t become a Corpse King. But the memories were fractured, hazy.

He just remembered being beaten after Ji Le, remembered Xue Gang’s rage, the excruciating pain that had consumed him until everything went black. Then… he woke up, and Ji Yanqing had found them.

Ji An turned to Ji Le, hoping his brother could say something, anything, to refute this terrifying claim.

Ji Le was utterly still, stunned into silence. He’d even forgotten to cry.

He stared at Feng Yimo, a cold dread creeping through him. He remembered the searing pain in his back, the crippling agony of his wounds. But when he woke up, his back just ached faintly, no sign of any injury. He’d always assumed he’d simply misremembered, or imagined it in his fevered delirium.

Listening to Feng Yimo’s story, Ji Yanqing was speechless, adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions and incomprehensible truths.

Looking back, the circumstances were undeniably strange.

Ji An and Ji Le had been carefully hidden amongst debris. He couldn’t recall a marking on the wall, but he’d been focused on the boys, not his surroundings. And it was certainly unlike Xue Gang to show any semblance of care, even in disposing of bodies. Xue Gang would have just left them to rot where they fell, kicked into a corner at best.

Ji Yanqing suddenly recalled that night on the construction site rooftop, seeing Feng Yimo circling the residential area nearby. If he hadn’t taken Ji An and Ji Le with him… Feng Yimo might have found them already.

“Looks like I interfered.” Ji Yanqing managed a weak, self-deprecating smile.

If he hadn’t intervened, Feng Yimo wouldn’t have lost track of Ji An and Ji Le. If he hadn’t stopped Feng Yimo that first day, Feng Yimo wouldn’t have joined their survival group in the first place.

“No…”

“Papa…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ji Yanqing asked, his gaze locking on Feng Yimo’s eyes.

Feng Yimo paused, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He averted his gaze.

Ji Yanqing wanted to press him, to demand answers, but the unspoken question hung heavy in the air between them. What was he expecting Feng Yimo to say? “By the way, I’m a Corpse King, nice to meet you,” at their first encounter? It was absurd.

Ji Yanqing gently disengaged his arms from Ji An and Ji Le’s clinging grasp. “I’m a little tired,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ll rest for a bit.”

He closed his eyes.

Rest, though, was impossible. Not with the knowledge that he was in a room with three Corpse Kings. Sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Ji Yanqing simply sat there, still and silent, for a long time. Until the crying subsided, until the apartment grew quiet, until the building was silent, until even the city itself seemed to hold its breath.

When Ji Yanqing finally opened his eyes again, the setting sun was painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, hanging low on the horizon. Night was fast approaching.

He looked at Ji An and Ji Le, their small faces still tear-streaked even in sleep, their breaths soft and shallow. Then he glanced at the axe resting beside him.

Ji An and Ji Le didn’t feel like Corpse Kings. What Corpse King would cling to a human and call him ‘Papa’? What Corpse King would cry until they fell asleep, heartbroken and afraid?

Their skin wasn’t hard, unyielding. It was soft, delicate, vulnerable. A knife’s edge would draw blood with barely any pressure.

Ji Yanqing’s gaze lingered on their innocent faces, so clean, so fragile. He’d worked so hard to put meat on their bones, to nurture them back to health after he’d found them. He’d cherished them like treasures. How could they suddenly be… Corpse Kings?

Ji Yanqing carefully picked up his axe, moving slowly, deliberately, to avoid waking them. He rose to his feet and headed for the door, leaving the apartment and going up the stairs.

Hearing the soft click of the closing door, Feng Yimo, who had been feigning stillness, opened his eyes.

He tried, again, to heal the persistent ache in his chest, the unsettling hollowness that had taken root within him. But his power remained stubbornly unresponsive, useless against this internal wound.

The door to the rooftop was unlocked, easily pushed open from the inside. Ji Yanqing cautiously opened it, stepping out into the fading light. He was immediately confronted by two decaying, greenish-white faces.

Some had tried to escape to the roof when the virus hit. Even so, they hadn’t escaped death.

Ji Yanqing was prepared, axe already raised. He dispatched them quickly, efficiently.

