Chapter 18.2 – Burial Ground (2)

This was the first time he had seen Ying Xize’s spiritual form.

A creature that seemed so emotionally detached and cold-blooded, and yet, somehow… appeared a little endearing.

But that thought surfaced only for a fleeting moment. As a faint heat stirred at the nape of his neck, Su Fengzhou gradually lowered his head further and took a deep, harsh drag from his cigarette.

Perhaps it had simply been too long since he last interacted with a furry creature, but Ying Xize began rubbing the black wolf’s chin with genuine interest.

The beating in Su Fengzhou’s chest grew increasingly pronounced and unsteady.

He touched his jaw, silently cursing in his heart.

These mint cigarettes, which contained tranquilizing agents, seemed to be growing less and less effective for him.

Ying Xize appeared completely unaware of Su Fengzhou’s discomfort, continuing to pet the wolf with full concentration.

Busy figures passed by from time to time around them.

Curious gazes frequently landed between the two of them, many tinged with surprise, but the only one who ever approached this way remained Ying Xize, the sole person within that frame.

Everyone knew that Su Fengzhou, having just tasted the thrill of combat, was inherently dangerous.

The brutal scene of him fighting the aliens was still fresh in their minds. Even though his fierce defense at the frontlines was met with sincere gratitude, it was impossible to avoid feelings of wariness and unease.

Anyone who had witnessed his combat style would likely be shaken by that near-maniacal display of tearing and release—its sheer brutality akin to a restricted film—enough to make anyone who saw it instinctively recoil in fear.

Su Fengzhou had apparently grown accustomed to this kind of reaction. That was why he had deliberately chosen a patch of open ground, distanced from the others. The combat personnel from the various squads also kept their distance from him instinctively. Had it not been for Ying Xize’s sudden interest in the fluffy black wolf, the image of him sitting there alone would have looked unmistakably solitary.

However, loneliness was, in truth, the most common state that lingered around Su Fengzhou after the battle.

It was precisely because of this that Shen Wenyan, carrying a disinfection and cleaning device, thought to bring some warmth to his boss.

Yet what he saw from afar was utterly different from what he had imagined, and he couldn’t help but pinch the arm of the person next to him. “Does that hurt?”

Xiao Liu gasped sharply, tears springing to his eyes from the unexpected pain. “Brother Shen, what are you going crazy about now?”

“I think I’ve gone crazy myself.” Shen Wenyan stared at the once-cold and aloof black wolf, now wagging its large tail with such vigor, then rubbed his eyes hard. “Or maybe I’m still half-asleep. Why does it feel like the boss’s wolf has… turned into a dog!?”

Xiao Liu froze for a second before realizing what Shen Wenyan meant. In disbelief, his pupils seemed to quake. “S-Something big’s happened! Don’t tell me the boss got infected and mutated!”

Just as he was about to turn and call for help, Shen Wenyan pulled him back with the tone of someone who’d seen it all. “Enough. Can’t you see what’s going on? That’s not a mutation. It’s clearly evolution.”

Xiao Liu was dumbfounded. “What evolution?”

Shen Wenyan shook his index finger. “You’re too young to understand.”

“How would I not understand?!” Xiao Liu was about to argue when the sound of footsteps in the distance caught their attention.

The logistics personnel who had gone to clear the mutated ones from the site had all returned.

Each squad quickly compiled its casualty reports, and the statistics were soon made public. During the defense against this wave of alien creatures, three people had died on site, and ten others, infected and mutated, were killed by their own teammates.

Altogether, the losses accounted for one-tenth of the total personnel.

Without a doubt, it was an alarming ratio.

Su Fengzhou noticed Ying Xize gazing toward the heap of mutated corpses. Recalling the few he had personally gunned down earlier, he slowly flicked the ash from his cigarette. “What, does it seem cruel to you?”

Ying Xize shook his head. “No. Just pitiful.”

