The return journey seemed much smoother, and the heavy package on his shoulder brought a sense of security.
But Li Mingyu’s face fell. On the screen of his phone, the 4G signal flickered stubbornly like a candle in the wind, oscillating between a weak single bar and a glaring red “x.”
“The signal is getting worse,” he muttered irritably, finally managing to send a message that read “Received, stay safe, return quickly” after several attempts.
The team silently crossed a relatively open courtyard. In the distance, the gray-white main building of the Experiment Building stood like a giant tombstone under blood-red clouds.
Just as the team was about to exit the plaza and enter the tree-lined path—
“Hm?!”
Ling Chen’s footsteps suddenly halted! He stumbled ever so slightly.
He abruptly looked up, his brows tightly furrowed, his gaze fixed on the upper floors of the Experiment Building! The three bats on his shoulder suddenly looked up, emitting extremely sharp, short warning screeches!
“What is it?!” Li Mingyu and Sun Qiang instantly tensed up! Their weapons were raised in unison!
Ling Chen raised his hand, pointing towards a dusty window with mostly intact glass near the top floor of the Experiment Building. “Something… is moving… Look there!” His voice was a mix of the urgency of “discovery” and the gasping of “weakness.”
Everyone looked in the direction he pointed!
Behind that window, there seemed to be something… reflecting light? A very brief, tiny speck of light, like the glint from a glass instrument, it flashed for just a moment before disappearing into the thick dust and the dim light inside, so quickly it felt like an illusion!
Ling Chen’s fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly, and his face seemed even paler from the intense concentration of his “perception.”
“Is… is something… watching us?” His voice carried a hint of uncertain trepidation.
Li Mingyu’s expression was grim, his eyes fixed on that window, but he saw no further movement. “Don’t scare yourself!” His tone, however, was heavy. “Let’s go! Get out of this open area! Back to the teaching building!”
The team accelerated again, almost running into the tree-lined path. No one noticed that inside the dusty window on the top floor of the Experiment Building, beneath the thick dust, a few imperceptible wisps of purple blood were slowly spreading down along the rust-stained window frame cracks.
Ling Chen lagged slightly behind the team.
Just as he was about to completely leave the open plaza, his right foot “very naturally” tripped on a raised floor tile, causing him to stumble! He instinctively braced himself with his hand, his fingertips tracing a very shallow mark in the dusty, dried bloodstain-filled cracks of the floor tiles.
He quickly withdrew his hand, coughing in the shadows. His palm remained clean, with only an imperceptible smear of dusty bloodstains on his fingertips.
The journey back was silent.
The scorching midday sun hung high above the lead-gray, heavy clouds. The search party, dragging their heavy footsteps, covered in blood and carrying precious food, finally returned to the reinforced back door of Class 3, Grade 12.
The heavy obstacles were removed. The moment the door opened, when Li Mingyu heavily placed the bulging, stained canvas backpack onto the dusty floor, the dead silence in the classroom instantly came alive, like water disturbed by a thrown stone.
“Food! Water!” Sun Qiang’s metallic, muffled voice carried a hint of imperceptible excitement. He was the first to unfasten his backpack, revealing slightly deformed vacuum-sealed braised chicken drumsticks, several bags of compressed biscuits, and a dozen bottles of mineral water inside.
After a brief silence, there were irrepressible, tearful cheers and sounds of swallowing.
Hunger, like the fiercest beast, instantly tore apart all pretense and fear.
Wu Tao, enduring his fatigue, hoarsely directed Chen Xue and Lin Wei to distribute the food and water. Everyone received a very limited amount—half a compressed biscuit, a small mouthful of shredded braised chicken, or one-third of a bottle of water. But in this desperate situation, it was an immense blessing.
Ling Chen was carefully helped by Chen Xue and sat leaning against the wall, away from the crowd. His face was still pale, and new, dark red blood seeped from the bandage on his left arm after the journey. He refused the biscuits and water Chen Xue offered, only weakly shaking his head, his voice hoarse: “You… eat… I… will rest…”
He closed his eyes, as if even the strength to speak had been exhausted, and the hood of his hoodie was pulled low, the shadow covering most of his face.
