Chapter 99-I Clean Up Garbage in a Wasteland World

Chapter 99 The Forsaken Village (III)

Was it random when humans picked flowers?

Actually, that was pretty uncertain too. Zhu Ning recalled plucking petals as a child—there were many factors to consider when picking a flower.

The pretty ones, the ones that caught your eye, the ones that happened to sway in the wind, the ones that happened to be within arm's reach—picked simply because they were close.

To plants, humans were gods. They could decide a plant's life or death without much thought, without any careful deliberation.

But was this flower the same?

No. There had to be some pattern. For instance, don't move—movement meant certain death. All those who'd tried to flee had been instantly caught. The yellow flower could definitely detect moving things.

First rule: don't move. That one was definitely correct.

But what about after that? When the yellow flower patrolled through the crowd, how did it lock onto its targets?

What did those people have in common? Was it because they were afraid? Could the flower sense who was more afraid?

The Flower Person was already roaming before Zhu Ning's eyes. Many people had entered a state of high alert. They'd all seen what happened to those who were discovered. Most humans would instinctively think about reaching for their weapons—a last-ditch fight before death.

It was practically hardwired into instinct. Humans had a gambler's mentality, always believing they might not lose if they took the chance. Ordinary people simply couldn't bring themselves to sit and wait for death.

Hostility.

What this flower detected wasn't fear—it was hostility?

The first Cleaner who'd plucked the yellow flower hadn't just wanted to touch it—he'd wanted to "pick" a flower.

The previous Cleaner who'd been targeted by the yellow flower—what had triggered the flower to bite off his head?

That man had been fumbling for his gun the entire time. Even if he'd stayed still and suppressed his inner fear, his heart was still full of hostility toward the Flower Person.

With something this terrifying right in front of you, the human instinct was to kill it. This thing could sense human hostility.

The yellow flower stopped in front of Li Nianchuan. Li Nianchuan hadn't moved at all. He felt like his entire body had gone rigid, yet the yellow flower still stood before him.

Why? Li Nianchuan couldn't stop himself from wondering. He hadn't done anything wrong!

He carefully replayed every tiny action he'd taken, like a student running out of time on an exam—you knew you'd gotten one question wrong, and you stared at the paper, desperately checking your answers, trying to find the mistake.

But you couldn't find it. The teacher was closing in, about to call time.

You had only one minute left. You still had a chance to change your answer, a chance to survive—but you couldn't find the error.

It was Li Nianchuan's turn.

Splat—

The yellow flower opened its petals before him, like something rotten being pried apart with a wet, nauseating sound, revealing the flower's interior.

Sharp, densely packed teeth stained red with blood. Shreds of flesh still caught between them. Knowing this mouth had eaten his colleagues made the terror unavoidable—especially with two human heads nestled inside.

Two heads were stacked inside the yellow flower. Two Cleaner faces overlapping, their eyes rolling in the same direction simultaneously.

They were clearly dead, yet they seemed still alive.

When Li Nianchuan had watched the previous victim, he'd thought there must have been something wrong with that person—maybe he'd made some wrong move that brought disaster upon himself. It wouldn't necessarily happen to him.

I could probably do better. I definitely wouldn't be dumb enough to reach for my gun.

But when the danger truly arrived, you realized that wasn't the case at all. You couldn't control it. You would be afraid, and then you'd lose control of your thoughts. You'd want to reach for your gun too. You'd want to kill this monster.

"Don't be hostile toward the flower."

A line of text suddenly appeared on Li Nianchuan's helmet display, right below the garrison's prohibition message.

Because nobody knew the flower's situation, everyone had maintained an eerie silence. No one spoke. Only Zhu Ning and the garrison troops had tried communicating via text.

The helmet's internal text panel could be "typed" using eye movements. This message was from Zhu Ning.

What did she mean? Don't be hostile toward the flower?

The thing had already opened its petals. The two heads inside were staring straight at him. And he wasn't supposed to feel hostile?

"Don't generate emotions."

Emotions? How could a person control their own emotions?

"Ignore it." Two more words appeared on the panel.

Li Nianchuan's fingers were stiff. He'd been about to reach for his weapon but froze mid-motion. Should he listen to Zhu Ning, or trust himself?

When facing the yellow flower, a thought easily arose: nobody can save me but myself. I have to save myself.

Li Nianchuan had seen the yellow flower devour people—it took only one second. Zhu Ning's firearms weren't much use here. If he got eaten, Zhu Ning wouldn't even have time to react.

Last time, Zhu Ning had a gun aimed at his back, able to protect him. This time, all she had was a sentence—without even an explanation.

Should he trust Zhu Ning? Should he trust her unconditionally?

Back in the sewers, they'd also ignored the Fishmen.

Li Nianchuan's tensed fingers relaxed. He decided to take the gamble—to believe in Zhu Ning. And this belief was unconditional, absolute trust.

