Evening fell swiftly upon Hu City, the daylight draining away to leave only a murky gloom.
By the side of Route 13, an old van was parked, its roof fitted with a retractable antenna and a satellite dish.
Several high-power floodlights had been set up, illuminating a small stretch of the road and the adjacent grass, which grew more than half a man tall.
A dozen figures were busy in the area, their faces etched with tension and unease.
Someone was adjusting the angle of a camera on a tripod, though their hands were trembling slightly.
A makeup artist was applying powder to a female host, the puff accidentally brushing against her eyelashes several times.
More people looked up from time to time, warily scanning their surroundings.
They were a news team from Hu City. Given the current situation in the city, they should have evacuated long ago.
However, they had received a mission from above: they were to go deep into the area and capture first-hand footage.
The instructions were clear. If the shoot was successful, they would receive a bonus and a promotion after leaving Hu City.
If they were unwilling, they could simply resign and leave. If they didn't do it, plenty of others would. They could just find another job after leaving Hu City.
Now that the people of Hu City were fleeing in droves, it was clear that the city wouldn't return to normal anytime soon.
Giving up a job at the news agency to live off savings in another city meant they might not last until they found their next position.
For the sake of survival, they had to make a choice and find a way to fight for their future.
Four burly men armed with firearms stood in a fan-shaped formation around the van and the crowd. They were bodyguards sent by the news agency's higher-ups, tasked with both protection and ensuring the team completed the filming mission.
“We’ve already filmed the situation inside Hu City. I sent the footage back yesterday, and the leadership was very satisfied.”
“Let’s try to finish the remaining shots as quickly as possible. Once we’re back, everyone gets a promotion and a raise!”
The director was offering empty promises, his voice laced with nervousness.
He glanced down at his wristwatch. “Hurry up. It gets dark in an instant. Don’t waste time.”
“Remember to keep your protective suits on,” a bodyguard reminded him, giving the director a meaningful look.
The director took the hint and raised his voice. “You heard him. Suits on. We leave as soon as we’re done. Let’s make this quick.”
The female host licked her dry lips and took a deep breath. She stepped in front of the camera, forcing herself to appear calm as she began her broadcast.
“We are currently located by Route 13 in the eastern suburbs of Hu City.”
“As you can see, the vegetation in the area behind me is showing signs of growth that clearly defy common logic...”
Her voice came through the microphone, and she tried to keep it steady, but the slight tremor in her tone was audible to anyone listening closely.
The camera followed her lead, panning across the strangely colored weeds and the power towers in the distance that were completely smothered by vines.
The director watched the screen intently, constantly checking his watch.
They were waiting. Word was that after nightfall, these mutant plants would exhibit special phenomena.
The internal information from above had only revealed a few vague details, but it was enough for the director to understand that those phenomena were the truly shocking, headline-grabbing material they needed.
Before long, the sky turned completely dark.
The lights from the direction of the city were sparse and dim, and the wilderness was swallowed by total darkness. Their few floodlights were the only source of light for miles.
“It’s starting!”
Someone whispered.
Then, everyone heard it.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
It wasn't the sound of wind blowing through leaves; the wind had died down long ago.
It was a dense, sticky sound, like countless tiny limbs rubbing and crawling against each other. It rose from deep within the grass surrounding them and spread rapidly.
Then, at the edge of the floodlights' reach, everyone saw it.
The previously still weeds began to move!
The grass swayed and twisted like animals, tangling and knotting together to form writhing masses of green tentacles that surged toward the light.
This sight stretched from nearby into the darkness where the light could not penetrate, as if every plant in the wilderness had come to life at that moment, turning into the tentacles of some malevolent entity!
“God, what the hell is that?”
A young man in charge of lighting felt his legs go weak. He nearly collapsed to the ground, his voice cracking with tears.
“Don’t stop! Keep the camera steady!”
“Host, keep reading your lines!”
The director roared. His own skin was crawling, but the lure of money and career advancement outweighed his fear. His eyes were fixed on the grass.
“Think of the bonus! Think of this year’s Golden Microphone Award!”
The host was pale with fright; she didn't care about any Golden Microphone Award.
But at the mention of the word “bonus,” she was instantly motivated.
Money was truly important.
