Doomsday Wonderland

"Well, that...." Nika let out a breath, her gaze fixed on the cracked gray tiles at Eight-Heads De's feet. Speaking to the broken ground, she said, "He makes it sound like we're about to fight each other. Whatever needs explaining, just go over and tell them. You've always been reasonable."

Anyone summoned by Eight-Heads De had some relationship with him and respected him. No one wanted things to turn ugly. If Eight-Heads De would just nod, and bring Lin Sanjiu and Zhong Qing to the west gate, they would all breathe a huge sigh of relief.

"Yeah, we know you just care about ordinary people. After all, you—"

Another posthuman began speaking but suddenly stopped, lowering their voice to mumble, "We understand your concern for ordinary people... Let's go. We'll go with you."

Their tone was understanding and courteous, but despite their words, Eight-Heads De kept his arms crossed and stared silently at a dented iron barrel on the opposite side of the corridor. As his silence stretched on, the others gradually fell quiet too.

The nearby residents had either fled or perished. This section of the corridor suddenly felt like it had been carved out of Chimeric City's chaos, unnaturally silent.

Perhaps too silent.

Lin Sanjiu, who had been able to hear distant cries and noises moments ago, now found them faded, as if they were just a hallucination at the edge of her hearing. Was it because the people had all evacuated, and the sound had naturally quieted down?

"Eight-Heads De, say something," Nika's said in a voice tinged with unease, breaking the silence.

As a few posthumans hesitated and took steps toward him, Zhong Qing quietly stepped back to stand next to Lin Sanjiu. He said softly, "He really does care about ordinary people."

Lin Sanjiu was slightly surprised. Zhong Qing didn't strike her as someone who spoke for the sake of it or uttered platitudes. He quickly confirmed her instincts.

"He cares so much about ordinary people," Zhong Qing continued steadily, "but he doesn't seem too worried about them."

Lin Sanjiu shot him a quick glance and raised a layer of Higher Consciousness between them before asking, "What do you mean?"

"We've witnessed ordinary people mutating; that's a fact." Zhong Qing's gaze flicked over the transparent shield. "It's understandable that he doesn't want to admit it; it's a blow to him. But another fact is that not all ordinary people mutate. He let that injured young man go and even told him to head to a gathering place for ordinary people at the west gate. Isn't he worried about the others' safety?"

Lin Sanjiu immediately understood. She recalled Eight-Heads De's sincere, pained tone when he told the young man, "It's just an eye." No, perhaps he was just too blinded by his own ideals. A good heart doesn't necessarily mean a clear head.

"If he just didn't think it through, that's one thing. But when you raised your blade, it made the worst possibility painfully clear." Zhong Qing's voice was low. "If it were me, I wouldn't let that injured man get near anyone I cared about."

"Are you saying... you think he's putting on an act?" Lin Sanjiu whispered, eyeing Eight-Heads De's back.

"Whether it's an act or not, I don't know," Zhong Qing said, keeping his head lowered so no one could read his lips. "But this situation feels a little too black and white for me to swallow."

"Black and white?"

"The management group that only collects taxes and doesn't help, suddenly accusing a posthuman who cares about the public good, hinting that he caused the mutations," Zhong Qing glanced at Lin Sanjiu, his voice steady. "If this were a TV drama, I'd find the plot too cliché. Strip away the preconceived notions about each side, and what facts are left?"

He looked away, saying nothing more.

He didn't need to. If you removed descriptions like "tax collectors who don't care" and "respected protector," the bare, unfiltered facts remained: The local management group investigated and found a posthuman's behavior suspicious.

Lin Sanjiu bit her lip hard and finally murmured, "The Noble Accord's claims might not be true either."

Just then, Eight-Heads De sighed and dropped his arms. The posthumans surrounding him relaxed slightly; it seemed he had listened to their persuasion.

'How could this be?'

