Chapter Thirteen: Morality and Life

As he made his judgment, Liu Chang dared not move an inch, barely allowing himself even the faintest breath, for he feared that any sudden movement would draw the attack of those terrifying, writhing vines above him. After steadying his breathing, Liu Chang crouched lower in the undergrowth, and as he watched the monstrous tree, he discovered something even more bizarre. His gaze cut through the crimson tangle of vines and numbers, and on the trunk of the willow, he saw a human face—or rather, it wasn’t quite a human face, but more like those peculiar “tree eyes” that appear on ancient trunks. Yet now, upon closer look, there were streaks within each of those tree eyes, resembling the bloodshot threads that gather in the eye sockets of humans.

This sight sent a shiver of dread through Liu Chang.

“What will this world finally become?” he wondered. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, and this old tree has already grown eyes. If given more time, what strange transformations will this world undergo?”

The questions that plagued him now had already outstripped the bounds of his imagination. It was as if, before the Cambrian explosion, the world’s single-celled life could never have foreseen such an abrupt eruption of vitality and diversity within a mere epoch. But unlike the world before the Cambrian, this world was already vivid and complex—what kind of dazzling spectacle would another Cambrian explosion bring?

Such tangled thoughts flashed through Liu Chang’s mind, only to be pulled swiftly back to reality, as terror flooded his heart anew.

After a few moments of careful observation, Liu Chang found an answer to his earlier question: the monstrous tree located its prey through vibrations on the ground.

Though those bloodshot sockets had begun to resemble eyes, it would take at least a few more days before the tree truly gained vision.

With this understanding, Liu Chang lowered his breath further and, moving with painstaking slowness, slipped off his shoes amid the grass. With a sharp motion, he hurled one shoe far off to the side.

It landed with a muffled thud, and at once, four or five thick, barbed vines lashed out with blinding speed. They tore through the grass and slammed into the earth, obliterating the area and shredding the once-sturdy shoe into scraps.

Witnessing this, Liu Chang was now certain of the creature’s method of perception. He promptly threw his other shoe in the same direction to divert the tree’s attention, then seized the moment to dash toward the hospital’s main entrance in the opposite direction.

Just a few dozen more meters, and he would be beyond the reach of those lethal vines.

Taking a deep breath, he waited until the second shoe hit the ground and the vines lashed out again, then bolted with all his strength. The medicine bottles in his pack clattered against one another, ringing out a frantic dirge that seemed to urge his desperate flight forward.

Behind him, the “ding-ding-dang” of bottles was soon joined by the true approach of death. The blood-red vines, having missed their mark, immediately sensed his movement and shot toward him at a speed more than twice his own.

Yet the precious seconds he’d gained at the start gave him a head start of several meters. At the very last moment, just as the murderous vines were about to overtake him, they abruptly stopped, unable to stretch a single inch further.

They had reached the limits of their length.

Even with the danger behind him, Liu Chang did not allow himself to relax until he had run another dozen meters and was gasping for breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

Only when his breathing finally steadied did he dare glance back. But beyond the veil of mist, nothing could be seen—the strange terrors had already melted away, as if the peril he’d faced moments ago had been nothing but a fevered hallucination.

He sighed, choosing not to dwell on what lurked behind. He pressed onward, knowing that the world’s dangers would never come only from behind, nor would they be limited to a single monstrous tree.

Moving slowly, Liu Chang walked barefoot out the hospital gates and immediately saw several people gathered at the entrance. They huddled in small groups—some talking in anxious tones, others already unconscious—clearly desperate for medicine.

Standing some seven or eight meters away, Liu Chang remained unseen, yet he could observe their every move and even hear their words with perfect clarity.

“Mom, Dad’s not going to make it. I have to try to go in,” said a boy of about fifteen, carrying a middle-aged man on his back, his face etched with worry.

“No, you can’t go in.” The boy’s mother, a middle-aged woman, shook her head. “Since this morning, has anyone who’s gone inside come back out?”

“That doesn’t mean they all died in there,” the boy protested frantically. “If I don’t go, Dad really won’t make it.”

“If anyone goes in, it should be me.” The woman pushed the boy aside. “Watch over your father. I’ll go see.”

“Don’t go in. No one can survive in there.” Liu Chang emerged from the mist, stepping into view.

“Who are you?” The woman and boy both turned, wary at his sudden appearance.

“Don’t worry, I mean no harm.” Liu Chang waved a hand, hiding his scalpel behind his back. “I just barely made it out alive. There’s a monster inside—something unbelievably terrifying. Going in would be extremely dangerous.”

“But if we don’t, my father will die,” the boy pleaded. “His wound’s infected. We need medicine.”

Hearing this, Liu Chang looked down to see a ghastly wound on the man’s arm, the flesh already decaying—a sight that mirrored his own condition from the day before.

“This place is too dangerous. If you need medicine, try the pharmacies on other streets,” Liu Chang advised.

“There’s nothing left. Since midnight, gangs have been raiding every pharmacy in the city. Whatever was on the shelves was gone in no time.”

“All gone?”

“Yes. The whole city’s full of people infected by bacteria. Even a scratch from a branch can be fatal. With so many in need, how many pharmacies could possibly be enough? If people hadn’t stopped coming out of the hospital at dawn, I’m sure it would’ve been looted too.”

“I see.” Liu Chang hadn’t expected that, in some twisted way, the monstrous tree had actually helped him. Without its intervention, he doubted whether he’d have survived—let alone escaped with so much medicine.

He sighed. “Here, take these antibiotics. I can’t guarantee they’ll work, but it’s all I can do.” Remembering the corpses he’d seen inside the hospital, Liu Chang handed a box of antibiotics from his pack to the boy.

Without waiting for thanks, he strode away.

He didn’t need gratitude, nor did he wish to play the hero. Yet his ingrained values made it impossible to ignore such suffering when it unfolded before his eyes.

But after helping, he felt no relief—only the weight of loss. Medicines were scarce, and giving them away meant less for himself if he was injured again.

In truth, he was trading a portion of his own life for a fleeting sense of moral reprieve—a bargain he knew was untenable.