With the immediate threat dealt with, Ji Yanqing moved to the edge of the rooftop, gazing down at the city below.

The chaos they’d unleashed earlier had long since dissipated. The city had sunk back into its eerie, deathly quiet.

In the alleyways below, a scattering of zombies lingered, drawn by the commotion, now aimlessly wandering, their guttural moans echoing faintly in the twilight.

Ji Yanqing’s gaze drifted further, to the distant mountains on the horizon, shrouded in the fiery glow of the sunset. The mutated trees, even from this distance, gave the slopes a vibrant, almost unsettling, emerald hue.

They’d made a lot of noise in the city. Xia Shen Shu and the others would have heard it, for sure.

“Creak.” The sound of the apartment door opening behind him.

Ji Yanqing turned back. Feng Yimo had followed him onto the roof.

Ji An and Ji Le had woken up. As soon as they saw him, the two little figures launched themselves towards him, intending to grab his legs, one on each side, to secure him. They’d been terrified to wake and find him gone.

Ji Yanqing sidestepped, avoiding them.

They stumbled, their small arms reaching empty air. Ji An and Ji Le exchanged a look, their lower lips trembling, eyes instantly welling up with fresh tears of hurt and confusion.

“Going back?” Feng Yimo asked, his voice flat.

Ji Yanqing glanced at him, then turned and headed back towards the stairwell, descending.

Feng Yimo and the boys followed without another word.

Reaching the second floor landing, Ji Yanqing bypassed the ground floor entrance, the one swarming with zombies, and headed instead for a large window in the second floor lobby, overlooking the opposite side of the building.

The moment Ji Yanqing jumped down to the street, Feng Yimo landed soundlessly beside him, depositing Ji An and Ji Le gently on their feet.

Ji Yanqing gave them a curt glance, then turned and started running, heading away from the direction of their camp, deeper into the unfamiliar sprawl of the city.

As expected, Feng Yimo and the boys instantly fell into step behind him.

Ji Yanqing didn’t bother to check on Ji An and Ji Le, just pushed himself to his maximum speed, sprinting through the ruined streets.

Despite being barely three years old, Ji An and Ji Le kept pace effortlessly, their small legs a blur of motion, never falling behind.

Feng Yimo, of course, was right there as well, an unshakeable shadow.

The city was vast. Ji Yanqing didn’t attempt a direct, straight-line crossing, which would have been suicidal. Instead, he ran for a long time, veering away from the camp, putting distance and unfamiliar streets between them. Only then did he change direction again, turning his steps towards the edge of the urban sprawl.

He left the city far from the familiar mountain range where their camp was nestled. From this distance, the mountains were barely visible on the horizon, a faint smudge against the pale sky.

As he cleared the city limits, snow began to fall. Large, feathery flakes, a blizzard onslaught, whipped by a biting wind, stinging exposed skin.

Ji Yanqing paused at the edge of the city, gazing out at the bleak, snow-swept wasteland stretching before him. Then, he turned and walked into the white void of the wilderness.

Feng Yimo glanced back at the city he was leaving behind, a flicker of something like puzzlement in his eyes, but he followed without question.

Ji An and Ji Le silently brushed away their fresh tears, their vision still swimming and blurred. They looked at Ji Yanqing’s back, ramrod straight, unyielding, and hurried to keep up, their small figures swallowed by the swirling snow.

The wasteland wasn’t extensive, but the heavy snow and fierce wind made travel treacherous. It took them a full half hour to cross the desolate plain and reach the foothills of a low mountain range.

Small villages dotted the lower slopes, their inhabitants having carved out every possible patch of arable land from the rugged terrain. From a distance, the hillsides were a crazy quilt of terraced fields, rioting with mutated crops.

Plants that should have grown upright sprawled across the ground; others surged upwards, taller and thicker than any natural form. Vines that should have crept low were now aggressively spreading, while some ground cover plants reached towards the sky in bizarre, unnatural growths. Most of them were utterly unrecognizable, twisted parodies of their former selves.

