Chapter 113: Awakening, Internal Strife, and External Threats

Someone asked in confusion, “What are those two doing?”

A person nearby replied, “You must be new here, right? Hey, I’ve been here three days, and I see them every night. I heard from people ahead of us that they’re looking for someone—a person who got separated on the road.”

“They sure are dedicated, then. Every day you hear people shouting about being separated from someone, but you never see anyone else braving the cold and danger in the middle of the night to look for them.”

“You call that dedication? Buddy, you’re too naive. Did you know they’ve been looking like this for two months?” another person chimed in. “And that’s not all. I heard that every day, the list and photos of people entering the base have to be shown to this guy. Anyone who goes out on a mission gets interrogated when they return about whether they’ve seen a short-haired girl around twenty. Now all the girls are cutting their hair short. And going out to look for someone in the middle of the night? Most people wouldn’t dare. Don’t you know there’s a curfew as soon as it gets dark? Unless you have special permission, wandering around means a fine at best, expulsion at worst. Leaving the base at night? Forget it.”

“Hearing you say that, these two must be important?” The questioner perked up, and seeing the two were still some distance away, asked in a low voice, “So who exactly are they looking for?”

“I don’t know about the one in the back, but the one in front is definitely someone important. Sometimes he comes with a group, but more often he’s alone. The guards at the gate, who usually act all high and mighty, don’t even dare breathe when they see him. They call him ‘Captain,’ but the way they treat him, it’s like seeing the general himself.”

“They’ve never announced who exactly they’re looking for. All we know is it’s a short-haired girl, about twenty, from Jiangcheng. But after all this time with no news, she’s probably long dead—nothing left but bones. She’s probably reincarnated by now.”

“Ain’t that the truth!”

As they joked, a chill suddenly shot up their spines. They turned and saw a pair of narrow, pitch-black eyes, devoid of any human emotion, glowing faintly in the night. Their legs went weak with fear, and they shrank back, trying to make themselves invisible.

Tonight, Qiu Feng was accompanying Gu Xu because he had something to report. It had dragged on so late that he ended up going with him on his nightly walk outside the base.

Qiu Feng frowned and quietly reminded him, “Deputy Commander Hu has complained many times already, and the higher-ups at the base are also unhappy about you going out every night. You should tone it down. If something happens again like last time, they’ll have more to say.”

Word had gotten out that they were looking for someone, so a lot of women had cut their hair short or tried to look younger, hoping to be the one. Of course, those people were met with cold rejection. One woman, after being thrown out, cursed them out in the street, and later ended up hanging around with their rivals. The rival said, “If you want to hire prostitutes, just say so. Everyone knows you’ve secretly picked out plenty of pretty girls already. I bet you’ve been enjoying yourself for a while.”

Normally, Gu Xu would ignore such talk. People can say what they want, and there are plenty in the base who resent or envy them—who ever has anything nice to say behind someone’s back? But that person didn’t stop at gossiping; he made it public, joking with Gu Xu as if they were old friends. Gu Xu didn’t react at the time, but later took the chance to hit back hard. Since then, things had escalated, and their position in the Sucheng base had become even more precarious.

Gu Xu paused at Qiu Feng’s words, withdrew his gaze, and continued forward in silence.

Ever since arriving at the base, he insisted on knowing who came in each day and what they looked like. And ever since survivors started gathering outside the base, he came out every day to look, even though he knew that with Bian Changxi’s abilities, she wouldn’t be stuck outside unable to get in, nor would she foolishly wait outside after hearing about his actions, instead of finding a way to contact him.

But if he didn’t come out to look, he felt uneasy.

At first, it was because he couldn’t let go—he still had hope. But gradually, it became a habit.

Seeing how these survivors lived, like refugees, he imagined how Bian Changxi would survive alone. Watching them eat in the open, sleep exposed to the elements, die of dehydration under the blazing sun, or freeze to death in the cold nights, he felt a chill in his heart. The world was so cruel—even a strong young man could barely survive outside, let alone a frail, pale girl.

Of course, that was only in the first month. Later, he slowly accepted that she was gone. Even if she hadn’t died, after all this time, she’d probably gone elsewhere. In this world, separation—whether by death or distance—often meant never seeing someone again.

He’d seen so much death—even his dearest family, respected mentors, and closest comrades had fallen before his eyes. But somehow, he couldn’t let go of Bian Changxi’s disappearance. Every time he closed his eyes and saw that decapitated giant snake, those mangled lumps of flesh, his stomach twisted with pain.

