Chapter 57
The notion that the Pope was controlling his followers like puppets?
Knowing the truth, Wen Xin found it absurd and even a bit amusing. If Xiao Qi truly had such dark intentions, would he allow himself to live with so much conflict and unhappiness?
But Wen Xin noticed a flicker of hesitation in Tang Qi’s expression.
Pausing, Wen Xin didn’t immediately deny it and instead asked, “Do you believe what they’re saying?”
Tang Qi’s eyes twitched, and a trace of panic flashed across his face. He looked away, trying to hide his reaction, but Wen Xin’s steady gaze left him with no choice but to sigh.
“Honestly, I have been close to them. They’re just a bunch of extremists, dangerous people with more than a few screws loose.”
Tang Qi’s voice turned serious. “But some things they said… I couldn’t entirely dismiss.”
Wen Xin frowned. “Like what?”
Tang Qi glanced cautiously around.
Deciding that this wasn’t the best place to talk, he gestured toward the open door behind him. “Let’s go inside.”
Wen Xin followed Tang Qi inside. As they entered, he noticed a table covered with freshly served dishes and a few unopened takeout containers. It seemed Tang Qi hadn’t been lying earlier; a few people had indeed been sharing a meal.
Tang Qi glanced at the table and said, “Have you eaten? Want to sit down and try my cooking? I’ll grab a fresh set of chopsticks for you.”
Wen Xin shook his head. “Let’s focus on what you were saying. What did they say to make you agree with them?”
As they stepped inside, Wen Xin mentally reviewed the information he had gathered from the cult members.
Tang Qi was his friend, not someone he would normally suspect.
Wen Xin had only wanted to confirm his friend’s well-being; he’d never considered putting Tang Qi under intense scrutiny, checking if he ate steamed buns or meat pies for breakfast.
For instance, Wen Xin didn’t know that Tang Qi didn’t live with his parents.
If someone within City B’s base was struggling, facing oppression or ill-treatment, then their grievances against the Wei Xin Cult would be understandable.
But Tang Qi wasn’t one of those people.
When Tang Qi first learned that the Wei Xin Cult had saved his parents, he was incredibly grateful, often spending his own money to provide gifts for cult members on duty.
Whenever he had a break, he joined the volunteer teams to perform unpaid labor as a way of repaying the debt.
Tang Qi was diligent in his work, kind and generous, and well-liked by both his superiors and colleagues.
Although his life wasn’t perfect, it was peaceful enough.
Wen Xin rationally wanted to know:
What exactly had happened to make someone like Tang Qi, who once appreciated the Wei Xin Cult and Xiao Qi, begin to question them?
Faced with his friend’s probing, Tang Qi sank into the sofa, furrowing his brow in thought.
“You know this place is run by the Wei Xin Cult. If I speak against the Pope, I could get arrested.”
“So if I tell you this, don’t repeat it to anyone.”
Wen Xin considered this for a moment, then sat across from him, nodding seriously to reassure him. “You have my word.”
Tang Qi visibly relaxed.
“They claim the Pope is a demonic creature in disguise, a mutant with a humanoid form, inherently violent, with a preference for eating people. They say he orders cult members to capture innocents for dark sacrifices… I didn’t believe any of that.”
Wen Xin couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of his mouth. The mention of a mutant humanoid made him pause.
Tang Qi continued, “But when they said the Pope has deceived everyone…”
Wen Xin cut to the heart of the matter. “You think the Pope has deceived us in some way?”
Tang Qi fell silent, not directly answering but instead sharing a story about a family of five he had encountered on the road.
This family had fled from another city and happened to run into Tang Qi and his companions, joining them for safety.
When they first met, both parents and their children seemed fine.
But the two elderly members wore thick clothing and masks, avoiding others and eating separately in their vehicle.
Some in the group suspected the elderly couple was hiding something, and when they stopped for a rest, they guarded the vehicle.
When the elderly couple got out of the vehicle for the restroom, their clothes revealed dark purple bruises.
Tang Qi glossed over what happened next.
He only mentioned that, from that point on, the family of five became a family of three.
Later, the group encountered a horde of zombies.
