Chapter Thirty-Two: The Struggle for Supplies

After Shen Lie noticed the color of the Red River's water was fading, he immediately ordered Li Cheng to assign someone to keep watch at all times.

He wasn’t the only one to observe this phenomenon; in fact, there were countless survivors who came to the riverbank every day in search of food or ways to cross. Especially after Shen Lie had crossed the river safely from the other side, more and more people were attempting to cross in hopes of finding sustenance, so many had picked up on this anomaly.

The Red River was of immense importance to the people of Zhenbei. Though the town’s survivors had not yet realized that nearly a hundred spider monsters had appeared across the river, the mere dozen that showed up on the day disaster struck had already left them deeply shaken. Everyone understood that if the Red River’s natural barrier failed, their “good days” would be over.

“What’s the situation?” Shen Lie asked the fifth messenger who returned the next day at noon.

“Reporting, Lord Shen, the river’s water is still red, but the color is even lighter than it was this morning. Across the river, dozens of those spider monsters have gathered. A few tried to force their way across, but were killed by the river water. However, everyone’s saying the river’s power seems to have weakened considerably.”

The one bringing the report was a short-haired youth of about twenty, skin and bones, whose legs trembled involuntarily as he spoke of the river’s change, clearly haunted by the implications.

Shen Lie’s expression darkened. The information confirmed his suspicion: the river’s lethality was proportional to its color, and the fading was happening faster than he’d anticipated. With things moving this quickly, many matters needed to be hastened.

“Zhang Jing, come with me!” Shen Lie called out, and then drove out of town once more.

Yesterday, he had spent half a day circling the northern half of the town. The situation there was much the same as to the south; the town’s outskirts were shrouded in a dense red mist, blocking out the sky. Who knew what dangers lurked within—just a brush with the mist made his hair stand on end, and he dared not venture deeper.

He also saw the medicine field where the Phantom Mushrooms grew. It lay right at the edge of the red mist, a vast stretch—no one cared what kind of mushrooms had once been cultivated there. Now, the whole field glimmered and flickered, a striking sight from afar.

Harvesting those Phantom Mushrooms might not necessarily trigger the dangers hidden in the red mist, but on one side of the field stood three large trees, with a flock of mutated crows roosting on the branches. These crows were enormous and vicious, and anyone setting foot in the field would be ruthlessly attacked.

Oddly, the crows seemed particularly sensitive to those who had awakened supernatural abilities. Shen Lie noticed that if he came within a hundred meters of the field, the crows would grow restless. Yet Zhang Jing, if alone, could approach to within thirty or forty meters without drawing their ire.

For reasons unknown, these crows never strayed far from the red mist. As long as a harvester could pluck a mushroom and escape a certain distance, the crows would no longer pursue.

While Shen Lie was observing, he even witnessed a small mushroom-picking team using diversion tactics to successfully gather some of the mushrooms.

This time, Shen Lie’s purpose was once again the Phantom Mushroom field. For one thing, he still had designs on those mushrooms; for another, the red mist on the town’s northern edge was thinnest here. So even with the crows guarding the place, if he had to pick a breakthrough point to escape, he would still choose this spot—better to face visible dangers than the unknown.

“Ha! Old Wu, you’re in luck today, actually managing to snatch a Phantom Mushroom! Bring it here, let me have a look!” As Shen Lie and Zhang Jing stood at a distance, watching the red mist, a harsh peal of laughter rang out from the direction of the medicine field.

They looked over to see two groups of mushroom gatherers facing off. The field had become the main source of food for ordinary survivors. With most supplies monopolized by the four major factions, exchanging Phantom Mushrooms for food was the fastest way to survive. Though picking the mushrooms was perilous, the alternatives were no less deadly.

“Old Zhang, we lived in the same alley. When your mother died, I helped carry her coffin. Isn’t this a bit much?” A gaunt, unshaven man clutched a plastic bag in his hand, his nerves taut as he addressed the twenty-odd people across from him. A few older men and women stood behind him, silent and cowed.

