Doomsday Wonderland

Her evolution had only just begun—her body was not yet hers to command. What she didn’t know was that no posthuman, no matter how experienced or capable, forced themselves to act during evolution; it was nearly impossible.

Falling again seemed to break the grip of fear that had frozen Qiu Chantian. He half-turned, gasping for air, his eyes wide, fixed on her.

After a second’s hesitation, he released Dong Luorong’s hair, taking a step sideways, never breaking eye contact with Xie Feng.

When Xie Feng, with her arm still rippling like liquid, tried to prop herself up and slowly raised her head, Qiu Chantian couldn’t hold back a startled cry.

“Hey!” he called as he backed toward the door, glancing between her and Dong Luorong. “Aren’t you close with her? Go check on her! Hold her down and stop her from moving! This is strange—she shouldn’t be able to move! She shouldn’t be able to move!”

Dong Luorong slowly pushed herself off the desk, her dark hair slipping down over her pale face and shoulders. Her eyes s.h.i.+mmered like the surface of water stirred by the wind. She coughed a few times, clearly still in pain from the beating she’d taken.

Unaware of herself, Xie Feng attempted to stand again, which sent Qiu Chantian into a panicked frenzy. “Hurry! What are you waiting for?”

“You planning to call for help?” Dong Luorong asked calmly, leaning against the desk, her breathing unsteady. Blood seeped from a split along her temple, trickling down her cheek and eye, the varying shades of red forming a pattern like an abstract painting.

Seeing that Dong Luorong wasn’t going to cooperate, Qiu Chantian cursed furiously and glanced once more at Xie Feng lying on the floor. Then he turned and bolted for the door.

Dong Luorong stepped forward, though she could barely keep herself upright. The sharp intake of breath from her pain cut through Xie Feng’s hazy awareness like a cold needle.

The two of them disappeared from Xie Feng’s limited field of vision, heading into the hallway.

“Let me go!” Qiu Chantian’s enraged voice echoed, followed by a dull thud as if someone had slammed into the closet door. “I swear, I’ll kill you right here! You believe me?”

Dong Luorong laughed softly.

It was the same laugh she’d made that day. Xie Feng remembered waking from sleep to see her sitting alone by the floor-to-ceiling window. The gray-white light outside drifted through the rain like smoke, and Dong Luorong sat half-shadowed in the dimness.

That quiet laugh—calm, distant, as if her soul were detached from her body—was exactly the same.

“How long do you think it’ll take to kill me?” Dong Luorong asked, almost with interest. If not for her uneven breathing and the occasional cough interrupting her, she would have sounded completely at ease. “Ten minutes? Twenty? How long will it take her to finish evolving?”

Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “You’re in such a hurry to leave—she probably won’t take that long. Go ahead, do what you need to do.”

“Move!” Qiu Chantian barked, his voice carrying more than just rage—there was a trace of fear woven in, almost imperceptible. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Don’t you know posthumans can destroy society? When she wakes up, you’ll die too, along with everyone in this city! Millions of lives. Do you even understand?”

Dong Luorong hesitated for a moment, as if those words—”millions of lives”—had finally made her pause.

“That’s what disgusts me the most,” she whispered after a few seconds.

Her voice was low, almost bitter. “You always talk about saving millions, billions, the entire world. But if it suits you, you’d line every person up and crush them one by one, wouldn’t you?”

Xie Feng used every bit of willpower to control her s.h.i.+fting, distorted body as if it were made of light and shadow instead of flesh and blood. Slowly, she dragged herself toward the hallway. The faint rustling sound she made seemed to alert Qiu Chantian.

“Get out of the way!” Qiu Chantian shouted. There was a scuffle, followed by a heavy thud as someone fell hard onto the hallway’s tiled floor. “Are you out of your mind?” he roared in pain—it was clear he had been the one to fall. “Let go of me!”

Before he could finish, his voice hitched, transforming into a strangled squawk.

By now, Xie Feng had fully crawled out from behind the bed. The effort required to do so was unimaginable, even for the most experienced posthuman. Yet inch by inch, she dragged herself forward like a vengeful ghost, determined to pull someone into the abyss with her before breaking apart completely.

Dong Luorong lay sprawled on top of Qiu Chantian, pinning down his arms and chest with her full weight. She was in rough shape, blood streaking her temple, cheek, and lips. When she looked up and saw Xie Feng crawling toward her, she couldn’t hold back a faint smile. Her bloodied face resembled a withering flower, savoring its final moment of beauty in pain.

“Look, she’s coming to help me,” Dong Luorong whispered, her words sticky and wet with the blood on her lips.

“Let go of me!” Qiu Chantian’s earlier aggression vanished the moment he saw Xie Feng. “She’s not here to help you! I’m telling you—one of them evolved in the control room after we captured them. Their face split wide open, and they bit off a guard’s hand, eating it whole. They don’t care about helping anyone—they just want to kill!”