Her beauty and status required money; she couldn't bear a life of poverty.
She and money were best friends!
The host forced herself to turn her head and face the terrifying scene. Tears had ruined her makeup, and her voice trembled, which actually added a sense of grim realism to the broadcast.
“Viewers, what you are seeing now... is a live broadcast of the abnormal nocturnal activity of the plants...”
She gestured toward the nearby grass to illustrate her point.
But at that moment.
Whiz!
A dark shape shot out from the nearest cluster of grass, moving so fast it left only an afterimage in the air.
A second later, something was firmly latched onto the host’s protective suit.
It was an insect.
It was the size of a fist, with a fluorescent purple carapace covered in disgusting, tumor-like bumps. Its six legs were thorny, digging deep into the fabric.
Most horrifying of all was the insect’s head. It had no eyes, only a mouthpart filled with fine, sharp teeth that was trying to bite through the protective suit!
“Aah!”
The host let out a blood-curdling scream, all professional decorum thrown out the window.
She swung her microphone wildly, trying to bash it, but the director stopped her just in time.
“Don’t move! Hold the pose! Get a close-up!”
“Yes, exactly like that!”
The director’s eyes glinted strangely under the lights. He could already see the skyrocketing ratings and the massive profits that would follow.
His excitement caused him to ignore a sudden itchy sting on his neck.
The staff member operating the drone sent it higher into the air, preparing to capture a bird’s-eye view of the scene.
The image on the remote control screen rose steadily, bringing the writhing grass below into focus.
Then, he instinctively glanced at the director and his pupils shrank in horror.
“Director, your neck!”
He cried out, the remote control slipping from his hands and hitting the ground.
The director turned his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a giant mosquito. Its mouthpart had pierced through his suit and was buried deep in his skin!
The mosquito’s abdomen expanded rapidly, turning from shriveled to bloated and glowing with a translucent red light from the blood inside.
“Aah, what is it?”
“Get it off me! Quick!”
The director was scared out of his wits and tried to slap it away. But his body suddenly felt strangely weak, and his mind began to cloud.
Bang!
A nearby bodyguard reacted instantly, firing a single precise shot that caused the mutant mosquito to burst into a pulp.
But the director had already fallen straight backward, his body splattered with the warm blood that had sprayed from the mosquito’s belly.
The blood was still hot.
His eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.
Panic instantly spread through the team.
“I’m done! I’m leaving right now!”
The cameraman threw down his equipment and turned to run toward the van’s driver’s seat.
Click.
The sound of a round being chambered echoed.
The bodyguard shifted his aim toward the young man and everyone else who was about to bolt. His face was expressionless as he said coldly,
“Nobody leaves until the job is done. Don’t make us get nasty.”
They weren't ordinary bodyguards; they had been hired by the news agency specifically to ensure the filming was completed.
“Are you crazy? If we stay here, you’ll be in danger too!” the host screamed through her tears.
The four bodyguards remained unmoved, as if they lacked human emotion.
The filming team didn't dare to start a violent confrontation, but they all tried desperately to persuade them.
No one noticed that tiny specks of light were beginning to glow in the grass. A faint, pungent odor drifted through the air.
The drone remote on the ground still had its screen lit, showing the high-altitude view.
At the edge of the screen, deep within the darkness of the grass, a cluster of eerie light was slowly drifting toward them.
...
Many residents of Hu City had left, but some remained.
For instance, the elderly living alone and the disabled.
Jiang Kun asked the local residents for clues, but most of them knew nothing. They only knew the city had suddenly become like this.
Finally, he obtained a bit of useful information from an old scavenger.
He was a very old man with a hunched back, dragging a bulging woven bag. He was using a homemade wire hook to carefully rummage through a pile of trash, occasionally picking up cans, plastic bottles, or metal scraps, completely ignoring the mutant plants around him.
Despite the dire environment, the old man was still working.
Jiang Kun admired the old man's dedication.
He walked over, deliberately making his footsteps heavy.
The old man stopped what he was doing and slowly turned his head.
“Young man, why are you still here?”
Jiang Kun produced his ID and said, “I’m an investigator. I’m here to look into the cause of the anomalies in Hu City.”
“Tell me, old sir, do you know why Hu City became like this?”
