Chapter 75: Vicious Birds, Morals Lost in a Second

Bian Changxi decisively drew her pistol and fired into the sky. The thunderous gunshots startled the mutated birds, throwing them into chaos.

On the makeshift fortifications at the edge of the new district, the soldiers who, just two minutes ago, had been trying to overwhelm Bian Changxi with sheer numbers and bravado, quickly ducked behind walls and trees, or peeked out from behind tables to shoot into the air. Some of the sharper ones even fired directly at the center of the flock. The birds scattered, swirling in the air above as if trying to figure out what had made such a loud noise, whether it was dangerous, and where to start with such a large group of potential prey.

Some of the birds, desperate to escape the hail of bullets, shot forward and caught up with a jeep, pecking furiously at its windows. The jeep immediately swerved out of control, its front wheel slamming into a utility pole before it finally crashed headlong into a roadside ditch.

Bian Changxi’s eye twitched. As much as she wanted to laugh and curse them for getting what they deserved, she was actually worried about Qu Nan—she still needed his help to get the surveillance footage.

Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine. She jerked her head up to look at the sky.

Among the mutated birds, each as long as an adult’s arm, the lead bird stood out. It was even larger, its body shaped like a perfect spindle, feathers gleaming like forged steel. Its yellow-red beak clamped around a chunk of human flesh, and its blood-red, razor-sharp eyes were locked onto Bian Changxi, as if it knew she was the strongest, most difficult, and most delicious prey below.

It tossed the meat from its beak, and the surrounding birds immediately swarmed to snatch it up. The lead bird spread its wings, stirring up a powerful gust as it dove straight for Bian Changxi—much faster and more aggressive than when it had attacked the man earlier, its dark body streaking through the air like a black flash.

Bian Changxi’s pupils contracted. At such speed, there was no way she could dodge. She hastily raised her right hand and fired several shots, while her left hand flung four wooden spikes. At the same time, two thick vines shot out in front of her, weaving together into a shield, and she grabbed her backpack to use as a barrier.

Even though she fired in a panic, her aim was still good. The lead bird was forced to veer off course, its speed dropping ever so slightly. The four wooden spikes seemed to anticipate its movement, grazing its body and scraping off several tough feathers. The friction was so intense that sparks flashed along the spikes, and thin wisps of smoke rose from the bird’s body as it was slowed again.

The lead bird shrieked, flapping its wings furiously as it smashed through the vine shield and crashed into the backpack in front of Bian Changxi’s face. She grunted as she was knocked back, sliding more than a meter along the ground before slamming into a wall. She scrambled to her feet, her head spinning and the taste of blood rising in her throat.

What strength! This bird had to be at least Tier 2.

If it hadn’t been for the three layers of defense in front of her, and the axe she’d stashed in her backpack as a makeshift shield, she’d probably have been gutted on the spot.

This bird was vicious.

She tossed aside her backpack and gripped her pistol tightly. The bird, having slammed into the axe, wasn’t feeling great either. It lay dazed on the ground for a second or two longer than Bian Changxi before finally flapping its wings to take off. Bian Changxi fired at it as it tried to escape—one shot grazed its chest and belly, another hit the tip of its wing, sending feathers flying. The lead bird staggered and let out a few shrill cries.

Strike while it’s down!

Bian Changxi sent out two more vines—one spiraled around the bird’s head, the other locked around its legs and yanked downward.

The lead bird screeched and struggled desperately, its wings snapping open with a bang. The vines snapped into pieces, one segment striking Bian Changxi’s eye as she raised her arm to shield her face, knocking her off balance and sending her sprawling.

She scrambled up and wiped her right eye—her hand came away bloody, her vision on that side a blur of red, her eye burning with pain.

Panic surged through her. She quickly pressed a crystal core to her eye with her left hand, standing up straight to search for the lead bird.

It hadn’t flown away. Instead, it hovered awkwardly in the air, struggling to free its legs from the vine. Clearly, its scrawny feet weren’t nearly as strong as its wings, and it couldn’t break free, so it flew in a lopsided, unsteady arc, screeching sharply. Suddenly, it dipped its head, its bloodshot, violent eyes fixing on Bian Changxi as it cawed at her, either in challenge or in anger, circling above her menacingly.

Bian Changxi, now with only her left eye, blinked several times to focus. She saw blood streaming from the base of the bird’s beak, the tip cracked and deformed from the impact. Its chest, belly, and both wings were also bloody.

With its legs immobilized, even its flight was stiff and awkward.

All bluster, no real bite.

She glanced around quickly. The area was in utter chaos—everyone was busy trying to save themselves, so there was no hope of help. She knew she couldn’t fire her gun anymore, so she decisively dropped it and drew her knife, waving it at the bird. “Come on, you damn bird! Come down here if you dare!”