Dong Luorong faltered for a moment. “Really?” she asked, glancing down at him.

“Why the h.e.l.l would I lie to you right now?” Qiu Chantian stammered, nearly biting his tongue in his desperation. Taking advantage of the moment, he shoved Dong Luorong aside. She lost her balance and hit her head against the wall with a dull thud.

Scrambling to his feet, Qiu Chantian didn’t get far before Dong Luorong grabbed his ankle and yanked him back. He crashed to the floor again, this time smacking his face against the door handle. He let out a pained yelp, but there was no time to waste. Pressing against the door, he banged on it frantically and shouted, “Help! Somebody! Open the door! Save me!”

Dong Luorong coughed and gasped from where she lay. “This hotel is soundproof,” she said, panting. “I made sure of that. No need to worry about the quality.”

Qiu Chantian turned his head in terror, glancing back. Xie Feng was already dragging herself into the hallway, like a predator drawn by the scent of blood. Nothing could stop her now.

Driven to the edge of fear, Qiu Chantian’s panic boiled over into blind rage. He kicked Dong Luorong hard in the shoulder, sending her sprawling backward.

“You won’t let me leave? Fine! Then I’ll kill her. I’m not scared of her. I’ll stop her before she finishes evolving!” His eyes were bloodshot, foam flecking the corners of his mouth as he ranted. He decided not to flee—Dong Luorong alone was no match for him. With a furious laugh, he threw a few wild punches at her. Instinctively, she raised her arms to s.h.i.+eld her face, shrinking under the a.s.sault.

Laughing breathlessly, Qiu Chantian tried to stand but failed, too injured from the scuffle to move properly. Instead, he crawled toward the bathroom on all fours. As he pried the lid off the toilet’s water tank, he shouted over his shoulder, “Come on, get in here! Don’t tell me you’re not fully evolved—I’ve already killed plenty of you freaks in the early stages!”

Dong Luorong struggled to her feet, watching as Xie Feng slowly crawled past her, inching toward the bathroom without acknowledging her presence, as if she didn’t exist. Xie Feng was focused solely on reaching Qiu Chantian.

“Wait!” Dong Luorong called out, panic creeping into her voice. She hesitated, torn between stopping Xie Feng and staying away from her. “Don’t go in there! Can you hear me? Xie Feng? Xie Feng?”

When she tried to shut the bathroom door, Qiu Chantian was already staggering toward the doorway, clutching the heavy ceramic lid from the toilet tank. He raised it high above his head, ready to strike.

The white porcelain lid came cras.h.i.+ng down on Xie Feng’s ever-s.h.i.+fting head, shattering into fragments and dust that scattered into the air.

Qiu Chantian’s lips and cheeks trembled, disbelief written all over his face. Slowly, a grin started to creep onto his face—until Dong Luorong rammed into him, throwing him off balance. He toppled backward into the bathroom, hitting his head hard on the edge of the toilet.

You had to give it to Qiu Chantian—his skull was tough. After all the blows he’d taken, even lying sprawled out on the cold tiles in excruciating pain, he still hadn’t pa.s.sed out. But as he gasped for breath and tried to sit up, Xie Feng had already reached him.

If anyone were watching this scene unfold, they would think they were witnessing some kind of absurd theater.

“Are you going to eat him?” Dong Luorong asked from the doorway, her voice tinged with unease—even though she knew Xie Feng was far from capable of answering. “So… posthumans really eat people?”

“Wait!” Qiu Chantian gasped, staring into Xie Feng’s constantly s.h.i.+fting face, his own drained of color. “Xiao Rong, please… pull her away! We… we loved each other once, didn’t we?”

Dong Luorong couldn’t help it—she laughed.

As her low, quiet laughter echoed, Xie Feng slowly steadied herself, supporting her unstable body. She raised one hand, placing it on Qiu Chantian’s face.

An incomplete evolution made even basic movement a challenge—let alone anything requiring strength or skill.

So later, when Xie Feng recalled this moment, even she found herself stunned, wondering how she had thought of what she did next. It was as if her instincts had taken over, a predator’s brain guiding her every move without hesitation, effortlessly knowing how to use every advantage to kill.

Under Qiu Chantian’s wide, terrified eyes, Xie Feng forced her hand into his mouth, prying his jaws apart and shoving her fist inside.

Her body was still in flux, and the shape of her hand continued to s.h.i.+ft and ripple wildly.

Each pulse, each violent twist within his mouth, smashed against the walls of his oral cavity. His teeth shattered one by one, his facial bones snapped inward, and a mixture of blood, saliva, and fragments of shattered bone seeped out from the torn corners of his mouth.

Qiu Chantian’s desperate kicks and flailing punches landed uselessly, as though striking stone. Xie Feng seemed oblivious to them, her arm pressing deeper and deeper until nearly half of it was engulfed in the warm, wet interior of his skull.

Dong Luorong, pale and stumbling, had alreadybacked away from the doorway.