Su Fengzhou hadn’t expected that answer. He paused, a trace of surprise in his expression, before the corners of his lips lifted slightly, as though he had heard something interesting. “You’re not wrong. After all, they had already managed to hold off the alien swarm, only to be infected by a stroke of bad luck, and in the end, had to be put down by the very comrades they fought beside. Whichever way you look at it, it does come off as a rather blatant case of burning bridges after crossing them.”

After saying that, he seemed to find it amusing and let out a low chuckle, genuinely.

Su Fengzhou slapped his thigh and rose from his squatting position, thinking the conversation would end there. But then, Ying Xize slowly spoke again, “You’re wrong. I didn’t pity them. For those infected and mutated, being granted release before completely losing their reason might be the greatest mercy. Dying with dignity is far better than falling into total loss of self.”

Su Fengzhou: “Then who were you referring to…?”

“The living.” Ying Xize turned his head, meeting his gaze. “Compared to the dead, sometimes it’s the living who are more pitiful. Not everyone can withstand the psychological weight of firing on their kind. The dead no longer feel anything. It’s the living who must struggle through the unbearable memories, trying to survive.”

After a slight pause, he asked in return, “Isn’t that so?”

For a moment, Su Fengzhou seemed lost in thought, then turned his gaze away.

The cigarette butt on the ground was extinguished under his foot, its faint ember snuffed out. He did not continue the conversation. “They’re about to serve the meal. Go get some rest.”

The convoy carried only a limited amount of survival supplies. In the underground cavern, where time was indeterminate, they could only estimate their progress using the coordinates displayed on the positioning device.

If there were no unexpected events, this would likely be their only period of rest before reaching the destination.

After eating the boxed meals delivered by the staff, they had at least managed to replenish some basic nutrition.

Ying Xize, like the others, chose to remain inside the vehicle.

Looking out through the window, the dim and oppressive environment of the cavern somehow felt suited for falling asleep.

In the distance, the silhouettes of people moving back and forth could be seen.

Considering physical stamina and other factors, the duty of standing watch was mainly assigned to members of the Seventh Squad and the Ninth Squad.

Su Fengzhou led by example. From time to time, his tall figure would flicker past the edge of one’s vision.

It was only after entering the cavern that Ying Xize came to realize—Su Fengzhou, the captain of the Seventh Squad, was far busier than he had imagined.

A knocking sound came, and suddenly, a face appeared pressed right up against the car window.

It had to be said—within this environment, it was more than a little startling.

“……”

After calmly observing for a moment, Ying Xize finally recognized who it was and rolled down the window. “Researcher Yu, is something the matter?”

Yu Qingyi, by all appearances, fit every definition of a fiery rose, yet at this moment, there was a hint of weariness in her eyes. She evidently wasn’t in good condition.

She looked straight at Ying Xize, her tone earnest. “Sorry to bother you, but… could you talk with me for a bit?”

Zhuo Yu had been dozing off in the driver’s seat. Catching a glimpse through the rearview mirror with a spark of gossip in his eyes, he very tactfully flipped off the jacket covering him. “You two go ahead and chat. I just so happen to need some fresh air.”

With that, he opened the car door and slipped out in a flash.

Yu Qingyi looked somewhat dazed and lost, to the point that she even forgot to say thank you.

This state was inconsistent with her usual image of being poised and socially adept.

Ying Xize cast a glance at her expression.

He opened the car door, shifted half his body inward, and made space for her.

Once the door closed again, the enclosed space offered a faint sense of security.

Yu Qingyi took a moment to steady her emotions. “Researcher Ying, I’m sorry to disturb you during your rest time. But right now, my mind is a mess. In this place, aside from you, I truly don’t know who else I can turn to.”

Ying Xize remained patient. “It’s all right. Go ahead.”

Yu Qingyi ran a hand forcefully through her hair, confusion apparent in both her voice and expression. “Maybe Brother He was right. I shouldn’t have insisted on coming to the Chen Mountain Cave to find him… Back then, I didn’t understand what this place was like from the outside. Now, I realize—I can’t accept him being in such danger every single day.”

