Chapter Three: The Children at the Gas Station

Chapter Three

On the highway, a modified Land Rover sped along. Occasionally, when a stray zombie wandered into its path, the vehicle crushed it beneath its wheels without the slightest pause.

Inside the car, Mo Chen—also known as Number Five—sat at the wheel, glancing sidelong at the girl beside him as she used her supernatural ability to transform segments of wood into sharp arrows. Having witnessed their power, it was hard to believe these arrows were made of nothing but pure wood—yet that was the reality.

After several days together, Mo Chen found himself increasingly intrigued by this young girl. Although the two of them had lived in the same place for over a decade, he realized he scarcely knew her at all. All he had known was that this frail-looking girl was a computer prodigy; their escape from that place had owed much to her skills.

He had never imagined she also concealed masterful archery and hand-to-hand combat skills, on par with his own!

She had fooled them all. Undoubtedly, even those people had never suspected a thing.

Yet, in a way, this was to be expected. Everyone taken into that place had something extraordinary about them. Since she had grown up there, no matter how exceptional she was, he could not find it surprising.

Mei, unaware that the man beside her had already devised a rational explanation for her abilities, was still considering what to say if questioned. She had decided to attribute everything to the unknown mutations of the apocalypse. If ordinary people could awaken supernatural powers in this new world, then her own improvements shouldn’t seem out of place.

Still, the fact that normal people could suddenly wield such abilities was astonishing! These powers resembled magic, yet were entirely different. If Mo Chen hadn’t told her about his lightning abilities and demonstrated them, she would never have imagined that humanity could undergo such bizarre transformations.

In any case, it suited her well—she could now use her powers without restraint.

They drove for most of the day before a gas station came into view.

Several cars, seven or eight in all, were scattered about the station, while a few zombies wandered in the distance.

“Should we get out and take a look?” Mei asked.

This road led directly to the closest safe haven: Moonlight Base. Though the apocalypse had begun only half a month ago, the scramble for resources was already fierce. Mei doubted they would find any gas left here.

“We should check—it’s unlikely our current fuel will get us all the way to the base,” Mo Chen replied, picking up the Tang sword from the back seat and stepping out of the vehicle.

Mei followed, bow in hand.

They dispatched the zombies at the station in short order. Mo Chen went to check for fuel, while Mei stood guard nearby, bow at the ready.

Before she had gone far, a faint sound of crying drifted from close by.

“It sounds like a child!” Mei said, listening carefully.

If they had heard such a sound in the city, it might have seemed normal. Out here, however, the voice of a child was reason enough for caution.

“Mommy, where are you? I want my mommy!”

The low, broken sobs tugged at Mei, filling her with the irrational urge to scoop the child into her arms.

Something was off.

She glanced at Mo Chen. He, too, had paused in surprise, then frowned and looked back at her. Clearly, he had also sensed something wrong.

The voice seemed faint and distant at first, yet every syllable was perfectly clear, and there was a subtle, hypnotic quality to it.

Mo Chen signaled to Mei, then crept forward with his sword, heading cautiously toward the source of the sound.

It came from a convenience store not far off. The door was only slightly ajar. Mo Chen lifted his foot and kicked it open, then darted instantly to one side.

At that moment, a human-shaped shadow lunged at him with terrifying speed.

Almost simultaneously, Mei’s arrow flew, striking like lightning. Just before the shadow reached Mo Chen, her arrow pierced its neck with tremendous force, ripping it apart and sending its head rolling to the ground.

As the creature collapsed, its features became visible—it was a zombie!

Since when did zombies move so quickly?

Mo Chen, startled, grew even more wary.

Another zombie emerged from the store. It wasn’t as fast as the first, but was still much more agile than the average undead. Its bare, grayish skin was taut and firm, not loose and sagging like most zombies.

When Mo Chen engaged it, he found it stronger than he had anticipated. Its blows numbed his arms, and his sword could barely cut in more than a centimeter, making it impossible to cause real damage.

His expression grew grim. On his next swing, the blade was suddenly coated in a sheen of violet light, tiny arcs of electricity dancing along its length.

With his lightning power infused into the sword, its attack strength soared, and he could finally pierce the zombie’s flesh. Just as he was about to strike a critical blow, something strange happened again.

A sharp, piercing cry echoed through the air, stabbing into Mo Chen’s mind like a needle.

The pain lasted only a second, but it left his mind blank for two crucial moments. His attack faltered, and in that instant the zombie dodged aside and slashed at him with long, blackish-purple nails.

Mo Chen had no time to wonder what was happening. He shifted his position quickly, evading the attack.

The fight continued, but Mo Chen grew more alarmed with every clash. Whenever he tried to strike a fatal blow, something interfered—his mind would go blank, hallucinations would throw off his aim, or his thoughts would become muddled. Each disturbance lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was always enough for the zombie to escape death, dragging the fight into a stalemate.

Mei, standing at a distance with her bow drawn, dared not shoot for fear of hitting Mo Chen, as the combatants were too close.

She noticed his odd behavior. Perhaps because she stood further away, she felt only a persistent ripple of mental energy, but suffered no interference herself.

When Mo Chen’s attack faltered for the fourth time, Mei abruptly loosed an arrow—not at the zombie, but through the convenience store window.

A shrill scream erupted from within, and suddenly the zombie outside became slow and sluggish. Seizing the opportunity, Mo Chen decapitated it, ending the battle at last.

“What was inside?” Mo Chen asked as Mei approached.

Something had repeatedly disrupted his attacks. It was the first time he had encountered such a situation, and it left him exceedingly cautious.

“A zombie—one with psychic powers,” Mei replied. If she hadn’t exhausted her own mental energy earlier, she would have detected it at the first sign of trouble, instead of waiting until its repeated attacks allowed her to pinpoint its location.

Still, the zombie’s psychic assaults on Mo Chen lasted only a second or two at a time—clearly, his mental strength was formidable as well. Mei glanced at him, wondering whether all humans in this world had such strong minds, or if he was an exception.

“Are there any more?” Mo Chen asked. A speed-type zombie, a strength-type, and a psychic one—if there were more with special abilities, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“No. With a psychic zombie of this level, it could control at most two others to protect itself. Any beyond that would see it as a target, so there won’t be any more inside.”

Strong mental energy was irresistible to all undead; to them, it was a delicacy. Zombies counted as undead, after all.

Still, they searched the building carefully, finding no further threats. Mo Chen then began gathering whatever resources were left in the store.

Mei did not help. Instead, she examined the zombie she had pinned to the wall with an arrow through its eye. Its body was small; in life, it must have been a seven- or eight-year-old child. A deep wound slashed across its chest, exposing internal organs—likely the cause of its zombification.

She cared little for how it had turned; what interested her was how a rotting corpse could wield psychic power. Before the formation of a true psychic sea, spiritual energy could only subsist by attaching to a living being. This zombie’s psychic power was only level two, far from forming a psychic sea—so what sustained it?

She scrutinized the corpse, then called to Mo Chen, “A-Chen, lend me your sword.”

“What have you found?” Mo Chen asked, handing his weapon over as he approached.

Mei gripped the sword with both hands. A faint white glow shimmered along its blade, though so pale it was barely noticeable. With a swift stroke, she sliced off half the small zombie’s head.

Mo Chen was about to protest as she used his sword to dig through the grayish brain matter, but then he saw her flick the blade, dislodging a small, bean-sized object onto the ground.

She washed it clean with water, revealing a perfectly transparent crystal stone in their hands.