The lead bird let out a vicious cry, suddenly swooping at her from behind.

But Bian Changxi, quick as a spring, spun around faster than the bird could reach her, slashing with her knife. The bird jerked upward, but not before her blade left a gash in its belly, sending feathers fluttering down.

It was furious.

By now, the soldiers had begun firing at the flock, and troops and warrior squads from the new district were rushing out to help. Seeing this, the lead bird grew agitated, tilting its head and flapping its wings, its sharp talons curled up as it stared at Bian Changxi for a moment. Then, suddenly, it soared higher, hovering directly above her.

Bian Changxi didn’t know what it was up to. She looked up, almost blinded by the sun, when suddenly a dark shadow dropped toward her. She swung her knife, feeling something splatter warm and wet across her face.

Startled and suspicious, she glanced at her blade—and her face immediately darkened. Stuck to her knife was a glob of sticky, wet bird shit.

“Caw, caw, caw!” The lead bird seemed delighted, flapping its wings and letting out a triumphant cry. In an instant, the chaotic flock followed its lead, swirling in the sky like an apocalyptic vortex before flying off as suddenly as they’d come, fading into a dark cloud on the horizon.

Bian Changxi glared after the lead bird, dropped her knife, and wiped her face in disgust. Gross! What kind of bird pulls this crap when it can’t win a fight?

The army and warrior squads finally arrived to clean up the aftermath. The area was a scene of devastation, bodies and wounded everywhere. Someone stepped into the sunlight, blocking its harsh glare. “Miss Bian, are you alright?”

Bian Changxi looked up—it was Wu Dalang.

Thank goodness I wiped off the bird shit, she thought. She blinked, checked herself, and shook her head. “I’m fine, just a scratch.”

Blood had just gotten in her eye. She bent down to look for her backpack, wanting to rinse her eye.

Wu Dalang picked it up for her. She thanked him, and as someone called for him, he hurried off.

Bian Changxi ducked into the shade to wash the blood from her eye, pressing a clean towel to it. There was still an uncomfortable foreign body sensation, but she counted herself lucky—if that vine had stabbed directly into her eye, given her current abilities, she’d be blind for sure.

She put on her hat and looked around. Not too many people had died, but some had been gutted, their insides eaten clean. The birds seemed to have attacked some people with real aggression, while pecking others more lightly. But even the “light” pecks left people riddled with bloody holes, their bodies a mess, their screams echoing miserably.

Suddenly remembering something, she walked over to the military jeep. Soldiers were dragging people out. She took a look and couldn’t help but laugh—everyone was battered and bruised, especially the driver and Qu Nan. Lacking abilities, they were both bleeding from the head, and Qu Nan seemed to have injured his leg. An experienced-looking soldier was checking him over.

“Qu Shao, are you alright?”

Qu Nan leaned against a tree, pale and grimacing. “Sorry, I didn’t even have time to react. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have run off like that.”

Bian Changxi nodded. “I didn’t react either.” That A-Gang had yanked her arm, which still ached faintly.

She glanced at A-Gang, who was wedged in the back seat, stuck fast. The soldiers were struggling to pull him out.

A flash of anger crossed Qu Nan’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him. Ever since people got abilities, some of them have gotten too cocky.”

Deserting in the face of danger—no soldier should ever do that. Qu Nan wasn’t military himself; though respected and admired, he was a businessman. But A-Gang and his men all held military ranks, and their actions today would warrant serious punishment.

Bian Changxi nodded. “Let me take a look at you. See, this is exactly why you need me for treatment.”

The incident drew the attention of the leadership. Bian Changxi was called in for questioning again, but her account matched everyone else’s, so she was quickly released and sent to treat the wounded.

Meanwhile, preparations for evacuation in the new district grew even more frantic. All survivors, unless on duty, were forbidden to leave the area. The entire district was effectively under martial law, with defensive forces multiplied several times over.

Bian Changxi finished treating the wounded—she only used her powers on the most seriously injured to conserve her energy. She checked on the burn victims from yesterday; another had died, leaving only one survivor.

She touched the now-healed, scabbed wound at the corner of her eye, looking for a chair to rest.

“How’s my brother?” Liu Meng suddenly appeared, his face grim, as if he’d aged years in a single day.

Bian Changxi glanced at the badge on his chest—a makeshift emblem the management squad had paid some women and students to sew overnight, using a few biscuits as payment. The metal had been cut into a circle, smoothed, covered with special cloth, and pinned with fine wire. On the front was a painted machete—the symbol of the Warrior Squad.