Ji Yanqing observed the area from the cover of the trees, assessing zombie density, then chose a route that seemed relatively clear. Under the cover of gathering darkness, he led them into the village.

Few people remained in the village. Most of the younger generation had migrated to the city in search of work, leaving behind a population skewed towards the elderly and school-aged children.

Ji Yanqing selected a three-story building on the village outskirts, and slipped inside through a ground floor side window. The owner was pacing restlessly in the yard, but the house itself appeared empty.

He moved silently to the second floor, and in a dusty wardrobe, found an old black schoolbag. He stuffed it with a bedsheet – something to offer a modicum of wind protection, snow cover, and that could also be ripped into rope – a set of clean underwear, and a few pairs of socks.

The village had been picked clean by other survivor groups countless times. Ji Yanqing spent a frustratingly long time prying open windows, searching nearly thirty houses before he finally managed to scrape together barely enough rations for one person for two days.

He packed the meager supplies, then glanced back in the direction of their camp, a knot of anxiety twisting in his gut. Without another backward look, he turned and led his unusual entourage of one adult and two children into the snowy wilderness behind the village, heading deeper into the mountains.

For the better part of a year, they, their entire survival group, had existed in a state of constant low-level terror, haunted by the ever-present threat of zombies and Corpse Kings. There was no way, absolutely no way, they could accept three Corpse Kings in their midst.

Even if Xia Shen Shu, Lan Zi, Li Pingsen, and Lu Qing could somehow stomach it, what about the others in the group? What if, one day, Feng Yimo or the boys lost control, snapped, and their terrifying nature asserted itself?

Before, when Feng Yimo had mentioned that he could single-handedly wipe out Li Xiao’s entire group, Ji Yanqing hadn’t believed him. Now, he understood how ridiculous his disbelief had been.

Feng Yimo was a Corpse King. If he wanted to, he could annihilate not just Li Xiao’s group, but their own, Huang Rongyue’s, even Qin Yue’s large, unwieldy force of nearly five hundred people, in the blink of an eye.

As for Xia Shen Shu and the others… they were intelligent, resourceful. Even without him, Ji Yanqing trusted them to manage the group effectively.

Huang Rongyue was sharp and pragmatic. She wouldn’t let anything happen to Xia Shen Shu and the others. Their survival was inextricably linked to hers; if Xia Shen Shu’s group fell, Li Xiao would surely move against her too.

Qin Yue might appear mild-mannered, but if Li Xiao dared to make a move against Xia Shen Shu and Huang Rongyue, Qin Yue wouldn’t hesitate to seize any advantage, any weapon or resource that fell into her lap.

And Xia Chen…

The thought of Xia Chen brought Su Luo’s face, pale and still, unbidden into Ji Yanqing’s mind, along with the haunting image of his wide, terrified eyes. A sharp, stabbing pain pierced Ji Yanqing’s chest, like a physical blow.

Xia Chen had acted without a flicker of hesitation. Su Luo, right up until the very end, had still called him ‘brother’.

Ji Yanqing took a deep breath, the frigid, snow-laced air searing his lungs, snapping him back to the present.

Xia Chen was the one who had lured him away from the camp. Xia Shen Shu and the others, once they returned, would instantly sense something was wrong.

They were all too perceptive, too clever.

“Papa…”

Ji Yanqing instinctively turned around.

The snow was already thick on the ground. Ji An and Ji Le, with their short legs and small stature, were struggling through the drifts. Ji An had stumbled, one tiny leg sinking deep into the snow, and when he pulled his foot free, his shoe was gone.

He scrabbled in the snow, searching for it, but it was lost. And Ji Yanqing was still walking, moving further away.

Ji An watched Ji Yanqing, a flicker of panic in his tear-filled eyes.

Ji Yanqing turned back, resuming his march, his face set, expressionless.

“Papa…” Ji An’s voice was sharper now, laced with desperation. He didn’t care about the lost shoe. He’d go barefoot if he had to. He just needed to keep up, to stay with Ji Yanqing. He hurried forward, his sock-clad foot sinking into the snow.

His shoes had been soaked through for hours already, his feet numb and frozen. But the immediate, biting cold of bare skin against snow still made him wince, his toes curling involuntarily.

