Chapter 185: Reborn
Chapter 185: Reborn
At last, the tattered wooden door can no longer withstand the zombies’ relentless assault.
Anran feels it the moment her energy reaches its limit—like a candle burning out in a sudden, blinding burst. A sharp pain shoots through her body, and for a moment, she is in shock. It’s as if she has crossed some unseen threshold, her ability surging past its natural limit.
Then, just when she thinks she has nothing left, something strange happens. Amidst the unbearable pain, a flicker of strength returns. The drained energy in her limbs is replenished—just enough for one last push.
She forces herself to focus on the lilies before her.
One flower ball splits into two. The smaller branches multiply, spreading out rapidly. Their speed increases. They consume zombies even faster than before. In moments, the lilies’ expanding network blocks the second, then the third zombie, giving Anran a sliver of hope.
The roots of several flower balls writhe and twist, burrowing into the zombies’ decaying bodies. Like parasitic vines, they treat rotting flesh as fertile soil, absorbing every last bit of it. Within minutes, thick clusters of lilies bloom atop the corpses.
In her trembling hand, the crystal core remains forgotten.
Around her, the lilies flourish. Their branches intertwine, their roots tangle together. Among the sea of green leaves, clusters of delicate white flowers bloom, standing guard over the broken wooden door.
Anran can hold on no longer. Her body collapses into a crouch, shaking uncontrollably.
She cradles the weakly humming Doll against her chest, while the little girl behind her wraps her arms around her back. The three of them lean into each other, waiting for fate’s final judgment.
But still, Anran does not stop.
Like a machine running on empty, she pushes the last dregs of her power outward, urging the lilies to keep growing, to keep hunting.
Before long, a small lily field has taken root at the entrance of the fitting room. Beneath its lush green leaves lies a bed of white bones. Among them, thin silver roots glisten like threads of pure silk.
It is a hauntingly beautiful sight.
The lily field is not just thriving—it is fierce. Like a monstrous entity, it grows outward, stretching beyond the fitting room’s threshold. Zombies continue to pour in, but they never make it inside. The moment they approach, they are either devoured by the lilies’ snapping mouths or ensnared by creeping roots, which pierce through their bodies and reduce them to nothing more than fertilizer—lily mud.
Once the flowers finish consuming a zombie, they spit out its crystal core.
Soon, the tall stems are adorned with glimmering cores, like eerie, unnatural fruit hanging from their branches.
Anran’s entire body trembles violently. She is in agony.
Yes, she has survived. Something miraculous has happened.
But all she feels is overwhelming pain.
It’s as if thousands of ants are biting her from the inside out. Gritting her teeth, Anran kneels on the ground, her body numb yet searing with pain.
Through blurred vision, she sees the lily field has sealed off the fitting room entrance.
With shaking hands, she reaches out and gently strokes Doll’s head. The poor child has cried so much that its voice has gone hoarse.
A deep sorrow wells up inside Anran—filling her with helpless despair.
Just then, a faint warmth spreads through her clenched fist. A strange energy seeps into her body, bringing with it a fleeting sense of relief.
Yet, the sadness only grows heavier.
Slowly, she lifts her other hand and uncurls her trembling fingers.
Resting in her palm is a fine layer of white powder.
At that moment, memories flood her mind.
The hospital. Her home at Sunshine Lake.
Her dreams—dreams where she has eaten until she is full.
And always, upon waking, she has found this same white powder in her hand.
A chill runs down her spine.
She stares at the powder, her mind reeling.
What is it?
And why does it feel so eerily familiar?