Lin Sanjiu's [Keen Senses] had saved her countless times, and now they sent her the same unmistakable signal: Eight-Heads De's emotions were both intense and genuine. РАƝＯ𐌱ÊŞ

She had struggled through her own moments of fear and anxiety, running and fighting desperately to protect her friends. Back then, she must have been just as stubborn, even appearing naive or foolish to others. She didn't need logic to analyze it; she resonated with Eight-Heads De's feelings on an instinctive level.

But that was exactly the problem: When she set aside her [Keen Senses] and began to rationally analyze the situation, she had to admit Zhong Qing made sense.

Eight-Heads De's behavior couldn't be dismissed as mere emotional confusion. He wasn't truly foolish. If he was so heartbroken over the young man's eye injury, how had he failed to consider the lives of the hundreds of ordinary people at the west gate?

Even if he cared deeply about the young man, there was no reason to send him to the west gate. If the injury was just a coincidence, the best option was to keep him here, where posthumans might have items that could help him heal. If the injury wasn't a coincidence, keeping him with posthumans was far safer than sending him among ordinary people.

"Alright," Eight-Heads De was now saying to those around him, "since you all think this is the best course of action..."

"Of course." Nika, relieved the situation hadn't escalated, even showed a hint of gratitude. "Don't worry, we won't let the Noble Accord go too far."

The Noble Accord had discovered something suspicious, yet they were playing the role of the villain. The thought unsettled Lin Sanjiu.

If Zhong Qing hadn't pointed out the disconnect between Eight-Heads De's emotions and his actions, she might not have realized it. Now she saw that the other posthumans hadn't questioned him either. Humans, being social creatures, could often sense the authenticity of another's emotions. That's why when Eight-Heads De let the injured young man go, Dreadlocks' first thought was, "He must not be a mutant," rather than, "Something's wrong with Eight-Heads De."

"Alright," Eight-Heads De said, "let's go."

The group of ordinary people heading toward the west gate had passed Lin Sanjiu on the right. Eight-Heads De, who had been coordinating the evacuation, stood to her left, with the other posthumans on her right. To go to the west gate, they all needed to head right together.

Right... The word lingered oddly in Lin Sanjiu's mind. About ten meters down the right-hand corridor, there was a quiet bend.

Nika turned first, glancing at the two of them by the wall and calling out, "You two are fine, let's go." She walked rightward, taking three or four steps before Lin Sanjiu suddenly dashed forward.

Startled by the rush of wind, Nika instinctively raised her arm to block. But Lin Sanjiu's speed far outmatched her reflexes. She grabbed Nika's arm and yanked her back. In the stillness of the corridor, an indignant shout rang out, "What are you doing?!"

Nika regained her balance, and the corridor remained silent. Even Lin Sanjiu was momentarily surprised.

Had she guessed wrong?

"Hold on, let me check. Something feels off." Without looking back, she activated [Defense Forcefield]. Moving cautiously along the wall, she edged around the corner. The other posthumans fell silent, while Nika, still annoyed, followed her and asked, "What are you trying to—"

A sharp intake of breath cut her off.

She hadn't guessed wrong.

Blocking the corridor ahead was a massive, pale, segmented structure. It stretched so long that it twisted and coiled like a grotesque, hardened flower, layers folding in on themselves. Each edge gleamed with a faint, cold light.

"Just as I thought," Lin Sanjiu said. "We've been trapped here without realizing it. No wonder it got so quiet."

Nika stared at the obstruction, then down at her own fingernails, her expression darkening.

"Is... is this from that injured guy?" she muttered. "It must be. He's learned to swap in a part that doesn't matter if it gets hurt, something no one would notice..."

Not just Nika—everyone, including Lin Sanjiu, turned toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

They all knew who it was.

Eight-Heads De walked up, his gaze sweeping over the mutated blockage. He looked at the others and smiled. His wide mouth stretched into a grin, revealing a row of white, even teeth.

"Well, looks like we're not going to the west gate after all."

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