In the ensuing crisis, the group of over a hundred people dwindled to just twenty or so survivors.
The family of three lost the husband and child, leaving only the wife, who survived with a hollow, dazed look.
Tang Qi saw her repeatedly walking, only to suddenly break down into tears, her body folding under the weight of grief as if she had lost the will to stand.
They made it to the gates of City B’s base.
During a routine check, the woman spotted someone with a long, sharp knife and suddenly tried to grab it, attempting to take her own life.
Tang Qi didn’t emphasize how desperate the situation was, but every word was filled with despair.
Wen Xin knew that any comforting words he could offer would feel hollow.
Instead, he quietly said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Tang Qi shook his head, his voice laden with sorrow.
“Three people held her back that day, and even then, they barely managed to stop her from cutting her own throat.”
“She didn’t just lose a family member; she lost her parents, husband, and child. How strong does someone’s heart have to be to go on living?”
Tang Qi, being a filial person, couldn’t imagine what he would do if he ever had to make that choice for his parents if they became infected.
“A lot of people, myself included, thought she wouldn’t make it. Even if we saved her that time, she would find a way to end it the next.”
Tang Qi added, “Sure enough, once we arrived at this base, she vanished within a day, and no one knew where she went.”
Then, after a moment, Tang Qi’s tone shifted.
“Until recently, when I saw her again.”
Wen Xin asked, “How is she doing now?”
Tang Qi looked at him with a strange smile that didn’t reach his eyes, stretching his words.
“She’s doing just fine. Happier than I’d ever seen her.”
Wen Xin felt a chill. Tang Qi’s smile was unsettling, and a sense of foreboding crept over him.
That day, he saw her selling mushrooms and wild vegetables she’d foraged on the outskirts.
Tang Qi was about to say hello when he saw a man approach her with a lunch box.
She greeted him with a warm smile, wiping her hands on her apron as she took the food.
Tang Qi thought they were new friends, maybe even romantically involved.
But then the man walked around the stall, wrapped an arm around her, and they shared an affectionate kiss right there on the street.
A child, who had been following behind, ran up to her, calling her “Mom.”
The scene was so heartwarming that when Tang Qi thought back on it later, he found it disturbingly surreal.
Tang Qi continued, “At that moment, I was shocked but didn’t think it was wrong.”
“Even though her family had died not long ago, no one says someone in grief has to stay in that state forever, unable to pursue happiness.”
In truth, the sight of that happy family shattered Tang Qi’s worldview for a moment.
He still remembered her hysterical, broken state vividly, and now, barely any time later, she was embracing new love.
Even her stepchild called her “Mom.” The speed of her recovery was unsettling, to say the least.
Unable to shake the feeling, Tang Qi prepared to leave without greeting her.
But just as he was turning away, she called out to him.
Tang Qi asked, “Guess what she said?”
Before Wen Xin could respond, he answered himself, “She asked if I wanted to buy some vegetables.”
“Our relationship wasn’t good or bad.”
“Her kid liked cats and often came over to see Huanhuan.”
“Her husband was good with cars. Once, when my engine wouldn’t start, he helped me fix it. That skill earned him tolerance from the group despite hiding the injuries of the elderly and almost causing trouble.”
“The woman herself—she was incredible at finding wild herbs and vegetables that no one else could find, and she knew how to prepare them to remove the bitterness.”
“Those fresh ingredients, mixed with some canned meat, would send the aroma wafting through the air, making everyone munching on compressed biscuits envious.”
“I couldn’t resist and traded some sausages and biscuits with her for a few meals.”
Tang Qi had felt sympathy for them, helping watch their child when the couple went foraging, setting up tents, moving produce, and fending off people trying to rob them.
So it was strange to see her look at him like a stranger when they met again.
Tang Qi explained, “I thought it was intentional. Like that condition, they talk about in psychology—PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. Facing unbearable trauma, some people choose not to think about it and avoid the memories altogether.”
Tang Qi’s voice grew softer, as if a shadow had fallen over him.
“But I couldn’t convince myself that someone could forget their loved ones that quickly.”
“My job in the city’s traffic control department requires me to screen many newcomers, mostly survivors fleeing from outside.”