Ji Yanqing took two more steps, then abruptly turned back. He retraced his steps to where Ji An had fallen, and began to dig in the snow with his hands, scattering the white flakes until he unearthed the lost shoe.

“Come here,” Ji Yanqing said, his voice curt, emotionless.

Ji An scurried to him, his small body trembling with cold and fear.

He stood beside Ji Yanqing, silent, knowing he was in trouble. He didn’t dare touch Ji Yanqing. He carefully lifted the foot that had lost its shoe, trying to balance precariously on one leg.

Ji Yanqing grasped Ji An’s frozen foot. He felt the icy chill of the small limb in his palm, and a pang of something sharp and painful twisted in his chest. Against his better judgment, against the icy wall he was trying to build around his heart, he gently brushed the snow from Ji An’s foot, warming it as best he could before slipping the retrieved shoe back on.

Ji An wobbled, momentarily losing balance, and instinctively reached out a hand to steady himself. His small fingers brushed against Ji Yanqing’s knee. The next instant, he snatched his hand back, as if burned, and glanced nervously up at Ji Yanqing, searching his face for signs of disgust or rejection.

Ji Yanqing registered the fleeting touch on his knee, the soft warmth against the biting cold. His eyes, already stinging from the wind and snow, felt suddenly hot, blurring with unshed tears.

His precious little treasures, the two fragile lives he had sworn to protect, how could they suddenly have become… this?

Ji Yanqing clapped his hands together, brushing off the snow, and stood up.

He turned his back on Ji An, and without a word, resumed his lead, pushing deeper into the darkening, snow-swept wilderness.

The snow fell heavier, thicker. After another half hour of relentless trudging, Ji Yanqing found a sheltered hollow in the mountainside. Using the bedsheet and the scavenged rope, he hastily constructed a makeshift tent, a flimsy barrier against the elements.

Ji Yanqing shrugged off the backpack, and squeezed into the cramped space, barely tall enough to crouch in. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and rubbed his face, already numb with cold.

The tent was pathetically inadequate, drafty on all sides, but still offered slightly better protection than being fully exposed to the blizzard’s fury.

After rubbing some feeling back into his face, Ji Yanqing glanced back at Feng Yimo and the boys, who remained outside, huddled under the skeletal branches of a snow-laden tree, the storm whipping around them.

Even under the dense canopy of the trees, the snow fell relentlessly. All three were plastered with visible layers of white, their hair and clothes coated in snow. Ji An and Ji Le, short and small, were particularly miserable, their trouser legs already soaked and stiff with ice.

Their usually rosy faces were pale and pinched, their lips tinged blue with cold.

They looked nothing like Corpse Kings.

So what kind of Corpse Kings were these…?

Ji Yanqing shifted slightly within the cramped tent, wordlessly making space, offering half the meager shelter.

If this had been before, before the revelation, before the crushing weight of fear and uncertainty, he would have been frantic with worry, his heart aching at their obvious suffering. He would have scooped them up, pulled them close, shielding them with his body, wrapping them in his own warmth.

Ji An and Ji Le, who had been constantly watching Ji Yanqing, their gazes never straying far, saw the subtle movement, the silent invitation. They scrambled up from the snowy ground, their small faces lighting with fragile hope. They ran towards Ji Yanqing, their initial eagerness slowing to hesitant steps as they reached the tent’s edge, suddenly unsure.

They peered inside, their eyes questioning, searching Ji Yanqing’s face. Seeing no immediate anger, no sign of rejection, they tentatively crept into the tent, their small bodies squeezing into the offered space. They sat huddled together, a respectful distance away from Ji Yanqing, side by side in the fragile sanctuary.

Ji Yanqing caught their cautious glances from the corner of his eye, and a fresh wave of discomfort washed over him.

They were exactly like they’d been when he first found them – wary, timid, heartbreakingly afraid of doing something wrong, of not being good enough, of earning a beating.

The flimsy tent above them shuddered, and suddenly, the confined space felt even more cramped. Ji Yanqing glanced to his left. Feng Yimo had squeezed his way inside.

