Chapter 85
The siblings murmured to each other, thinking their voices were low enough to be inaudible. Little did they know that Ah Lü had overheard everything they discussed.
“So young, but already quite shrewd,” Ah Lü sneered. It didn’t find it worth getting upset over children. “Still, the blue pearl they mentioned seems like something beneficial to humans. You might as well take it.”
Wen Xin simply smiled without comment. He turned back to split a log with his axe, the wood cracking into two slender pieces before he tossed them into the fire. “I’m less interested in their so-called blue pearl and more curious about this ‘Sea God’ they keep mentioning.”
“A god?” Ah Lü sounded unimpressed. “From what you humans understand, people can pretend to be gods, and gods can just as easily be disguised mutants.”
For someone who rarely interacted with humans, Ah Lü had hit the nail on the head.
Wen Xin was a bit surprised by the insight and immediately praised it.
Ah Lü swayed the tip of its tail proudly.
“My thoughts align with yours. The ‘Sea God’ those two mentioned is most likely a marine creature mutated by the infection. I remember seeing a nature documentary once—it said marine life has unique ways of communicating.”
Wen Xin nodded. “Ah Zi’s whereabouts are always unpredictable, but maybe through this Sea God, we can find Lan Tuan.”
He blew on a piece of roasted meat to cool it before handing it to San San, who was eagerly waiting nearby.
Then, he picked up two bowls of broth and walked to the car window.
“Here, drink something warm to settle your stomachs,” he said gently.
The siblings turned to him, meeting Wen Xin’s calm and kind gaze. They froze momentarily, flustered as they hurried to accept the bowls.
When they looked up again, Wen Xin had already returned to the campfire.
He didn’t pry into their backgrounds or emotions, yet his quiet presence brought them an inexplicable sense of comfort.
After everyone had eaten their fill, they set off again, heading toward Mermaid Bay along the southern coast of the South Sea.
As they traveled south, the landscape became noticeably different from the dry northern terrain. The air was much more humid, and Wen Xin noticed the plant life growing lush and vibrant everywhere, painting a picture of thriving springtime.
Along the way, he also saw vast stretches of farmland.
It was only logical. With industries at a standstill, human civilization had been forced into a period of rapid decline, retreating to more primitive ways of survival.
To survive, even pampered young masters and ladies, whose hands had never touched a single drop of water from manual labor, now had to learn to roll up their pants and work the fields without the aid of machines—plowing, sowing, watering, and fertilizing.
This was the safest way to secure a long-term food supply.
But something felt off about the scene in front of them. The fields were eerily empty, devoid of people. It was as if everyone had disappeared.
Wen Xin’s eyes shifted, and he paused briefly.
A hoe lay abandoned in one of the fields, its blade buried in freshly plowed soil. Scattered, chaotic footprints trailed across the ground.
A sense of foreboding crept into Wen Xin’s chest. Remaining vigilant, he resumed driving forward.
Along the way, they came across a trail of scattered household items—pots, pans, and dishes littered the ground.
Wen Xin could almost envision what had happened.
The people here must have encountered a sudden crisis, forcing them to flee in haste. The chaos had been so urgent that they hadn’t even stopped to pick up their belongings.
What could have happened to them?
In the backseat, the two siblings fidgeted nervously, their unease evident. Wen Xin steadied himself, slowed the car, and prepared to turn back if necessary.
They followed the path until it led to a wider road.
The road had clearly been carved out recently. The ground was rough, neither paved nor compacted with soil. Only shrubs and trees had been hastily cleared.
Wen Xin’s attention was immediately drawn to the marks on the ground.
The muddy track bore wide, deep imprints interspersed with water and filth. Amid the mess were clear tread marks, the kind left by tank tracks.
He got out to inspect and confirmed his suspicion: these were from heavy tanks. Judging by the depth of the ruts, they were likely large, fully loaded vehicles.
This wasn’t an evacuation prompted by danger—it was a forced expulsion.
Tracing the direction the tanks had traveled, Wen Xin noticed an unsettling alignment: they were heading toward the same location the siblings had described as their home.
The siblings seemed to sense something was wrong. They got out of the car hesitantly, looking at Wen Xin with wide eyes. “Big Brother, is something wrong?”
Wen Xin glanced at them, concealing the worry in his eyes, and said firmly, “Get back in the car.”
The road, having been cleared, was free of obstructions.
The smoother the drive, the heavier the dread in Wen Xin’s chest. It felt like an iron spike driving deeper into his nerves with every passing moment.
Suddenly, the two companions in the passenger seat perked up, their ears twitching in alarm.
“Wen Xin, gunfire ahead,” one of them said.
The southern region’s residents knew of a small fishing village called Le Shui, near the coast of Mermaid Bay.
Though tiny, the village was blessed by the “Sea God,” granting its fishermen calm seas, free from storms and peril during their expeditions.
Because of this divine favor, the villagers lived peaceful, harmonious lives. Even amidst the apocalypse, Le Shui was a rare haven—an untouched paradise.
But today, that paradise was shattered.
When Wen Xin and his group reached the outskirts of Le Shui, they were greeted by the sight of thick, billowing smoke rising from a village engulfed in flames.
The siblings stared at the scene. The sister remained frozen, her mind struggling to process what she saw, but her brother immediately grasped the situation. He lunged forward, pressing himself against the car window as he muttered in disbelief, “No… how…?!”