“They’re survivors and, in many cases, the last of their families, with few as fortunate as me, with both parents still alive.”
“For a long time, I kept hearing about people attempting suicide or lashing out at society due to mental breakdowns.”
“The security department, even with thousands of people, often needed our help during emergencies.”
“But then, I saw those same people again. Guess what?”
Tang Qi’s voice turned strange. “Without exception, they all recovered from their grief quickly and started fresh lives.”
Hearing this, Wen Xin sensed the bitterness Tang Qi suppressed, threatening to turn into a sharp laugh.
Wen Xin realized this was the core issue.
He said pointedly, “So you think the Pope has deceived everyone because you suspect their memories were altered?”
Tang Qi clasped his hands tightly, not denying it.
Wen Xin considered how to respond, choosing his words carefully.
But Tang Qi didn’t need sugar-coating, so Wen Xin sighed and said it plainly.
“Have you considered that without forgetting the pain, many might not survive?”
Tang Qi had thought about it but still asked pointedly, “But how do you know someone whose memory has been altered is still the same person?”
Wen Xin found this puzzling.
To his knowledge, Xiao Qi’s influence wasn’t memory alteration but an emotional adjustment.
He would erase negative emotions like sadness, grief, and despair, replacing them with contentment and happiness, allowing people’s will to survive to endure.
The Wei Xin Cult had never publicly disclosed that the Pope had this power.
But anyone who left and returned to the city would feel it firsthand.
Just the night before, as Wen Xin and Xiao Qi strolled through the night market, he overheard merchants discussing it.
They found the effect fascinating but agreed it was a blessing, calling it a gift from the Pope.
It was difficult to explain to Tang Qi without mentioning his relationship with Xiao Qi.
After a moment’s thought, Wen Xin shook his head. “People might have their memories altered, but their true nature remains unchanged.”
Whether a person who loses their memory remains the same is still a debated question.
It’s like the Ship of Theseus—a ship that, over years, has its parts replaced one by one until none of the original remains. Is it still the same ship?
Some argue that the essence has changed, meaning the person is reborn, and thus, not the same.
Wen Xin, with a touch of idealism, believed in another perspective.
People losing their memories are like babies, innocent and unaware of everything.
Over time, they learn, absorb information, think about right and wrong, understand humanity, and develop their unique personality.
Their methods may seem inexperienced due to a lack of past experiences.
But their choices, rooted in their essence, will always lead them in a familiar direction.
Hearing Wen Xin’s explanation, Tang Qi looked stunned, remaining silent for a long time.
Finally, he smiled bitterly, rubbing his nose. “You’re more convinced of this than I am.”
Wen Xin noticed something was still off in Tang Qi’s tone.
Even if Tang Qi had been affected by other people’s experiences, he shouldn’t have been this agitated.
Wen Xin’s eyes caught on the sofa where they sat.
Anyone who has owned a cat knows that sofas and curtains bear the brunt of a cat’s mischief.
Particularly the backrests and legs of the sofa rarely remain intact.
Wen Xin spotted a few faint scratch marks on the surface.
But before he could relax, he noticed something—there was barely any cat hair on the sofa.
Not just the sofa. The coffee table, dining table, curtains, even the doormat, were devoid of cat hair.
Even the food and water bowls were absent.
Wen Xin’s heart clenched.
He remembered Tang Qi saying that Huanhuan was temporarily staying with his parents due to work.
But Tang Qi had worked long hours before the apocalypse and still managed to care for Huanhuan well.
And why didn’t Tang Qi, who cherished his parents, live with them?
Could it be…
The sudden dread in Wen Xin’s heart made his voice hoarse.
“Tang Qi… Are Uncle and Aunt really okay?”
Tang Qi’s body went rigid.
He lifted his eyes, his face stormy, eyes filled with thunder, his expression so terrifying it was suffocating.
Wen Xin stammered, “You—”
The next second, Tang Qi burst out laughing.
The tension in the room vanished like smoke.
Wen Xin stared, dumbfounded, at Tang Qi, who was laughing so hard his shoulders shook.
Tang Qi wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. “I knew it. You’re just as easy to fool as ever, Wen Xin.”
Wen Xin came back to himself, clenching his teeth, almost laughing in exasperation.
