Chapter 619: Sprouting
Chapter 619: Sprouting
Then, sunlight filtered through the shattered ceiling, and sap from the thorn ball dripped down like rain. An Ran looked up from the jagged hole above her, her face illuminated by the pale light. Overhead, drones circled like vultures, and beyond them, planes roared across the sky.
“There are still people alive in there?!”
Inside the Grand Fortune Hotel, a live feed zoomed in—An Ran’s face filled the screen.
The leaders watched in silence. There she stood amid ruin, still shielding her two children. Her shoulder-length hair was soaked in red and green sap, streaking down her neck. A single drop slid down her cheek like a bloody tear—beautiful, haunting, and horrifying all at once.
All around her, the ice cracked and groaned. Beneath her feet, voices cried out—there were still people alive inside the tunnels.
An Ran’s eyes grew cold. She stared at the hovering drone as though staring straight through it, past the lens, into the eyes of everyone in the Grand Fortune Hotel. Her gaze burned with rage and hatred—so fierce it could have pierced steel. For a moment, she trembled with fury, but then she stilled.
The drone drifted closer, its camera fixed on her.
An Ran looked up, wanting to scream, Are our lives really worth less than dirt to you?
But she said nothing. There was no point. Words were useless now.
Instead, she let her anger speak for her.
Beneath the ground, the fleshy crystal core of the fat thorn ball—buried in the soft soil of her garden—began to stir. It pulsed once, twice, then split open.
Plants sprout leaves. This one didn’t.
From the soil emerged something like a skinned human arm—pale, muscular, slick with fluid. At its tip, it split into two flat buds shaped like a duck’s tongue. Boneless yet impossibly strong, it stretched upward with a violent crack.
The twin buds in the center quivered rapidly, rubbing against each other. They emitted a sharp, whistling cry—raw, primal, alive.
At that moment, Zhan Lian burst through the ruined tunnel and appeared beside An Ran. He raised his hand, flung a throwing knife, and shattered the drone hovering before her into fragments.
The feed cut to static.
Inside the Grand Fortune Hotel’s command room, the screens dissolved into a snowstorm of white noise. Wu Simiao and the other leaders turned slowly to Chen Chaofa, their faces pale. The silence was suffocating.
None of them could forget the look in An Ran’s eyes—an image branded into their minds. There was no mistaking it: her gaze carried accusation.
Yes, the wolves were a threat. But their shells—their own weapons—were destroying more human lives than the monsters ever could.
“Continue,” Chen Chaofa said flatly.
His voice was calm, but his expression twisted with something close to madness.
The soldiers behind him froze. Continue? The wolves were nearly wiped out. The bombardment had already done its work. Why keep going?
“Old Chen, that’s enough,” Wu Simiao said uneasily. “The wolves are dying off already. The people in Hexi are holding out. We’ve done enough.”
He swallowed hard, the image of An Ran’s eyes still burning in his mind.
Indeed, everyone could feel it — heaven was watching, and their conscience was heavy.
But Chen Chaofa was beyond reason. He turned back toward the flickering monitors, eyes fixed on the last image the drone had captured—the gaping crater where An Ran stood.
And he smiled.
“Continue the bombardment.”