Li Nianchuan gazed at the two heads inside the yellow flower and forcibly redirected his hostility. Through his helmet, he locked eyes with the two slimy human heads.

When he shed his hostility, a calm wave of pity welled up from within.

Those were his dead colleagues—not monsters. They weren't terrifying.

Their families were probably waiting for them at home. They'd died here, died without rhyme or reason. In their final moments, no one had even offered them comfort.

In that instant, Li Nianchuan actually felt himself relax completely. His taut muscles loosened.

A breeze blew past. The yellow flower's petals and vines trembled in the wind.

Li Nianchuan had become a quiet plant. So that was the key—don't generate hostility, don't generate emotions, don't be afraid, don't move.

When the positions of humans and plants were swapped—when the Flower Person was the harvester—humans had to obediently play the role of a flower.

A flower had no thoughts.

Splat—

The yellow flower closed its petals, furling shut like a bud. It moved on, walking toward the next person.

Zhu Ning sent those two lines into the public channel. Li Nianchuan added: Pretend you're a plant.

Zhu Ning paused for a moment when she first saw it, then realized Li Nianchuan's phrasing was much easier to understand.

The so-called "don't generate hostility" was only the surface. The core was actually to play the role of a plant.

Many people saw the messages. Some didn't believe it and wanted to avenge their companions.

Some believed it but simply couldn't control themselves, becoming the yellow flower's next "trophy."

Before they died, they all descended into a kind of frenzy. Many reacted the same way—they always tried to reach for their weapons.

Some lucky ones managed to control their emotions. The yellow flower passed them by, and they could do nothing but watch helplessly as it claimed their colleagues' lives.

It was an extraordinarily cruel massacre. People weren't people—they were plants. Whether a person survived depended on how well they resembled a real plant.

Humans had to abandon every instinct, surrender all armaments. They'd evolved for millennia to conquer nature, yet before nature, they had to devolve.

Devolve into a standard plant of the natural world.

That was the only chance of survival.

The yellow flower passed through the ranks. Wherever it went, blood dripped, like a moving, blood-soaked showerhead.

The yellow flower seemed to have eaten its fill. The entire bloom was so engorged it looked ready to burst—it couldn't fit any more heads.

And so the yellow flower walked past the Cleaners and headed toward the forest. Half an hour later, its figure had completely disappeared into the depths of the woods.

Gone?

Shh shh shh—

A breeze blew through, rustling the leaves. This was the same wind Zhu Ning had heard when she'd first stepped off the vehicle.

Now the wind swept over the grass and leaves, over their bodies, and gently caressed the corpses on the ground.

To nature, there was no difference. These Cleaners had gotten too deep into character. Even now, not a single person had moved.

They seemed to have become real plants, born and rooted in this soil. Their feet were no longer feet but root systems, destined to hold this pose until death.

Even Zhu Ning had this illusion. She actually felt this posture was incredibly comfortable—she could stand here until the end of time.

The world beyond the wall was so bizarre. There wasn't even a proper Contamination Zone here—just a single flower.

A flower came and went, leaving behind Cleaner corpses. Blood soaked into the soil, staining a large patch red. They couldn't bring back these bodies. The corpses would remain here forever.

The survivors had to face their colleagues' manner of death head-on.

"How many are left?" The garrison soldier's voice broke the silence, transmitted through the helmets to everyone's ears.

As expected of someone who'd survived beyond the wall long-term—his voice didn't even carry a hint of fear. "Sound off."

Nobody responded. Some were still too deep in their plant role to snap out of it. Others heard but didn't want to answer. Their colleagues had just died. Nobody felt like cooperating.

Who are you? Why should we listen to you?

"Sound off!" The garrison soldier spoke again.

The garrison troops were military. The Cleaners were corporate employees. They'd known the risks coming in, knew the mortality rates, but they didn't have that kind of fortitude. Not having a breakdown at this point was already a blessing.

Their own squad captains were already dead. What right did the garrison have to order them around?

Not only were they uncooperative—they'd even developed a natural hostility toward the garrison.

"One." Zhu Ning was the first to speak.

Zhu Ning was an athlete by background. A sense of collective honor was in her bones. She knew they needed to retreat as a group. No matter how many were still alive, they all had to get out of here.

Organizing the group was extremely troublesome. Unlike the Mechanical Oceanarium—that time, Zhu Ning had worked with Grey Eagle Squad. Demon Hunters were inherently higher caliber, with higher sanity and better teamwork.

At the Oceanarium, the only Cleaner team had been Zhu Ning's. Xu Meng was an undercover agent, and the only weak link needing protection was Li Nianchuan.

Now, most people here were Cleaners—at Li Nianchuan's level or even below, since Li Nianchuan had at least gone through two sanity breakthroughs.

The team was practically a pile of loose sand. They had to band together to survive.

Zhu Ning had been high-profile before. She was too famous on the forums. Thanks to the reputation she'd built, her words carried weight.