“As a researcher, I know that our duty is for the sake of humanity. But I’m really, truly afraid of losing him… When I saw Brother He return safely just now, my first instinct was actually to ask him to take me away from here. I… suddenly felt scared.”

“I understand that fear, for a researcher who must hold onto belief, is a fatal weakness. But I… I really can’t control my thoughts. Just imagining that Brother He could turn into one of those cold, shapeless corpses at any moment—just like the tissue structures I’ve analyzed countless times—I just… I just…”

Her words came out broken and fragmented. Perhaps even she didn’t fully understand what she was trying to say.

As her voice grew quieter, Yu Qingyi buried her face in her hands. “Am I really… being terribly selfish…?”

Everyone at the Ning City Research Department, including Ying Xize, knew that Yu Qingyi’s boyfriend was named He Ji. He was a member of the Defense Force and part of the forefront team for this mission. Her unwavering decision to participate in the operation was, to a large extent, driven by her feelings for him.

After Ying Xize was transferred to the Seventh Squad, Yu Qingyi also got her wish and joined the same squad as He Ji.

And in the recently released casualty report, three of the names listed were from their squad.

It was no wonder Yu Qingyi was so shaken. He Ji narrowly escaped death by not being among those three, which could only be called a brush with death.

The interior of the vehicle gradually filled with the sound of a woman’s quiet sobbing.

Sometimes, human beings truly were fragile. That was what Ying Xize thought, yet he didn’t see anything in it that warranted reproach.

Fear was an instinct every person was born with, along with selfishness and cowardice. Among those working in aberrant-related fields, countless people faced breakdowns just like Yu Qingyi was experiencing now. At the same time, myriad others made firm oaths, yearning to join the ranks of heroes.

The environment of the cavern could easily amplify the repressed emotions that the outside world often overlooked, just like how Yu Qingyi, usually a decisive and commanding woman, now appeared so fragile, like a lost child fumbling in confusion.

Ying Xize was not someone skilled in offering comfort. He understood well that Yu Qingyi had likely come to him simply because she needed someone to vent to. In the end, he merely gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring pat. “No need to rush. After we get out, then go look for the answer.”

Yu Qingyi’s trembling shoulders paused slightly.

It was an effective statement, yet undeniably cruel.

Those without a future had no right to emotional collapse. Rather than falling into premature anxiety, it was better to first think about how to survive and leave this place after completing the mission.

Zhuo Yu happened to run into Yu Qingyi as she was getting out of the vehicle on his way back.

When he returned to the driver’s seat, he couldn’t hide his curiosity. “Researcher Ying, what did you say to that beautiful lady? Impressive. She looked like she was falling apart earlier, but after your talk, I swear I saw a ‘marching-to-her-death’ look on her face.”

Ying Xize replied in a calm tone, “I didn’t comfort her. I only suggested she face reality first.”

Having taken his share of beatings, Zhuo Yu couldn’t help but click his tongue and shake his head with a sigh. “Reality? Now that’s a fierce thing. People like us are the last who want to deal with reality.”

As he spoke, he pulled his jacket back over himself and shifted the topic. “By the way, Researcher Ying, I just went and asked the boss. Looks like we’ll only be staying here for another three hours at most. The higher-ups definitely won’t get any rest, but I think I can still squeeze in a bit of sleep, so you’d better get some shut-eye too, or you’ll be out of it when we arrive.”

Ying Xize nodded. “Alright.”

Before drifting off to sleep, Zhuo Yu suddenly remembered something interesting. “Oh right, they’ve already set the codename for our mission destination…”

Ying Xize had already closed his eyes. In a drowsy haze, he vaguely heard Zhuo Yu’s voice, light and distant, circling softly by his ears.

“…They’re calling it ‘Burial Ground.’ Feels like it’s not a very lucky name.”