The tent was ludicrously small for three, let alone four. Feng Yimo’s bulk instantly pushed Ji An and Ji Le further against Ji Yanqing’s side.

Having shoehorned himself in, and instantly realizing he was encroaching, that he was too close, that Ji Yanqing was still furious with him, Feng Yimo froze, becoming unnaturally still, trying to shrink himself, to take up less space.

Ji Yanqing stared at his almost comical, self-effacing posture, and a choked laugh nearly escaped him. Instead, he just sighed, closed his eyes, and resigned himself to sleep.

The further north they traveled, the colder the weather became. The snow fell heavier each morning, lingering later into the day. Ji Yanqing woke well before dawn the next morning, around four, but the snow didn’t relent until after six.

As soon as the last flakes subsided, Ji Yanqing was up, packing their meager belongings, preparing to move.

Folding the threadbare sheet, stowing it back in the salvaged schoolbag, he grabbed a handful of their dwindling rations. He didn’t bother stopping to eat, just started walking, chewing and swallowing as he went.

Their meager haul from the last village was barely enough for two days, even stretching it thin. For breakfast, he’d only taken a small handful of dried bamboo shoots.

He chewed each tough sliver deliberately, swallowing them down slowly, his mind already focused on their route ahead. He’d studied the maps. He had a general understanding of the terrain before them. Beyond the city they’d left behind lay a scatter of villages, perhaps a dozen in total.

These villages clustered around the outskirts of the city, a pattern he didn’t intend to follow. He was veering away, heading deeper into the wilderness. At most, he’d pass through two more villages before they plunged into a vast expanse of mountains and untamed wilderness.

He had to resupply in those next two villages, find enough food to see them through the long, desolate stretch ahead.

Trailing silently behind Ji Yanqing, Ji An and Ji Le exchanged a look, their small faces pinched with worry. They hadn’t been offered any breakfast. The omission confirmed their worst fears. Ji Yanqing was truly done with them.

Now that he knew they were turning into monsters, Corpse Kings, he was casting them aside.

The realization stung. Tears welled in their eyes, but they blinked them back, struggling to remain silent, to not cry.

Before, Ji Yanqing would have been instantly concerned, his heart aching for them. If they cried, he’d swoop in, hold them, comfort them. But now, if they dared to whine, to make a fuss, they’d only make him angrier, push him further away.

They swallowed their sobs, tightened their resolve, and kept their small legs churning through the snow, desperately trying to maintain Ji Yanqing’s relentless pace.

It was late afternoon, past two, when they finally reached the next village.

This village was smaller, barely two hundred households. Nestled deep in the mountains, seemingly bypassed by major roads, its inhabitants were mostly farmers. The houses were mostly modest two or three-story dwellings.

The village was clearly ransacked, thoroughly picked over. Barely any zombies remained, a handful at most. The yards and gardens of each house were littered with overturned belongings, the detritus of frantic searches.

Ji Yanqing explored the village, house after house, but found almost nothing edible. His gaze drifted to the fields surrounding the village, the terraced vegetable gardens clinging to the hillsides.

He pulled a scavenged cloth over his nose and mouth, and from a deserted kitchen, pocketed a clean-looking vegetable knife. Then, he ventured into the fields.

Chinese cabbage, bok choy, wasn’t ideal for carrying, but it was high in moisture, and they were desperately short of water. It was the best option he had.

But as he tramped through the fields, row after row, he couldn’t find a single mature head of cabbage. He did find rows of stubby stalks, cabbage stumps left behind after a previous harvest.

The cut ends looked weathered, as if the cabbages had been harvested weeks ago, maybe half a month. New, palm-sized shoots were tentatively sprouting from the edges of the cut stalks, pale green against the snow-dusted earth.

Ji Yanqing had never seen mutated Chinese cabbage in its immature form. He couldn’t be certain if whoever had harvested these had taken the mature heads for food, or for some other purpose – maybe to extract toxins to use against zombies. Hesitantly, he abandoned the idea. The risk felt too high.