He stood up suddenly, grabbing Tang Qi by the collar.
Tang Qi, noticing the fist in Wen Xin’s other hand, quickly raised his hands in surrender.
But Wen Xin didn’t hit him.
As much as he wanted to, he held back.
After several moments of calming down, Wen Xin lowered his gaze, his voice still hoarse. “Are you really off today?”
Tang Qi nodded absentmindedly, realizing he had taken the day off.
“Perfect,” Wen Xin said. “I’ve never met your parents. It’s time to visit them.”
Tang Qi froze. “Now? Just like that? Wait—”
Wen Xin didn’t bother with further discussion, dragging Tang Qi by the collar and grabbing the keys from the table on their way out.
Along the way, Wen Xin was serious and silent.
Seeing him so stern, Tang Qi realized he had taken the joke too far, scratching his head sheepishly.
If they were going to visit his parents, they should bring a gift.
During this time, fresh fruit was a luxury.
The usual fruit stands were scarce, with most having moved to busier market areas.
Luckily, they found a small store still open.
Wen Xin spotted a jar of honey on the shelf and picked it up without hesitation.
Thanks to modern technology, it had a two-year shelf life.
Tang Qi muttered from behind, “Isn’t that a bit much? That stuff’s expensive…”
Wen Xin pulled out the bag of gold nuggets Cardinal Shi had given him yesterday and paid for the honey, its gleam almost blinding Tang Qi.
With Wen Xin’s icy glare, Tang Qi shut up.
The rest of the walk was silent.
They arrived at the complex where Tang Qi’s parents lived.
The guard at the gate recognized Tang Qi and called out, “Weren’t you here just a couple of hours ago? Forget something?”
“No, my friend’s here to visit my parents.”
“Alright, go on in.”
As Tang Qi had said, this complex’s security was much tighter than his own.
The gate didn’t have power either, but the guards used thick iron chains to secure it, only unlocking it after confirming the visitor’s identity.
Tang Qi slowed his steps once they were inside.
Going up the stairs, he found excuses to stop repeatedly.
“I’m not feeling too well, and barging in like this, my parents will scold me. Maybe we should come back another day.”
Wen Xin felt a chill run down his spine at Tang Qi’s reluctance.
Initially, he had been firm, but now he faltered.
He worried that pushing Tang Qi into visiting his parents would only reopen a wound.
Tang Qi stood still, resistant.
But in the next second, he noticed a near-grieving look on Wen Xin’s face, eyes red and filled with anguish.
Tang Qi was stunned.
“What the… Wen Xin, why are you crying? Don’t cry! Tell me what’s wrong!”
Wen Xin’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry for your parents. I shouldn’t have insisted.”
Tang Qi’s eyes widened as he realized what Wen Xin thought.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“They’re fine! Come on, I’ll show you.”
This time, Tang Qi didn’t stall, leading Wen Xin to his parents’ home and knocking on the door.
“Who is it?”
A voice called out from inside—a middle-aged woman, lively yet calm.
“Mom, it’s me!” Tang Qi said.
The footsteps approaching the door quickened.
Before the door even opened, a scolding voice came out, “Didn’t I tell you not to come back so soon with those people… Eh? Who’s this?”
As Tang Qi’s mother looked curiously at Wen Xin, he was also studying her.
He noted her features; if they were a bit sharper, she’d look like Tang Qi’s mirror image.
Still struggling to shake off the grief he had convinced himself of, Wen Xin was relieved beyond words when he saw her.
Quickly regaining composure, he smiled and greeted her, “Hello, Auntie. I’m Tang Qi’s friend. I came to visit you and Uncle.”
With that, he offered her the jar of honey.
Tang Qi’s mother, a former journalist, was used to seeing significant events firsthand. She quickly adjusted, smiling warmly at Wen Xin.
“So you’re Wen Xin? Tang Qi keeps talking about you, saying he wouldn’t have made it through the journey without the food you shared.”
“You didn’t need to bring anything! Oh, honey, too!”
Tang Qi’s mother glanced at him with a playful glare. “Look at Wen Xin, so thoughtful. Unlike you! Have you ever brought us honey?”
