Chapter Fifty-Eight: Thinner

Before them stretched a dense, primordial forest. Though none could see its entirety, the massive trees—each requiring two or three people to encircle—along with the tangled vines and the unique fragrance emanating from their towering canopies left no doubt: this was a vast wilderness.

The natural vitality radiating from this forest surpassed anything found on Earth; its immense life force was so overwhelming that merely standing before it stirred a longing in the soul.

Among the group, Liu Chang possessed the keenest eyesight, allowing him to observe the furthest reaches. What unfolded before his gaze was a true feast of life: towering trees entwined with myriad vines, beneath which grew countless shrubs and low bushes unknown to any of them. The forest floor was carpeted with various herbs and fungus-like saprophytes, all combining to form a vivid, three-tiered tapestry of life from canopy to ground.

“This is truly a hymn to life. Without the intrusion of concrete and steel, nature has reclaimed itself so completely?” Li Qingshui plucked a blade of grass from the earth, lifting it to inhale its aroma.

“Do you think we can make it through?” Standing amidst the morning mist, accompanied by the rustling deep within the woods and the chorus of frogs, even Shen Mingyi—the strongest among them—betrayed doubt.

“There’s no path left!” The soldiers at the forefront searched the ground, unable to discern where the once-famous Zhengkai Avenue had run.

“There’s still a path, just look for fragments of broken concrete. If we follow the trail of debris, we’ll trace the old road,” said Zhao Yue, their leader, crouching among the thick grass. He soon uncovered several pieces of cement, unmistakably marked by human hands.

Holding up a chunk of cement, Zhao Yue called out to the squad behind him, “The old concrete avenue has been shattered by the plants and their roots, leaving only rubble. Fortunately, it hasn’t been long, so if we follow these fragments, we’ll find our way to Zhengzhou.”

“Where the old road once lay, vegetation isn’t as dense as elsewhere.” Li Qingshui stepped forward, examining the surrounding flora. “This gives us another method to recover the path.”

“He’s right,” Zhao Yue replied, momentarily speechless. He hadn’t expected Li Qingshui to deduce another way so quickly, but knowing him to be a ‘brain domain mutant,’ he wasn’t overly surprised.

“Captain Zhao…” Li Qingshui frowned at the wild forest before them. “May I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Since the apocalypse began, how many times has your unit communicated with Zhengzhou’s authorities?”

“Three times, I think,” Zhao Yue answered. “That’s what I know.”

“How did you manage it?”

“Zhengzhou organized an emergency communications unit, specifically to distribute documents and central information to subordinate cities. There seem to be many such units, probably converted from old reconnaissance or field companies. Each has a hundred men, delivering messages and documents. With radios gone and wired lines destroyed, this is the most primitive means left.”

“Three times…” Li Qingshui rubbed his chin. “What about casualties?”

“The first squad came ten days ago—lost over ten men. The second unit lost more than twenty. The third arrived just a day after the second, so seven and six days ago, respectively. That time, all thirty were killed.” Zhao Yue recalled with a frown, “Extremely high fatality rate.”

“No, it’s not high at all. A hundred ordinary people—could they really traverse such a forest?” Li Qingshui stepped forward, placing his hand on a tree, fear flickering in his eyes.

Sensing his unease, a soldier approached, half-joking, “Ha, what’s wrong? Even a high-IQ mutant can be afraid?”

“Yes,” Li Qingshui replied, not turning, as he scrutinized the tree’s bark, seemingly seeking clues to its growth cycle.

“I’ll tell you something scarier. There’s a rumor in the unit: three days ago, another squad from Zhengzhou tried to come through—a hundred men, but only twenty or so made it out, most of them badly wounded.” The soldier laughed, patting Li Qingshui’s shoulder. “Nearly total casualties.”

His jest was quiet, but Zhao Yue overheard, striding forward and smacking the soldier’s head. “Damn it, don’t talk nonsense. Is this the kind of joke you think is acceptable? In the old days, you’d be executed for undermining morale—idiot, get back in line.”

The young soldier, chastened, pouted and shuffled back after Zhao Yue kicked him.

“Sorry, Mr. Li. Don’t mind him—he’s young, meant no harm.” Zhao Yue pursed his lips, clearly fond of the soldier, or he wouldn’t tolerate such banter in his presence.

“I know he meant no harm—it’s just his way of venting fear. He’s the most frightened of all.” Li Qingshui glanced at the soldier, concern still etched on his face. “Still, I don’t think he’s exaggerating. This forest is far more dangerous than it was days ago.”

“It’s just a forest. We have guns. The monsters may be more numerous and formidable than in the city, but we’re not ordinary men—we’re specially selected. We’ll be fine if we’re careful,” Zhao Yue said, noting Li Qingshui’s anxiety but refusing to turn back. “We just need to stay alert.”

“Alright.” Nodding, Li Qingshui returned to the center of the group.

“Let’s go.” With the team assembled, Zhao Yue waved his fog lamp and led them into the thriving woods.

As they stepped into the forest, Liu Chang sensed the mist thickening. The myriad plants restricted his vision, and even he could see little ahead.

He placed the little girl upon his shoulders and whispered, “Let me know at once if you sense danger.”

“I understand,” she replied, trembling. The hanging vines terrified her; she shrank, arms wrapped around Liu Chang’s neck, her face pressed against the back of his head.

They moved onward, the front following traces of broken stone, those behind vigilant for every sound and movement. The young soldier who had joked earlier walked beside Liu Chang, pale-faced and clutching his rifle, scanning the surroundings.

After several kilometers, no danger had appeared, but none dared relax. Each watched the person ahead to avoid falling behind, alert to the slightest stir. This collective tension rendered the atmosphere oppressive.

“Hey, brother, let’s talk. This mood’s too heavy—it’s making my head spin,” the young soldier murmured, elbowing Liu Chang lightly.

“Uh…” Startled, Liu Chang turned, immediately frowning. “Hey, you look thinner than before.”

“Thinner?” The soldier touched his own cheek, feeling the sunken flesh and pronounced cheekbones.

“What’s going on?” He shuddered in fright.