Foodless, Ji Yanqing couldn’t afford to rest. He immediately gathered their things, turned, and headed for the next village.

Their remaining rations were barely enough for two days. They’d already burned through one. He had to reach the next village by nightfall tomorrow.

Villages didn’t move. He had a general direction in mind. But this village, so thoroughly stripped bare, was a grim omen. The next village might be even worse, more thoroughly plundered.

If that happened, they’d be facing true starvation, running on empty.

Since their group had grown, since food had become more plentiful, since they’d reached a point where they had enough supplies to feed over a hundred people for more than ten days, Ji Yanqing had almost forgotten this gnawing, desperate anxiety, the constant low-level panic of food scarcity. The resurgence of that fear was jarring, disorienting.

Driven by a desperate need to reach the next village before nightfall, Ji Yanqing pushed on, making camp even later than the night before. By then, Ji An and Ji Le were soaked to the bone.

“Ah-choo!”

Huddled in the drafty tent, exposed to the wind from both sides, Ji An and Ji Le quickly succumbed to shivers, then sneezes.

Hearing the small, wet sneezes, Ji Yanqing couldn’t help but glance over at Feng Yimo.

Feng Yimo seemed utterly oblivious to the children’s suffering, utterly clueless about how to care for them. He probably hadn’t even noticed they were cold. The tent was so cramped, he was still preoccupied with making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible.

Ji Yanqing sighed and rose, venturing back out into the snow. He gathered some fallen branches and deadwood, hauling the meager firewood back to their makeshift camp. He dumped the wood by the tent, then stared at the ridiculously small shelter. A fresh wave of frustration washed over him. He couldn’t light a fire inside the tent. But if he lit one outside, the flickering flames, the light, would be a beacon, attracting zombies.

They were in a sparsely populated area now, true, but there was no guarantee they were completely alone. There could be other desperate survivors, roaming gangs, or worse, drawn by the faint scent of smoke.

His mind snagged on ‘zombies’, then circled back to the three Corpse Kings huddled in his tent. A sudden, sharp spike of self-directed anger flared within him. He kicked the pile of firewood, sending the frozen branches skittering across the snow, then stomped back into the tent and lay down, turning his back on them, pointedly closing his eyes.

Feng Yimo, who was still engaged in his elaborate exercise of self-effacement, acutely aware of every inch of space he occupied, saw the scattered firewood, then glanced back at Ji Yanqing’s rigid back. He frowned, brow furrowed in concentration, trying to decipher the subtle shift in mood.

He spent the next two hours in silent, painstaking contemplation, until a glimmer of understanding finally dawned.

He gathered the scattered firewood and carefully wedged the branches along the open sides of the tent, improvising a crude windbreak, blocking the worst of the drafts.

Ji Yanqing woke the next morning to find the tent walls lined with firewood, effectively sealing off the gaps. A choked sound escaped him, something between a cough and a frustrated laugh.

After packing their things, Ji Yanqing resumed their march, eating his meager breakfast as he walked.

They reached the second village around eleven in the morning.

Even before they entered the village proper, the telltale signs were already visible – scattered belongings, overturned bins, the pervasive sense of having been thoroughly, mercilessly, looted. Ji Yanqing’s heart sank like a stone.

Hardly any zombies remained in the village. Ji Yanqing quickly scouted the area, then, as in the previous village, turned his attention to the vegetable fields surrounding it.

The situation was depressingly familiar. The fields had been picked clean. Ji Yanqing circled the entire perimeter, and found only more rows of cabbage stumps, the same disheartening remnants.

No bok choy. Ji Yanqing considered his options. He’d have to take the risk. The cabbage shoots, though undoubtedly unappetizing, were at least likely safe to eat, hopefully not toxic.

Assuming they really were cabbage shoots.

Ji Yanqing didn’t waste time agonizing over the decision. He was out of options.

He’d been eating, yes, but he hadn’t had a drop of water since yesterday. Even though the days weren’t as brutally hot as they had been, without proper hydration, his body would start to shut down soon.

Decision made, Ji Yanqing started harvesting the tender shoots sprouting from the cabbage stumps. He used the knife to dig up a few of the tougher stalks as well, reasoning that even the fibrous cores might offer some sustenance.