Tang Qi sighed, “You never let me! Always saying it’s too expensive and I should keep it for myself.”
Tang Qi’s father, lounging on a chair on the balcony reading a newspaper, was surprised. Tang Qi barely visited once a day, but now he was back for a second time.
Tang Qi’s face turned red as he was scolded in front of Wen Xin. “Dad, come on…”
Amidst the laughter, Huanhuan, their ragdoll cat, woke up and rushed out at the sound of its owner’s voice, jumping into Tang Qi’s arms.
Tang Qi’s heart melted as he cuddled his furry friend. “Oh, my sweetie! Your Uncle Wen came to see you today. Do you remember him?”
Wen Xin, now suddenly an “uncle,” was speechless.
He smiled genuinely as he looked at the scene and said, “Long time no see, Huanhuan.”
The cat remembered the gentle human with the soothing voice and responded with a sweet “Meow~.”
With Tang Qi’s parents and Huanhuan safe and sound, Wen Xin’s worries were finally laid to rest.
He suddenly remembered the guard at the gate mentioning Tang Qi’s earlier visit.
He had been so anxious, unsure if Tang Qi was visiting his living parents or their memorial plaques, that he’d ignored it.
Tang Qi’s mother warmly insisted that Wen Xin stay, and the conversation carried on for hours. Wen Xin, who had little memory of his own mother and limited interactions with his father, couldn’t refuse the kindness.
Time slipped by until he realized it was getting dark outside.
Wen Xin thought of Xiao Qi waiting for him at home and politely declined their invitation to stay longer.
He stood at the door and smiled. “I’ll be heading out now. I’ll visit again soon.”
Tang Qi instinctively stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”
Tang Qi’s mother immediately switched to a stern tone. “You’re not going anywhere. We need to talk.”
Tang Qi looked helplessly at Wen Xin, who didn’t budge.
Wen Xin had noticed the tension between them earlier. Several times Tang Qi had tried to speak but was shut down by his mother’s fierce gaze.
Lowering his voice, Wen Xin asked, “Did you argue with your mom? Just talk it out, you’ll be fine.”
Talk it out?
Tang Qi felt like he had turned to stone.
Wen Xin didn’t hesitate to “abandon” him.
A few steps out the door, he turned back, seeing Tang Qi’s tearful, outstretched hand, and mouthed silently.
—Don’t joke with me like that again.
Tang Qi: “…”
I’m doomed. He’s still mad!
As Wen Xin left the complex, he couldn’t help but glance back at Tang Qi’s parents’ home.
Something about Tang Qi’s behavior still seemed off, though every unnatural reaction had a plausible explanation.
Rubbing his brow, Wen Xin realized he had forgotten to ask about Zhao Shouqiang’s group and their connection to Tang Qi.
Looking at the darkening sky, Wen Xin remembered he needed to bring Xiao Qi some food and muttered to himself.
“Forget it. Don’t overthink. I’ll ask Tang Qi next time.”
Back at Tang Qi’s parents’ home.
What Wen Xin couldn’t see was that after he left, the cheerful atmosphere turned cold.
Tang Qi’s father sighed repeatedly, while his mother’s face darkened.
Huanhuan sensed the tension and let out a hesitant “Meow.”
Tang Qi looked down at the cat, stiffened for a moment, then gently stroked its head and set it down. “Go play.”
Huanhuan wanted to stay but hesitated when Tang Qi avoided her, walking off reluctantly.
Without looking back, Tang Qi said, “Mom, Dad, it’s late. I need to go to work tomorrow. I’ll head out.”
“Go,” his mother said abruptly. “If you leave today, don’t bother coming back. Ever.”
Tang Qi paused mid-step.
His father sighed again. “Why are you so harsh?”
Tears filled his mother’s eyes, and she finally let them fall.
“Am I being harsh? I’m serious!”
“If he doesn’t want to come back, if all he does is show up with a stiff attitude, then why bother?”
Tang Qi’s father rubbed his nose bridge, removed his glasses, and let out another deep sigh.
Tang Qi turned to look at them, his lips trembling, face full of pain.
“There it is again. That look.”
His mother’s voice cracked as she continued, tears streaming down her face.