Even after Shadow said that, given the circumstances, Bian Changxi shouldn’t have been swallowed by the snake, it didn’t help much.

He’d thought about it for a long time and figured it was because, with family and comrades, everyone knew the risks. But Bian Changxi was just an ordinary girl who had once helped him; her life shouldn’t have ended that way.

It was his fault.

If only he hadn’t been so eager to uncover her secrets. If only he hadn’t let her leave his side. If only he’d paid more attention to those who meant her harm. If only he’d had more power. If only he’d gotten back a little earlier that day...

Gu Xu sighed inwardly and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was time to face reality.

When he opened his eyes again, they were clear and bright, as if the gloomy, haunted Gu Xu from before had been just an illusion. “You said earlier that there were more cases today?”

“Yes. Luckily, Lu Shaoyang noticed in time and used the excuse of secret training to isolate everyone, but with today’s new cases, the total has passed five hundred. At this rate, we won’t be able to keep it secret much longer.”

When that happens, the news that 550,000 people from Jiangcheng have caught a strange, fast-spreading disease will be everywhere. Just as they’ve finally found their footing, they’ll all be kicked out and quarantined, and the top leaders will be the first to go.

Gu Xu sneered, “Any news from Qu Shangjin?”

“Our people watching him report he’s been acting strange lately, meeting with a bunch of unknowns. Turns out, they’re all fringe researchers who want into the base’s research system but have no connections. One of them, Qu Yi, published that paper on ‘Grading and Classification of Crystal Cores’ last week. He was a research fanatic even before the apocalypse—interested in everything, studied everything,” Qiu Feng said. “We’re investigating whether the disease came from them.”

“Also, Lu Shaoyang has started working on a cure, but there’s been little progress. Our medical supplies are almost gone, and the base is withholding more. Lu Shaoyang doesn’t even have enough materials for experiments. He wants to start a herbal garden to grow medicinal plants.”

The casualties on the road had been too heavy. Even after they risked everything to seize two hospitals, the supplies were quickly used up—there were just too many people. Now that industry had stopped, no new medicine was being made. Every faction was living off their old stock. If they’d been willing to trade medical supplies for other goods, everyone could have gotten by for a while. But a few days ago, for some reason, all the medicine vanished from the market and was locked away. Now you couldn’t even buy a bottle of disinfectant.

Growing herbs was a good idea, but it wouldn’t help in the short term.

Gu Xu was silent for a moment. “The wood-types are holding things together for now, right?”

“Yes. They can control the disease’s progression, but can’t prevent or cure it. And after several days of nonstop work, they’re exhausted.”

Physical exhaustion was one thing, but being forbidden from communicating with others, combined with the fear and anxiety, had everyone on edge.

“By the way, that wood-type girl, Wei Xiaodong, is pretty talented. The patients she’s treating are showing slight improvement, but...”

“But she’s raising her price, right?” Gu Xu finished for him. He knew it was more than just demanding better treatment. Ever since Bian Changxi, a powerful wood-type, set a good example, the status of wood-types and medical staff had been rising. The heavy casualties along the way had cemented their importance, making them the most valued group.

But things had started to go wrong in the past two months. The wood-types had become arrogant, acting like saviors, expecting patients to beg on their knees, looking down on everyone else. Over time, the whole atmosphere had soured.

The first troublemakers were Qu Shangjin’s people. Back then, they’d just arrived at the base and were overwhelmed with work, so no one paid much attention. By the time they realized and dealt with those people, the bad habits had already spread. Unless a truly outstanding and powerful wood-type took the lead and set an example, there was little hope.

Wood-types were the hardest to manage. A simple “I’ve done my best” could shut down any argument.

If only Bian Changxi were still...

Gu Xu closed his eyes and said, “If they want better treatment, let them ask Hu Aiquan. As the big boss, he can’t just sit back and do nothing. If he wants to drag us down with him, let’s see if he can keep his own hands clean.”

Qu Shangjin, unwilling to lose power, had launched a sneaky counterattack—cunning and vicious. Not only did he spread the disease, but he also made deals with the base’s higher-ups. Those people didn’t necessarily prefer Qu Shangjin over Gu Xu, but they didn’t want such a large, united outside group in their midst. The more infighting, the happier they were. So they were happy to help Qu Shangjin with little favors.

That made things complicated, which was why Gu Xu had been so patient.

There was another reason he hadn’t acted: Hu Aiquan’s attitude had always been ambiguous.

ps:

Pfft, turns out the last chapter was short on word count. I’ll make up the missing thousand words tomorrow...

"Title: **Restarting the Farm at the End of the World**