The old man leaned in to look at the ID and muttered, “I’m just a raggedy old man who picks through trash. How could I know something like that?”
Jiang Kun asked patiently, “The change didn't happen overnight, did it? Was there anything special before, or any unusual noises?”
The old man paused, raising his clouded eyes toward the sky. He thought for a long time before speaking.
“Anything special?”
“If we’re talking special... a while back, it seemed like something fell from the sky.”
Jiang Kun’s spirits lifted. “Something fell from the sky? When? Where did it land, and what was it?”
“How should I know all that? One day, during the afternoon, a ball of fire or light fell from the sky.”
“There wasn't much noise. It was broad daylight, and it was so far away I couldn't see clearly. I only saw it because I happened to be passing by to pick up bottles,” the old man said.
“As for where it landed? Seemed like it was to the east?”
“And then?”
“Then? Then a lot of people in uniforms went there. Lots of them. Cars, machines... they cordoned the place off. Didn't let anyone look or get close,” the old man smacked his lips.
“After that, the city started getting weird. Even though it was winter, giant cockroaches started growing in my house.”
Something that fell from the sky? Jiang Kun’s brow furrowed.
Was it a meteorite?
Or some even more unusual abnormal entity?
...
In the top-floor office of the Wang Group, Yue Shi and Ghost sat across from each other.
On the desk between them lay a component that had just been removed from Ghost’s body.
The atmosphere was a bit subtle.
“A thirty-plus centimeter ██... you certainly have quite the imagination.”
“So, is this why you’ve been locking yourself in the ██ and ‘████’ to a mechanical ██?”
Yue Shi teased.
Ghost was a bit embarrassed but admitted it quite openly. “I haven't been human for so long. It’s rare to have this kind of feeling, so I wanted to experience it more.”
“How does it feel? Is it the same as a normal human?” Yue Shi asked.
Ghost’s eyes drifted. “It’s the peak state of the youngest, healthiest, most robust ██. It can even produce ██ that transcend physiological limits.”
“He can even exploit a bug. He can actively clear his own redundant information to lower the ██ threshold, making every time feel like the first, ████.”
“Plus, he has no ██ period. Continuous ██ is possible, without the risk of ██ death, because he doesn't actually have that stuff. He just needs the sensation.”
There was no need to say all this out loud; it was far too shameful.
Yue Shi tapped the table with his finger. He didn't treat this as just a dirty joke; instead, he looked very solemn and serious.
“Besides this unspeakable thing, do you have any sensation in the other parts of this body?”
Ghost shook his head. “The other parts are just an ordinary mechanical body. I can control them, but I have no sense of touch at all. Only this thing is different.”
“That is truly strange.” Yue Shi was puzzled. “These are all mechanical bionic prosthetics produced by the Wang Group. Why is only this part different?”
Ghost said, “I told you before, the mechanical member is different from the mechanical limbs; they have different technical origins. Perhaps the technology in the Deep Red Continent has reached its peak in this area?”
Yue Shi rested his chin on his hand and thought for a moment. “Lust only arises once one is fed and warm. Who would be bored enough to prioritize developing this kind of technology?”
Ghost countered, “Maybe to improve the public’s happiness index and the birth rate?”
Yue Shi rolled his eyes. “If you want to improve the happiness index, you change the distribution of wealth. If you want to improve the birth rate, you reduce the burden of childbearing and child-rearing.”
“What use is a mechanical member for that?”
“You can think about what use it has yourself. I’m going back to play for a bit longer.” Ghost stood up, wanting to reinstall the part onto his body.
“Wait.” Yue Shi raised a hand to stop him.
“When did your self-control become so poor?”
“Even if you want to find the feeling of being human again, surely you wouldn't be this obsessed?”
Ghost froze. “Am I obsessed? I only used the washroom for ten hours today.”
Yue Shi said to himself, “If this thing can make an information lifeform find sensation, what kind of effect would it have on an ordinary person?”
“There might be something fishy going on. You should collect some user experience data first and do a survey.”
“Then try parts from other models and other manufacturers to see if this is just an isolated incident.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Ghost’s attitude was dismissive as he impatiently picked up the mechanical part from the table and turned to leave.
Rate on N.U.