“Hmph, Old Wu, those were years ago! Look at us—over twenty people here. I’ll tell you straight: we haven’t had a full meal in three days. What you’re holding must be handed over. You’re lucky—just get another one!” replied Old Zhang, his brutish face betraying no sign of hunger, nor any intention of giving Old Wu face.

“Uncle, we risked our lives for this Phantom Mushroom—no one can take it from us! To get it, Zhuzi was torn apart by those crows. Without it, we’ll starve!” cried a sallow-faced young man behind Old Wu, his voice breaking with desperation.

“Tsk, tsk! This must be that college kid from your family, eh? How skinny you’ve gotten! Your uncle hasn’t found you anything better to eat? Enough nonsense—since I, Old Zhang, have run into you today, it’s just your bad luck. Don’t forget, I’m related to Lord Ma!” Old Zhang threatened.

“I’ll count to three. Hand it over, or you’ll all end up dead!” He glared menacingly at Shen Lie and Zhang Jing, warning them not to interfere.

“Uncle, without the Phantom Mushroom we’ll starve. I heard the water of the Second River isn’t red anymore, and the monsters will soon come. Either way, we’re dead—sooner or later makes no difference. Let’s fight him!” The young man was on the edge of collapse, eyes bloodshot as he fixed Old Zhang with a glare. With a howl, he raised his kitchen knife and charged!

“Xiangzi, come back!” Old Wu shouted, stunned by his nephew’s reckless move. But it was too late. The young man staggered up to Old Zhang, his malnourished body wavering as he raised the knife—before he could strike, Old Zhang slapped him hard, sending him sprawling.

“You little bastard, you really dare to attack? You think this is the old world? Today I’ll show you what the apocalypse means!” Old Zhang, his authority challenged, kicked the knife away and swung his heavy ax, bringing it down on the young man’s face.

“Xiangzi! Old Zhang, you bastard, I’ll kill you!” Old Wu watched his nephew be cleaved down and wailed in despair, swinging his iron rod and charging at Old Zhang. But the people behind him didn’t move; their faces averted, two even quietly edged away, ready to run at the first sign of trouble.

“Heh, Old Wu, I’ve never liked you. People like you are just a waste of food. Let me send you on your way!” Old Zhang, fully awakened to his own brutality, swung his ax and brought it down on Old Wu’s neck, nearly severing his head. Both uncle and nephew fell dead in an instant.

Since Shen Lie had arrived in this town, he’d spent most of his time gathering resources and honing his strength, rarely witnessing such vicious struggles among survivors. The savagery of the competition for supplies was shocking—even if he had wanted to intervene, he hadn’t the time to react.

“Does this kind of violence happen often?” he asked Zhang Jing, noting her calm expression and suddenly understanding.

“Often. Before you came, our team had fifteen people,” Zhang Jing replied tersely, but her words were steeped in blood.

A suffocating pressure built in Shen Lie’s chest. He knew that the law of the strong preying on the weak was inevitable in the apocalypse, but witnessing such bloodshed firsthand left him unable to remain unmoved. Perhaps, in time, he’d grow numb to it. But for now, he could not swallow his anger.

“Haha! Well? Any of you idiots have a problem with that?” Old Zhang snatched the plastic bag still clutched in Old Wu’s hand, grinning savagely at the remaining, terrified survivors.

Suddenly, he noticed one of the women among those trying to leave—her face smeared with black ash—looked familiar. With a leering grin, he called out, “Well, if it isn’t the little lass from the Huang family! Why’s your face so black? Last year, you wouldn’t marry my boy—well, my son’s lost that fortune, so you’ll have to settle for his father!”

“Get over here, now! If any of you dare to leave, I’ll kill every last one of you!” Old Zhang’s sudden roar silenced everyone, and the rest stood frozen with fear.