The boy’s trembling hands gripped the door handle tightly. “Let me out! I have to get out!”
Wen Xin’s sharp eyes caught sight of armored vehicles parked just outside the village. Continuing forward risked discovery.
He parked the car and restrained the boy, who was becoming increasingly agitated.
But the frail boy, driven by desperation, found a burst of strength and managed to hit the car door’s unlock switch.
As soon as the door opened, the boy bolted. Wen Xin jumped out after him, catching his arm in two quick strides and lowering his voice in a stern command. “Calm down!”
Before Wen Xin could say more, another gunshot cracked through the air—a sharp, piercing sound that left no doubt of its intent.
Both turned toward the direction of the sound, just in time to see an adult man, held hostage, collapse to the ground. His body twitched briefly before going still.
The boy’s eyes went wide in shock.
Before he could scream, Wen Xin clamped a hand over his mouth.
From the car, the sister’s trembling voice called out in confusion, “Dad… Daddy?”
Perched on a small hillside behind some cover, Wen Xin had deliberately stopped the car in a concealed area with natural barriers.
From their elevated position, the figures below appeared small and indistinct. Even so, the girl recognized her father at a glance, identifying him as the fallen man.
Wen Xin’s heart clenched painfully. Beneath his hand, he felt the boy’s muffled sobs, hot tears dripping onto his skin.
The boy clawed at Wen Xin’s arm, his legs kicking in wild desperation.
In that moment, Wen Xin felt as though something sharp had pierced his heart, the pain leaving him breathless.
But the death of their father wasn’t the end.
The gunman had clearly intended the execution as a display of power to intimidate the elderly man held at the forefront of the hostages.
The old man, wracked with rage, struggled against his captors and screamed, “You beasts! You filthy beasts!”
The leader of the armed men responded with a vicious slap, silencing the elder’s defiance.
The girl screamed through her tears, “Grandpa!”
Wen Xin struggled to hold the boy and girl back. With no other choice, he knocked the boy unconscious before doing the same to the girl as she tried to rush down the hill.
Quickly, he carried their limp bodies back to the car and secured them in the backseat. Returning to his vantage point, he resumed observing the scene below, his brow furrowed in thought.
Ah Lü and San San joined him.
Ah Lü clicked its tongue as it surveyed the mass of armed men. “Why are they performing so much to just end up killing the people? Seems excessive.”
Wen Xin’s mind raced. “Deploying so many men and heavy weapons—they didn’t bring all this just to take down a small fishing village.”
“What do you think they’re trying to do?”
What are they trying to do…
Wen Xin racked his brain, and almost immediately, a word the siblings had mentioned came to mind: Sea God.
In a low voice, he said, “I just remembered—back in training camp, the instructors told us that the South Sea is the domain of an S-class mutant blue whale.”
“If I’m not mistaken, the Sea God this village worships is that very S-class blue whale.”
Ah Lü and San San’s expressions shifted in realization at those words.
That realization quickly morphed into an indescribable mix of revulsion and loathing.
Neither Ah Lü nor San San had any personal connection to the blue whale. Their disdain came from a deep hatred of humans and their relentless crusade against mutants.
Ah Lü’s gaze swept over the armored vehicles below and couldn’t help but think how peculiar the situation seemed. With growing curiosity, it muttered, “But this level of firepower isn’t enough to break through an S-class mutant’s defenses.”
In truth, without the intervention of the First Base, S-class mutants were practically divine beings.
The comparison dredged up an unpleasant memory for Ah Lü, of its own near-completion to a fully evolved form.
Humans had known their weapons were useless against it, yet they had persistently harassed it—relentlessly, annoyingly.
And it had almost succumbed at the final moment…
Wait!
Ah Lü’s pupils contracted sharply.
The scene unfolding below mirrored what the military had once done to it.
It scanned the area frantically, eyes narrowing on a distinct military truck. Beneath its tarp, rows of cylindrical munitions were visible.
Ah Lü’s panic spiked—it recognized the payloads. Those gas shells could disrupt a mutant’s evolution.
If the blue whale’s mind descended into chaos and it went berserk, this entire region would be swallowed by a tsunami!
Did these reckless humans have any idea what they were provoking?
Ah Lü turned to Wen Xin, wanting to urge him to leave immediately.
A tsunami wouldn’t be fatal to Ah Lü or San San—they could survive the ocean’s wrath. But humans, unable to breathe underwater, wouldn’t stand a chance.
However, as it met the sharp determination in Wen Xin’s gaze, Ah Lü froze, swallowing the words it was about to say.
When the First Base had harassed it, Ah Lü had driven off its followers. How was it supposed to explain to Wen Xin how it knew the effects of those gas bombs when it was “not present”?
The armed group attacking Le Shui Village was growing impatient.
The leader signaled with a hand gesture. Behind him, the tanks adjusted their turrets, unleashing a barrage of fiery destruction.
The old man screamed, “No!!”
Le Shui Village was bathed in flames.
The villagers who hadn’t managed to evacuate were engulfed in an instant, consumed by the inferno.
Amid the elder’s heart-wrenching cries, the previously tranquil sea began to churn violently, like boiling water.
Then, a distant, otherworldly call echoed from the depths of the ocean. It materialized into a visible sound wave, sweeping across the village and obliterating the airborne projectiles before they could strike.
