Chapter 81: Zombies Who Learned to Disguise
“What’s wrong?” Zhang Yimiao noticed that Song Yuqing had slowed down and turned back to look at her.
“Don’t you think it’s a little too quiet?”
“Is it?” Zhang Yimiao stared upstairs, her face completely expressionless.
Song Yuqing gently squeezed Little Meat Bun’s paw. Sensing the cue, the little panda snapped to attention, took a deep breath, and puffed out his chest to march ahead of them.
“Let Little Meat Bun lead the way, just in case,” Song Yuqing said. She felt increasingly uneasy, but she couldn’t detect a hint of caution on Zhang Yimiao’s face.
“Let’s go! It’s just upstairs—only a few more steps.” Zhang Yimiao grabbed Song Yuqing’s hand and stuffed it into her own pocket.
The flight of stairs leading from the eighth floor to the ninth floor felt incredibly long, as if it had far more steps than the ones below. By the time they reached the landing, Song Yuqing was starting to gasp for breath. She noticed that while Zhang Yimiao’s breathing remained perfectly steady, her face was dangerously pale.
Was she pale from the climb, or had she looked like this back on the eighth floor?
Seeing Song Yuqing staring at her, Zhang Yimiao flashed a sweet smile.
“They’re in that room!” Zhang Yimiao pointed to a door on the left side of the corridor.
The room inside was pitch-black and deathly quiet, save for a faint, rhythmic rustling sound.
Zhang Yimiao gripped Song Yuqing and Little Meat Bun’s hands tightly, pulling them toward the threshold. But after only two steps, Song Yuqing dug her heels in and stopped dead.
“What’s wrong now?”
Song Yuqing couldn’t logically explain it, but her raw intuition was screaming at her to run.
“Let’s not go in. Let’s go check out another spot first.” Song Yuqing wrenched her hand free from Zhang Yimiao’s grip, snatched Little Meat Bun by the arm, and spun around to head back down.
“Oh come on, you went through all the trouble to climb up here. Why not take a look? You might see something rare,” Zhang Yimiao said, her smile turning ice-cold.
Song Yuqing finally realized what was wrong. The real Zhang Yimiao was incredibly proud; she would never act this clingy.
Flicking a quick look at Little Meat Bun, Song Yuqing bolted down the stairs. But before she could take a second step, a pair of hands yanked her back by the collar.
It was Zhang Yimiao. Her arms had stretched out like thick bands of rubber, tightly snagging both Song Yuqing and Little Meat Bun from three or four meters away.
Little Meat Bun let out a fierce growl, twisting violently to break free from the rubbery grip. He lunged to grab Song Yuqing, but the fake Zhang Yimiao snapped her arms back, hoisting Song Yuqing entirely off the ground.
Song Yuqing struggled desperately, kicking her legs, but she couldn’t break the hold. Little Meat Bun bared his teeth, preparing to pounce.
But in the next split second, the fake Zhang Yimiao and Song Yuqing were snapped backward into the dim room on the left, hauled in as if reeled by a massive elastic band.
The heavy door slammed shut behind them.
Song Yuqing’s stomach dropped. I’m doomed.
The room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people. Every single one of them was staring at Song Yuqing with eerie calmness.
The fake Zhang Yimiao tilted her head, grinning at her. Instantly, the sea of unfamiliar faces in the room imitated the gesture, splitting their faces into matching, vacant grins.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Outside, Little Meat Bun began throwing his weight against the locked door.
The fake Zhang Yimiao shook her head in mock disappointment. “First you let me in, then you try to lock me out. What are you throwing a tantrum for now?”
Song Yuqing swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “You’re not Zhang Yimiao.”
The creature blinked and nodded slowly. “Long time no see, Song Yuqing.”
Right before her eyes, the fake Zhang Yimiao’s skin began to warp and ripple like a kneading eraser. After a few gruesome contortions, the features smoothed out into the face of Chen Ke—specifically, how Chen Ke had looked before turning into a half-human, half-zombie hybrid. Young and cute.
Except now, Chen Ke’s eyes burned with a stark, murderous intent that completely warped her innocent features.
“What’s with that face?” Chen Ke asked with a sweet smile.
Song Yuqing’s skin crawled with goosebumps. She looked past Chen Ke at the crowded strangers closing in on her. Their dark eyes all held that same faint, golden glow.