Seeing Ji Yanqing gathering the cabbage shoots, Ji An and Ji Le immediately started searching too, their small hands diligently picking the tender leaves.

Working together, they quickly gathered a small pile.

Their hands were too small to carry much. So they cradled the handful of leaves in their arms, hugging them close to their chests.

They approached Ji Yanqing hesitantly, offering their gathered leaves, their small faces hopeful. Ji Yanqing glanced at the offering, but didn’t take it.

Rejected, Ji An and Ji Le exchanged another heartbroken look. Tears welled in their already perpetually red-rimmed eyes.

Back in the village, Ji Yanqing selected a likely house, pried open a window, and slipped inside. He found a dented metal pot, scrubbed it as best he could with some foraged leaves, and set about building a fire in the house’s abandoned hearth.

Following his usual routine, he heated the pot, added a splash of scavenged oil, let it shimmer, then tossed in the cabbage shoots. He stir-fried them quickly, until the leaves wilted and darkened.

As the leaves cooked, a familiar, vaguely cabbage-like aroma filled the air, similar to the bok choy they’d eaten before. But Ji Yanqing couldn’t be certain.

Once the shoots were cooked, Ji Yanqing found a chipped bowl, portioned out the cooked greens, and sat down at the deserted dining table.

He picked at the cabbage, trying to discern if it was truly the same vegetable they were used to. But cooked leafy greens tended to look and smell similar. He scrutinized the wilted leaves, but couldn’t definitively confirm or deny its identity.

Unable to tell for sure, Ji Yanqing steeled himself and took a bite.

He didn’t immediately swallow. He chewed slowly, deliberately, his senses on high alert. The quickly stir-fried leaves, coated in oil and salt, tasted… surprisingly palatable. The strong seasoning masked any potentially off-putting flavors.

The more he chewed, the less sure he became. Rationally, he knew he couldn’t distinguish it from safe bok choy. But his instincts screamed danger. His imagination conjured vivid images of mutated roots sprouting from his stomach, tendrils of alien vegetation unfurling within his gut, a grotesque, bloody internal garden.

Best case scenario, he’d just get violently ill, maybe poison himself outright.

He hesitated, poised to spit it out, when he glanced up and noticed the three figures huddled on a nearby sofa, watching him, their eyes fixed on his every move, visibly swallowing, their gazes riveted to the food in his bowl.

Especially Ji An and Ji Le. The savory aroma of the cooked greens had clearly reached them. Their mouths were practically watering.

Seeing their undisguised hunger, their longing, Ji Yanqing’s carefully constructed wall of fear and detachment crumbled. He swallowed the bite of cabbage, then took another, larger mouthful. He started eating in earnest, shoveling in the greens with a forced, exaggerated appetite.

To amplify the performance, he made a point of making chewing noises, loud enough to carry across the room, a deliberate show of enjoyment.

Ji An and Ji Le watched, their noses twitching, inhaling the tantalizing aroma, their eyes glued to Ji Yanqing as he ate, alone, seemingly oblivious to their silent, gnawing hunger. They swallowed hard, their stomachs audibly rumbling, a small sound in the otherwise silent room. They glanced at each other, then back at Ji Yanqing, their small faces a mixture of longing and heartbroken resignation.

Ji Yanqing wasn’t going to share.

The old Ji Yanqing, the Papa they knew, would never let them go hungry.

Ji Yanqing ate, watching the three of them from the corner of his eye. Observing Ji An and Ji Le’s tear-filled eyes, their crushed expressions, Feng Yimo’s stoic silence, his almost fearful stillness, a sudden, absurd thought flickered through his mind. He was losing himself in this performance. He was becoming cruel. A strange, twisted impulse arose within him. He almost wanted to summon Xia Shen Shu and the others, just to witness this bizarre tableau.

Look, he’d imagine saying, gesturing to the huddled group. Look how powerful I am. I’ve bullied three terrifying, third-stage Corpse Kings into this. Look at them, pathetic, whimpering, and afraid.

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