"One." She repeated.

Li Nianchuan followed immediately: "Two."

Li Nianchuan was Zhu Ning's unconditional supporter. Whatever she did, Li Nianchuan was always the first to respond.

"Three." The third to sound off was Xu Meng.

Xu Meng probably understood what Zhu Ning was trying to do. The situation called for someone to rally this pile of loose sand, and Zhu Ning was the best candidate to stick her neck out—after all, she had plenty of experience being the one out front.

Everyone had seen the message Zhu Ning had posted in the public channel. Even if they didn't trust the garrison, they'd have at least some trust in Zhu Ning.

With three people sounding off, the rest naturally followed. The count continued one after another. Some voices were perfunctory and reluctant, but they participated.

"Eighteen."

After eighteen, silence fell. They waited and waited but never heard nineteen. Eighteen Cleaners remained.

Eighteen Cleaners plus three garrison soldiers. Twenty-one people still alive. That was the real survivor count.

They'd come with thirty. Now only twenty-one remained. They'd lost nine colleagues.

A long silence. They didn't move. They didn't even dare look at their colleagues' bodies. If before it had felt like an absurd dream, only now did they truly feel the loss of their colleagues.

The garrison soldier's voice came through the public channel: "Continue collecting Contamination Spores."

This order seemed utterly inhuman. After all that, they still had to keep collecting Contamination Spores?

The Contamination Spores were dispersing. They'd been disrupted for a full hour, and some spores had already drifted far away.

"Are—are you even human?"

"Whoever wants to do it can do it. I'm done. I don't care about my paycheck anymore, okay?"

Tempers were running high. At this point, a collective mutiny to kill the garrison soldiers wasn't out of the question. Who wanted to listen to them?

The garrison soldier's voice was ice-cold: "Collect the Contamination Spores, then evacuate."

This was the established plan. It had been stated from the beginning. This wasn't the garrison's fault—they'd warned everyone not to touch anything from the start.

It was a Cleaner who'd made the first mistake. That person had plucked a flower, triggering the entire chain of events that followed.

The garrison soldier's voice was extremely stern: "Otherwise, if the Contamination Spores spread inside the wall, do you think your families will survive?"

The garrison faced the world beyond the wall. They had to ensure no external Contamination Spores penetrated the walls. That was the entire reason Cleaners had been brought here.

Nobody had become a Cleaner for some lofty ideal. They'd all started for the money—high wages, one job earning enough for an ordinary person to live on for a year.

Zhu Ning had earned 700,000 on her very first mission. Behind such high compensation was the price of risking your life—licking blood off the blade's edge.

Demon Hunters had a stronger sense of duty because the dangers they faced were more direct. Many Cleaners had never encountered real danger and couldn't make that mental shift.

Demon Hunters and garrison troops were both fighting on the front lines for humanity's safety. The garrison soldier wasn't wrong—if Contamination Spores spread inside the wall, returning safely would be meaningless.

The logic was sound. It was just too cold-blooded to say out loud, making it hard to win people over.

Besides, everyone was still gripped by panic. Nobody dared move. Who knew if moving now would summon that yellow flower again?

The garrison knew the terrain. If they fell out with them, nobody would lead them back.

Zhu Ning had already stuck her neck out. At this point, she might as well see it through. She tried to negotiate: "If we finish collecting, you'll lead us out?"

The garrison soldier recognized Zhu Ning as the leader and adopted a tone open to discussion: "We were always supposed to lead you out."

They followed principles. Collection had to be completed before they'd lead the group out.

Zhu Ning didn't know exactly what the garrison's job entailed, but she could prioritize. She asked: "Is it safe to move now?"

The garrison were the veterans. Their judgment was the most reliable. They'd been the ones shouting "don't move, don't run" earlier.

Zhu Ning didn't fully understand the true rules of survival beyond the wall. Even the Contaminants' logic out here was different from inside the wall. But from what she'd observed, the universal rule seemed to be: don't make unnecessary movements.

Firing guns recklessly would trigger new chaos—that was why the garrison had stayed still from start to finish.

The garrison soldier: "Move slowly. Don't make unnecessary movements. Only do what you're supposed to do."

So that was what "don't make unnecessary movements" meant. The garrison were escorts, so from start to finish, they only escorted. They wouldn't shoot the mutated yellow flower.

Cleaners were supposed to be garbage collectors. Ideally, they should do nothing besides collecting Contaminants. If they'd truly followed this principle, they could have evacuated safely—completed the mission without a hitch.

The mortality rates Li Nianchuan had found were real. Either 0% or 100%, with no middle ground.

But one Cleaner—possibly under Psychic Contamination—had plucked a flower, making contact with the world beyond the wall.

In theory, they should just continue collecting, finish the mission, and go home. But nobody dared move.

Zhu Ning took a deep breath. "I'll do the collecting."

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