Forcing herself to maintain a fragile composure, Song Yuqing asked, “What do you want?”
Did she have some unresolved grievance with Chen Ke? No. Then why had Chen Ke gone to such lengths, disguising herself as Zhang Yimiao just to lure her up here? And since when could Chen Ke perfectly mimic a normal human?
Are all the people in this room zombies?
A torrent of frantic questions raced through Song Yuqing’s mind, but only one mattered: How do I get out?
“I actually came to ask you for a favor. Stop letting your people hunt down those pink-core zombies,” Chen Ke said, pouting as she put on a pitiful display. “Those are all my family members.”
Song Yuqing caught her breath.
Chen Ke’s phrasing revealed everything. The pink-core zombies weren’t like her yet. They were in the middle of an evolutionary upgrade, and once it was complete, they would all be able to effortlessly disguise themselves as humans.
The sheer scale of the threat left Song Yuqing paralyzed with shock.
“Are you humans completely devoid of morals?” Chen Ke complained, stepping closer. “Taking advantage of my little zombies while they’re upgrading to launch a sneak attack? You have absolutely no honor.”
Song Yuqing tried to shrink away, but Chen Ke clamped a hand onto her arm.
Panic flared. Song Yuqing tried to instantly retreat into her pocket dimension, but her mind slammed into an invisible barrier. The entrance was entirely sealed.
“We’ve hidden a fragment of the primitive meteorite in this room. It accelerates our evolution, but it also completely suppresses human superpowers,” Chen Ke explained, noticing the shift in her eyes. She shrugged carelessly. “Don’t bother trying.”
Song Yuqing’s blood ran cold. The fact that Chen Ke was willingly explaining her entire hand was a definitive sign that she didn’t intend to let her leave alive.
“Don’t look so scared.” Chen Ke reached out and gently patted Song Yuqing’s hand. “You did me a favor in the past, so I promise I won’t let you die an ugly death.”
Song Yuqing stiffened. “You can’t kill me.”
“Oh really?” Chen Ke winked, her playful expression vanishing instantly. With a sudden, violent shove, she hurled Song Yuqing straight into the cluster of human-looking zombies. “Don’t fight over her, everyone. Make sure to divide her into equal portions.”
A dozen pale hands clawed at Song Yuqing, but because she was wearing her zombie protective suit, the creatures didn’t immediately register her as flesh upon contact.
But it wouldn’t save her for long. Seeing sharp, jagged claws thrusting directly toward her chest, Song Yuqing let out a desperate scream, shoving a zombie away with every ounce of strength she had. A razor-sharp nail grazed her cheek, leaving a stinging, bloody welt.
Chen Ke watched the struggle, her lips curling into a smile. “Oh? Do you want to join our ranks instead?” She tapped her chin in mock contemplation. “Hmm, that won’t work. Two tigers cannot share the same mountain.”
Before Song Yuqing could steady her footing, another zombie clamped its icy hand onto the back of her neck.
Right at the critical second, the heavy door exploded inward.
Little Meat Bun burst through the shattered wood, and right beside him stood a towering, clacking skeleton—Huo Bin, whom they hadn’t seen in ages.
“Hold on, we’re here to save you!” Huo Bin roared. He charged directly at Chen Ke, engaging her in a brutal, chaotic melee, slamming his ancient bones against her unnaturally pliable flesh.
Meanwhile, Little Meat Bun launched his heavy body through the air, landing squarely over Song Yuqing to shield her. Using his paws to tightly cover her ears, the panda threw his head back and unleashed a deafening, earth-shattering roar.
The Ultimate Panda Screech!
The localized sonic boom tore through the room. The zombies shrieked, clamping their hands over their ears as they stumbled backward. The sheer force of the violent sound waves began to violently rip away their human facades bit by bit, peeling back the illusion to expose their rotting, blue-gray skin.
“Shut up!!! Shut up!!!” struggling against Huo Bin, Chen Ke screamed in agony as the sound waves tore away half of the human flesh on her face. But her cries were entirely drowned out.
Even Huo Bin was caught in the crossfire; the panda’s roar vibrated so intensely that his ancient skeleton almost rattled completely apart, forcing him to hastily roll out into the corridor.
Without letting up on his roar for even a fraction of a second, Little Meat Bun scooped Song Yuqing up onto his back, turned toward the shattered window, and leaped straight down from the ninth floor.