The three bats on his shoulder were quietly curled up, like dead things.
Li Mingyu and Sun Qiang ravenously devoured their portions of food. The cold mineral water slid down their burning throats, bringing a false sense of comfort.
Afterward, fatigue washed over them like a tide: the bloody battle at the supermarket during the day, the fleeting glimpse of strange reflection from the top of the Experiment Building, and Xu Hong’s familiar yet unfamiliar ghoul face… all these images intertwined, making their nerves as taut as a bowstring.
The food was quickly consumed.
The brief feeling of fullness brought not vitality, but deeper fatigue and drowsiness.
With something in their stomachs, their taut nerves involuntarily relaxed, and a post-disaster, almost numb calm permeated the classroom.
Some leaned against the wall and fell into a deep sleep, emitting irregular snores; some sipped their precious water, their eyes hollow as they stared at the ceiling; others sobbed softly, for their fallen companions, and for the unknown tomorrow.
Wu Tao forced himself to stay awake and, together with Zhou Yunguang, re-reinforced the west window defense, using everything they could find—broken table legs, heavy books, even Wang Lei’s cold corpse that they dragged over—to tightly block the broken hole. Light was blocked, and the classroom became even darker.
Time slowly passed amidst tired gasps and suppressed sobs. The daylight outside the window gradually weakened from the glaring midday brightness, finally the setting sun descended, like a huge, silent coffin lid, slowly closing.
The night watch duty once again fell upon Li Mingyu, Sun Qiang, Zhou Yunguang, and the “severely injured and weak” Ling Chen. Li Mingyu and Sun Qiang leaned by the door, struggling to keep their heavy eyelids open.
Zhou Yunguang held a flashlight, sitting near the podium, vigilantly sensing the changes in the surrounding light. Ling Chen remained curled up in the shadows of the corner, motionless, as if he had already fallen asleep.
Night deepened.
The classroom was in darkness, with only the faint glow of an emergency flashlight casting flickering shadows on the walls.
Fatigue and fear intertwined, making the night watchmen drowsy. Sun Qiang’s metallic head rested against the cold wall, Li Mingyu’s eyelids were as heavy as lead, and the light from Zhou Yunguang’s flashlight was as dim as a candle in the wind.
Outside the window, there was dead silence.
Just in this extreme silence and fatigue, a heart-palpitating sense of oppression, like cold mercury, silently permeated every corner of the classroom.
It was as if something, deep in this boundless darkness, was slowly opening its eyes.
Ling Chen moved his ear, a faint, imperceptible smile playing on the corner of his mouth.
Li Mingyu suddenly jolted awake, forcefully dispelling his drowsiness, and tightened his grip on the steel rod. He just felt… it was too quiet.
So quiet… it made his heart pound.
He subconsciously looked at Ling Chen in the corner.
His hoodie’s hood was pulled low, the shadow perfectly concealing his deep, abyss-like eyes. The three dark purple bats on his shoulder and in his hood were completely still.
But beneath the shadow of the hood, his tightly closed eyes had, at some point, opened a slit, quietly gazing… in the direction of the blocked west window.
But only he knew that the faint sensory network belonging to the bats deep within his consciousness was repeatedly scanning every inch of the surrounding ruins like invisible radar waves.
The Soul Jade Physique forged his soul into a cold, hard anchor, firmly locking the surging dark purple lightning energy and bloodthirsty desire within his body.
He could clearly feel it now—the “fish” had taken the bait!
It was just that this “fish” was a bit large, and he estimated that quite a few people would die.
Suddenly!
Woo woo—woo———
A low, strange sound, like the extremely suppressed roar of a large feline, vibrated from deep within the teaching building without warning! The sound carried a high-frequency piercing power, harshly scraping against everyone’s eardrums!