Doomsday Wonderland

In the end, it was Lin Sanjiu who poked at the face with her [Extension Arm]. With a small hook, she fished it out through the gap, and Ah Pu's head tumbled down from the window with a thud onto the ground.

For a few seconds, even the posthumans who had been murmuring, "The ordinary people are mutating," fell silent. Someone activated a light source, driving away the gloom of the passage. Layers of people crowded around, their eyes all fixed on the illuminated head.

If not for the detailed skin texture, veins, and hair that were all undeniably human, it would have looked like a rubber mask.

Lin Sanjiu flipped the head over. Just below the back of the skull, before it even reached the neck, there was a jagged tear. The skin, pulled apart, showed no trace of blood, hanging limp like a piece of dough drained of all moisture. Inside, aside from some fragmented bone barely holding the shape of a human head, there was nothing left.

"It's true, they really—"

The female posthuman who had spoken earlier was cut off by Eight-Heads De's furious shout.

"Don't spout irresponsible nonsense!" His broad face flushed with anger. "What do you mean, ordinary people are mutating? They live up here on the high ground, far from the smoke and haze. Tell me, how could they mutate? Why would they mutate? And look at this. Does this resemble a duoluozhong?"

Eight-Heads De had a respected reputation in Chimeric City, and his responsible nature was well-known. His words silenced the crowd, leaving his voice echoing through the passageway. "It's clear what's happening. Ah Pu is clearly a victim. His body and brain were consumed by something unknown, leaving him like this. Since when does mutation mean destroying oneself? Instead of spreading misinformation, we should focus on finding whatever is hunting us here in Chimeric City!"

Lin Sanjiu straightened up and glanced around. Only then did she notice that Eight-Heads De's audience had split into two distinct groups: a few posthumans stood off to one side, while dozens of ordinary people huddled together tightly.

"Yeah, who says we're mutating?" A middle-aged woman, visibly upset, raised her arm and slapped her skin twice. "Look at me. Where am I not human? What's wrong with me? You posthumans are supposed to protect Chimeric City, not turn on us..."

"There are many forms of mutation," Zhong Qing said suddenly. "Just think of a snake shedding its skin. For the snake, that's a normal process."

Eight-Heads De glared at him with such intensity that it seemed he could pierce through him.

"Sorry, I'm just an outsider who's new to Cloudwalk Heights." Zhong Qing shook his head. "I have no obligation to Chimeric City, nor have I benefitted from it. I'm simply stating the facts. Whether it's the ordinary people who are the problem or not doesn't matter to me, but I need to know the truth to protect myself."

"We're not the problem, and we're not mutating," said another ordinary person, an older man with a thick beard. His words weren't directed at Zhong Qing but at a posthuman who also lived in Chimeric City. "Last month, when you needed a wall built for your house, I found people to help you. We even had a drink together afterward, and you lost two fog spheres to me in cards. Do you remember? So, what now? Did I mutate after playing cards, or was I mutating while we played?"

The male posthuman with long dreadlocks looked down in embarrassment, unable to meet his gaze. "I know you haven't mutated. I never said you did..."

Eight-Heads De seemed to latch onto this point. "From all the evidence, the ordinary people are the victims here. Calling the missing or dead people the perpetrators makes no sense. We live together and rely on each other. Without them, forget about repairs or construction, we wouldn't even have food and water. And without us and our abilities, ordinary people couldn't resist the duoluozhong or survive on this barren mountaintop. We're all one. When something goes wrong, how can we turn on each other first?"

His earnest words were reasonable and well-articulated, fitting for someone in his profession. It wasn't long before the crowd calmed down, and the tension noticeably eased.

"I-I don't really believe they've mutated..." The female posthuman, feeling a bit awkward, changed her tone. "It's just that there have been so many rumors lately. Hard to know what to believe."

"Of course not," the middle-aged woman said, laughing. "If you don't believe me, come over for a meal. See if a mutated thing could cook as well as I do."

The female posthuman felt even more embarrassed and smiled. "Alright, I will." Lin Sanjiu's gaze swept over the crowd and caught the bearded man glancing at the middle-aged woman's arm with a hint of confusion.

The middle-aged woman noticed his look and turned back to him, puzzled. The man quickly recovered and gave her a smile.

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"Everyone, get some rest. It's clear that there's something hunting humans here," Eight-Heads De said, throwing a warning glance at Zhong Qing before continuing. "Let the posthumans handle this. If you're worried about your safety, you can pair up with a posthuman for now."

"If we could set up a system," the bearded man suggested, thinking quickly, "like one posthuman paired with two or three ordinary people, it could help with both supervision and protection. Everyone would feel safer."

