Chapter Sixty-Two: Suicide

It turned out that Zhang Jing and the others had arrived here long ago, including Professor Liu and Yang Weiguo, who had also come over. However, after confirming that Shen Lie and the others had returned safely, Professor Liu and Yang Weiguo went with Zhang Kaitai to attend an emergency meeting. Whether to retreat or continue holding the line, a clear directive needed to be issued immediately.

Shen Lie and Hu Chenggang watched the reactions of the monster horde for a while. Seeing that the creatures were being held back by long-range firepower, they began to retreat toward the armored vehicles.

Hu Chenggang wanted to persuade Shen Lie and Du Lili to stay and coordinate the fight here, but Shen Lie had no such intention. Moreover, since the military's decision had yet to be made, Hu Chenggang did not push further.

Their entire team had been moving along the Chunyang Highway. Outside the highway stretched endless fields of crops, which might have been passable before. But now, the plants themselves were no less fearsome than the spider monsters—sometimes even more terrifying.

Shen Lie and Zhang Jing’s group passed through the defense zone and arrived at the middle of the formation. This area was filled with ordinary survivors without combat abilities. Upon entering, Shen Lie was immediately suffused with a grim and despairing atmosphere. The truth of the battle ahead could not be concealed: everyone knew this was no mere skirmish with small groups of monsters, but a desperate fight against a vast horde of colossal beasts.

The sound of crying never ceased. The able-bodied survivors had all been conscripted to fight at the front. Every moment brought death; every moment, people lost loved ones and children. No one knew who would be next, nor if tomorrow would even exist.

“I remember how you described paradise, pointing to the distance and sketching row after row of houses.”

“Your silly smile was so sincere; all trust began in that moment.”

“I wanted to follow you for a lifetime, where at least in this world there was no harsh reality; I wanted to cling to you forever, to be the last angel in your world of feelings.”

Shen Lie’s mind drifted, pondering where to go next to gather supplies when suddenly a low, mournful song drifted from ahead.

People were still singing at a time like this? Shen Lie exchanged glances with Zhang Jing and the others, curiosity drawing them closer.

Sure enough, a young girl with sweet features but ragged clothes stood atop an abandoned wooden crate, softly singing. She appeared to have gone many days without a full meal—her face gaunt, eye sockets sunken, her gaze steeped in hopelessness.

“If when the dream ends we’re still together, please allow us to depend on each other.”

“I fear that when the dream ends, we’ll be separated, and no one can undo that parting.”

Shen Lie recognized the song as a pre-catastrophe ballad about love. Though he did not know what had become of the original singer, the girl’s final rendition now brimmed with endless sorrow.

Only then did Shen Lie realize that the disaster had unfolded just over four months ago—less than half a year—but it felt as if he had endured a century. He believed many shared this feeling; at least this girl was surely among them.

Was it all a dream?

Were the days before the disaster the dream, now finally awakened? Or was the present the dream, and awakening still distant? Were they living within a dream, or had the world itself become shrouded in one?

Lost in the girl’s sorrowful song, Shen Lie found himself drifting into confusion.

Suddenly, a startled cry rang out from the crowd, snapping Shen Lie back to reality—and then he witnessed a scene that moved him deeply.

After finishing the last line of her song, the girl suddenly drew a small fruit knife from her waist. With a faint smile, she glanced at the gathered people, then sharply raised her hand and slashed her own throat.

Blood splattered, her body forming a hauntingly beautiful tableau.

Even in death, the girl wore a faint smile—whether clinging to life’s lingering love or finally finding release, no one could say if her act was right or wrong. To survive required immense courage, yet death demanded courage as well, albeit in a single instant.

In these times, one person’s death barely stirred the crowd; only two brief gasps were heard before silence returned. Some murmured that she had been a top ten idol singer before the disaster, somewhat famous.

To many, death might seem preferable to life—no longer forced to sell their dignity for a morsel of food, or live in constant terror of being devoured by monsters. But not everyone possessed the courage to end their own life.

Two survivors who seemed familiar with the girl carried her body away to a distant spot. She was fortunate in death, at least given a proper burial—unlike many whose remains were never found.

“Let’s go.” Shen Lie was unsure of his own feelings but knew he still wanted to live, so he had to prepare for survival.

The girl’s death seemed to weigh heavily on Zhang Jing. Shen Lie noticed that after leaving the crowd, she became somewhat withdrawn. Zhang Jing’s greatest wish was to become an awakened one. No matter how severe the bodily mutation, nothing could quell her hope. Perhaps this was a shared yearning among all survivors: no matter what form they took, as long as they gained strength, nothing else mattered.

Since the disaster began, terms like “heartthrob” and “goddess” vanished. No one would defend you from monsters because of your beauty, nor offer food because you were handsome. Only ruthless demands and cruel seizures remained. The raw, brutal law of the jungle had thrown once-proud beauties and handsome men into hell.

Shen Lie could not change Zhang Jing’s mood; such mental states could only be sorted out by oneself, beyond outside help. He then began feverishly gathering supplies, first filling his spatial gourd with food and drinking water—no small feat without some cunning and forceful acquisition. Reputation no longer mattered, only life.

Next, he procured a dozen large-caliber rifles, submachine guns, grenades, and even some new types of explosive charges he favored from the military. Thanks to his earlier rescue of Zhang Kaitai, the military was generous, granting all his requests.

He had originally hoped to secure a couple of cannons but abandoned the idea due to limited space in the verdant gourd and the lack of trained artillery operators in his group.

Besides him, Du Lili, Zhang Jing, and a few others, the Red Mist group numbered over twenty. Yang Weiguo’s subordinates and Professor Liu were not included.

Shen Lie knew that Professor Liu and Yang Weiguo would always align with the military. His own plan was to leave at the earliest opportunity. An increasing sense of unease gripped him—there must be a large spatial rift nearby; otherwise, so many spider monsters could not have gathered. He was not afraid of the spider monsters themselves, for even if overwhelmed, there was hope of escape. What terrified him were the giant white-winged worms—horrifying creatures beyond imagination.

There were indeed advantages to staying within the large group, but the bigger the team, the bigger the target. Its composition was chaotic, with all ages mixed, and their speed and mobility were severely limited.

Shen Lie was not alone in these thoughts; many small groups harbored similar intentions. Yet, their current formation was surrounded by spider monsters. Even at the weakest point of the encirclement, breaking through required considerable strength; otherwise, someone would have escaped already.

The constant sound of artillery fire echoed around them. The military’s ammunition was rapidly depleting, and the number of spider monsters was steadily decreasing.

The gunfire gradually thinned. Shen Lie knew they had once again repelled an attack, though he had no idea how many soldiers and awakened ones had fallen this time. But these were not his concerns. He felt the moment was drawing near.

Shen Lie ultimately decided to break out at nightfall. He had acquired several sets of night-vision goggles from the military. With these, they would have a great advantage moving under cover of darkness—they could see the spider monsters, but the monsters could not see them. This would increase the chances of a successful breakout.

He did not know what Professor Liu and Zhang Kaitai were still debating—no concrete plan had emerged after so long. He resolved not to wait any longer; he had never intended to bring Professor Liu along anyway. Waiting was meaningless.

Looking at his watch, it was 6:45 p.m. Shen Lie decided to begin moving precisely at 7 p.m., leaving fifteen minutes to make final arrangements.

He silently thanked the readers for their support and hoped for more recommendations.