“Look at us, Tang Qi. We’re your parents, not some impostors playing a role. Can you stop looking at us like strangers?”
“What happened to you? Why are you like this…”
Seeing his always strong-willed mother now begging, Tang Qi felt as if he’d been slapped. He gasped.
“I’m sorry, Mom, Dad, I…”
He couldn’t continue, turning and fleeing.
Tang Qi ran downstairs to a secluded spot, pressing his palms to his face, sobs breaking through his fingers.
“You’re real. You, Dad, and Huanhuan are real… But what about me?”
He choked on his words. “Am I the only one who remembers you dying?”
His chest heaving, Tang Qi took out a small black badge from his pocket.
The badge bore the image of a blade cutting through a flower-like plant, matching the succulent on the Wei Xin Cult’s insignia.
Tang Qi raised it to the moonlit sky, clutching it tightly, murmuring as if reciting a dark, obscure verse.
*
Wen Xin had parked the motorcycle at the entrance to Tang Qi’s complex and was relieved that no one had stolen it during his long visit.
Seeing it still there, he let out a sigh of relief.
But as he stepped forward, he heard a splash, like someone stepping into a puddle.
The sharp smell in the air made him sniff.
Gasoline.
Wen Xin: “…”
Looking at the liquid on the ground, he felt a chill.
He followed the trail and found the motorcycle’s fuel tank had been slashed open.
Wen Xin: “…”
So much for the peacefulness Cardinal Shi had promised.
Blaming the vandal, blaming Shi for lying—anything but Xiao Qi’s emotional cleansing.
Wen Xin sighed, tapping the motorcycle.
He had planned to stop by the market to pick up some meat pies for Xiao Qi. Now there wasn’t time.
With no other choice, Wen Xin began pushing the motorcycle.
Just as he was about to grab the handlebars, he realized something.
Gasoline was precious now, a top-tier resource.
If this were a normal thief, why waste so much fuel? Wouldn’t they try to save it?
Wen Xin’s instincts flared, and he spun around.
He saw a flicker of firelight and met a pair of cold, calculating eyes.
Holding a flaming arrow, the man from earlier who tried to stop the fight stood on higher ground.
In a heartbeat, Wen Xin let go of the motorcycle and leaped aside!
His quick reflexes saved him, but the arrow wasn’t aimed at him—it hit the gasoline.
Instantly, flames erupted, turning the scene into a blazing sea of fire. The heat was too much for the bike’s tank, and it exploded with a loud bang!
The blast sent Wen Xin flying backward.
Residents, startled by the noise, peeked out their windows.
Seeing the blaze, some gasped, others shouted.
Zhao Shouqiang had been lurking around the corner.
Afraid of being noticed earlier, he stayed hidden until he heard the explosion, then stepped out with a scowl.
“Damn, we waited hours for this. My back’s killing me.”
He approached the prone Wen Xin, grinning as he reached out.
“Wen Xin, how fortunate. Do you know how many people are looking for someone named Wen Xin?”
Before Zhao Shouqiang could touch him, Wen Xin’s eyes shot open.
Clear and sharp, showing no sign of unconsciousness.
“Oh? Who’s looking for me?”
Zhao Shouqiang gasped. “You—”
Before he could react, Wen Xin grabbed his shoulder, flipping him over with a swift throw.
Dazed and seeing stars, Zhao Shouqiang barely registered the fist that followed before passing out.
Hearing his allies approach, Wen Xin drew his gun.
The leader, the man with the arrow, froze at the sight of the weapon. “Wait, where did you get that? The cult confiscates all firearms when people enter the city.”
Wen Xin stood, unfazed. “I don’t know. Maybe they gave it back to me.”
The man’s face contorted in disbelief.
A gun meant serious trouble.
Some residents ran out at the commotion, catching a glimpse of what seemed like a firearm under the moonlight. Terrified, they fled back inside.
“There’s a robbery! Call the patrol!”
Wen Xin opened his mouth to speak but stopped as the concerned citizen bolted away, probably to alert someone.
Wen Xin: “…”
Well, if the patrol came, it’d save him the trouble of dragging these three in himself.