"That's a good idea. We can discuss it on the broadcast tomorrow." Eight-Heads De seemed relieved that the situation hadn't escalated. "For now, head back and get some rest."

As the crowd dispersed, small groups continued to murmur quietly. Eight-Heads De stood still, frowning in thought. The bearded man lingered, as if waiting for a chance to speak privately with Eight-Heads De. When the crowd had mostly cleared, he cleared his throat.

Eight-Heads De looked at him. "What is it?"

"I'm worried today's events might spark wild rumors." The bearded man glanced at the ground. Ah Pu's head had already been bagged by Eight-Heads De, leaving the spot empty. "I've always believed honesty is the best policy. The truth is the best defense against rumors. If we let people spread things through word of mouth, who knows how distorted it'll get? You've done a lot for Chimeric City, and people trust you. Could you go on the broadcast tomorrow and tell the full story to calm everyone down?"

Despite being an ordinary person, the man's insight was sharp. Eight-Heads De nodded repeatedly, listening carefully. They discussed a few details, and the matter was settled.

After the man left, Eight-Heads De's face was etched with worry. He tied off the Hawaii section with rope to prevent anyone from getting too close, then signaled to Lin Sanjiu and Zhong Qing. "Let's check the other side of the wall for clues. We need to see if the neighboring household has been affected, and why they didn't hear anything."

He was clearly displeased with Zhong Qing and, on the way over, told him multiple times not to speak recklessly. "If you have unfounded guesses, share them with me privately. There's no need to say them in front of the ordinary people."

As he spoke, the anxiety and pressure seemed to get the better of him. He exhaled sharply and wiped his face with both hands.

"This means something to me in ways you probably don't understand... but I hope, for my sake, you can be more careful."

Zhong Qing silently nodded.

It seemed that Eight-Heads De truly, wholeheartedly cared about protecting Chimeric City, an attitude rare and peculiar in the world of doomsday. No matter how well he preserved it, in fourteen months, everyone would be transported away. Even if someone secured a Cloudwalk Heights visa, who knew if they'd survive long enough to use it? What was the point of all this effort?

Or maybe, just like her, he only felt truly alive when he was with his companions. Lin Sanjiu thought, if she could be fortunate enough to gather her friends on Exodus, she too would likely spend her days worrying about everyone's affairs, just like Eight-Heads De.

She desperately wished for that chance to worry.

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Lin Sanjiu didn't know if she'd ever see that day: everyone living together on the ship, laughing, playing cards, arguing, voting on the next destination, etc. It was the most improbable of her distant dreams.

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As long as her dream remained a dream, she was willing to help Eight-Heads De. She wanted him to continue living in his Chimeric City, broadcasting with his friends, chatting, drinking, and receiving sticks of gum from passersby as he walked down the streets.

Many of the people who had gathered near Ah Pu's home earlier lived along this stretch of the city path. As the trio moved forward, they encountered several familiar faces who still couldn't sleep, offering greetings to Eight-Heads De.

The middle-aged woman was now standing near a shelf piled with miscellaneous items, chatting with a few neighbors. As they passed by, Lin Sanjiu remembered her earlier glance. Like the bearded man, she found herself staring at the woman's arm.

What had the bearded man seen? Now, the arm wrapped in a gray sleeve appeared perfectly normal, moving naturally as she spoke, giving no indication of anything unusual.

The thought passed quickly, and Lin Sanjiu walked on. Just ahead, the posthuman with dreadlocks was having a hushed conversation with someone else. His home seemed to be a Special Item, a steel-blue barrel that took up most of one side of the path. When he noticed Lin Sanjiu and the others, he paused, nodded, and greeted them.

Lin Sanjiu clearly heard his last interrupted words: "It's been so long since a duoluozhong came up to Chimeric City..." Whatever he was going to say next, she didn't know. But she did notice one thing.

He was speaking with another posthuman. The middle-aged woman was speaking with other ordinary people.

Lin Sanjiu realized something. And so did Eight-Heads De. At this moment, no posthuman was speaking with an ordinary person.

Eight-Heads De's face darkened, and he remained silent, leading them forward. Ahead was a break in the ceiling, typically equipped with a ladder for easy access between levels. As they were about to climb up, someone in the path let out a soft "Ah."

The sound was faint, yet it made all three of them freeze.

It wasn't fear or excitement. It was the kind of sound someone makes when they see something incomprehensible, like the confusion in the bearded man's eyes earlier.

Lin Sanjiu turned around just in time to see the middle-aged woman reach out, as though she were tired and looking for something to lean on. Her arm naturally extended across the ten-meter-wide path, touching the wall on the opposite side.

A posthuman sitting beneath that wall, brushing his hair, looked up at the arm hanging above him. The comb fell from his hand.

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