To be safe, Wen Xin knocked Zhao Shouqiang out again, ensuring he stayed unconscious.
He then subdued the other man while keeping his gun trained on the archer.
The man, now more cautious than ever, remained still.
Wen Xin’s efficient handling shocked him.
Earlier, he hadn’t witnessed Wen Xin’s swift takedown of Zhao Shouqiang. Seeing the aftermath, he assumed Wen Xin was formidable but didn’t expect him to withstand an explosion.
Regret was starting to seep into his mind. Where had Tang Qi found this monster?
Ignoring his shock, Wen Xin demanded, “Zhao Shouqiang said someone’s looking for me. Who?”
The man’s mouth twitched, still trying to dodge the question.
Wen Xin’s eyes glinted coldly. “Think before you answer. The Wei Xin Cult ignored my gun possession, and they won’t care if I shoot a criminal.”
He threw out a bluff. “Especially if you’re part of the Realist Cult.”
At this, the man flinched, his face twisting in fear. “Tang Qi told you? That traitor!”
Tang Qi, a member of the Realist Cult?
Wen Xin hadn’t expected this, furrowing his brow.
He’d intended to bait the man, and now he’d discovered something huge.
Family intact, promising future, healthy parents, and a cat. What could Tang Qi possibly want?
Wen Xin vowed to question him later.
But first, there were more answers he needed.
Wen Xin punched the man in the stomach, making him cry out, “I’ll talk, I’ll talk!”
“Wen Xin is who we’re looking for, but we don’t know if it’s you.”
The man explained, “The orders only mentioned a name—‘Wen Xin’—and basic info: Male, mid-twenties, good-looking.”
“He supposedly lived in City G but planned to go to City A. But City A couldn’t find him, and now no one knows where he is.”
Wen Xin’s heart raced. This described him exactly.
City A’s failure to find him made sense; Li Yongming had hidden his tracks to protect him.
Was another group now looking for him, too?
“Who else is searching?” Wen Xin pressed.
The man’s answer stunned him.
City A had intensified its search as if someone had taken him by force.
In the east, news of “Wen Xin” had spread early, rumored to be someone who could subdue powerful S-class mutants.
But the east was rife with mutants and natural disasters, making travel difficult, so the information only recently reached other bases.
In the west, Rose City’s ruthless new lord, known for his cold demeanor, softened at the mention of “Wen Xin.”
He offered a fortune for any firsthand information about him.
In the south, even a tsunami seemed to pause when the search for “Wen Xin” began.
Ports buzzed with legends of “Wen Xin.”
Some said he was a benevolent Buddhist monk with incredible skills, helping others without seeking reward.
Others whispered that he was a beautiful merman in human form, luring powerful leaders before vanishing, leaving them heartbroken.
Wen Xin: “…”
The man eyed Wen Xin, noting his looks.
By appearance alone, Wen Xin fits the description. No wonder they had targeted him.
With a chance at such a reward, who wouldn’t be tempted?
“Even the northern First Base is looking for Wen Xin,” the man added.
Wen Xin’s heart skipped. “Why?”
“That’s unclear. Maybe they’re curious why so many are after him?”
The man hesitated. “Anyone connected to so many big names, with leaders obsessed to the point of irrationality, could easily be seen as a mutant with hypnotic abilities.”
The First Base, known for capturing and researching mutants, would naturally want to investigate.
Wen Xin: “…”
He felt like this whole story was absurd, like pigs flying.
But the man seemed genuine, not fabricating this tale.
The details were too specific, down to Rose City’s lord accidentally killing someone in shock when he first heard the name.
Wen Xin felt dazed.
He reviewed his background, finding nothing except being Wen Jingfeng’s brother that could be of interest.
But even that wouldn’t draw so much attention.
He thought of Xiao Qi… Could it be connected to little ones?
A sudden flash of light caught his eye.
Patrol vehicles, headlights bright, sped by.
Wen Xin assumed they were responding to the resident’s call and prepared to wave, only to see them pass by.
Wen Xin: “?”
More vehicles followed, with officers shouting orders through loudspeakers.
“All units, report to the east gate! Unidentified forces are attacking City B!”
The news made Wen Xin’s gaze go wide.
